🔮 preview. Your muscles tighten, and you feel very much like a cat waiting to pounce. Is now the time to rip the band-aid off? You’ve spent years holding in your attraction to your best friend… is a heatwave the time to express yourself? When tensions are as high as the nonexistent temperature on your stupid fucking broken ass thermostat?
tw/cw. Unprotected sex, mutual pining, masturbation, heat wave makes people horny, ice play, shower sex, cold shower sex, manhandling, praise, dirty talk, oral, pussy eating, munch!Mingyu, big dick!Mingyu, multiple reader orgasms, multiple sex positions, using a hand-held shower head as a sex toy, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.
👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5.3k
🍭 aus. Non idol au, best friends to lovers, heatwave, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. I actually had so much fun with this one. Summer is coming up, we’ve started to get some heat in my city, and it’s just nostalgic for me. Enjoy!
One:
“So, heatwave protocol,” Seungcheol sighs, looking over his clipboard as you and the rest of the landscaping crew stand outside his truck to start the day. “Clearly, none of us are too happy about waking up at 4am, but we will continue with the 5 am to 9 am schedule, with a siesta when the sun is hottest, and then pick up after with the 5 pm to 9 pm. And before anyone says anything, yes, I know it sucks.” His eyes scan over to Soonyoung, who has his arms crossed over his chest, his white hoodie pulled all the way up with the hood obscuring the dark bags under his eyes. “This isn’t optimal, but it’s a once-in-ten-years heatwave, and I just can’t have you guys working in direct sun when it’s like this. We have ample sunscreen in the back of the truck, as well as a huge cooler filled with ice and water. Let’s just get the job done.”
There’s a stagnant pause, and a few groans, then the man to your left perks up. “Hey boss, because this is such an inconvenience, we’re getting paid for a twelve-hour shift, right, even though we’re technically doing two blocks of four with a total of eight?”
“Huh?” Seungcheol puts down his clipboard, staring at Jeonghan.
“You know,” Jeonghan grins, “like, our work day, including the siesta, is now really like sixteen hours, which is kind of crazy. What are we supposed to do during the middle part for eight hours? It’s kind of shit.”
Seungcheol sighs, and you know he kind of hates being the foreman with a crew of people he grew up with. Jeonghan doesn’t really respect Seungcheol as a boss, nor do Soonyoung and Seungkwan, who can be a hassle most of the time.
The only people who come to work, put their heads down, and do their jobs, are you and your roommate Mingyu.
The tall man stands on your right, and he nudges you as Jeonghan and Seungcheol get into an argument over wages. “Thanks for waking me up this morning.”
You’d felt like death when your alarm went off at 4 am, and when you realized Mingyu’s phone was blaring right next to his head but he was sleeping through it, you’d been forced to shake him into consciousness… which had taken at least five harsh pushes of his broad shoulders.
It’s 5 am now, and you don’t feel amazing, but you don’t feel as bad as you did an hour ago.
This summer has been exceptionally hot, so being outside in the cool air while the sun starts to rise over the horizon is kind of special. No one else is awake, the roads were clear, and part of you is kind of excited about the idea of working in the morning, getting a midday nap, then going back to work for another four hours.
You’ll get through this, you’re sure of it.
After all, it’s just one week.
Two:
You know the moment you step into your apartment that something is wrong. Usually in the summer, Mingyu and you choose to keep the apartment at a nice 20 degrees Celsius (68 Fahrenheit)... but this is not the usual temperature.
“Did you forget to turn on the AC?” you ask, hot and bothered from working and now even hotter and more bothered with annoyance.
“I never turned it off last night,” Mingyu responds, clearly dumbfounded as you both throw down your work gear and head to the thermostat.
“Wait, it’s not on,” you say, puzzled as you hit the power button.
The thermostat that controls the air conditioner does not turn on.
“Are you pushing it?” Mingyu questions.
“Of course I’m pushing it!” you snap, feeling bad almost immediately at your short fuse, but the anxiety is creeping in. “Mingyu, you try,” you insist.
He presses the power button, but the screen remains blank.
“Is it broken?” he asks.
You feel like you can’t breathe, and your body is covered in dirt from working landscaping, your shirt still damp from sweat. You feel uncomfortable already, and this thermostat issue is not helping. “I’m having a shower then I’ll call the landlord,” you decide.
“I’ll keep fiddling with it,” Mingyu responds. “Maybe one of the wires is messed up.”
He’s in school part-time to get his electrician’s certification, and you hope to God as you head to the one shared bathroom that this is a wiring issue. You run the water cold in the shower, wincing a little at the temperature, but you’re determined to completely cool yourself off if the thermostat is indeed broken.
You can’t even imagine what today - what this week - will look like if your air conditioner has decided to die on you.
Ten minutes later, you’re exiting the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your body, your hair still damp with cold water and refreshing you as you walk through the already warming apartment.
You notice as you call your building manager that Mingyu has closed all the blinds, which is a start to keep out the heat.
As you talk with the building manager, he explains that this isn’t an issue anyone else has been having yet, so it must be specific to your unit. He’s an older man, to fit the older building the two of you have lived in since you started college five years ago. You’ve been through a lot living here, and your building manager has never been helpful.
“I’ll send someone to come look at it, but they might not be able to get there until Thursday, our usual handyman is on vacation,” your building manager explains.
“What?” you gasp, locking eyes with Mingyu. “But it’s a Monday and a heat wave! We can’t wait until Thursday!”
“Then call someone else,” your building manager says simply.
With a groan, you hang up on him. “Mingyu, do we know anyone who works with air conditioners?
He looks as at a loss as you feel, and after half an hour of calling Seungcheol, asking around, and looking up the company that supplies the air conditioner and thermostat, you’re dismayed to realize that every person who works on air conditioners and thermostats is already booked up for the week. One man offered to come as an ‘emergency favour’, but he wanted to charge you five hundred dollars just to look at the issue, not even for the work, which you can only assume would also be severely inflated when the bill finally came.
You collapse on the couch with Mingyu. “What do we do?”
“I think… we try to ride it out,” he sighs.
“Mingyu, we’re a south-facing unit. We get full sun all day.”
“I know.” He lets out another deep breath. “Maybe we can try to get some rest and sleep through the worst of it?”
“I mean… we can give it a try.”
Three:
You had woken up not three hours into your nap with your skin covered in sweat and your shirt sticking uncomfortably to your body. Try as you might to fall back to sleep, you simply couldn’t, and with a sigh, you’d gotten up to go to the kitchen, which is where you found Mingyu standing with an ice pack on his neck.
“Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” he had asked.
After a brief debate, you had called Seungcheol, and he had invited you to come siesta at his apartment where he has a private building pool as part of the amenities list.
So here you are, the only two people braving the heat just in order to submerge yourself in water that had gone from cold to lukewarm within an hour.
“Isn’t the pool supposed to be temperature controlled?” you ask, adjusting the hat on your head to shade more of your sunscreen covered skin.
“Supposed to be.” Mingyu groans, his shoulders already turning pink despite all the protection he’d lathered onto his body. “This week is going to be Hell.”
You agree with him, and while you’re staring at the sunburn developing on his broad shoulders, you feel the heat making your mind fuzzy. You can’t pull your eyes away from his body, how chiselled he is. The way his perfect muscles ripple along his chest and biceps…
Working in landscaping this summer has done wonders for him, not that he wasn’t jacked already.
You and Mingyu had met as children in first grade, and you’ve been best friends ever since.
Sure, you know that objectively he’s extremely attractive, but he’s the best friend someone could ever ask for, so you’ve held yourself back all of these years in the hopes of keeping him by your side in any capacity.
“What are you looking at?” Mingyu asks, pulling your attention from his form.
Your skin heats up even more, and you submerge yourself all the way to your neck in the water. “Your shoulders are burning,” you tell him, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Fuck.”
Four:
“Okay, so the building manager is sending the repair guy on Thursday,” you sigh as you exit Mingyu’s truck at the fifth hardware store in search of a portable air conditioner.
The parking lot is black asphalt, and it has this distinct smell of petroleum perfuming the scorching air. It’s so hot that the road is fucking offgassing, and it makes your nose scrunch up as you and Mingyu hurry into the store.
As soon as you’re through the doors, you’re hit with the cooling AC, and it makes you both groan a sigh of relief.
You navigate to the portable air conditioners aisle, and you’re shocked to find the shelves empty, which is when Mingyu waves over a worker in an orange apron.
“Excuse me, sir,” he smiles. “Are there any portable air conditioners left?”
“Unfortunately we’re sold out,” the man frowns.
“Okay, I understand, but this is the fifth store we’ve been to,” you say, voice choking a little as defeat washes over you. “Everywhere is empty on portable air conditioners, and the last place said you might have some in stock.”
“Sorry, miss,” the man says, turning his attention to you. “We have full air conditioners, not the portable kind, and we could have someone drop it off and install it in two days if you’re interested.”
Two days from now is Thursday, which is when your handyman is coming to look at your thermostat and air conditioner anyways. Besides which, you can’t afford to buy a completely new air conditioner.
You let out a groan, and Mingyu is quick to smooth things over. “Sorry for her, our AC broke yesterday morning, and no one is willing to come out and look at it. We’ve been driving around all afternoon and nowhere has any portable units. Is it possible you could show me on the computer if any of the other locations of your store have any in stock?”
You can’t believe Mingyu is keeping his cool, and you walk around like a zombie as he chats with the sales rep. After a while, he comes back, shaking his head, and you plop down onto a piece of promotional outdoor furniture.
“What now?” you ask.
“Now,” Mingyu sighs, sitting down next to you, “we walk through the aisles here, and kill some time before we have to go to work again at 5 pm. At least they have air conditioning here.”
Five:
It’s night two, and try as you might to open all the doors and windows, the air outside isn’t even that cool. You have a wet cloth on your chest, but the droplets are gliding down your skin to your sheets and making damp spots that annoy you as you toss and turn.
The irritation is palpable, and from the irritation comes a need for distraction.
You flip onto your back in annoyance, staring at the ceiling and imagining Mingyu in the pool. You feel dirty even considering your best friend in a sexual light, but fuck it, you can’t help yourself. Every muscle in your body feels tight and wound up, and for the first time in two days, you feel a touch of relief as your own hand glides down your stomach, under your thin sleeping shorts, and makes contact with your core.
God, your pussy is hot, your fingers are hot-
You groan a little, throwing your head back and adjusting the wet cloth to put it over your face, hoping to muffle your sounds a little and cool the skin of your burning cheeks.
Rubbing your clit distracts you from the heat if you focus hard enough, so you put all of your energy into that. You feel yourself start to relax a little, but you’re sweating where your forearm is resting along your hip.
You can only get yourself so close to the edge without getting annoyed, so you pull your hand from your shorts with a sigh of frustration.
You lie there for a couple of minutes, and then you furiously get out of bed, stomping to your door to head to the kitchen.
You raid the freezer, finding some ice, and you plop a cube into your mouth while you begin to drag another across your body, groaning a little at the feeling of cold water dripping down your skin as the ice melts from the heat of you.
This could work… but it would be a mess, especially if you took it to your bedroom. Would the hardwood floors ever recover from multiple drip spots?
Another groan of annoyance has you collecting a bowl of ice and taking it to the tiled bathroom, where you sit on the edge of the tub and start rubbing your skin again in the dark.
You just feel oversensitized, and the shitty light in the bathroom wouldn’t do you any favours, so you relish the darkness, where you slowly find reprieve through the ice you drag across your body.
You tease your collarbones, enjoying the way that water drips down the front of your shirt, tantalizing your nipples and making them pebble.
You throw your head back, drawing the ice along your neck as more beads of water cascade down the front of your shirt, like dripping diamonds from an expensive necklace.
That’s when the door creaks open and you jump.
“Oh,” Mingyu stops. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here… what are you doing in here in the dark?”
“Don’t turn the light on-”
It’s too late, he’s already flipping the switch, and then your best friend is staring at you sitting on the edge of the tub, your white tank top wet and clinging to your chest where your pebbled nipples press against the fabric.
“I’m just trying to cool off,” you explain, quickly covering your chest and choking on the ice cube that you still have in your mouth.
“Why don’t you have a cold shower?”
“I was working up to it,” you sigh with annoyance.
“And why are the lights off?”
“I’m overstimulated!”
“Am I asking too many questions?”
“Yes!” you blurt out.
Mingyu stares at you, and you notice the way he swallows thickly. You see his gaze dip a little toward your chest, and your skin heats all over.
Is he… checking you out?
You know the heat is making you feel some kind of way, but is it affecting him too?
Mingyu turns off the lights again. “I uh… I should leave you alone.”
“I mean, did you need to use the bathroom?” you ask, not wanting him to go just yet.
“I was considering a cold shower,” Mingyu admits sheepishly.
Your muscles tighten, and you feel very much like a cat waiting to pounce. Is now the time to rip the band-aid off? You’ve spent years holding in your attraction to your best friend… is a heatwave the time to express yourself? When tensions are as high as the nonexistent temperature on your stupid fucking broken ass thermostat?
“Mingyu?” you ask.
“Yes?” His response is quick, too quick, and you notice the way he’s fidgeting, his eyes fixed on yours as if he wants to look elsewhere - perhaps down at your chest - but is trying very hard to fight the urge.
“Maybe… we should have a cold shower together,” you tell him, your entire body heating up again despite the cold ice cube wedged in your cheek.
“Together?” he chokes out.
“Listen, maybe it’s the heat making me… irritated, but I just… I can’t pretend right now that I’m not attracted to you. And I know you’re my best friend, you’re my best friend in the entire world, and I know this jeopardizes that, but fuck, I’m so hot, and you’re so hot, and fuck it, maybe we should give this a shot.”
The words come out of you before you can stop them, a jumbled mess. All of your emotions have just been poured out to your best friend, and all he can do is stand there and stare at you.
“You think I’m hot?” he asks after a beat of silence.
“I have eyes, Gyu,” you laugh.
He fidgets. “Why did you never say anything?”
“I didn’t want to wreck our friendship, and… based on how you’re reacting, now I’m getting scared,” you cough awkwardly.
“Don’t be scared,” Mingyu tells you, letting out a sigh and running a hand through his hair. “I just… I wish one of us would have spoken up sooner.”
“Huh?” You gape at him in shock.
“You were my first crush, when we met on the playground when we were like six,” Mingyu admits, and even in the dim light of the bathroom, you can see his ears turning red. “And then we became friends and I realized you were also the best person I knew, so I just… never said anything, and was happy to be just friends.”
“I was your first crush?” you squeak.
“It sounds kind of lame,” he says awkwardly.
“Mingyu, you were my first crush, too. Have we both been into each other this whole time but holding back for the sake of friendship?” Your entire body feels like it’s on fire, and you stare up at your big best friend. “Are we both stupid or something?”
You can’t help but laugh, and he joins you with a chuckle of his own. “I think we’re both just cautious and respectful, that’s not a bad thing.”
“So… you’ll have a cold shower with me?” you grin, standing up, and swallowing the tiny shard of ice that was still in your mouth.
“I’ll do more than just shower with you, if you want,” Mingyu responds, swallowing thickly.
You hold out your hands for him, and Mingyu lets you tug him toward you. He looks down at you, and in the shade of the bathroom, you can still see the apprehension, the longing, in his expression.
“Kiss me,” you whisper, reaching up to cup his face.
His cheek is warm, and Mingyu lets out a sigh, pressing against your palm, which is when you realize this is the hand you’d been dragging ice across your body with, so your skin must be cooler and nice against his hot form.
You watch his tongue dip out to wet his lips, and then he leans forward, closing the minuscule distance that’s kept you from each other for so many years.
Mingyu releases a groan immediately, and it’s as if the flood gates burst open. Suddenly, you’re both all over each other, tongues fighting, hands grabbing.
All of the lust that has built up for your best friend comes crashing down on you, filling your body with a fire that rivals that of the heatwave.
His hands find your bare thighs, and he lifts you up, forcing your legs around his hips while he kisses you desperately.
God, the sounds he’s making go straight to your throbbing core, and you clutch onto his shoulders. He sets you down on the sink vanity, and you keep your legs wrapped around him, unwilling to let go despite the heat that is beginning to rise between your forms.
You sense Mingyu reaching for something, and when something cold makes contact with your collar bone, you realize he’d seen your bowl of ice. He traces it along your body, making you sigh with relief, your head tilting back to give him more access.
Then, Mingyu does something unexpected, he puts a piece of ice between his lips too, and uses that to drag along your throat. You gasp at how good it feels, threading your fingers through his hair to keep his head close to your neck, where he continues to stimulate you.
Meanwhile, his hand drags the ice down, and the water droplets it leaves in its wake drip down your shirt.
Your nipples are pebbled again, and you arch your back, pushing your chest toward your best friend.
Mingyu reads you like the back of his hand, and he tugs down your tank top, finally exposing your breasts.
He drags the ice along your nipple, circling it and making you whine desperately.
Mingyu groans as he continues on your throat, but the ice in his mouth is small enough now that he sucks it into his own cheek, his cool lips now pressing kisses along your neck.
“Fuck,” you whimper, grabbing at his own shirt, which he allows you to tug off of him.
The brief moment where you separate to remove the fabric has your desperation going into overdrive, and you immediately latch onto each other again, your lips meeting in a fiery kiss whose flames are muted by the ice still in his mouth.
Fuck it feels good to be kissing cool lips, and the contrast of hot and cold has your core getting wetter by the second.
Mingyu continues to fondle your breasts, and you moan against his lips, beginning to wiggle your hips as an invitation.
Just like every other time he’s read your mind through your wordless motions, Mingyu pulls away, gasping.
Then, with his eyes locked on yours, he sinks to his knees against the tiled bathroom floor.
With one rough tug, he tears your sleeping shorts off your body, so now the only thing covering your form is your thin white tank top.
You stare down at him, heart racing at the view as he begins to kiss up your legs with cold lips.
When his mouth reaches your core, you begin to pant from the feeling of his breath on your most sensitive area. Then, Mingyu licks your pussy, and your entire body surges with pleasure.
You throw your head back, reaching down and tangling your fingers in his hair, anchoring him to your core.
Mingyu clearly doesn’t mind your somewhat forceful motions, and he groans as he dives in to eating you out.
He’s always been a foodie, but you didn’t realize his love for eating would be applicable in the bedroom - or bathroom in this case - as well.
“Holy shit,” you gasp when he begins to suck on your clit, his cold tongue flicking your sensitive bud deliciously.
It’s been a long time since you had sex. You had tried dating once or twice throughout high school and university, but it was always made impossible due to your need to compare every romantic partner to Mingyu. Your best friend has always treated you so well that no man has ever been able to stand next to him in that way, and now, you realize no man has ever eaten you out like this either.
It’s yet another mark on Mingyu’s resume of being the best man you’ve ever met, and it makes your heart swell as your best friend eats you out like his life depends on it.
“I’m close,” you whimper, panting as your muscles tighten.
Mingyu’s fingers grip your thighs tighter, and he sucks on your clit with even more fervour. You can feel sweat beginning to accumulate on your clavicle, but there’s something so erotic about having sex with your best friend for the first time during a hot and sticky heatwave.
“Fuck, fuck-” you bite at your lip, hardly able to contain your whimpers as you tip over the edge. Your pussy throbs desperately, clinging around nothing while Mingyu laps you through your high.
Your toes curl from the intensity of it, your body shaking as your muscles scream at you to pull away from this mind numbing pleasure, but you refuse to push Mingyu away, you want the full sensation of him, after all, it took you both long enough to get to this situation.
You’re gasping when Mingyu finally pulls away, and he stands up, looking down at you.
“Cold shower?” he asks.
“Yes, please,” you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat.
He reaches for his shorts, and you reach for your shirt. A moment later, you’re both fully naked, and one look at you has Mingyu practically growling. He’s on you again before you can blink, his lips hot and desperate against yours.
Your thighs wrap around his hips, and your hand sneaks down to grab his cock, which you can feel is aching in your palm.
“Fuck me,” you tell him, biting at his bottom lip as you line him up with your wet hole. “I can’t wait anymore.”
Mingyu groans, panting as he rests his forehead against your own. Then, with one motion, he slowly begins to slide into you.
You gasp at the stretch, your hands flying to his shoulders to keep yourself steady while your body tries to acquiesce to such a massive cock.
“If it’s too much-” he chokes.
“No, push it all the way in, fuck, I need you so bad,” you whimper, on the verge of tears from all the emotions flooding through you.
“Okay.” He nods, swallowing a lump in his throat as he slowly sinks all the way into you.
You both groan when he’s fully sheathed, and you pull his lips to yours again, letting him eat up your sounds of pleasure.
Mingyu wraps an arm around your lower back, one hand finding your thigh, and then he lifts you off the sink vanity, carrying you to the shower while balls deep in your aching core.
Even amidst the kisses, he’s able to turn the water on, and after testing it with his fingers, he steps into the enclosed space, holding you tight to his burning body.
You let out a squeal when the cold water hits your form, but within seconds, it’s a welcome reprieve. The shower is a contrast to Mingyu’s body, which radiates heat as you kiss, and he presses you back against the tiled wall, which also helps cool you down.
He pins you in a way that makes it easy to use leverage, and then, he begins to thrust.
You can feel your pussy stretching with each motion, and you are unable to hold in your whines and moans as he fucks you. You can see him losing control, and you can feel it in the way his thrusts become erratic, as if he’s chasing a feeling he never thought he’d be able to obtain.
You thread your fingers through his hair, gasping when his lips make contact with your throat.
“Feels so good, Gyu,” you whimper.
He groans in response, and you realize he has a thing for praise.
“Fucking me so fucking good,” you continue, closing your eyes and focusing on the feeling of pleasure already beginning to bubble up inside of your core again.
“I love your sounds,” Mingyu moans, his lips moving to your ear where he sucks your lobe between hot lips.
You release a whimper, clinging desperately to his shoulders.
“This is better than I ever imagined,” he admits, and there’s a hint of vulnerability in his tone that makes your core tighten around him. “You have no idea.. How long… how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
“Me too, Gyu,” you assure him, nuzzling against his cheek to prompt him to pull back and look at you. “And now, we never have to go back to holding ourselves away from each other. We can do this as much as we want.”
Mingyu’s lips part, his thrusts faltering slightly, and then he pulls out of you, setting you on the slippery shower floor and turning you so your back is to his chest.
“There’s always something I’ve wanted to try,” Mingyu groans in your ear, and he grabs the removable handheld shower head he’d installed two years back. He pushes you slightly over, entering you from behind, and then his free arm braces across your chest to keep you standing while he brings the shower head to your clit.
The cold water stimulates your sensitive bud, making you cry out and grasp his forearm like an anchor keeping you standing.
“Feels good, baby?” he asks, his breath ghosting past your ear and making you shiver as cold water droplets drip down your body.
“So good, Gyu,” you cry out, your eyes clenching shut when he begins to fuck you again, using the shower head as a type of vibrating water pressure tool on your clit.
“I only ever want to make you feel good,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your throat.
Your body jolts, your core tightening, and you can’t find the words to tell him you’re close to an orgasm, but you don’t have to. His pace increases, his moans getting louder in your ear, and the two of you are so in tune with each other, that the moment your pussy clamps down on his cock, your orgasm ravaging through your body, you feel him reach his release as well.
The two of you cum together, gasping and clutching at one another, the cool water unrelenting on your aching, hot core.
It’s the best, most unexpected and imaginative orgasm you’ve ever had, and it makes your legs feel like jelly as Mingyu finally stops thrusting.
The two of you are panting in the dark shower, and his grip on you in the only thing keeping you upright.
“Here,” Mingyu says, swallowing a lump in his throat as he slowly pulls out of you.
Your legs continue to shake, and he holds you while he uses the shower head to wash you off, any fluid remnants remaining in your body washing down the drain as he carefully provides aftercare.
You can’t find words yet, so you simply let him take care of you, helping you out of the shower once you’re both clean so he can wrap a towel around your form.
He even carries you back to your room once he’s dried you off, and you collapse onto the bed. Curling up against his chest makes you realize you’re both sufficiently cooled from the shower, his skin a pleasant temperature as you cuddle close.
Mingyu strokes your shoulder, pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head while you find your voice.
“Gyu?” you ask finally.
“Yeah?”
“Is it too early to say I love you?”
He laughs. “No, because I love you too.”
“Thank fucking God,” you chuckle, and with that, you doze off into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had since the start of this whole ‘curse of Mother nature’ heat wave fiasco. You’re at peace knowing that this feels right, there’s no apprehension, no risk of the two of you losing each other.
You can be with your best friend, fully, the way you’ve always wanted to be with him, and all it took was a once-in-ten-years, global warming meets bullshit old air conditioner.
☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! meant to post this a touch sooner but life has been busy as heck
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🔮 preview. The first time you’d had sex, water and temperature had been key elements, and tonight is the first official night of your honeymoon, so it feels fitting to be submerged in a hot tub amidst a frozen forest when you begin kissing your husband’s skin.
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, outdoor sex, hottub sex, exhibitionism, pining, body worship, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, dirty talk, praise, manhandling, big dick!Mingyu, newlywed honeymoon sex, etc… I petnames. (hers) baby.
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.1k I teaser wc. 130
🌙 starring. Mingyu x afab!Reader
bonus
You’d finally expressed your deepest feelings to Mingyu during a heatwave, so when you begin to plan your honeymoon in the wake of an engagement, it feels counterintuitive to choose somewhere tropical.
You’ve both grown a slight disdain for locations that are simply too hot, and there’s something charming about the winter wonderland cold destination honeymoons you look up online.
“Are you guys seriously going to fucking Norway for your Honeymoon?” Seungcheol asks one day while you drink and hangout in his apartment.
“Norway, Sweden, and Finland,” Mingyu corrects.
“Think Northern Lights, igloos, dog sledding, that sort of thing,” you chime in with a grin, cuddling closer to your official boyfriend of four years.
“Sounds horrible,” Soonyoung groans. “I’d much rather go to Bora Bora or something.”
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Summary: Mingyu was preparing for a divorce when he began to sense that something was wrong with his wife.
Mingyu hadn’t been home since yesterday—or maybe since the day before that. He stopped counting after the fight, the kind that didn’t end with slammed doors but with silence, thickening the wall that had been building between you for over a year. He chose to stay in his humble studio, surrounded by paintings never meant for the world—only for him to face. Each canvas stared back in accusation, as if every unfinished stroke was cursing him.
You didn’t call—you never did, and he told himself it was because you had stopped caring. You chose that, and Mingyu found it unbearably hurtful. Sometimes, when his gaze lingered on the band wrapped around his finger, he thought of you—the version of you who loved him fiercely, who would have done anything for him. And when you stopped doing that, when you stopped caring, something in him made a quiet decision: he needed to protect himself.
Kim Mingyu was an aspiring painter when he met you. You were radiant the moment you walked into the meeting room, introducing yourself as the curator of the gallery where his work would be displayed. When he heard your name, recognition struck immediately—he knew you were one of them.
And yes. You were the daughter of the former prime minister.
His career flourished with your help. He had always believed his work would reach its peak someday—and it did. His pieces became widely known, his name circulating through galleries across the world, until Kim Mingyu was no longer just an aspiring painter, but one of the most sought-after artists globally.
“This is An Angel Who Couldn’t Paint.”
He said it the way he introduced all his recent works, calm and practiced. The angel on the canvas was adored by everyone—soft wings, gentle light—yet her expression was unmistakably sad.
You stood beside him as the gallery emptied. Footsteps faded, lights dimmed, until there was no one left but the two of you, both too nervous to be the first to leave. Tomorrow was a big day.
“Why couldn’t it paint?” you asked, turning toward him.
He looked at you then, smiling softly.
“Her family didn’t let her.”
Mingyu hadn’t expected to win your heart that night. Yet when you looked at him—really looked at him—it felt like a confession made without words. Your gaze carried an offering, quiet and devastating, as if you were placing your heart in his hands along with your soul, your bones, everything that made you whole.
And yet, here he was—sitting on the couch with the curtains drawn open, staring into the night with a glass of whiskey in his hand. There was no you here, and lately, there had been no you in his life at all.
The man he was five years ago wouldn’t have believed this version of himself if someone had told him: the woman you think you love the most will change. And so will you.
On the table lay a fresh print of the divorce papers, waiting to be signed. Finally. His lawyer had notified him countless times—about the plan to divorce you, about how it had been inevitable since the first fight a year ago. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had been too naive to understand that the two of you had lost each other long before this moment.
And there was no reason left to stay.
Even your family—your powerful, conglomerate family—couldn’t be the reason he stayed. He was adored there, praised for his easy charm, his manners. But was any of it genuine? Honestly, he no longer knew.
He had witnessed the way your brother-in-law was spoken about behind closed doors, criticized for being too absorbed in his own law firm, for refusing to fold himself into the family company. And Mingyu couldn’t forget that one night either—the way your brother’s wife had broken down during a family gathering, crying quietly because five years of marriage had passed and she still hadn’t conceived.
Three years of marriage—to an artist. No children. Would your parents still treat him the same?
*
“Is she with you? We couldn’t find her.”
It was late when Mingyu received the call from your parents. He sighed as he pulled on his shirt and coat, grabbing his keys before heading toward their house.
“We found out you two were fighting,” your mother said gently. “She came here a week ago. Was it that bad?”
Her voice was soft, but Mingyu could hear the worry beneath it.
“I’ll be there, Mother,” he replied, already driving away from his studio.
There were only a few places you might go at this hour to clear your mind. He had lived through this before. When you weren’t in bed, when the house felt too quiet, he would find you somewhere close, in the garden, or walking through the neighborhood under the dim streetlights.
“It’s dangerous,” he had told you once, rushing out of the house after realizing you were gone—only to find you returning, an ice cream melting slowly in your hand.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Mingyu had sighed then, the tension draining from his shoulders.
“Wake me up, love,” he’d said softly. “I’ll walk with you.”
Mingyu immediately typed out the places where your parents’ people might find you. He drove carefully, his mind running through scenarios—what would happen once he found you, what he would say to your parents afterward.
He sighed again, for what felt like the hundredth time.
Your parents had spoiled you too much.
Mingyu had never been the type to celebrate every moment extravagantly—if at all. He expressed his gratitude, acknowledged the milestone, and kept moving forward.
Your family, however, lived by a different tradition: everything was celebrated, and always with excess.
Your engagement was meant to be intimate. Instead, your parents insisted on renting out a hotel ballroom, inviting nearly everyone they knew—most of whom Mingyu didn’t—and turning the day into a spectacle.
The wedding was no different. Whatever imagination he had left of a small ceremony—one with only the closest people present—disappeared the moment your parents took over the planning. A grand venue. An expensive dress. Hundreds of invitations, while his side amounted to barely ten.
They loved you. And they loved spoiling you.
He tried calling your phone as he drove toward the park near your parents’ house—the one you used to run to as a child whenever your parents fought or your siblings became too much. You didn’t answer. Not once.
Mingyu parked the car and immediately scanned the area, his steps quick and restless as he searched the park. He called your name a few times, voice cutting through the night, but there was no sign of you—only a group of teenagers smoking near the benches. When he asked if they had seen a woman walking alone, they shook their heads, irritation clear in their faces.
He called your parents’ security team next. They hadn’t found you near the lake either—the place you had mentioned before, half in passing.
“Check the gazebos too,” he told them. They moved at once.
He started running then. He wasn’t sure why—whether it was the need to find you quickly so he could take you back to your parents, or simply to end the search and the fear gnawing at his chest.
He exhaled sharply when he spotted a familiar figure walking ahead. His pace slowed without thinking, steps cautious now as he drew closer.
“Ji Y/n…”
As if summoned, you turned your head at the sound of your name.
“Kim Mingyu..”
“Why are you here at this hour?” Mingyu asked, breath still uneven from the run.
You didn’t answer right away. Your gaze drifted past him, circling the trees, the dim lamps, the path beneath your feet—until something in your expression shifted, like recognition arriving late.
“I was just out for air.”
Mingyu swallowed. “Your parents called me because they couldn’t find you. I thought we were done talking about this—”
He stopped himself too late, only then realizing the edge in his voice.
“Don’t yell at me.”
The words were quiet, but they landed heavy.
Mingyu exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not,” he said, softer now. “Let’s go home.”
He reached out, fingers closing around your wrist. You looked down at his hand. Then back up at him.
“Which home?”
He froze.
For a moment, the park seemed too quiet—no wind, no footsteps, no distant traffic. Mingyu loosened his grip and turned to face you fully.
“Our home.” he said.
The two of you walked toward his car in silence. Mingyu moved a few steps ahead, hands shoved into his pockets, mind already elsewhere. It wasn’t until he reached the door and turned back that he realized—
You were wearing nothing but a thin sleeping dress and with no shoes. Bare feet touching the cold pavement.
He cursed under his breath.
Mingyu shrugged off his jacket and draped it around your shoulders, movements careful now, almost hesitant. “Where are your shoes?” he asked, already sighing as he opened the passenger door for you.
You stared at the ground, brows knitting together as if the answer were buried somewhere just out of reach.
“I don’t know,” you said quietly.
As Mingyu got into the driver’s seat, his eyes drifted back to you. Only then did he notice the bruises and dirt smudged along your feet, as if you had been running barefoot long before he found you. His jaw tightened.
He called your mother and spoke quietly.
“She’s with me now. She’s safe.”
A pause.
“I’m taking her home.”
Another pause, heavier this time.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
You leaned back against the seat, exhaustion overtaking you as your eyelids fluttered shut. Sleep claimed you quickly, as if your body had been waiting for permission to rest.
Mingyu sighed and started the engine, guiding the car back toward the house. A place the two of you used to call home.
*
Mingyu entered your home office after months of doing nothing more than walking past it. It was one of the rooms you treasured most—a space you had insisted on keeping for yourself when your father was choosing the house you would live in after the wedding.
You were already asleep in the bedroom after tonight’s walk. He had carried you in from the car, careful and slow, yet you hadn’t stirred at all. It surprised him. You had always been a light sleeper.
He stood by the bed for a moment before leaving, watching you breathe, watching the familiar rise and fall of your chest. You were still you when you slept—soft, unchanged, untouched by the distance that had grown between you.
But when you were awake? He realized with a quiet ache, he had started to hate that version of you.
He closed the door of your office and stepped inside with a carefulness only a cautious husband could muster. Once, he had never knocked. He would barge in without warning, a photograph of a new painting already in his hand, words tumbling over one another as he spilled every concept crowding his mind.
“It must be nice to be a genius,” you would say, leaning back in your chair, eyes warm as you smiled at him.
“I’m far from a genius, love,” Mingyu would reply shyly, brushing off the compliment even though you both knew he enjoyed it.
“I’m just good.”
You would laugh then—soft and unguarded. It had been a beautiful, gentle love. One he realized how much he missed.
He sat in your chair, its familiarity unsettling, and wondered how busy you had been lately. You barely stayed in the house anymore, choosing instead to live with your parents. He told himself it was practical—the gallery was closer to their place. A project, maybe. An exhibition.
He used to witness the way your eyes lit up when you worked, the passion that consumed you so completely.
Since when had he started to hate your work?
It was your work that had once lifted his name, carried him into rooms he never imagined entering. But now—now it felt like nothing more than the current pulling the two of you farther apart.
The next morning, Mingyu sat by the counter after a night without a wink of sleep. He had meant to rest on the couch, but his body never followed his intentions. His thoughts wandered everywhere except toward rest.
A cup of coffee sat untouched beside him. Freshly brewed. Something he used to miss every time he stayed away. Coffee in his own house used to feel grounding. Familiar. Safe.
He heard the bedroom door open. He didn’t turn. He already knew the questions that would usually follow—why he drove you home, why he was here, why he crossed a boundary you both had drawn after the last fight. He knew you hated this house now. Hated the two of you existing in the same space.
However, none of that came.
Instead, you stepped into the kitchen in the same thin sleeping dress from the night before. Bare feet against the floor. Your voice came soft, almost fragile.
“Morning.”
Before he could react, your hand rested briefly on his shoulder. Your lips brushed his—light, absent, almost instinctive. A peck that lasted less than a second. Months.
That was all it took to freeze him in place.
You moved away as if nothing had happened, opening the fridge, taking out fruits, eggs. Normal. Too normal. As if this was still your routine. As if you hadn’t shattered him just now.
“You want some?” you asked, casual. “I can make you a sandwich too.”
You went on tiptoe to reach a cup.
The sound of a sharp wince—and glass crashing to the floor—snapped Mingyu back into motion.
“What’s wrong?” He was already beside you, hands hovering, instinct kicking in. “Careful. Don’t move—there’s glass.”
You looked at him for a moment, then down.
Your feet.
Bruised. Scraped. Dirt still clinging faintly to your skin—marks he had cleaned in silence while you slept.
“I didn’t realize it,” you murmured. “What happened?”
He didn’t answer.
“Sit down,” Mingyu said instead, steady but firm. “I’ll make your breakfast.”
You didn’t argue. You walked away while he cleaned the broken glass, movements practiced, controlled—like he hadn’t spent the entire night watching you breathe, wondering when everything had gone so wrong.
He placed the plate in front of you not long after. Boiled eggs. Fruits. Toast.
Your favorite.
He watched you quietly, already planning to knock some sense into you later—once you’d eaten, once the color returned to your face, once he was sure you were really here.
Mingyu waited. Not because he needed time, but because he was afraid that if he spoke too soon, the morning would crack completely. The kettle clicked softly on the counter. Outside, the day went on like nothing inside this house had shifted its axis.
“You were out last night,” he said slowly, as if pacing the truth would make it easier to swallow. “Where were you?”
You sat across from him, legs tucked under the chair, toast held loosely between your fingers. You took another bite, chewing carefully, eyes unfocused—not avoiding him, but not looking either.
“I was home,” you said. “Waiting for you.”
The words landed wrong. Too neat. Too certain.
Mingyu felt his chest tighten. “You weren’t.”
You paused. Just for a second. Then you tilted your head, confused, almost amused by his contradiction. “I fell asleep,” you replied. “I remember sitting there. I must’ve dozed off.”
He searched your face for cracks. For hesitation. For guilt. There was none.
That was when he noticed it—the darkness beneath your eyes, heavier than fatigue alone. Your skin looked different too. Not sick, not pale. Just… muted. Like someone had turned the saturation down little by little and no one had noticed until now.
“Were you high last night?” he asked quietly, the question tasting wrong in his mouth.
Your brows pulled together immediately. “What?”
He didn’t explain. His mind had already run ahead of him, replaying the night before—your office, untouched. The drawers he opened slowly, the shelves he scanned twice. No medication. No substances. No signs of panic or recklessness. If you had taken something, you had hidden it well. Or it wasn’t there at all.
“You were at your parents’ house,” he said instead, voice firmer now. “For a week. They called me. They couldn’t find you.”
You blinked.
Once.
Then again.
“Really?” you said, a small laugh slipping out. “I was in my office. I’ve been finishing my work.”
There it was again. That certainty. That calm insistence.
Mingyu stared at you like he was looking at a stranger wearing your face. The way you spoke wasn’t defensive. You weren’t lying the way people usually lied—not rushed, not evasive. You believed in yourself.
That frightened him more than any argument you’d ever had.
His eyes drifted down unconsciously. To your hands. To the faint tremor you didn’t seem to notice. To your bare feet resting against the cold floor, still marked faintly with bruises that hadn’t been there before last night.
He followed his own gaze down the hallway, back to your office. On your desk—exactly where he had found it last night—lay the resignation letter.
Your resignation.
You were going to leave the job you loved most. The one that kept you alive when everything else felt heavy. And he didn’t know why.
The question had been drilling into his head since last night, since he folded that paper with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. Why? It followed him to the couch, to the kitchen, to the sound of you saying morning like nothing was wrong.
Why would you give this up?
Was it for him?
For us?
The kitchen suddenly felt too familiar this morning—like a version of home Mingyu hadn’t visited in a long time.
You said it casually. Too casually during breakfast. “Maybe…” you started, as if you were commenting on the weather. “Maybe raising a kid would help us. Change how we see things.”
The words caught him off guard. Mingyu looked up slowly, as if he hadn’t heard you right. For a moment, he just stared.
Surprise came first—sharp and unguarded. His mind scrambled, trying to match this calm version of you with the memory of how firmly you had once said no. How your voice shook, not with anger, but fear. Fear he hadn’t understood then and hadn’t bothered to ask about since.
Why now?
You weren’t looking at him the way you used to when you tried to compromise. There was no hesitation in your posture, no defensive edge. Just a stillness that unsettled him more than anger ever did.
Then came the nervousness.
His fingers curled slightly against the counter, grounding himself. He wondered if this was something you had been thinking about for a while, or if it was something you decided this morning—born out of exhaustion, out of guilt, out of wanting peace at any cost.
Was this your way of reaching out?
“Maybe raising a kid would help us.”
As if that conversation hadn’t torn something apart last year. As if it hadn’t ended with silence stretching for months, with him leaving more often, with you learning how to sleep alone in a marriage.
The words hung in the air. You didn’t mention the fear. Didn’t mention hospitals, or test results, or how your hands had shaken when the doctor spoke too gently. You just stood there, calm on the surface, offering the idea like it hadn’t once broken you.
He searched your face for signs—hope, reluctance, sincerity—but all he found was calm. A calm that scared him more than resistance ever had.
*
Mingyu had once thought it was a coping mechanism. You had this way of waving away guilt—of smoothing things over without ever touching them. Every time a fight stretched too far, too heavy, you would return the next day as if nothing had happened. As if the night before hadn’t existed at all.
He first noticed it during your first anniversary. Mingyu had prepared everything himself that night. A quiet dinner, nothing extravagant—just the two of you, the way he preferred it. The table was set long before the food began to lose its warmth, candles burning lower with every passing minute as he waited.
You were working late at the gallery. At first, he told himself it was fine. You had always been passionate about your work—he loved that about you. But as the hours passed, as his messages remained unread and your calls went unanswered, something inside him began to tighten.
You had forgotten. Not just the dinner. Not just the time. Him. When you finally came home, the apology came easily from you—too easily. Soft, quick, almost practiced. Mingyu had been upset then. Not loudly, not enough to start a war, but enough. He told you to be more mindful. To keep track of time. To think about the person waiting for you. To think about him.
You listened. Nodded. Stayed quiet. He thought it had meant something. But the next morning, you kissed him like you always did. Sat beside him at the breakfast table, close enough for your shoulder to brush against his, asking him something trivial—what he wanted to do that day, maybe, or whether he would be at the studio. Your voice was light, untouched, as if the night before had slipped cleanly out of your memory.
Mingyu stared at you, something sharp and burning settling behind his eyes. There was no trace of it. No hesitation. No guilt. No attempt to fix what had been said. Just you. Normal. Warm. Unchanged.
And that was the first time it unsettled him, how easily you could wake up the next day and act as if there had never been anything to fix at all.
The last real fight you had—before everything turned into silence—was about a child. It wasn’t even supposed to be a fight. Mingyu had brought it up casually that night, almost carefully, like testing the temperature of something fragile. The house had been quiet, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel heavy yet. You were sitting across from him, absentmindedly scrolling through something on your phone, half-listening.
“Have you ever thought about it?” he asked.
You looked up. “About what?”
“A kid.”
The reaction was immediate. Not loud. Not explosive. But immediate. Your expression changed in a way he couldn’t quite name back then—something closing off behind your eyes, something pulling away from him before he could even reach it.
“No,” you said. Too quick.
Mingyu frowned slightly, leaning back in his chair. “No?” he repeated, softer this time, like maybe you hadn’t understood the question.
“I don’t want one.”
There was no hesitation in your voice. No room left for discussion. And that—more than the answer itself—irritated him.
“Why not?” Mingyu asked, the edge slipping in despite himself. “We’ve been married for three years.”
You let out a small breath, setting your phone down slowly. “Because I don’t want to.”
“That’s not a reason.”
Your eyes flickered then, something sharper surfacing. “It is.”
Mingyu exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t trying to start anything. He just—didn’t understand. “People don’t just decide they don’t want kids for no reason,” he said, voice tightening. “You’re not even willing to think about it?”
“I have thought about it.”
“Then explain it to me.”
Silence stretched between you for a second too long. When you spoke again, your voice was quieter—but not softer. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Something in him bristled at that. “Try me.”
You hesitated. And for a moment—just a moment—he thought you wouldn’t say anything at all. That you would brush it off the way you always did, walk away, let it dissolve into nothing.
But you didn’t.
“I don’t want my body to change like that,” you said finally.
Mingyu blinked. “What?”
“Pregnancy,” you continued, more steadily now, even if your fingers had begun to curl slightly against the table. “The weight gain. The way your body stops feeling like yours. I’ve seen it. I’ve—” You stopped yourself, jaw tightening. “I don’t want that.”
He stared at you, the explanation settling wrong in his chest.
“That’s it?” he asked, before he could stop himself.
Your head snapped up. “That’s it?” you echoed, something incredulous slipping into your voice now.
Mingyu shook his head slightly, already frustrated. “You’re saying you don’t want a child because you’re scared of gaining weight?”
“It’s not just weight.”
“Then what is it?” he pressed.
You looked at him then—really looked at him—and whatever was in your eyes made him falter for half a second.
“Exactly,” you said quietly. “You don’t get it.”
The conversation went nowhere after that. It circled. Tightened. Broke in places neither of you tried to fix. Mingyu remembered the way your voice had risen—not loud, but strained, like something was pulling at it from the inside. He remembered the way you kept repeating the same thing in different words, as if you were trying to explain something bigger but couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it.
And he remembered how, at some point, he stopped listening. It sounded trivial to him. Avoidable. Something that could be reasoned through if you just—tried. But you didn’t.
You shut down instead. And the next morning—the next morning wasn’t normal.
There was no quiet greeting, no soft kiss pressed against his lips like a habit you refused to break. No gentle presence beside him in the kitchen, no small attempt to smooth over what had been said.
Mingyu woke up to silence. The kind that felt wrong the moment he opened his eyes. He found you already dressed, standing by the door with your bag slung over your shoulder. Your shoes were on. Your hand rested on the handle, like you had been about to leave for a while now.
“You’re going already?” he asked, voice still rough with sleep.
You didn’t turn immediately.
“I have work,” you said. Simple. Flat. No mention of last night. No mention of anything.
Mingyu pushed himself up slightly, frowning. “You’re not going to eat first?”
“I’m not hungry.”
That was it. No pause. No glance back to check if he would say something else. No hesitation in the way you opened the door and stepped out.
The sound of it closing lingered longer than it should have. Mingyu sat there for a while after that, staring at nothing in particular, something unfamiliar settling deep in his chest. It wasn’t anger—not fully.
It was something quieter. Colder. And it didn’t stop there. Days turned into a pattern he didn’t remember agreeing to.
You left early. Came home late. Sometimes not at all. And when you were there, you weren’t really there.
Conversations shortened. Then it disappeared. Meals became optional. Shared space became something you both moved around carefully, like stepping through a room filled with fragile things neither of you wanted to touch.
Mingyu stopped asking after a while. Stopped waiting, too. The house—once something warm, something grounding—began to feel unfamiliar. Too quiet in the wrong ways. Too empty, even when you were inside it.
So he stayed at the studio more often. At first, it was just to work. Then to think. Then, eventually… to breathe.
The smell of paint, the unfinished canvases, the silence that didn’t expect anything from him—it all felt easier than walking into a home that no longer felt like one.
Somewhere along the way, without either of you saying it out loud, the studio became his place of rest, and the house you shared became somewhere he only returned to out of habit.
*
“What is this?”
Mingyu froze at the sound of your voice. He hadn’t expected to find you there—standing in the middle of his studio, as if you had every right to be. As if this place still belonged to both of you.
His gaze dropped to your hand. The papers. A copy of the divorce documents his lawyer had prepared, edges slightly crumpled where your fingers held them too tightly.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
It had been—what—almost a year since you last stepped into his studio?
A year since you last stood among the canvases, the smell of paint, the quiet that used to feel like a shared language between you.
Mingyu had stopped expecting you to come back. Somewhere along the way, he thought you had forgotten this part of him existed. That the version of him who painted, who stayed up all night chasing colors and light and meaning—had slowly disappeared in your eyes. All that was left was a husband. A role you had grown tired of. A man you no longer looked at the same way.
And yet, here you were. Holding the proof of everything he hadn’t said out loud.
Mingyu exhaled slowly, setting his keys down on the nearest surface, the sound sharper than intended in the stillness.
“It’s exactly what it looks like,” he said. His voice came out calmer than he felt. Controlled. Practiced.
Like this moment had been waiting for him long enough that he had already rehearsed it in his head. But something in your expression made that composure feel fragile.
Because you weren’t angry. You weren’t even upset in the way he expected. You just… looked lost.
Your eyes moved over the paper again, slower this time, like the words refused to settle properly in your mind.
“What do you mean?” you asked, quieter now.
And that made something twist in his chest. Mingyu frowned, confusion flickering through the irritation he had been holding onto for months. “It’s a divorce, Y/n,” he said, the words landing heavier than he intended. “What else would it mean?”
You didn’t answer right away. Your grip on the paper loosened slightly, like your hands had forgotten why they were holding it in the first place. Your brows pulled together—not in anger, not in hurt but in something closer to disbelief.
“No,” you murmured, almost to yourself.
Mingyu’s jaw tightened.
He had expected resistance. Denial, maybe. Even anger. But not this. Not the way you looked at him like he had just said something that didn’t make sense. Like the idea itself didn’t belong to your reality.
“We’re not—” you started, then stopped, your voice faltering in a way he hadn’t heard in a long time. “We’re not at that point.”
Mingyu let out a short, humorless breath.
“Aren’t we?”
The question hung between you, sharp and unforgiving.
You looked at him like he was saying something unreal. Like the ground beneath you hadn’t already been breaking for months.
Mingyu watched that expression linger on your face, and for a second—just a second—something in him wavered. Then it settled. Back into something heavier. Quieter.
“I’m tired, Y/n.”
The words came out low. Not sharp. Not accusing. Just… tired. He ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly as if even speaking took more effort than it should. “I don’t think you understand how long I’ve been tired.”
You didn’t move. Didn’t interrupt.
So he continued. “I’ve been trying to figure us out for a year now,” Mingyu said, his voice steady but worn at the edges. “Trying to understand what went wrong. What changed. What I did—what you did—what we did.”
His gaze dropped briefly to the floor before returning to you. “And every time I think I’m getting somewhere, it just—” He let out a quiet breath, shaking his head. “It just resets.”
There it was. The thing he never knew how to explain without sounding irrational.
“You act like nothing happened,” he went on, slower now, choosing his words carefully. “Or you disappear. Or you come back and it’s like we’re not even talking about the same things anymore.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“I don’t know how to keep up with that.”
The studio felt smaller with every word. Mingyu took a step back, more for himself than for distance between you.
“I feel like I’m the only one fighting,” he said. “The only one holding onto them. The only one trying to fix something that—” He stopped, swallowing. “—that you don’t even seem to think is broken.”
Silence pressed in again. Heavy. Unforgiving.
“I used to think you stopped caring,” he admitted after a moment, his voice quieter now. “That maybe you just… fell out of love. And I tried to accept that.”
His lips pressed into a thin line.
“Because at least that would make sense.”
But this? This didn’t. Mingyu looked at you then—really looked at you—and whatever he saw didn’t ease anything inside him. It only made him more tired.
“I don’t recognize us anymore,” he said. “I don’t recognize you.”
The words weren’t harsh. But they landed harder because of it.
“And I don’t want to keep living like this,” he added, almost gently. “Coming home and not knowing which version of you I’m going to get. Wondering if anything we say to each other is going to matter the next day.”
He let out a breath that felt like it had been sitting in his chest for months.
“I can’t keep doing that.”
Your fingers tightened slightly around the papers again, but you still hadn’t said anything.
That scared him more than anger would have. So he finished it.
“I just…” Mingyu paused, his voice dipping lower, quieter—like the truth had finally settled into something he couldn’t avoid anymore. “I just want it to end.”
A beat. Then, softer—
“I want a divorce.”
No anger. No raised voice. Just a man who had run out of ways to hold something together on his own.
*
Your head was spinning by the time you stepped out of Mingyu’s studio.
The air outside felt different—too open, too sharp against your skin—as you made your way toward your car. Each step came a little uneven, like your body hadn’t quite caught up with everything that had just happened.
Your breath hitched. Something tight lodged itself in your throat as you reached for the door handle, fingers fumbling for a second before finally pulling it open. You slid into the driver’s seat, the quiet inside the car closing in around you almost immediately.Too quiet.
You shut the door. And for a moment, you just sat there. Your hands came up to your face instinctively, pressing against your eyes, your temples—like you could steady the spinning inside your head if you just held on tight enough.
Take a breath. Just—breathe. You tried.
But it came out uneven. Shallow.
“Divorce…?” The word felt wrong in your mouth. Unfamiliar. Like it didn’t belong to you.
Your brows pulled together, confusion settling deeper as you leaned back against the seat, staring blankly at the windshield. You didn’t understand. Not really.
Why would Mingyu—out of nowhere—want a divorce? The question circled, over and over, but never landed anywhere solid. Out of nowhere. That’s what it felt like.
There hadn’t been a conversation. No warning. No moment where things felt that broken. Yes, you’d been busy. Yes, things had been quieter between you. But that was normal, wasn’t it?
It had to be.
Your fingers tightened slightly against your sleeves as you tried to retrace your steps—last night, the days before, the past week—
But the thoughts didn’t line up the way they should. They slipped. Blurred at the edges. You exhaled shakily, pressing your lips together. This didn’t make sense. None of it did. Mingyu looked serious. Tired. But that didn’t match the version of things in your head.
Because in your mind, you were still trying.
You drove to the gallery on autopilot.
The roads blurred past you, familiar turns taken without thought, your hands steady on the wheel even as your mind refused to settle. By the time you pulled into the parking lot, the tightness in your chest hadn’t eased—it had only sunk deeper, quieter.
You couldn’t afford to think about it now. Not here. Not when people were waiting. You stepped out of the car, smoothing down your clothes, forcing your expression into something composed—something professional. The moment you walked through the doors, the noise of the gallery wrapped around you. Conversations. Footsteps. The low hum of a place alive with people.
Normal. Everything looked normal. You held onto that as you made your way toward your office.
But then—
Seungkwan. He was standing a few steps away, already looking at you. Not casually.bNot like he’d just noticed you. He was staring. And something about the look on his face made your steps falter, just slightly.
Before you could reach your office door, he moved—quickly, cutting you off.
“Y/n,” he called, breath uneven like he had rushed over. “What are you doing here?”
You blinked at him. “What do you mean?” you replied, frowning slightly. “I have work.”
His expression didn’t change. If anything, it deepened.
“How are you?” he asked instead, his tone shifting—careful now, like he was testing something fragile.
The question threw you off more than it should have.
“I’m fine,” you said, a little too quickly. “Seungkwan, I have a lot of things to do. No time for—” you waved your hand slightly, searching for the word, “—casualty.”
His brows furrowed.
“What?” he said, almost under his breath. Then louder, more certain, “What are you talking about?”
A pause.
Then—
“It’s been a week since you resigned.”
The words didn’t land all at once. They hit, then echoed—like your mind needed time to catch up.
You stared at him.
“…What?”
Seungkwan didn’t smile. Didn’t laugh it off like it was a joke. He just looked at you—really looked at you this time, something serious settling into his expression.
“Y/n,” he said slowly, “you said it yourself.”
Your chest tightened. “No,” you interrupted, shaking your head immediately. “Why would I do that?”
He didn’t answer right away.
And that hesitation, that was worse.
“Babe,” he said softly, the word sounding more like concern than familiarity now, “you told me you were trying to conceive. That you wanted to focus on that.”
Your breath caught.
“That’s why you resigned.”
Something in your stomach dropped.
Hard. You shook your head again, more firmly this time, even as the movement felt disconnected—like your body was reacting before your mind could.
“I never said that,” you insisted, your voice tightening. “And I never resigned.”
The words came out certain. Too certain. Because the moment they left your mouth, something flickered.
A fragment. A feeling. Not quite a memory. Your fingers curled slightly at your sides.
“That doesn’t make sense,” you added, quieter now, like you were trying to convince yourself as much as him. “Why would I resign?”
Seungkwan didn’t respond. He just watched you. You noticed it. The way he was looking at you. Not confused. Not annoyed. But worried.
“You know I don’t want to get pregnant and get those morning sickness again, Seungkwan…”
The words slipped out before you could stop them.
They hung in the air—wrong.
Your own voice sounded distant to your ears, like it didn’t quite belong to you. The moment stretched, thin and fragile, as something inside your chest tightened sharply.
Seungkwan froze.
Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just—still. His expression faltered in a way you had never seen before, the concern in his eyes shifting into something heavier. Something that made your stomach drop before he even said a word.
“Again?” he asked quietly.
Your breath caught. You blinked at him, confusion knitting your brows as your mind scrambled to catch up with what you had just said.
“I—” You stopped, swallowing. “That’s not what I meant.”
But it was. Wasn’t it? The word lingered in your head now, louder than anything else.
Again.
Your fingers curled slightly against your palm, nails pressing into your skin as if that could ground you, anchor you to something real.
“I’ve never—” you started, your voice unsteady now, “I’ve never been pregnant.”
Seungkwan didn’t answer immediately.
And that silence—
it was too long. Too careful. Too heavy.
Your heart began to pound, slow and uneven, as something cold crept up your spine.
“Y/n…” he said finally, his voice softer now, like he was approaching something breakable. “You don’t remember?”
The question didn’t feel like a question. It felt like a confirmation.
Your head shook almost instinctively, small at first, then firmer. “Remember what?” you asked, the words coming out sharper than you intended. “What are you talking about?”
But even as you said it, your chest tightened. Your body knew. Before your mind did.
A flicker, white walls. A smell you couldn’t place. Your hands gripping something—hard. Pain.
A sharp inhale tore through your throat as you staggered back a step, your hand reaching blindly for the edge of a desk to steady yourself.
It slipped. Gone before you could hold onto it.
“What—” you whispered, your voice breaking, “what is that?”
Seungkwan moved closer instinctively, but stopped himself just short of touching you, like he wasn’t sure if he should.
“You…” He hesitated, jaw tightening. “You were pregnant.”
The world tilted.
“No,” you said immediately. Too fast. Too desperate.
“No, that’s not—no.”
But the denial didn’t settle the way it should have. It didn’t feel solid. It felt like something you were trying to force into place over a crack that had already split open.
Seungkwan’s gaze didn’t leave you. “You miscarried,” he said, gently.
The word hit harder than anything else.
Miscarried.
Your breath left you in a shaky exhale, your grip tightening on the desk as your knees threatened to give out.
“That’s not possible,” you whispered..
Seungkwan didn’t say anything for a while after that. Like he had already said too much. The space between you stretched thin, fragile, filled with things neither of you seemed ready to touch. You weren’t sure how long you stood there—seconds, minutes—time felt… off. Slower. Heavier.
“They’re recruiting a new director,” he said.
Your head snapped up. “What?”
His gaze softened, but it didn’t waver. “Management made the announcement three days ago. I thought you knew.”
You didn’t. Of course, you didn’t.
“I…” Your voice trailed off, the words refusing to come together. “No one told me.”
Seungkwan hesitated, then exhaled slowly. “You weren’t here, Y/n.”
That again. That same sentence, dressed differently. Your fingers curled slightly at your sides.
“I packed your things,” he added after a moment, gesturing toward your office. “Just in case you needed them.”
You didn’t respond. You just walked past him. Each step felt heavier than the last as you pushed the door open and stepped into your office—your office. The space looked untouched at first glance. Clean. Organized. The way you always kept it. But something was off. Too neat. Too… finished.
There, on your desk, sat a box. Simple. Brown. Sealed loosely, like it had been opened and closed more than once.
You approached it slowly. Your hands hovered for a second before finally lifting the lid. Inside was your things. Files. Notebooks. Small personal items you barely registered as you shifted them aside, your movements growing more restless, more urgent—as if you were looking for something without knowing what it was.
Anything that would make sense. Anything that would prove this was wrong.
Your fingers brushed against a document. You pulled it out. Your name. Printed clearly at the top. The rest of the words blurred for a second before your vision steadied, your eyes tracing the lines slowly—too slowly, like your mind was resisting every letter.
Patient Name: Y/n.
Date: two weeks ago.
Your breath caught. And then, there it was.
Miscarriage.
The word sat there, unchanging. Unforgiving. You stared at it. Waiting for it to make sense. Waiting for something—anything—to connect. But nothing came. No memory. No image. No feeling strong enough to claim it as yours. Just… emptiness.
Your grip on the paper tightened slightly, the edges crumpling under your fingers without you realizing. Two weeks ago. You tried to think back. Tried to force your mind to go there,to that day, that moment, anything. But it was like reaching into a void. Nothing.
Your lips parted slightly, a breath escaping you that didn’t quite feel like your own.
“…No.”
It came out barely audible. Because if this was real, if this had happened, then what else had you forgotten? And why, why did your body feel like it already knew?
*
You woke up with a sharp inhale. Dark. For a second, you didn’t move. The ceiling above you felt unfamiliar—too high, the corners of the room too shadowed. Your body was stiff, like you had been lying there for hours, unmoving.
Your breath came uneven as you pushed yourself up, the sheets falling from your shoulders. The room slowly came into focus. You knew it. Your parents’ house.
The realization settled in, slow and heavy, as your eyes moved around the space. The furniture. The curtains. The faint scent lingering in the air—familiar in a way that made your chest tighten.
How did you get here? You couldn’t remember. Not the drive. Not arriving. Not even deciding to come. Nothing. A flicker of unease crept up your spine.
You swung your legs off the bed, your bare feet meeting the cold floor as you stood. The house was quiet as you stepped out of the room, the hallway dimly lit by a single lamp left on somewhere in the distance.
You checked the time. Midnight. Your brows furrowed. Why… were you here?
The thought came quickly, almost instinctive—
Mingyu.
Wouldn’t he be waiting for you? At home. The idea felt solid. Certain. Like something you could hold onto.
You stepped outside without thinking much of it, still in your pajamas, the night air brushing against your skin as you wrapped your arms around yourself. It felt colder than it should have.
Your phone was already in your hand before you realized it. You called him. It rang once. Twice.
“Hello?” His voice was there. Low. Tired. Familiar.
Your throat tightened slightly.
“Can you pick me up?” you said, the words coming out softer than you intended. “I’m at my parents’. I don’t know why I’m here…”
There was a pause on the other end. Short. But heavy.
“…Alright,” Mingyu replied finally. “I’ll be there in ten.”
The line went dead. You stood there for a moment longer, staring at your screen before lowering it slowly, something uneasy settling deep in your chest. You couldn’t name it. Only that it didn’t feel right.
Mingyu arrived exactly ten minutes later. His jeep pulled into the driveway, headlights cutting through the darkness before the engine went still. You didn’t wait. You moved toward the car immediately, opening the door and slipping into the passenger seat.
The warmth inside hit you all at once. You shut the door quietly. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The engine started again. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye.
He looked… tired. More than usual. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his jaw set in a way that made something in your chest twist.
“You seem tired,” you said gently, trying to ease the silence. “Long day?”
The words felt normal. Casual. Like something you had said a hundred times before. Mingyu didn’t answer right away. The car kept moving. He turned his head slightly, just enough to look at you.
“Really?” he said. His voice wasn’t loud. But it wasn’t soft either. There was something under it. Something sharp.
“Are you acting right now, Y/n?”
The question didn’t land all at once. It hit. And then— everything followed. At once. Too fast. Too much. The fight. Your voice—strained, repeating the same thing over and over. The door closing. Silence stretching for days. Getting lost, No—Walking. Barefoot—Cold pavement—Hands shaking. White walls. Pain. A word. Miscarriage. Paper. Your name. Seungkwan’s voice— You resigned. You were pregnant. Mingyu. The studio. The papers in your hand. Divorce.
Your breath caught violently, your fingers gripping the edge of the seat as your head spun, the pieces crashing into each other without order, without mercy.
You froze. Completely still. Because none of it— none of it lined up. Not cleanly. Not clearly. Some of it felt real. Too real. But some of it— felt distant. Blurry. Like something you had dreamed and then half-forgotten.
Your chest rose and fell unevenly as your mind scrambled, trying to sort through it—trying to separate what was real from what wasn’t.
The car felt too small, like the air inside had been sucked out. Your breath came uneven, fingers gripping the edge of the seat as if that was the only thing keeping you grounded. Something was wrong—deeply, terribly wrong. “Mingyu…” your voice trembled, barely audible. “I… I don’t—” The words dissolved before they could form, because it started.
Not like remembering. Not clean, not whole—but like something cracking open inside your head.
A flash of white. Too bright. The sharp, sterile smell hit you first, making your stomach twist violently. You flinched, your hand flying to your abdomen without thinking. Pain followed—sudden, overwhelming—your body curling into itself as if reliving it. “Mingyu—” your voice echoed weakly in your head, breaking, but no one answered.
The car slowed, Mingyu glancing at you, saying something—your name, maybe—but you couldn’t hear him. The memories kept coming.
A phone screen. Your own reflection staring back—pale, hollow-eyed. A message half-typed: Where are you? Deleted. Typed again. Deleted again. The door closing—his voice, distant, muffled like it was underwater. I need space.
Your chest tightened painfully. “No…” you whispered, shaking your head, but it didn’t stop.
The floor was cold beneath your knees. Your hands clutched your stomach, breath breaking into uncontrollable sobs. Something warm. Wet. Your vision blurred as you looked down.
Red.
A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your body recoiling as if burned. “Mingyu—” this time louder, desperate. Still, the memory didn’t release you.
Voices—strangers. Panic, urgency. “Stay with me, ma’am—” “Call someone—does she have someone—?” Your head felt heavy, your fingers weakly gripping someone’s sleeve. “Mingyu…” barely a sound.
Then silence.
A room too quiet. Your hands resting on your stomach, and you already knew. Before anyone told you, before any words were spoken—you knew. Empty.
Time blurred. Hours, days—you couldn’t tell. Curtains drawn, your phone lighting up beside you. His name on the screen. You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
Another shift.
You stood in front of the mirror, staring at someone who looked like you but didn’t feel like you. Your lips moved, forcing a smile that didn’t belong. “Everything’s fine.” Again. “Everything’s fine.” Again. Again.
“Y/N!”
The world snapped back violently.
The car. The road. Mingyu’s voice, closer now. His hand gripping your arm, his face tight with something between fear and disbelief. “Hey—hey, look at me—what’s wrong with you?” Your breathing came in short, broken gasps as you stared at him, not fully seeing him, because the last piece settled in—slow, heavy, unavoidable.
The paper in your hand. Miscarriage. Your name printed beneath it. Two weeks ago.
Your lips parted, but no sound came at first. Your eyes trembled as they searched his face, like you were seeing him for the first time—or finally understanding. “I…” your voice came out hollow. “I was pregnant.” The words felt distant, unreal. “I—” your breath hitched sharply. “I lost it.”
Silence filled the car, thick and suffocating.
Your fingers curled into your clothes, shaking. “And you…” your voice cracked—not accusing, not angry, just broken. “You weren’t there…”
The moment the words left you, something shifted again. Your expression faltered, confusion creeping back in, fragile and disoriented. “I…” your brows furrowed weakly. “Why weren’t you there?”
Not blame. Not yet. Just a question. A real one.
Like you didn’t remember asking it before. Like you didn’t remember living through it at all.
And that was when it truly broke—not just the memory, not just the loss, but the realization that you had lived through something that shattered you… and your mind had decided you couldn’t survive remembering it.
*
Mingyu didn’t answer. Not because he didn’t want to—but because he couldn’t.
His hand was still wrapped around your arm, fingers tightening without him realizing, like if he let go you might disappear right in front of him. His eyes searched your face, scanning every inch of it as if the answer was written somewhere there, hidden beneath your expression.
“I—what?” he let out a breathless, disbelieving sound. “What are you talking about?”
His voice came out sharper than he intended, confusion laced heavily through it. There was something else too—something unsettled, almost uneasy.
“You’re… pregnant?” he repeated, the word sounding foreign in his mouth. “Y/N, what—”
He stopped. Because you didn’t look like you were lying. You didn’t look like you were avoiding him, or deflecting, or doing that thing he had grown so used to—smiling like nothing happened, brushing everything under the rug until he was the only one left holding onto it.
No. You looked… lost. Completely, terrifyingly lost.
“I lost it,” you said again, softer this time, like you were trying to convince yourself more than him. Your eyes drifted away from him, unfocused, like you were seeing something else entirely.
Mingyu’s grip loosened slightly. Something about this felt wrong. Not wrong like your usual fights. Not wrong like miscommunication or stubbornness or hurt pride.
This felt off. Like he had walked into the middle of something he didn’t understand, something that had been happening without him even knowing.
“Y/N,” his voice dropped, slower now, cautious. “What are you saying?”
You didn’t answer him directly. Instead, you looked back at him, your expression fragile, almost childlike in its confusion. “You left,” you murmured. “You said you needed space.”
Mingyu’s brows pulled together immediately. “Yeah, I—” he started, but stopped halfway.
Because the way you said It didn’t sound like you were recalling a recent argument. It sounded like you were reliving something.
“And then…” your voice wavered, your hand instinctively pressing against your stomach again. “It hurt. I was alone.”
His stomach dropped. A strange, cold feeling crept up his spine.
“Alone?” he echoed, quieter now.
You nodded faintly, eyes glossing over. “I called you,” you whispered. “I think I did… I don’t—” Your breathing picked up again, panic slipping back in. “I don’t remember if you answered.”
Mingyu froze.
“I didn’t—” he said quickly, almost defensively. “You didn’t call me.”
But even as the words left his mouth, they didn’t sit right. Did you? He would’ve remembered, wouldn’t he?
His mind raced back, trying to piece together the timeline—the fight, him leaving, the days after. Everything felt… blurred. He remembered being angry. He remembered ignoring a few calls—no, not calls, messages. Or were they calls?
His chest tightened.
“Y/N,” he said again, but his voice had changed. Less certain. “When… when did this happen?”
You blinked at him. Slowly. Like the question itself didn’t make sense.
“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice small, trembling. “I thought it was just today. But…” Your fingers curled into your clothes again, shaking. “They said two weeks.”
Two weeks. The words echoed in his head. Two weeks ago. Mingyu’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles paling as something heavy began to settle in his chest. Two weeks ago, he wasn’t there.
He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering back to you. You were still looking at him like you needed him to make sense of it. Like he was supposed to explain what happened to you.
But he couldn’t. Because none of this made sense. Not the pregnancy. Not the miscarriage. Not the way you were remembering things in pieces—out of order, like broken fragments that didn’t quite fit together.
And most of all, ot the way you were looking at him right now. Like he was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
Like you knew him, but didn’t fully remember what he had done. A quiet, unsettling realization crept into his mind, one he didn’t want to touch, didn’t want to fully form.
“This isn’t…” he started, his voice low, uncertain. “Y/N, this isn’t you just… pretending, is it?”
The question hung in the air. Fragile. Dangerous.
You didn’t answer him. Not right away.
Your lips parted slightly, like you wanted to say something—explain, maybe—but nothing came out. The words were there, somewhere in your head, but they felt out of reach, slipping further the harder you tried to grab them.
“I…” your voice cracked, barely holding together. “I don’t know.”
And that was it. That was the last thing keeping you from falling apart.
Your breath hitched sharply, your chest tightening like something inside had finally snapped loose. The fragments in your head—voices, images, pain, silence—crashed into each other all at once, too loud, too overwhelming.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” you whispered, but it quickly broke into something heavier, something desperate. “I don’t know what’s real, Mingyu—”
Your hands came up to your head, fingers tangling in your hair as if you could physically hold yourself together. “I remember things—but then I don’t—and it hurts and I don’t know why it hurts and I don’t—”
Your voice collapsed into a sob. Raw. Uncontrolled.
“I don’t understand,” you cried, shaking now, your whole body folding in on itself. “Why can’t I remember? Why does it feel like I forgot something important? Something really important—”
Your words dissolved into broken sobs, your breathing uneven, almost choking as you tried to take in air.
“I feel like I lost something,” you whispered weakly, your voice barely there now. “But I don’t even remember losing it…”
Mingyu didn’t think anymore. Didn’t question. Didn’t try to piece anything together. Because seeing you like this—breaking right in front of him, not pulling away, not pretending, not brushing it off. It did something to him. Something heavy. Something sharp.
“Hey—hey,” he said quickly, his voice dropping, panic threading through it as he reached for you.
You didn’t resist. Didn’t even react. Your body leaned into him the moment his arms wrapped around you, like you had nothing left to hold yourself up. His hand came up to the back of your head, pressing you gently against his chest, the other arm tightening around you as if he could keep you from falling apart any further.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, though his voice wasn’t as steady as he wanted it to be. “Hey… it’s okay. It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t. He knew that. You knew that. Still—you clung to him.
Your fingers gripping onto his shirt, clutching it tightly as your sobs broke freely now, muffled against his chest. Your whole body trembled, each breath shaky and uneven, like you were trying to breathe through something too heavy to carry.
“Mingyu…” his name came out broken, barely recognizable. “I’m scared.”
That did it.
His arms tightened around you instinctively, his jaw clenching as something painful twisted deep in his chest.
“I know,” he whispered, his hand gently pressing against your hair, trying to soothe you even though he had no idea how. “I know… I’m here.”
Your grip on him only tightened.
“Don’t leave,” you said suddenly, the words spilling out in a fragile, desperate plea. “Please don’t leave me again—I don’t… I don’t think I can handle it if you—”
Your voice broke completely. Mingyu froze.
Again.
The words hit him harder than anything else had.
Again.
His throat tightened, something heavy lodging itself there as his mind flashed back—to the door closing, to his own voice saying he needed space, to the silence he left you in. To two weeks ago. To the time you said you couldn’t remember.
He swallowed hard, his hold on you tightening almost protectively now, like he was trying to make up for something that had already happened.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly, but this time there was something different in his voice.
“I’m here,” he repeated, softer, his hand moving gently against your hair. “I’m right here, Y/N.”
You didn’t question it. Didn’t pull away. You just held onto him tighter, like he was the only thing that still made sense in a world that suddenly didn’t.
*
The hospital felt too bright—too clean, too unforgiving. Mingyu sat outside your room, elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging loosely between them. They were still trembling, though he barely noticed anymore. Everything felt distant, like he was sitting behind glass, watching someone else’s life unfold.
You were inside. Unconscious.
Again. He didn’t know how it got to this point. One moment you were in his arms—shaking, crying, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you together—and the next, your body went slack. Your voice disappeared. Your grip loosened.
And just like that, you were gone.
The doctor said it wasn’t physical. Not entirely. “Severe stress response,” they called it. Something about your body shutting down because your mind couldn’t handle it anymore. Mingyu didn’t fully understand, but he knew one thing—this wasn’t normal. This wasn’t you avoiding fights or pretending nothing happened. This was something deeper. Something he had completely missed.
He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling shakily. His chest felt tight, like something was pressing against it from the inside. How long has this been happening? The question wouldn’t leave him alone. How long had you been like this… and he just didn’t see it?
Footsteps approached from the end of the hallway—soft, careful, familiar. Mingyu lifted his head slightly.
Your parents. Your mother looked like she hadn’t slept. Your father stood beside her, quieter, but just as tense. The moment their eyes met Mingyu’s, something shifted—something uneasy, something unspoken. They already knew.
“Is she awake?” your mother asked, her voice low, controlled, though the fear beneath it was obvious.
Mingyu shook his head. “No… not yet.”
Silence settled between them, heavy and suffocating. Your father nodded slowly, like he expected that answer—like this wasn’t new. And that made something twist painfully in Mingyu’s chest.
“…Has this happened before?” he asked, his voice quieter now, careful.
Your parents exchanged a look—not confusion, not surprise, but hesitation. And that alone told him more than he wanted to know.
Mingyu straightened slightly, his brows pulling together. “Please,” he said, more firmly this time. “I need to know what’s going on with her.”
Your mother’s lips parted, but no words came out at first. She looked at your father, like she needed permission—or strength. Your father exhaled slowly, then spoke.
“She’s had episodes like this before.”
The words landed heavier than they should have.
“Episodes…?” Mingyu echoed, his voice tightening.
“Not exactly like this,” your mother added quickly, her tone fragile. “But… similar. When she was younger.”
Your mother looked away this time, her fingers tightening around each other. “She went through… something,” she said carefully. “Something that affected her deeply.”
The vagueness only made his chest tighten more. “What kind of something?” Mingyu pressed, his voice sharper now. “She’s losing her memory, she collapsed in my arms, she thinks she was pregnant and lost it but doesn’t even remember when it happened—how am I supposed to understand any of this if you keep—”
“She was assaulted.”
The words cut through everything. Clean. Immediate. Mingyu went completely still.
“…What?” The word barely left him.
Your father didn’t look away. “When she was a teenager,” he said. “She didn’t tell us right away. We only found out later… when things started getting worse.”
Mingyu’s mind struggled to process it. Assaulted. You. His gaze flickered instinctively toward your hospital room door, like it didn’t match the person lying inside.
“She developed severe depression after that,” your mother continued softly. “She was on medication for a long time. It affected her body… her weight. And people weren’t kind.”
Mingyu clenched his jaw, something sharp twisting in his chest. He could almost see it now—pieces of you he never knew existed. Pain you never spoke about.
“We sent her abroad,” your father added. “A change of environment. It helped… for a while.”
“For a while,” Mingyu repeated under his breath, because clearly—it didn’t fix everything.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” he asked, quieter now, no anger left—just confusion.
Your mother gave a sad, knowing look. “She doesn’t talk about it,” she said. “Not even to us. She tries to move on. Pretend it doesn’t exist.”
Mingyu let out a hollow breath, leaning back slightly as everything started connecting—slowly, painfully. The way you avoided certain topics. The way you reacted to your body. The way you held onto control. The way you forgot.
“And the memory loss?” he asked, more hesitant now.
Your father paused, then answered, “It’s happened before. Not this severe. But when she’s under extreme stress… she dissociates.”
Mingyu closed his eyes briefly. Dissociates. So this wasn’t new. It was just worse now.
And suddenly, everything you said in the car came rushing back.
His chest tightened sharply. It wasn’t that you didn’t care. It wasn’t that you were ignoring things. It was that your mind simply couldn’t hold them—not when they hurt too much.
“And the pregnancy?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer. “Did you… know about that?”
Your parents fell silent. Your mother looked down. Your father didn’t answer. And that silence said everything.
Mingyu’s breath hitched.Because that meant—you went through it. Alone. While he was gone.
His jaw tightened, something heavy and suffocating settling in his chest. Not anger. Not frustration. Something worse. Regret.
Your mother hesitated, like she was debating whether to say more. Her fingers twisted together, eyes briefly flickering toward your hospital room before returning to Mingyu.
“Sometimes… she comes home. To us.”
“She shows up late. Sometimes in the middle of the night.”
Your mother let out a small, shaky breath. “Recently. The past few months.”
Something in his chest dropped.
“She comes crying,” your mother continued, her voice wavering now despite her effort to stay composed. “Saying you’re not home. That you haven’t been home for days. That she can’t reach you.”
Mingyu’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Because that didn’t make sense.
“I was home,” he said, almost instinctively. “I mean… not always, but I—” He stopped himself, his thoughts tangling. There were days he stayed longer at the studio. Nights he didn’t come back until late. Times he ignored your calls because he was still upset.
But days?
“…I didn’t leave for days,” he finished, though the certainty in his voice had already weakened.
Your father didn’t argue. Your mother only looked at him—sadly.
“She believed it,” she said. “Every time she came to us, she was convinced you were gone. That you left her.”
Mingyu felt something cold settle in his stomach.
“She would cry for hours,” your mother went on, her voice quieter now, like each word was getting harder to say. “She kept asking what she did wrong. Why you wouldn’t come back.”
His chest tightened painfully.
“She said you were upset,” your father added. “That you were tired of her. That you needed space.”
Mingyu’s jaw clenched. Because he did say that. Not once. Not lightly.
“I need space.”
The words echoed in his head now, heavier than before.
“But then…” your mother paused, her voice breaking slightly. “The next morning, she would wake up and act like nothing happened.”
Mingyu’s breath caught.
“She’d smile,” she continued. “Talk normally. Ask us why we looked so worried.”
Your father exhaled slowly. “Sometimes she didn’t even remember coming to us.”
Silence fell heavily between them. Mingyu stared ahead, but he wasn’t really seeing anything anymore. The hallway blurred slightly, his mind trying—failing—to process it all.
“She forgets?” he said, barely above a whisper.
Your mother nodded. “Not everything. But… the parts that hurt the most.”
Mingyu’s hands slowly curled into fists, resting against his knees.
Because suddenly, everything made sense in the worst way possible. The nights you accused him of being distant. The mornings you kissed him like nothing happened. The way your arguments never seemed to carry over. The way he thought you just didn’t care enough to hold onto them.
It wasn’t that you didn’t remember. It was that you couldn’t. A sharp breath left him as something twisted painfully in his chest.
“And the night…” your mother hesitated again, then continued softly, “the night she lost the baby…”
Mingyu’s head snapped up.
“She came to us,” she said. “Crying. In pain. We told her to go to the hospital, but she kept saying she needed to wait for you. That you’d come home.”
His stomach dropped.
“She kept calling you,” your father added quietly.
Mingyu froze.
“She said you weren’t answering,” your mother whispered.
His mind went blank for a second. Then, slowly, memories started creeping in. His phone buzzed. Once. Twice. Again. He remembered glancing at it. Your name lighting up the screen. And him— turning it face down. Because he was still angry. Because he needed space.
Because he thought, it could wait. Mingyu’s breathing grew shallow.
“She left after a while,” your father continued. “Said she didn’t want to bother you anymore. That she’d handle it herself.”
Your mother’s voice broke this time. “We didn’t know it would get that bad.”
Silence. Heavy. Unforgiving.
Mingyu couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.
Because now, now he knew. You didn’t just go through it alone. You tried to reach him. And he wasn’t there.
Not because he couldn’t be. But because he chose not to be. His throat tightened painfully, something sharp pressing against it as his gaze slowly dropped to his hands.
And for the first time Mingyu realized that the moments he thought were small, the ones he brushed off as just another fight were the same moments you were breaking and reaching for him at the same time.
*
You noticed it. You had always noticed. At first, it was small. So small you could still pretend it was normal.
You would forget things—little things. Where you placed your keys, whether you had eaten, what day it was. You laughed it off, brushed it aside, told yourself you were just tired. Overworked. Distracted. But then it wasn’t just things.
It was moments. You would be in the middle of a conversation and suddenly feel like you had stepped out of your own body, like you were watching yourself speak from somewhere far away. Your voice would continue, your lips would move—but it didn’t feel like you anymore.
Like someone else had taken over for a second. You noticed it. The way time slipped. The way hours would pass without weight, without memory, without anything to hold onto when you tried to look back.
At first, you caught it. You would pause, frown, try to retrace your steps. What did I just do? What did I just say? Sometimes you could piece it together. Sometimes you couldn’t.
And when you couldn’t, that was when the fear started.
So you learned to fill the gaps. You smiled when you were supposed to smile. You spoke when it was expected of you. You followed routines, patterns, anything that could make you look normal enough so no one would notice the spaces in between.
Especially him. Especially Mingyu. You noticed how he would look at you sometimes. Confused. Frustrated. Like he was trying to hold onto something that kept slipping through his fingers.
And you hated that look. So you got better at pretending. Better at stitching things together. Better at acting like nothing ever happened. Like the fights never happened. Like the words you couldn’t remember saying were never spoken. Like the nights you cried yourself to sleep didn’t exist the next morning.
You told yourself it was easier that way.
Safer.
If you didn’t acknowledge it, then maybe it wasn’t real. If you kept moving, kept smiling, kept being—then maybe you wouldn’t have to face whatever was breaking inside of you.
But the shifts got worse. Longer. Deeper. There were days you couldn’t remember at all. Faces that felt familiar but distant. Places you didn’t remember going. Conversations that were thrown back at you like accusations, and all you could do was stare—blank, lost, guilty for something you didn’t even know you had done.
You started to question yourself. Your own mind. Did I say that? Did I do that? Or was it just… someone else wearing your skin? You noticed it.
You noticed the way fear slowly turned into something heavier. Something quieter. Something you couldn’t quite name. Until one day, you didn’t notice anymore.
The gaps stopped scaring you. Because you stopped seeing them. They became your normal. Your routine. Your way of surviving. And that terrified you more than anything ever had.
Because this was what you had been running from all along. Losing control. Losing yourself. Becoming something you couldn’t recognize. Something fragile. Unstable. Broken.
You had spent so long trying not to be that girl again. The one who needed help. The one people whispered about. The one who was too much, too heavy, too complicated to love without exhaustion.
And yet, without realizing it, without even noticing when it truly began, you became her again.
Not all at once. Not dramatically. Just slowly. Quietly. Piece by piece. Until there was nothing left of the version of you that knew how to stay.
*
Someone knocked on your door at nine in the morning. The sound felt… distant. Like it belonged to a place you hadn’t fully arrived in yet.
“Come in,” you said, though your voice came out softer than you expected.
The door opened, and a woman in a white dress stepped inside, pushing a small food cart. The wheels made a quiet sound against the floor as she approached you.
You were sitting on the bed. You noticed that. But the question came anyway. Why are you on the bed? And then, where are you?
“Ms. Ji, it’s time for breakfast,” she said gently. “I brought your favorite.”
She stopped beside you, lifting the cover from the tray. Cut fruits. Boiled eggs. Toast. Simple. Plain.
You stared at it for a moment. You felt like you should recognize it. Like your body knew something your mind didn’t.
“They look boring,” you murmured honestly. Then, after a small pause, “But… I think I like them.”
The woman smiled softly, like she had heard that before.
“I don’t remember having a favorite food,” you added, your eyes shifting to the small name tag pinned to her chest.
Suji.
“That’s okay,” Suji said, her voice calm, practiced in a way that didn’t feel cold. “You don’t have to remember anything today.”
She helped you adjust the tray on your lap, her movements careful, unhurried.
You picked up the toast. Took a bite. It was good. Not special. Not overwhelming. Just… right.
You chewed slowly, quietly, while Suji moved around the room. She reached for the remote and turned on the TV, letting the sound fill the silence just enough. Channels flickered one after another. Colors. Voices. Faces that meant nothing. Until it stopped. A news channel.
“Oh,” Suji said lightly, glancing at the screen. “That’s where you used to work. Remember?”
You paused mid-chew. You worked?
The question formed in your head, but it didn’t feel important enough to ask out loud. Instead, you shifted your gaze back to the screen, your hand reaching for a piece of fruit.
A man appeared on the screen. Well-dressed. Tall. Standing under bright lights as cameras flashed around him. There was applause. An award being handed to him. Your eyes lingered. Something, something moved. A small, quiet pull somewhere deep inside your chest. And then, before you could think—
“Kim Mingyu.”
The name slipped out of your mouth like it had always belonged there.
Suji froze slightly.
“…You know him?” she asked, her tone shifting just a little.
You nodded slowly, your eyes still on the screen. There was no confusion in your expression this time. No hesitation. Just certainty.
“Kim Mingyu,” you repeated softly.
A small pause.
Then—
“My husband.”
The words settled into the room. Heavy. Out of place. Too certain for someone who couldn’t even remember her own favorite food.
Suji looked at you, something unreadable passing through her eyes—surprise, maybe, or something closer to concern. But you didn’t notice. Because your attention stayed on the screen. On him. On the man you couldn’t remember, but somehow, your heart still did.
Suji didn’t bring it up again that morning. But she remembered. The way your voice changed when you said his name. The certainty. The quiet conviction that didn’t match the rest of you—the rest of the woman who couldn’t remember what she liked, where she worked, or even why she was there.
My husband.
It stayed with her. Later that day, during her break, Suji sat in the small staff room with your file open in front of her.
Name: Ji Y/N
Age: 56 years old
Condition: Severe dissociative amnesia with recurring identity disturbance
Guardian: —
Emergency Contact: —
Empty. All of it.
She frowned slightly, flipping through the pages again like something might appear if she looked hard enough.
Nothing did. No family listed. No spouse. No one.
For ten years, you had been there—admitted, treated, stabilized, relapsed, stabilized again. Notes written by doctors, observations by nurses, small fragments of who you used to be scattered across clinical language.
But no one had ever come. No one had ever claimed you. Suji leaned back slightly, her fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the file.
“…Kim Mingyu,” she murmured to herself. It didn’t take long. Articles came up almost immediately. Interviews. Exhibitions. Photographs. A man stood behind most of them—tall, composed, carrying an air that only came with years of recognition.
Kim Mingyu. A maestro painter. Renowned. Respected. Sixty years old.
Suji’s brows furrowed as she scrolled further, eyes scanning quickly until something caught her attention.
A profile. A short personal history. And there is a name. Yours. Listed not as current. But as something that had already ended. Former spouse.
Suji went still.
“…Former?” she whispered. Her gaze flickered back to the photo of him. Then to your name beside his. Then back again. It didn’t line up.
Not with the way you said it. Not with the way your eyes had looked at the screen. My husband. Not was. Not used to be.
She closed the file slowly. Her mind wandered back to the small things you had said over the years.
Fragments. You worked at a gallery. You liked quiet mornings. You didn’t like being alone—though you often were. You had mentioned painting once. Or maybe twice. Never clearly. Never consistently. Like pieces of a story that refused to stay in place. Ten years. You had been here for ten years.
And somehow, in all that time, that name stayed. Out of everything your mind had lost, everything it had rewritten, everything it had buried. He remained. Not fully. Not correctly. But enough.
Enough for you to recognize him without remembering yourself.
Enough to call him yours—even when the world had already written him as something else.
Suji exhaled slowly, her grip tightening slightly around her phone. There was something about it that didn’t sit right with her. A gap. A missing piece.
Or maybe too many pieces that didn’t fit together anymore. She glanced back at your file one more time. Then at the name still on her screen.
Kim Mingyu.
*
The visiting room was quiet when you stepped in. Sunlight stretched across the floor, pale and distant. The chairs were arranged neatly, untouched, like no one ever stayed long enough to leave a trace.
And then you saw him. Sitting by the window. Older. Time had settled on him in quiet ways—grey threaded through his hair, the sharpness of his youth softened into something heavier. But there was still something unmistakable about him.
Something your chest recognized before your mind could. You walked toward him slowly. He looked up. And for a moment, everything in him stilled.
Mingyu hadn’t expected this. Not this version of you. Not the softness in your eyes. Not the absence of anger. Not the way you looked at him like you were trying to place him into a story you couldn’t fully remember.
He had come here with something else in his chest. Old resentment. Old confusion. Questions that had stayed unanswered for decades. Because back then, he thought he knew. He thought you were distant.
Careless.
Cold.
He thought you chose to forget. Chose to walk past every fight like it meant nothing. Chose to leave him alone in a marriage that felt like it only existed on paper. So he left. He signed the papers. He told himself it was the only thing left to do. He never once thought you were sick.
“…Y/N,” he said, your name unfamiliar after so many years.
You stopped a few steps away. You studied him. Carefully.
“I know you,” you said softly.
Mingyu’s breath caught.
“My husband,” you added.
The word hit him harder than anything else. Not because it was wrong— but because of how easily you said it.
Like nothing had ever broken. Like nothing had ever ended.
Mingyu swallowed.
“…I was,” he corrected, his voice quieter now.
You blinked.
“…Was,” you repeated, like you were trying to understand it. There was a pause. Something flickered behind your eyes. A shadow of something heavier—
A studio.
Raised voices.
His voice—
I’m tired. I can’t do this anymore.
A paper in your hand.
The word divorce.
Your chest tightened—
And then it slipped.
Gone.
You smiled instead. Small. Polite. Like you always did when something didn’t make sense.
Mingyu felt it. That shift. That disappearance. His brows pulled together slightly.
“…Do you remember?” he asked, more carefully this time.
You looked at him again. “I think I do,” you said. Then softer— “but it doesn’t stay.”
Your fingers curled lightly against your palm.
“I was trying to tell you something,” you added suddenly.
Mingyu stilled.
“What?” he asked.
Your lips parted. This time you felt it more clearly. The weight sitting in your chest. The words pressing against your throat.
I was scared.
I was hurting.
I didn’t understand what was happening to me.
I wasn’t ignoring you—I was losing myself.
Your breathing faltered slightly.
“I—” you started.
Mingyu leaned forward just a little.
For the first time he was listening. Really listening. Not judging. Not assuming. Just waiting.
“I think… I was sick,” you said, your voice trembling faintly.
His chest tightened. “Sick how?” he asked.
You tried.
God, you tried.
“I…” Your fingers pressed against your temple, like you could hold the thoughts in place. “There was something wrong with me. I couldn’t— I couldn’t remember things. I couldn’t stay… I kept… disappearing.”
Your voice cracked.
Mingyu’s expression shifted. Confusion. Then something closer to realization.
But you weren’t done. You couldn’t be. You needed him to know.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you whispered, your eyes glistening now. “I think… I think I was trying to tell you. Before.”
Mingyu’s breath hitched. Before. All those times you brushed things off. All those mornings you acted like nothing happened. All those empty spaces he filled with his own anger.
“…Why didn’t you?” he asked, his voice low, almost breaking.
The question wasn’t sharp. It was tired.
You shook your head weakly. “I tried,” you said. And you meant it. You really did. You tried in the silence. In the hesitation. In the moments where you looked at him, hoping he would see what you couldn’t explain.
“I just—” your voice faltered again, your thoughts slipping, unraveling even as you reached for them. “I just can’t…”
The words blurred. The meaning faded. The weight disappeared. Like it always did.
You blinked. And suddenly there was nothing. No explanation. No memory. No pain. Just emptiness.
“…I forgot,” you finished quietly.
Mingyu stared at you. At the woman in front of him. At the way your shoulders sank slightly, like even you were tired of failing to hold onto your own thoughts. And something inside him broke. Not loudly. Not suddenly. Just—quietly.
The kind of breaking that comes too late to fix anything. All those years. All those assumptions. All those times he thought you didn’t care enough to try— when you had been trying all along. Alone.
“…I didn’t know,” he said finally.
Your eyes lifted to him.
He shook his head slowly, his voice heavy with something he had never allowed himself to feel before.
“I thought you just… didn’t love me the same way anymore.”
The words hung in the air. You frowned slightly. Love. The word felt distant. Familiar. But not something you could fully reach.
“…I think I did,” you said softly.
And somehow, that hurt him more.
Silence settled between you again. But this time, it wasn’t empty. It was full of everything that had been missed. Everything that had never been understood. Everything that had come too late.
“…You liked toast,” Mingyu said after a while, his voice quieter now.
You looked at him. A small smile appeared. “I think I still do.”
When it was time to leave, you stood first. You always did. You looked at him one last time. Not holding on. Not letting go. Just… looking.
“Goodbye, Mingyu.”
He watched you walk away. And this time, he knew. He hadn’t lost you because you didn’t love him. He lost you because you were already disappearing, and he never saw it.
However, you wanted him to know, you always wanted him to know. You just couldn't. You couldn't. And you didn't remember since how long. . .
summary: 5 weddings in one year. 5 dates you saved for you and your boyfriend to attend — before he cheated. and now, you had to force your best friend, vernon, to go with you. but after losing a bet, mingyu agrees to take vernon’s place and be your date. this wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go, but you guess you could settle going with your only one-night-stand from college.
warnings: oral (f!recieving), fingering, 69ing, unprotected sex, reader on top, praise, mingyu has boyfriend dick<3, sub-ish!mingyu, also power bottom!mingyu 👍, multiple sex scenes, marijuana smoking/shotgunning, marijuana-induced horniness lol, one bed trope, forced proximity, miscommunication, HEAVY mutual pining. nsfw (minors / ageless blogs dni).
word count: 19.9k
note: first things first, APOLOGIESSSSS for this taking so long. I've had a lot going on (which I know just about everyone says) and I was lowkey struggling to write this, even tho I was so amped for it. nevertheless, I'm so glad I was able to focus and finish it, because I care so much for these two and I desperately wanted to share their story with you 💓 per usual, please expect angst with your smut, and if you cry, I will not judge you and honestly would love to hear it lol. enjoy friends! (taglist posted at the bottom.)
in rotation: bmf, sza / mona lisa, mxmtoon / gorgeous, taylor swift / moonstruck, enhypen / finally // beautiful stranger, halsey
Your mom had told you that the friends you make in your first year of college stay with you for life, but you didn’t expect that when you met Vernon. He had been shy, refusing to speak to anyone in your orientation group, but knowing glances turned into sitting next to each other, which then had you both whispering jokes back and forth, until finally, he told you his name. Hansol Chwe to be exact, but he insisted on “just Vernon.” By the second semester of freshman year, you both had become inseparable. He was your best friend, been with you through some of the toughest moments of your adult life, and you wouldn’t trade him for the world.
Vernon’s friendship survived through many of your boyfriends, and you knew he’d outlast many more. He experienced some of the worst ones – a.k.a. the men who refused to believe you two were just friends – and also the boring ones – the one guy who used you to get to him. But none of them had pissed him off more than your most current breakup: the man who was three years your senior and cheated on you with a 22-year-old. You assumed by age 27, you’d know how to pick ‘em, but that was clearly wrong.
Now you were left to your own devices with five weddings to attend this year. In retrospect, maybe there was a few you could’ve skipped, but you hated saying no in situations like this. You had agreed to go to all of them with your now ex-boyfriend in mind, placing a 2 on the invite’s attending line. Per usual, Vernon had stepped up and begrudgingly offered himself to be your date.
So why were you now meeting up with Kim Mingyu to discuss the dates of said five weddings?
You first met Mingyu when Vernon joined a fraternity in sophomore year to make more friends. “I can’t just have you. I need to have at least some friends that are dudes,” he said, which made you reply, “That’s the toxic masculinity talking.” And boy, had Mingyu been the epitome of that statement. Him and Vernon had connected instantly, sharing the same major and an affinity for art girls. You had never really gotten along with him like Vernon had hoped, but he was … attractive, to say the least.
Okay, maybe you had a crush on him. You had eyes.
But it was college and you both were on the cusp of 20. It was so hard to confess feelings back then, especially to someone like Kim Mingyu. Who you didn’t particularly enjoy talking to in the first place. However … he was probably one of the hottest men you’d ever seen; made in a lab for every young girl’s fantasy. Sometimes you couldn’t help but just stare at him, admiring his perfect teeth or the way his honey-gold skin shined in the afternoon sunlight. (You thanked your lucky stars that Vernon joined the college football team alongside Mingyu, just so you could secretly ogle him during practice.)
Suffice to say, you did eventually hook up. In the most cliche way possible, you had both gotten a little too tipsy at the first frat party of senior year and wound up in Mingyu’s dorm, locking out his roommate for the entire night. It almost felt weird, realizing your attraction had been reciprocated, but he hardly said a word to you come morning. In fact, he never mentioned it again, period, choosing to avoid you except in group settings with Vernon. You weren’t a fool; you were quick to realize it meant nothing to him, just another notch on his bedpost.
Mingyu was every girl’s dream, but Mingyu was also uncommitted.
And he was walking towards you right now.
You looked up from your phone after stalking – looking through Mingyu’s Instagram. You never followed him, never checked in on him after graduation, but you knew how close he still was with Vernon. He even posted a picture with him recently. You rolled your eyes. Despite his long hair, you recognized Mingyu instantly as he went up to the barista and ordered a coffee. You studied him for a moment, noticing that there was a curl to his hair and the way those dark stands hung around his eyes. His skin was as perfect as ever and – goddamn, did he get bigger? He was wearing a jacket over his t-shirt and you could still tell how big his muscles were.
When he finally looked over his shoulder and your eyes connected, his face remained unchanged, if not a little awkward. He walked up to you, rubbing at the back of his neck, and said your name as if it were a question. “Yeah. Hi, Mingyu,” you replied with a wave. “It’s been a while.”
“Five years since graduation,” he added, pulling out the chair across from you and plopping down. “So you stopped putting those blonde highlights in your hair?”
Your eye twitched. Before you could spit out a response, a cute, dark-haired barista came over and set a fresh mug of coffee in front of him, completely ignoring that your own was practically empty. Mingyu flashed her a smile, showing off his pretty canines as she walked away. You frowned.
Vernon had told you last night that Mingyu wasn’t the same guy you knew in college, but you begged to differ.
Turning back to you, he took a sip from his mug and asked, “Why did you want to meet up again?”
“Because my best friend is an asshole and you lost a bet.”
“Oh, yeah. That.” He nodded.
You almost didn’t believe Vernon when he told you. You knew he didn’t exactly want to be your date to all these weddings and probably felt like he had to, but he did offer so you didn’t think much of it. Until he told you last week that he put all his guest invites on the line while playing a drinking game with Mingyu, which the latter lost. So now Kim Mingyu, your college one-night-stand that was scared of commitment, was committing to being your date to several weddings this year.
Kill me now, you thought.
“I thought drinking games and making silly bets like this didn’t happen once your frontal lobe formed,” you said, and his dark eyes flickered up to yours.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he cleared his throat and set the mug down again. “Men never really grow up.”
You crossed your arms over your chest and sat back in your chair. “Apparently,” you muttered under your breath. “How do you have the time to actually commit to this? Don’t you have a girlfriend or something?”
“One,” he held up a single finger, “I take bets very seriously and I’m not a sore loser. It’s only removing five weekends out of the year for me. No biggie. And two,” he lifted another finger, “No.”
You raised a brow. “Well, I guess that answers all my questions.”
Mingyu stared at you for a moment, running those two fingers over his bottom lip. You suddenly had a flashback to that night, remembering his hands all over you, remembering his fingers plunging inside and curling –
Not the time.
“Don’t you have a boyfriend? Why put down two people on these RSVPs you sent back and then force just anybody to be your date?” He fought the urge to smile, trying to dig a little deeper into you. You weren’t falling for it this time. “I love the guy, but I know Vernon wasn’t your first choice to accompany you.”
“My ex and I broke up,” you replied. “Not much to it.”
Intrigued, he sipped his coffee again. “Why?”
“It’s none of your business, Mingyu.”
“Well, as your new date –”
“Drop it,” you said, voice taking on a new tone. “I’m serious.”
Mingyu raised his hand in surrender, and you shook off your anger. This was supposed to be a friendly, quick conversation, but it was seemingly moving off the rails. A sigh escaped your mouth before you asked, “So you said this is only taking five weekends out of the year. What do you do with your time? Are you working?”
“I thought I answered all your questions.”
You narrowed your eyes.
He chuckled softly, exposing those canines once again. His smile was so … ugh, you needed to stop getting distracted. “I work at a restaurant four days a week as a cook, and then teach flag football at a rec facility the rest of the time. I’ve been trying to save up to open my own restaurant for years, but I got the time to be a makeshift wedding date.”
You knew Mingyu had always loved to cook – you remembered when he’d been the resident chef at the fraternity – but to hear he was still passionate almost … melted you a little. Almost. You were dedicated to not being too swayed by Mingyu’s pretty words. This was a deal and that was the end of it.
“I see,” you nodded, uncrossing your arms to play with the handle of your still empty mug. “I’ve been working at the same marketing agency since college. Pays the bills, you know?”
Mingyu gave you a knowing look before running a hand through the long strands. “Always so committed.”
Your lips pursed. “One of us has to be.”
“Speaking of commitment,” he said without missing a beat, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “What are the dates for those weddings again?”
Save the Date for the wedding of Choi Seungcheol and Holland Levine: February 28th
It was a rainy Sunday in February. Your coworker, Choi Seungcheol, was getting married today at a local venue on the outskirts. His girlfriend, Holland – otherwise known as, Hinge Holland, when he met her on the dating app 3 years ago – was a little kooky and asked for them to be eloped that morning. Seungcheol was too in love to say no; he’d do anything she asked. They were married early morning, and lucky for you and Mingyu, all you had to attend was a reception. It was a nice way to test the waters of this deal before anything got too crazy.
Mingyu had picked you up in his truck, and together struggled to help lift you inside with your dress and heels on. As he drove away from the city and into a more rural area, he commented, “Your coworker must be real whipped to agree to a reception here.”
“What are you talking about?” You looked through your phone for the address Seungcheol had sent you months ago. “I thought the reception was at some small venue.”
Mingyu said your name, and you glanced over, seeing the smile on his face. “It’s a VFW owned by someone in his girlfriend’s family.”
You realized just how right he was when he pulled up to a spot in a VFW parking lot, seeing a crowd of Holland’s family pour into the post. You knew what the inside of a VFW looked like; you had your sweet 16 at one. But going to a wedding reception at one was a whole different story. Were the walls so old that they’d crumble once the DJ dared to play Dancing Queen?
Rain pounded from the sky, making the cold February wind even more chilly. Mingyu rounded the truck and opened your door, making sure to hold an umbrella above your head as you slid out of the seat. He looked … okay, he looked extremely handsome in his suit, tailored exactly to his body. You were in an old, off-the-shoulder black dress with mesh sleeves that were doing nothing in this wet cold. This wedding had crept up on you, and before you knew it, you remembered you didn’t have any new dresses to wear. And while it looked nice, the dress just barely zipped and you had to keep pulling up the neckline. Clearly, you had grown a bit since the last time you worn this. Probably in college.
Mingyu was staring at you now, letting his eyes wander down, and you were yanking at the neckline again. He didn’t deserve to see more of your cleavage. He whispered, “You look …”
“Just come on,” you cut him off, tugging him in the direction of the VFW. He struggled to keep up for a moment, rushing to hold the umbrella above both of you.
As soon as you both walked inside, you realized just how dressed up you were compared to the place. The building looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 1990s. There was, at least, a huge buffet-style food setup in the corner and a man so old that he probably had one foot in the grave behind the bar. A sign in front of him said, OPEN BAR, written in thick sharpie. Various family members were congregating at tables, while the DJ – who looked like a Pitbull impersonator – was setting up at the head of the room.
Seungcheol ran over the second he saw you meandering through tables. He had the biggest smile on his face, tugging his new wife over to introduce her to you before wiggling his eyebrows at you when he noticed Mingyu on your arm. Even Holland couldn’t help but ogle him. Seungcheol was one of your closest coworkers, so it wasn’t weird when he asked, “Who’s the beefcake?”
Mingyu was too busy dealing with Holland’s questions to hear you reply, “Don’t ask. I’ve cycled through many options before I was forced to bring him.”
“I’m sure it was quite difficult for you,” he snorted, before carefully pulling his wife’s hand off of Mingyu’s and introducing himself. Not long after, he was ushering her away to start making speeches.
You and Mingyu found your seat quickly, and luckily enough, you were sat with most of your coworkers. Every single one was looking at Mingyu like he was a piece of meat, but he didn’t seem to notice as he had a friendly conversation with each of them. You struggled to not roll your eyes. How was he perfect with everyone? Maybe your dislike of him was irrational and unwarranted, maybe he did change. But … ugh, could he fuck up for once?
Your coworker, Minghao, sat to your left, watching Mingyu converse with the young assistant – Amelia, right? – who was very clearly batting her eyes at him. Leaning towards you, Minghao whispered, “I thought you were bringing Vernon?”
Minghao was one of the few people you told about your breakup, as well as Vernon and of course, your girlfriends. It wasn’t like you to go around everywhere and post on social media about your breakup; it wasn’t anyone’s business. But Minghao gave great advice, and he was one of the first people that helped you get over the heartbreak. He wasn’t just a coworker. He became a trusted friend.
Turning your head, you said, “Would you believe me if I told you that he lost a bet?”
“Considering who you ended up with,” he chuckled, “I’d say it’s a win in your favor.”
“He’s not that great.”
“Then you might want to pull Amelia off of him before she starts sucking his face.”
The reception ended at an early hour thankfully. Most of the elderly guests were falling asleep anyway. Mingyu was a class act, per usual, trying to get you up and out of your seat to dance with him, but the last thing you wanted to do was dance to Toxic by Britney Spears in front of your boss at the marketing agency. Instead, he took the lead to asking Seungcheol’s mom to dance, and made Amelia’s day when he asked her to join. Minghao only continued to laugh when you rejected each of Mingyu’s advances.
Once 10 PM rolled around and you both were exiting the doors of the aging VFW, you noticed the rain hadn’t let up. In fact, it seemed to have gotten even worst. You had to run to Mingyu’s truck with him holding the umbrella above both of you and almost trip over your dress as you hopped up inside the cab. Assuming it would be fine to drive, just a few minutes in the rain left you both realizing that it might be extremely unsafe to drive back to the city in this weather. You really couldn’t argue with Mingyu when he suggested you stay the night at a motel right down the road.
The woman behind the front desk at the motel was chewing so loud that you thought the wad of bubblegum between her teeth might be larger than your palm. She informed you both that the only rooms available were ones with a single queen-sized bed. As much as you desperately wanted two, you’d take what you could get. She started grabbing both of your informations to check in when a loud bolt of lightning cracked, followed by a crash of thunder. You instantly gripped Mingyu’s arm, and he paused signing his name to look down at you.
“Are you scared of thunder?” He asked playfully.
Realizing how tight you were holding on, you quickly removed your hand. “No, I’m … it’s fine.”
His bicep felt so much harder than anticipated. All muscle.
Stop that.
The front desk attendant gave you an actual metal key to open your room, the number dangling from a kitschy pendant. This was the kind of motel where you needed to venture outside to get to your room, and with your arms locked together, Mingyu led you both through the pouring rain to the right building. He shoved the key in the lock, immediately opening the door and allowing you to walk inside first.
The room was smaller than expected. The heat was hardly circulating and you were still shivering. A queen-sized bed was situated in front of an old RCA TV, decorated with a comforter that looked strangely similar to the one from the 80s that your mom had given you when you first moved out. The room smelled like bleach and all you could hear was the rain on the roof. Noticing you shiver, Mingyu walked over to the thermostat and adjusted the heat.
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” you said, hugging your arms around yourself.
Mingyu pointed to the large window by the door. “I can’t drive in that. It takes an hour to get back to the city and I can hardly see the road.”
“Okay, well –”
Lightning struck again, painting the window white, and you jumped. Mingyu shook his head and walked over, closing the shades over the glass. He looked down at you, and you were acutely aware that he was the kind of person who could say everything just with his eyes. “Better?” He asked, a smile playing at his pink lips.
He was so close that you could smell his cologne and – god dammit, you were such a sucker for men that smelled good. He smelled like violets mixed with smokey sandalwood, spicy and musky. Whatever you were going to quip back died on your tongue, leaving you to reply, “I can’t sleep in my dress. I have nothing to wear to bed.”
Walking over to the tiny closet, Mingyu spotted a robe hanging up next to the vintage ironing board. He placed it in your arms and remarked, “Take a shower and put this on.”
“Are you saying I smell?”
He laughed. “No, you’re shivering and it’ll help warm you up.”
You nodded, heading off to the bathroom and shutting the door. As you slipped off your dress and let it pool onto the tile, you realized how antagonizing you were being for no reason. Mingyu had been nothing but nice to you, but you were suspecting him to switch-up at any moment. Maybe Vernon was right, or maybe you just needed to take a chill pill.
Mingyu was helping you out, after all.
After taking the warmest shower of your life and probably using all of the hot water in the motel, you walked out into the room with your robe tied firmly around your waist. The cotton smelled like mothballs and you hardly left an inch of skin showing. Granted you weren’t naked underneath, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your underwear. Again. After five years.
He was wearing only a tank top and boxers while setting up a makeshift bed on the floor. You struggled to maintain focus with him looking … well, like that, and eventually spoke up, “What are you doing?”
He hardly jumped at hearing your voice. “I figured it would just be easier if I slept on the floor. Trust me, I’ve slept in far worse places.”
“Mingyu, you don’t have to do that,” you sighed, pulling back the covers and tossing the mismatching throw pillows on the floor.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“I know, but it’s just –”
Thunder clashed outside, sounding like pots and pans clanging together, rattling your bones.
Your eyes connected with Mingyu’s, and you pointed to the empty side of the bed. “Sleep in this bed right now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
You both agreed – more like, you told Mingyu and he listened – to place a wall of pillows between you two, leaving you on the edges of the bed. You curled up into yourself, your spine facing him, as Mingyu laid on his back and pinched the bridge of his nose. The rain was so loud. The thunder was deafening. You considered plugging your fingers in your ears as you slept.
Mingyu was shifting on the small sliver of mattress he had, wishing internally that he brought a joint or two with him. This bed was so uncomfortable that he probably wouldn’t sleep. But hopefully, you would. Although that was seeming highly unlikely from the way your back tensed with every boom of thunder.
He watched you from the corner of his eye, and eventually, you did stop shaking. Soft snores filled the room, replacing the sound of the rain. And then Mingyu felt himself relax, swiftly falling asleep with his arm thrown above his head.
Despite the pillow wall you built, you woke up with your head on his chest.
Mingyu had wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked that day, but he couldn’t find the courage to finish his sentence.
Save the Date for the wedding of Lee Chan and Adrianna Olson: April 4th
Tapping your freshly manicured nails on your bare arm, you leaned against the passenger side door of your car and huffed. You uncrossed your arms, beginning to pace outside Mingyu’s apartment building. The ceremony today started in two hours and you were about ninety minutes from the venue. Not to mention, there was only a matter of time before one of his neighbors showed up, forcibly removing you from the parking spot in front of the building you definitely did not live in. What the hell was Mingyu doing anyway? He said he’d be down ten minutes ago.
You tugged off your heels, realizing they’d be a bitch to drive in, and pulled your sneakers from the back seat. Your floral, strapless sundress blew in the Spring breeze. Your curls – that looked like they could’ve been done by a toddler – whisked off your bare shoulders as you stepped into your favorite Nikes.
“Sorry.”
Popping your head up, you halted while shoving the back door closed. You blinked, assuming your eyes were deceiving you, but there he was, sprinting down the front steps of his building with freshly chopped hair.
Mingyu was quickly walking over to shove his duffle in your backseat, pulling at his tie, when you leaned in and placed your hand on his head. Yep, that was his real hair. Those long locks that had reached his chin were gone, replaced by a hairstyle that was similar to how he looked in college.
“I know we’re running late,” he apologized, letting your fingers sink into the strands for a moment, “but do you have to –”
“This is not about that.” You removed your hand, leveling a look at him. “You cut your hair.”
Mingyu raised a brow. “It was getting long.”
You paused, blinking at him. “Why didn’t you warn me of your new look?”
“I didn’t think I had to?” He shrugged, genuinely confused as to why you were questioning him. “My hair had gotten even longer since February, so I just thought I’d freshen up for you –”
You completely missed his words – for you, he’d freshened up for you – because you were already interrupting him. “Well, it’s just – it might look weird in pictures because my hair is up and your hair is so short. And I’m already going to have so many people looking at us wondering why my ex, who’s name I put on the invite, isn’t here. And I just want to eliminate as much attention as possible. And, well – and –”
Mingyu placed both hands on your shoulders. His palms were large, practically burning into your exposed skin. “Are you overthinking?”
“No, I …”
When your voice trailed off, Mingyu hesitated for a moment longer and then slid his hands off. “Vernon told me that you dated the groom. Chan, right?”
Of-fucking-course, Vernon told him. Your lips pursed before you replied, “We were friends before that, and we only dated for like a couple months in college. I introduced him to the woman he’s marrying.”
“Then why are you so nervous?”
“I think I have a lot of reasons to be nervous these days.” You continued to stare at him, waiting for him to come up with another quippy remark, but it seemed he contested and shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit. The same tailored suit he wore to the wedding in February, a few loose threads at the seams. “Let’s get going. We’ll be in the car for a while,” you said, rounding your car and hopping inside the driver’s seat.
As Mingyu dealt with finding room for his duffle in your trunk, you took this small second to text Vernon.
You: your friend is infuriating
You: also I’m never going to forgive you for telling him that I dated chan
Vernon: you’ll get over it lol
Vernon: is that the only reason why he’s infuriating?
You: HAIRCUT
Vernon: oh I probably should’ve told you about that when I saw him last week
Vernon: sorry :/
You closed your texts when Mingyu hopped in the passenger seat, turning on your music to drown out your thoughts. The drive was long and you were lucky that you got to the venue with ten minutes to spare. You parked the car in a haste, running to your back seat and quickly tugging your heels back on. You chucked your sneakers onto the car floor, almost hitting Mingyu in the face when he went to grab his phone from the same area. Locking your car, you grabbed his arm and yanked, both of you running towards the venue attached to a pretty hotel. Mingyu, even with his long legs, was struggling to keep up. He was also slightly impressed that you could run so fast in heels, and that was definitely the only reason why he was staring at your legs. He wasn’t admiring how long they looked when the wind lifted your skirt and he got a flash of your calf.
Even from your seat in the back of the ceremony, you could see Chan’s face light up as Adrianna was escorted down the aisle. She was wearing a vintage wedding dress, the veil sheer enough to see how beautiful she was underneath, and Chan was eager enough to lift it as soon as they said, “I do.” Adrianna looked like she hadn’t aged a day since school, and you could probably say the same for Chan. But he did manage to finally remove the earrings he got six years ago, which made you giggle to yourself.
Mingyu pretended not to notice.
Most of the people at the wedding were old friends from undergrad, even a few Mingyu knew in passing. Every time you were approached, you prepared yourself for the same question: “Where is He Who Will Not Be Named?” Or, for those that actually knew Mingyu: “Since when did you know Gyu?” You weren’t sure how much longer you could fake a smile and laugh, pretend that your heart still wasn’t sore from the breakup, rehash the same words over and over again. It was tiring; you were tired.
Same explanation. Same heartbreak. You wouldn’t be surprised if the whole planet knew of your breakup by now. You didn’t announce it anywhere, besides telling your family and close friends. It was natural for people to be curious; you had been with your ex for a couple years, enough for your family to assume that he’d propose. But then he cheated, and you found out, and you were left in pieces, tied to Kim Mingyu as your date for a full year of weddings.
You just didn’t want to keep on doing this, explaining yourself ten times over, realizing that everyone was looking at you with interest. Maybe a second glass of champagne would be a good distraction …
“Wanna dance?”
You looked up from the rim of your empty glass. Mingyu had knocked you out of your daze, laying out a hand for you to take. The reception was lively with family and friends mingling on the dance floor, but Mingyu had still noticed you alone at the table, lost in your thoughts. Had he always been this attentive, or was he just prone to watching you?
Ignoring your internal monologue, you took his hand, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor. Just as Mingyu was about to place his hand on your waist, the song changed, switching to a more upbeat track you used to blast in college. You immediately started laughing at all the older folks trying to follow the beat, and then found Chan with his wife, shimmying on the dance floor. Mingyu pinched the bridge of his nose, but found himself beaming when he finally saw the smile grace your features. He didn’t let go of your hand, let you twirl him to the song that took you back to the musty basement of a frat party.
Chan, at some point, had managed to dance over in your direction, bumping into you with a big grin. “I knew all the alumni here would love this,” he shouted over the music. “Do you remember when you puked outside a window once at some party and you said that it was this song that induced it?”
You were surprised when Mingyu said, “Yes,” at the same time as you. Both you and Chan glanced at him, eyebrows raised, until he added, “That was at one of my parties. I cleaned your vomit off the windowsill!”
The four of you erupted in laughter. Even Adrianna remembered that party, considering that was the night you drunkenly introduced her to Chan. She eventually pulled you away from Mingyu, leading you towards her group of bridesmaids so you all could dance together. But your eyes couldn’t help but find Mingyu’s across the floor, and then he was looking at you, and – god dammit, staring at him felt like a crime you’d consider going to jail for.
Everyone was looking at him, but he was looking at you.
Actually, Mingyu couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you. Not once.
He stared at you as if it was just you two, as if you were stripped bare before him, just for his eyes to see. You could tell from the way he bit his lip while smiling. He looked at you as if you were naked.
Soon enough, you were slipping through the crowd and by his side once again. He was now leaning against the wall by the open bar, nursing a scotch. The party was winding down; all the older family members had left, leaving Chan and Adrianna – plus a few other young couples – swaying to a classic Ed Sheeran song. It wouldn’t be long until they ended the night with Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley. The time war nearing 11 PM.
Slinking beside him, he offered the glass to you and you took a sip, wincing at the burn. You stuck out your tongue. “How can you drink that so smoothly?”
“Years of practice,” he replied, and then flicked your nose in a way that shouldn’t make you blush. But you definitely did.
You blinked up at him, admiring how pretty he was in the faint, yellow light. Actually, he was pretty in every light, but you liked to find any excuse to admire him. Even if you denied it.
“Wanna get out of here?” You asked then, digging your nails into your palms. So afraid of rejection after all these years, even though he agreed to be here. “I think the reception is going to end soon anyway.”
“Yeah, sounds good.” He set his half empty glass on a random table and straightened his back before adding, “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
God, you needed to get it together. Those words were the bare minimum, but when he said them in that slightly muffled voice, it made your nails pinch the inside of your hands harder.
You both stood on opposite sides of the elevator, dragging up, up, up to your room on the seventeenth floor. Your eyes connected. A smile played at his lips. An unspoken tension brewing between the two of you. A feeling you didn’t want to be there in the first place, but something you couldn’t simply ignore.
This couldn’t be happening. Not today. Not tonight. Not ever again.
He opened the door for you, allowing you to slip inside and grab your bag. While he rifled through his duffle, you brought your bag into the bathroom and leaned against the sink. You allowed yourself a moment to just breathe. Maybe if you kept exhaling like this, you would release all the tension from your body. You knew how silly it sounded, but desperate times called for desperate measures. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, turning your face from side to side. Was it the makeup that made him look at you that way sometimes? Perhaps he still had a fondness for lipgloss, like he did back in the day.
When you finally stopped studying your appearance, you wiped off your makeup and tugged on a pair of loose pajamas. Wearing these would be so much more comfortable – and less awkward – than the robe you wore after the last wedding. You still had nightmares about that. Carefully tiptoeing out of the bathroom, you expected to find Mingyu already in one of the two full size beds, scrolling through his phone and ignoring the noise you naturally made. But he was on the deck just outside your room, smoke billowing from his mouth.
You stood near the unoccupied bed, balancing on the balls of your feet, as you debated your options. A smart person would go right to sleep, leave him to his business. You chewed on your bottom lip nervously.
Despite the slight warmth to the air, you threw on a hoodie, scared of the possibility of your nipples showing through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. You slid open the door and immediately closed it, preventing any smoke from getting into the room. He didn’t turn; he knew exactly who was behind him. His back muscles flexed underneath his suit jacket, the joint dangling between his lips as he prayed for his lighter to work again.
“You probably shouldn’t be smoking in this suit,” you said, saddling up beside him.
He chuckled, finally taking a long drag. “I promise to get it dry cleaned before our next adventure.”
Before our next adventure. You bit the inside of your cheek.
Your eyes didn’t leave the joint now sitting between two of his fingers. (Jeez, were they always that big?) He let more smoke filter from his lips and into the open air, clouding up the starry night sky. Without even looking at you, he asked, “Why are you staring?” His words hung in the silence for a moment. “Have you ever smoked before?”
You shrugged. “Only once or twice with Vernon. Probably as freshmen.”
“You want me to show you how?”
Blinking at him, all you could do was dumbly nod. Mingyu laughed under his breath, fighting with his lighter again, before eventually holding the flame to the end. He then cautiously passed the joint over to you, allowing the filter to brush your lips. “Take it in your mouth,” he instructed, “now inhale.”
When you did as he asked, you must’ve inhaled far too deeply, or just didn’t exhale at the right time. Because then you were coughing, doubling over as you tried to catch your breath. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, concern etched in his tone, and patted your back as you hacked up what felt like your left lung. His voice was soft, soothing, but you could hardly hear it through the ringing in your ears.
“Yeah,” you sighed, voice hoarse, “I’m definitely out of practice.”
As you stood up, his hand stayed on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing patterns. Your breath stilled as you looked up at him. Playing with the joint between his lips, he said, “Let me show you an easier way.”
“Okay,” you agreed, before your conscious could stop you.
You watched as he took a long pull from the joint, sucking it all in until you could see his eyes get a little pinker, and then moved closer to you. Instinctively, your eyes closed and your lips parted, welcoming the scent of him. His lips only lightly grazed yours as he exhaled the smoke into your mouth, letting it engulf your very being, and you felt yourself start to relax. He craned back, grinning down at you, and it took everything within you to not ask for another hit right then.
In the moonlight, you could see why you fell hard for Mingyu. He had only gotten more handsome since college. Light, in any form, was so kind to him, but with the stars hanging above his head … it allowed his dark hair to shine, casting a slightly blueish tone to his warm features. You could see the twinkling stars reflecting in his eyes, especially when he leaned back in, expelling more smoke into your mouth.
This felt too intimate. This felt like fucking.
Once you both were so high you could do nothing but laugh, Mingyu stubbed out the joint and you stumbled back into the room. You both were finally going to have a good sleep at one of these, especially since there were two beds. Rolling into your bed, you immediately burrowed under the covers as Mingyu took off his suit in the bathroom.
The last thing you expected was to feel him plop down in your bed. He was wearing so little that it made your thighs press together, or maybe that was just the weed talking. He was disoriented, laying halfway off the edge of your bed, staring at you as if you were the Mona Lisa. You huffed, “Mingyuuu. You need to get in your own bed.”
“Do you really want that though?”
His words made your eyes immediately snap open. A grin was tugging at his mouth again, his teeth sinking into that plush bottom lip. Oh, so also wanted … Oh.
You tried to sound cool and nonchalant, “Considering this is a full size bed, yeah.”
Even in the darkness, even with his back to the moonlight streaming through the glass door – his presence was making you nervous. His eyes weren’t leaving yours. You felt your hand inch over, your pinky curling around his.
“If I can be so honest with you,” he whispered, licking at the corners of his lips, “you are so beautiful that I want to kill any guy that has done you wrong.”
You exhaled, “Mingyu …”
He leaned in, smiling like he knew he caught you in his trap. “Yes?”
You were pretty sure that you knew Kim Mingyu by now. You knew that this would be just another night that meant nothing to him. No matter how much he “changed” in Vernon’s eyes, it was very clear to you that he remained uncommitted. But fuck it, your heart was still burning from the breakup, stinging from the memory of people uttering your ex’s name tonight. It was only going to be a kiss. Just something to soothe the pain.
He was so much closer now, invading your space, his hand completely eclipsing yours. He smelled like marijuana and lingering cologne. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, but you didn’t. You let him kiss you, and god, it would be so much easier to dislike Mingyu if he didn’t kiss so well.
It wasn’t long before his tongue was pushing into your mouth, his large body looming over yours as he pressed you into the mattress a little more. And you’re desperate for it; you couldn’t stop. This was supposed to be simple – just a kiss – but you could feel yourself falling under his spell, feel how his palms burned against your skin as they dragged down your torso. He explored your mouth like it was the first time, parting your legs to make room for himself on top of you. When his lips left yours, you almost let out a whine, but he helped take off your hoodie before reattaching his mouth to your neck. Those large hands snake under your shirt – up, up, and up – until he was cupping your breasts and you can feel how hard he is against your thigh.
Mingyu looked up at you as he kissed down your torso, his spit soaking through the thin fabric of the t-shirt you were still wearing. He lifted one of your legs, adjusting it so your thigh could rest comfortably on his shoulder and – shit, you knew where this was going. Reaching the waistband of your panties, he begged, “Let me go down on you.”
You mulled over his words. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“No,” he grinned against your skin, meeting your eyes from between your legs. “But that’s a tomorrow problem. Please?” His head tilted. “Do I have to beg? I’m willing.”
You bit your tongue, egging him on a little as he nipped at the inside of your thigh. He bucked his hips once, them twice, trying to get the smallest bit of friction on his cock that was currently throbbing in his boxers. He grunted softly against your skin.
“And if I say, ‘No?’” You asked with a raised brow.
He lifted his head and pouted his lips. After all these years, he still managed the perfect puppy dog eyes that could make just about anyone weak. “Don’t be mean,” he pleaded, and you couldn’t help but giggle.
“You like when I’m mean,” you quipped, giving him permission by helping him shimmy your panties off. He adjusted your legs again, presenting you like a meal.
“I do,” he chuckled, his breath ghosting over your pretty, pink folds. “Especially, when you act like you didn’t want me here in the first place.”
Before you can rebuttal, he’s pressing his face between your thighs, dragging his tongue up your slit to collect the wetness that gathered there. Just the small amount of attention had you keening, your hips jumping for more of him, and Mingyu was happy enough to oblige. His tongue flicked at your clit as he slid one single finger inside of you, testing your limits. Those puppy dog eyes lifted from between your thighs, wanting to see you crumble, knowing that it was him who made you like this. You sighed out his name, your hand coming down to tangle in his hair. And god, if Mingyu didn’t love that … he’d be a dead man. He groaned when he felt you tug at the strands, beginning to swirl his tongue in a circle around your puffy clit.
You couldn’t even prepare yourself when he shoved another finger inside, pumping them in and out at an unreasonably fast pace. But you were bucking into him, tears pricking at your eyes as you whimpered for him. It was too much but almost too little at the same time. You could practically feel him smile as he devoured you. The bed rattled against the wall when he ground his erection against the frame, so needy and aching. His plump lips suckled on your clit, your slick smearing over his face, but he didn’t want to miss a drop of you. He needed more of you, so he started curling three fingers inside of you, teasing that sweet spot.
This wasn’t your first rodeo with Mingyu. He knew what you could take.
“Mingyu,” you whined, and he glanced up at you again with the most fucked-out eyes imaginable. And still, he didn’t stop. “You’re gonna … I’m gonna cum so fast.”
He moaned into you, then begged, “Please. Need to taste you.”
He was so determined, so desperate to feel you shake and moan and cry until he was completely spent on the taste of you. And it wasn’t long before he got his wish: as he shoved those three fingers into you, grazing your g-spot while lapping at you like you were his last meal on death row. You unraveled on his tongue, muffling your cries for the rest of the people sleeping on your floor. Biting into your hand, you had physically restrain your body from shaking as your orgasm rocked through you, but Mingyu held you down with a gentle hand on your stomach. He was staring at you again and you were staring at him and fuck, his half-closed eyes made him look like he was drunk on you. You could feel him smirking into your pussy as he collected every last drop of you, knowing that he did a good job. He sighed with relief when he could finally taste you again and again and again.
Once your body settled, you felt him start to tug at your shirt and kiss up your stomach. The thought of now having him inside you made your hands clench with excitement, but dear god, he just knocked the wind out of you and you weren’t sure how you could last. You were spent, tired, probably could just fall asleep right now.
You weren’t feeling his lips on your skin anymore, so you opened your eyes. The moonlight gave you just enough to see that, despite the raging boner he probably had, Mingyu was now snoring softly with his head resting on your hips. Brows raised, you almost couldn’t believe that this was the moment he decided to fall asleep, but you couldn’t deny that you had been on the verge of doing the same.
Untangling yourself from him, you quickly cleaned yourself up and wiped his face clean with a washcloth. You sighed, using all the brute strength you had to haul him up on what was supposed to be your bed, and wrapped the covers around him. You admired him for a moment, your hand coming up to smooth back his dark hair. Somehow, this felt even more intimate than you cumming in his mouth. So you quickly moved away and slipped under the sheets of the other bed, using his snores as white noise.
The next morning, neither of you spoke of what happened.
Mingyu had wanted to tell you that he had a crush on you the moment Vernon introduced you two all those years ago, even when you disliked him. And slowly but surely, he was starting to realize it never truly went away.
Save the Date for the wedding of Joshua Hong and Jordan Lo: June 20th
Two months passed and the spring air turned sweltering. It was on days like this when you rolled the windows down and wasted gas just to get an overpriced iced coffee that you reminisced. You were taken back to a time when you waited by the curb as Vernon appeared from football practice, and even though he was sweaty, you still always agreed to drive him back to his dorm on the other side of campus. You would watch him say goodbye to his teammates and – shit, the light would catch, and suddenly you were looking at Mingyu wipe the sweat off his face while laughing with the quarterback and –
Now you were thinking about Mingyu again.
You had been thinking about him since April.
All of this felt so silly, like stupid games young 20-somethings played. You knew it wasn’t good for you in engage in – well, anything with Mingyu. He had always been perfectly uncommitted with women, and he was clearly obsessed with his work, posting his new recipes or pictures of him and his flag football team on his Instagram stories. You could handle this. You could be an adult and have a functional acquaintanceship with someone you found attractive.
So you kept your distance. On the off chance that Mingyu was free and asked if you wanted to get together (which was a shock in itself), you declined. Even if you wanted to. Even if you desperately wondered what would come of it. The next wedding wasn’t until the end of June and you were already biting you lip at the thought of seeing him in a suit again.
The only person you could finally blabber to about this was Minghao, and in typical fashion, he laughed. Not that you expected anything less.
“You’re overthinking the entire situation,” he said over drinks. “It’s completely normal for you to have a little fun, especially while healing from a breakup. That’s what being single is all about, my friend.”
He was right. Of course, he was right. But what if Mingyu rejected you yet again, like he did in college? You wanted to talk to Vernon about this. He always gave you the best advice with this stuff, but this was his friend. The last thing you wanted was to make his friendship with Mingyu weird.
You attempted to ignore him. You redownloaded some dating apps as a distraction. You deleted them just as fast.
On the morning of June 20th, your cousin, Jordan, was marrying her longtime boyfriend, Joshua Hong. You had only met Josh on a number of occasions, but considering that they had been together for almost twelve years, you trusted him enough to take care of her. You felt lucky to be chosen as a bridesmaid and you’d never make a fuss, but dear god, the dark blue of this dress clashed with just about everything. The color was so dark and the dress was clinging to just about all of you and Mingyu’s tie was the wrong shade of blue –
Damn, did he look handsome though.
Jordan had made you both get to the venue early for a rehearsal dinner, and then once the morning came, you were whisked off to hair and makeup. You had barely said a word to Mingyu, too scared to give him anything besides small talk, but you couldn’t help but compliment the new suit he bought for the last few weddings. “Figured I’d cave and invest in one that wasn’t from Goodwill,” he explained, “for you.”
For you. For you. For you.
Your heels were hurting your feet halfway through the wedding, and despite how hard you were trying to focus on Josh’s vows, you couldn’t help but find Mingyu’s eyes in the crowd. He wasn’t paying attention to anyone else, his stare burning into yours to let you know his intent. You swallowed hard. Would anyone notice if you hid your blush behind the bouquet in your hands? It felt like torture having him look at you like this, as if there wasn’t an extravagant wedding happening around them, as if he wasn’t Kim Mingyu.
It wasn’t until the reception that you could finally get a word in with your cousin, some much needed alone time after what was surely going to be the craziest wedding you went to this year. You both parked yourself near the open bar, ignoring the guests on the dance floor that were screaming for another round of the Cha Cha Slide. Tucking a strand behind your ear, Jordan said, “I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me. Jeez, I really didn’t think when I was three and met you a couple weeks after you were born that we’d be here. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
You grinned, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” The bartender handed you a new glass of wine and you took a sip. “Besides, these days all I do is work or go to weddings. The life of being a permanent wedding guest, I supposed.”
“Speaking of guests …” Jordan turned her head slightly, ogling Mingyu from where he was standing up and trying to decline your great aunt’s advances to dance. Your cousin giggled. “He isn’t the older guy I thought you’d bring.”
“Circumstances change.” You shrugged, and she gave you a look. “I’d rather not get into it.”
Jordan’s brow raised. “You guys are having sex though, right?”
You almost choked while taking another sip of your wine. “Absolutely not.”
“You sure?”
“Well, I –” You sighed, and then decided to suck down the rest of the glass in one go. Jordan whistled. “We did at one point. Very long time ago. But he’s Vernon’s friend and … it’s a long story.”
“Sounds like it,” she snorted, eyes flickering around the reception until they landed somewhere behind you. “Well, if you’re not having sex with him, my friend just might tonight.”
Your expression muddled, until she pointed over your shoulder. Turning around, you found Jordan’s Maid of Honor chatting up Mingyu near the stairs that lead to the restrooms. Her hand was inching up his sleeve and he was blushing at what you could only assume was a compliment coming from her lips. He was clearly enjoying the conversation, despite the intimate looks he was giving you earlier.
Classic fucking Kim Mingyu, you thought.
A pang of jealousy surfaced that you couldn’t control. It was probably best for everyone if you walked away and took a breather. After Joshua pulled his wife onto the dance floor, you adjusted the tight silk of your dress and headed for the bathrooms. You walked past them, your perfume wafting past Mingyu’s nostrils, a scent he would know anywhere.
Instead of going inside the bathroom, you decide to stand in the empty hall connected to the venue and brace your back against the cool wall. You sighed, gathering yourself, completely unaware it wasn’t just you here until you heard the squeak of someone else’s shoes.
“I noticed you were empty,” Mingyu muttered as a way of greeting. He was holding two glasses of rosé between his fingers, stepping down the small staircase to get to you.
It was just you two now, and he was handing you the glass while standing so close that you could smell his cologne. Had this dress always felt that tight, or could you just not breathe right now? You watched the way his eyes flickered to your mouth, and it took everything in you not to yank him closer by the tie. Instead, you took a big gulp of rosé.
“You didn’t have to come after me,” you remarked, and then nodded your head in the direction of the Maid of Honor now on the dance floor. “You looked like you were having fun.”
Mingyu simply tilted his head to the side, studying you carefully.
“She’s pretty. Don’t stop on my account, but please be aware that we are sharing a room so you can’t bring anyone back there.”
Mingyu’s lips slowly curved into a grin. “Are you jealous?”
You scoffed, “No. I’m just … being realistic.”
Taking your half empty glass from your hand, he set them both down on a side table right near the women’s restroom. Your mouth opened, but the words died as soon as he placed a hand beside your head on the wall. He was so tall that he towered over you, even in heels, leaning into your space with pretty, half-opened eyes as he stared at your glossy lips.
“Can I be realistic with you?” He didn’t give you a moment to answer. “I cannot stop thinking about our last night together. I know you probably thought it happened because of the weed, but I … these past two months, it’s all I’ve been thinking about. And it’s killing me that I’ve been trying to be normal this whole night when all I’ve wanted to do is drag you away and make you cum again.”
Your breath hitched slightly at his words. He leaned in then, grazing his nose over the side of your face, desperate to be in your orbit. You took your bottom lip between your teeth and tried to control your heart rate, but how was that even possible when Mingyu’s other hand was brushing up and down your side, tangled in the silk.
“Well, that …” You swallowed hard. “That wouldn’t be a good idea considering all my family is here.”
He tsked under his breath. “Obviously, it wouldn’t be, but …” You felt his nose at your jaw, inhaling the scent of your perfume again, the one that made him crazy. And he damn near groaned in your ear.
“Mingyu, you … you –”
“Fuck, how could you think I’m looking at anyone else here when you look this good in your dress?” His voice had taken on that needy tone he always got when he was horny. It almost felt like a reward to be able to hear it again. “I’ve been half-hard this entire reception just from looking at you, remembering the way you tasted …” He muttered another curse.
This was how he always acted. Mingyu could be so desperate and pleading when he wanted to get someone in bed, needy to the point he would do anything just to please you, but god – you couldn’t deny how much you liked it. He was reeling you in. You were like fish to bait.
Slowly, he laced your dominant hand with his and moved it from his belt buckle to his groin. You could barely breathe when you felt him harden under your touch, and then you remembered you were still in a public hallway, where just about anyone could walk by.
Your eyes met his half-lidded ones as he murmured, “Look what you’re doing to me.”
And god help you, because you whimpered at the sound of his voice, slick starting to gather between your thighs.
“Okay, Mingyu, just …” You sighed, composing yourself because you knew he wasn’t going to any time soon. Your hand slipped away from his and he huffed, his forehead falling to rest on your shoulder. “Go to our room and let me make my rounds. I’ll meet you up there.”
He stood up. For a moment, he was almost tempted to drag you into the bathroom and bury his face between your legs, too hungry to let you get away now. But one of your uncles was walking down the hall, and you separated quickly. With a nod, you walked back to the reception and said goodbye to your family that you didn’t get to talk to for too long prior. Jordan gave you a look when you mentioned about going to bed early, and even Josh told you how weird you were being, but your cousin shut him up and sent you a wink.
You exhaled heavily and headed back to hotel on the other side of the venue. Slipping your heels off once you were inside the elevator, you debated if giving into Mingyu this easily was the smart thing to do. Smart? Definitely not. But would it be enjoyable? You didn’t need to answer that question. Mingyu knew what he was doing.
As you unlocked the door to your hotel room, you began to wonder if you were just setting yourself up to be hurt again. He didn’t come back to you like this in college, but what’s stopping him from telling you that he’s “just not that into you” at the next wedding? Or what if he just thought of you as an easy hookup that would get his dick wet every 2 months? Well, you hadn’t done that yet –
Yet. Yet. Yet.
The word repeated in your head like a melody, because when you threw your purse down and saw Mingyu walking out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower and dressed in only a towel around his waist, you realized that you were most definitely getting his dick wet tonight. Whether it was in your mouth or somewhere deeper, you were salivating for it.
He was smiling at you and you were smiling at him and Jesus, he was so goddamn handsome that you couldn’t believe that he was the one desperate for you. Droplets of water trickled down his tan skin and that towel around his waist was just barely holding on. His torso was chiseled and his arms – fuck, his biceps were bigger than you remembered. He was something out of a dream – some horny, fucked-up dream that you only had after masturbating before bed.
He was on you instantly, pushing you against the wall and kissing you hard. Sighing into the kiss, your hands fist into the towel to yank him closer, but it only makes the flimsy fabric fall. You break away for a moment to mutter, “Oh, shit,” but his lips can’t stay away from yours for long. And he’s laughing, like you did exactly what he wanted. You were too hypnotized by the scent of his body wash to care.
Dragging his lips down your neck, he sucked at the spot that he knew made your thighs press together, grinning proudly against your skin when you moaned. His fingers gripped the soft silk of your dress, slowly pulling the fabric up to feel you that much closer. But it wasn’t enough. No matter how much he liked you in this dress – and god, did he like you in this dress – he needed you out of it. Now.
Mingyu unzipped your dress with precision, setting it down on one of the two beds in the room, and both of you were suddenly wishingthere was only one. His hands smoothed down your sides, his breath hot against your mouth. He just wanted to feel you everywhere. He almost didn’t want to step away, afraid you’ll slip through his fingers like sand. When you two had hooked up in college, it was quick and explosive, letting out the tension that had been building for years. There was so much territory for him to cover now, so many ways for him to find out what made you whine and sigh with pleasure. But, if he were being honest, all he wanted right now was for you to –
“Sit on my face,” he begged, caging you into the wall, pressing his hard cock against your stomach. So desperate for just an ounce of friction, so hungry for another taste of you. He could literally start drooling at the thought of it. He was mesmerized by you; he’d do anything you asked just to have your pussy on his tongue again.
But you seemed to be debating your options, biting you lip again, and he wished that didn’t turn him on even more. You were just so pretty, and the way your face scrunched as you decided on something was a sight he couldn’t help but think about when he touched himself, even all those years ago. It was just you. You.
Eventually, your face relaxed, and you replied, “Well, you don’t have to beg me.”
Mingyu’s lips pulled into a smile, and he laughed while pulling you down onto the nearest bed. Despite his request, you continued to straddle his torso and kiss him for just a little while longer. He was needy, moaning into your mouth whenever his cock bumped against your ass, but all you wanted to feel his lips on yours, tangle your tongue with his, even if it was just for another minute.
You forgot Mingyu was stronger than you, though. It wasn’t much longer before he was yanking your body up and turning you around so you knelt just above his face. He inhaled the scent of your pussy and almost breathed a sigh of relief, but instead muttered, “Such a tease sometimes.”
Now that you were hovering above him, you were suddenly self conscious about how excited you were and if your arousal was seeping onto his face. You couldn’t even see if he was thrilled or not, since he had turned you to face away from him, but the way his cock jumped in front of your eyes told you enough. His hands gripped your thighs tight. “I don’t want to crush you,” you said nervously.
“You could suffocate me and I wouldn’t have a problem with it."
You chewed on your bottom lip. His tone was firm, probably the most serious you’d ever heard from him. But you were embarrassed and this was crazy and you still so wet. With flushed cheeks, you asked, “Mingyu, are you –”
“Yes,” he answered before pulling you down onto his face.
He wasn’t teasing you tonight. He was devouring you without even letting you catch your breath. His tongue swiping at your clit before he sucked on it – hard. So hard that you let you a sound that was a mixture of a yelp and a moan. Gripping you roughly, he spread you wider, drinking more of you in. Your hips moved on their own, grinding against his face, which made him groan into your pussy. The vibration in his voice spread throughout your entire body, goosebumps lining your flesh. “Mingyuuu,” you whined, begging for more, and you could practically feel him smirk as he flicked at your swollen clit.
Leaning forward, you turned your head up and noticed again just how hard he was. His cock had always been perfect: the perfect size, dark pink at the tip, veins etched into the shaft. Precum beaded at the head, sliding down every so slowly, as he throbbed and ached and – god, his hips were almost thrusting into the air now. You didn’t doubt he could get off for hours on this, but that didn’t mean he needed to be unsatisfied.
Besides, you wanted something to do with your mouth anyway.
Mingyu whimpered as you shifted slightly to reach his cock. Your body stretched, your mouth at the perfect angle as you flicked the head with your tongue. He pulled you back towards his mouth, shoving his tongue inside your tight hole and making you gasp at the same time you licked a stripe up his shaft. His tongue worked you open while you swirled your own along the tip, and then finally took him into your mouth.
The grunt he released should’ve caused an earthquake.
You bobbed your head up and down his shaft, choking when he bucked into your mouth. You could hardly breathe, taking every opportunity to inhale through your nose, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop. God forbid, you have a hobby like wanting Kim Mingyu’s cock in your mouth. He took the liberty of grinding you against his face with his own hands, wrapping his lips around your clit again, eager to taste your climax. And to be honest, he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last if you kept sucking on his tip like that. He groaned each time, feeling your tongue circle his head before going back down, taking as much as you could, as if you were rewarding him. And he just couldn’t help but whine along with you.
Your lips pulled off him to kitten lick the veins along the sides of his shaft, and you breathily asked, “Are you close?”
His only response was a moan straight into your pussy.
You nodded, even if he couldn’t see it, before your mouth opened like second nature. You spit on his cock and stuffed him down your throat once again. Head moving faster, you were slobbering on him like a dog in heat, trying not to gag and failing. Your free hand snaked up to cup one of his balls, and the sound he released was deafening. His tongue flicked and sucked at your clit like he had nothing left to live for, hungry for every last drop of your essence.
But then you were cumming, and he was too not long after.
You cried, choking on his cock as you came all over his face. White blurred in your vision, and you were a mess of sweat and spit and so much cum. He exploded in your mouth a moment later, hot seed running down your throat, and you consumed all of it. Neither of you wanted to miss out on the taste of each other. It was filthy, intoxicating, how much you liked this. How much you could suck him off over and over again, and not get tired of him.
You didn’t know it at the time, but Mingyu would say the same about you. If not worse.
He could spend all day between your thighs and never want to leave.
When you both finally angled off each other, spent and exhausted, your breathing was heavy and off by two seconds. Mingyu was glancing over at you before you could even process, a smile playing at his swollen lips. He brushed away a strand of hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.
“Mingyu,” you finally said, “has anyone ever told you that you have boyfriend dick?”
Mingyu had wanted to tell you how much he’d been dreaming of that moment, how much you had haunted his dreams and left him waking up so hard that he felt he was going through puberty again. Sometimes he dreamed of how good it would feel when he finally slipped into you, inch by inch. You’d feel like home.
Save the Date for the wedding of Lee Seokmin and Quinn Song: July 31st
You couldn’t go a day without talking to Mingyu. Whether it be through text or over the phone, you were joking with him, telling him about your day, and vice versa. Just a month prior, you had tried keeping your distance, but now … you simply couldn’t help yourself. It was like there was a voice inside your head telling you to contact him, to send him a funny video you saw that day, to tell him about the show you were currently watching. And on nights when you had too much to drink, that voice made you text him that you missed him. He always said he missed you too.
Mingyu: I’m watching that show you recommended
Mingyu: kinda wish you were watching it with me
Mingyu: but I’m still content here and I can see why you like it so much
You: right?? I knew you’d like it!
You couldn’t help but giggle at your phone when his texts came through. And you answered them immediately, like you always did.
Mingyu: what are you doing right now?
You: wouldn’t you like to know
Neither of you made the effort to go on an actual date. It was all just flirty texts with a TikTok mixed in every once in a while. Promises about going back to that coffee shop someday, but never planning the day. To be honest, this was one of those moments where you were glad Mingyu was so uncommitted. If you started going on dates that didn’t include a vow exchange in between, it would be so easy to fall for him again, and then be let down when he eventually didn’t want to see you after wedding season.
Mingyu: I mean that’s why I asked
You: I’m hanging out with
A pillow was suddenly thrown at your head. “Ow!” You shouted, head shooting up from your phone to glare at Vernon sitting on the other side of the couch. “What the hell was that for?”
“Anakin is literally burning alive and all you can do is look at your phone!” Vernon scoffed, turning Revenge of the Sith back on. You set your phone down on your lap as he muttered, “Kinda wish I never won that bet.”
Vernon, obviously, was becoming increasingly annoyed that you and Mingyu had rekindled … whatever this was. Sometimes you wondered if you were talking to Mingyu more than your best friend, but given the way Vernon was acting, that was probably the case. You probably shouldn’t even be texting Mingyu while hanging out with Vernon. Bad friend move; happens to the best of us.
You apologized to Vernon in the best way possible: you bought him fried chicken from his favorite spot.
As summer came along, so did Seokmin and Quinn’s wedding at the end of the month, an invitation that was barely hanging on by an old Britney Spears magnet on your fridge. Quinn Song had been your first ever roommate out of college. You both had met on a Facebook group to find roommates in the area and quickly hit it off. She had been your roommate up until last year actually, when her now-fiancé Lee Seokmin asked her to move in with him. It was at that point that you finally decided to live alone, besides the few days out of the week that Vernon crashed at your apartment.
The wedding was being held on a pretty island in the northeast, nestled on the expansive grounds of a bed and breakfast in the area. The spot felt warm and lived in, the exact kind of place you imagined Quinn would get married at.
Meeting Mingyu at the airport had been awkward, but at the very least, you two were sitting in different rows of the plane. Maybe it shouldn’t have been as cringe-worthy as it was, given the fact that you two had been talking nonstop, but it was the memory that the last time you did see each other in person, you were sitting on his face and his cock was so far down your throat –
Mingyu had found your eyes a couple rows behind him on the plane. Even he was blushing now, as if he could read your thoughts.
You had rented a car once you reached your destination and threw him the keys, letting him drive the convertible down the coast while the summer breeze whipped through your hair. You tried not to notice the way his hand twitched on the gear shift, like he was itching to place his palm on your thigh, to ground himself to your presence. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Especially when all you could do was stare out the window with a big smile on your face.
Unfortunately, you had to book a room at a small hotel near the bed and breakfast since all the rooms were used for the wedding party. The hotel was quaint, but definitely old and smelled like the Febreze scent your mom used to love when you were a kid. Your room was tinier than the pictures implied, but it was on the first floor and had a screen door that opened to a pretty view of the ocean. You didn’t have much time to enjoy it though, considering that the ceremony was in a few hours and the reception would probably carry on until way past midnight.
You decided to rewear the floral sundress that made a previous appearance at Chan and Adrianna’s wedding. It wasn’t like anyone here was at that event, and honestly, you didn’t care. Throwing your hair up into a perfectly messy updo, you curled a few pieces and took your time with your diligent makeup routine. Mingyu was in his suit before you could even blink, biding his time while you got ready by watching past game recordings of the flag football team he taught and trying to identify key moves they missed out on. As you finished up and clumsily slipped on your shoes, the perfume you sprayed seemed to beckon him like a siren song, and suddenly, he was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, meeting your eyes in the mirror.
Your brows shot up. “Done with your flag football research?”
“You’re beautiful,” he replied.
You turned, unable to stop your lips from pulling into a soft smile. His expression was so warm, cheeks tinged slightly pink either from embarrassment or a nasty sunburn. He was beautiful. In ways you couldn’t even comprehend.
Holding out your necklace to him, you asked, “Can you help me put this on?”
He nodded, plucking the dainty chain from your palm. You moved back to the mirror as he struggled to open the clasp with his thick fingers, but he got it eventually. Placing the thin, gold chain around your neck, you watched the small, star-shaped pendant sit so delicately under your collarbones. He fixed the clasp on your neck, his fingers brushing the top of your spine, and you watched him lean forward in the mirror.
His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, breath hot and making the hairs on your neck stand up. “I meant it, by the way,” he whispered, and then placed the softest of kisses behind your ear.
Your breath hitched, and you were unable to form a single coherent thought. For the first time in a while, he was catching you by surprise. He was moving back, and you noticed him smirk in the mirror, knowing exactly how he was affecting you. That annoying asshole –
“Ready to head out?” He asked, grabbing his wallet from the desk.
You huffed and tugged the strap of your purse onto your shoulder. “Of course.”
The grounds of the bed and breakfast were bigger than you assumed, enough to fit an extremely large tent and hardwood floor for all the guests to congregate. The ceremony was held near the shoreline of the ocean, and it was so, unapologetically Quinn to have a few seashell pins in her veil as she walked towards her husband. You had known Seokmin as long as Quinn had been your roommate, but you had never seen this kind of smile on his face until now. He completely lit up at the sight of her, and he didn’t waste a second to say, “I do,” once his time came.
As the guests crowded into the tent for the reception, Mingyu seemed to hold onto you like a toddler with it’s parent. His arm was locked around yours, letting you lead him through the crowd, even though he was tall enough to see over the tops of everyone’s heads. His palm was so warm on your wrist, and then his fingers were so easily lacing through yours, and you squeezed because you simply couldn’t help yourself.
You were able to find your table easily, but you didn’t recognize the other people already there. They introduced themselves as Seokmin’s friends, and you remembered seeing one or two of them at a bar. You still couldn’t get a read on these people, and found yourself swiftly growing silent around their shared camaraderie. But Mingyu was suddenly so talkative, catching along with their jokes just as quickly, so you stood and whispered in his ear, “Do you want a drink?”
He leaned back to meet your eyes, and you swore time stopped for a moment. His hand reached down, squeezing your wrist, as he said, “You know what I like.”
Jesus. Fuck. Since whendid he have you this wrapped around his finger?
(Probably since sophomore year of college.)
You nodded, swinging your head in the direction of the bar, and your feet had started to head there when you halted in place. It almost felt like your heels were glued to the floor as you found the face of the last person you expected to be here. The only face that could make all the noise drown out around you.
Your ex.
He still had that same curl that always got in his eyes. He was wearing the same suit he wore to your mother’s engagement party last year. The same watch on his wrist; the same cufflinks. Same. Same. Same. And now, he was meeting your eyes across the room. Bodies formed in clusters under the tent – some hugging, some stumbling into each other – but he was unable to look away.
Until a head popped up in front of him, standing from her chair at the table. Her wedge sandals almost made her taller than him, and her dress looked expensive enough that he probably bought it. You didn’t know her, but you knew of her. Well, at least, you knew what the back of her head looked like, and that was her right there.
You couldn’t forget the night even if you tried. Exhaustion had your shoulders sagging as you unlocked the door to your boyfriend’s apartment. He didn’t typically keep it locked, but you had a key anyway. You remembered how quiet the place was, except for the soft sounds echoing from his bedroom. At first, you thought he was just masturbating, and to be honest, you were too tired to engage in anything tonight. But a voice in your head had urged you to move, to go, go, go towards his room. And you were slowly pushing open the door, only to find your boyfriend fucking your 22-year-old neighbor from behind, yanking on her short hair like a leash. You had been too scared to move, too scared to breathe, but eventually, you had started wailing. His eyes had found yours – exactly like in this moment – and he screamed, slipping away completely as your back slid to the floor. He had tried explaining, tried to yell at the young girl, but everything had drowned away in that moment, and all you could hear was the ringing in your ears –
Your breathing was growing rapid, just like that day at his apartment. Sprinting to the inside of the bed and breakfast, you tried to act normal and say hello to whoever you knew mingling by the bathroom. But something was clearly very wrong. It was evident in your eyes, the way tears were pricking at the sides. You almost thought the universe was pulling a cruel prank on you, but then you remembered that it was Quinn who had introduced you two in the first place, that he had been a friend of a friend.
Climbing up the staircase in the lobby, you plopped yourself down on the middle step and let your face fall into your hands. You began to count your breaths – one, two, three, one, two, three – anything to make you get a semblance of control. But you could feel your brain spinning, and your heart was beating too fast. Was this what it felt like to die? Was your cheating ex going to be the last face you saw before you completely slumped against this staircase? Vernon always said you had a flair for the dramatic. What a fitting way to end.
You felt a weight sink into the plush carpet next to you, and you lifted your head, tears brimming your eyes.
“You do realize that this isn’t your party. You can’t cry if you want to,” Mingyu joked, reaching out and swiping the tear at your lash line. His eyes softened then, looking at you like you were something fragile, like a baby bird. “What’s wrong?” His voice was hardly about a whisper.
You sniffled, dabbing at the corners of your eyes with your knuckles. The last thing you needed was your makeup messed up. “This is so embarrassing. I’m crying over something so …” Your words trailed off, noticing that he was leveling a look at you. You sighed before admitting, “I forgot that the bride, Quinn, might invite my ex because they were friends. Somewhat.”
“Your ex? As in that ex?” His brow shot up, and you nodded. “Did he come alone?”
You looked down at your hands in your lap, and after a moment, you watched his large palm slowly envelope one of yours. The rough pads of his fingers – the hands of a cook – brushed over your knuckles, and his touch was so warm that it could burn.
His voice was soft in your ear as he said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
You chuckled a little, turning to look at him again. “Then we’d be sitting on this staircase forever.”
He smiled at you and stretched out his long legs. “That’s fine with me.”
Your lips pursed, and you found him staring at them for a moment. A sigh escaped, and you glanced down at your laced hands. How perfectly they fit together, how he held you with such a fierce softness. His thumb grazed the scar on your knuckle that you got the first time you fell off your bike. Finally, you answered, “He came here with the girl he cheated on me with.”
Mingyu didn’t speak, but you did hear him do a sharp intake.
“She’s twenty-two. She didn’t – she doesn’t know any better. He’s in his early thirties and he’ll do it again,” you continued, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. “I found them in his apartment after I came home from a late meeting at work. It was … messy. Walking in on them, the fallout, now this … everything about that breakup has felt like one big mess. And now, I have to see him here and be reminded of it all–fucking–over again.”
You didn’t even dare to meet his eyes as the next words tumbled out of your mouth, already feeling your voice start to break again. “It didn’t just hurt because I found them. It hurt because … I never wanted to become my mother. I love her. I really do. But the last thing I ever wanted was to become her. Be in the same situation as her. And yet, there I was, witnessing yet another infidelity that would affect my life for what seems like forever.” You rubbed at your running nose. “I found my father cheating too. It wasn’t exactly the same. I found him kissing my best friend’s mom in my parent’s bedroom one night when my mother stayed at work too late. The sentiment still stands, and history was always bound to repeat itself. Daughters always become their mothers and I always have to bear witness to another man not choosing to stick around –”
Mingyu stopped you by turning your face towards his, one hand cupping your cheek. His thumb skimmed the tears running through your blush. He didn’t say anything; his eyes let you know that he was here. That he was sticking around. Despite everything you thought of him, despite your past – Mingyu was here.
He held you for as long as you needed, gathering you in his arms and cradling your head against his shoulder. He let your tears soak into the fabric of his expensive suit, promising he’d get it dry-cleaned, which made you laugh. Your fingers clutched his lapels and you almost considered not letting go. You would give anything to stay in this bubble, to sit on this staircase in his embrace forever.
“I meant what I said all those months ago,” he said, his voice muffled from his lips at the crown of your head. “I would kill any guy that has done you wrong. Do you want me to kill him?”
You chuckled and raised your head from his shoulder. “What are you gonna kill him with? A butter knife?” You shook your head. “No chef is gonna let you in that kitchen tonight to grab a weapon. You of all people should know that.”
Mingyu grimaced. “This conversation is getting morbid.”
Another laugh bubbled at your lips. “You brought it up!”
“And you’re smiling again,” he said, making your hands hold onto him tighter. “That’s all I could ask for.”
Such simple words could take your breath away, especially when they came from his mouth. You searched his eyes for a moment, your fingers now smoothing out the creases in his lapel. Eventually, you whispered, “I don’t know if I can survive this whole reception. I hate the awkward tension, but I should stay for Quinn.”
“Trust me, I know,” he snickered, and his hand covered over yours as an anchor. “I say we stay at the reception for as long as your comfortable. Then we go to bed early. Whatever works for you.”
Your smile was so kind as you nodded along with his plan. After touching up your makeup, you took his hand and let him lead you back to the reception. Once you saw Quinn in her short, after party dress and looking at Seokmin with stars in her eyes, you instantly felt more at ease. This was her day; you wouldn’t let one person sour it. And Mingyu, clearly, wasn’t going to let your own nerves sour it either. Anytime you locked eyes with your ex, there Mingyu was, distracting you by whispering in your ear how pretty you looked or asking you about your best memories while living with Quinn. There was one moment where you saw your ex heading in your direction, assuming he was finally going to talk to you, and Mingyu stood up to whisk you onto the dance floor. His large arms enveloped you, holding you close, as you swayed to one of your favorite songs. Everything about him felt safe, secure, and he even let you stand on his feet when you told him you had never been that good at dancing. And when you looked at him, you noticed that he was staring at you like how Quinn looked at Seokmin during her speech. Even when you had cried, had let him in, see parts of you that not even Vernon touched … he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.
You stayed at the reception far longer than anticipated. When you told Mingyu that you were too tired to stay any longer, he didn’t question it. He simply grabbed your purse and jacket before taking your arm in his, walking the short distance back to your Febreze-ridden hotel. The first thing you did once you were back in your room was take off your heels. They were only a kitten heel, but your feet were already blistering, and you winced as you went to the bathroom to wash off your makeup. Mingyu had set your stuff down on the small desk before walking out onto the deck connected to your room. You craned your neck out, assuming he was going to smoke a joint, but he was just staring at the ocean, noticing how loud the waves crashed against the shore.
You padded out of the bathroom and leaned against the door frame for a moment, admiring him in the dim light. It almost left in you in disbelief how you had roped Kim Mingyu, one of the most attractive men you’d ever met and probably one of the longest crushes you’d ever had in your life, into being your wedding date for an entire year. He had a lost a bet, but he really didn’t have to be here. He didn’t have to invest in a new suit. He didn’t have take the time off from his two jobs. He didn’t have to listen to your trauma, or look at you like you were this painting to be worshipped, this Mona Lisa of sorts. Mingyu could’ve said no.
But he didn’t.
“I’m going to take a shower,” you finally informed him, and he turned to meet you eyes. “Can you help me out of my dress?”
He nodded diligently, following you to the bathroom. You pulled your hair up with one hand, and with deft fingers, he slid the zipper down your back. Typically, you would hold the dress to your chest until he left the bathroom, out of respect, but you were letting it pool at your feet tonight. You stepped out of it, your gaze locking with his as you turned on the shower. You were giving him this look and he was still standing there in his half-buttoned dress shirt, hands forming into fists as he fought the urge touch you. Waiting for a sign. Waiting for your permission.
But you didn’t even have to say anything. Your eyes said the words for you. As you climbed into the standing shower, he took his time removing his suit, pretending as if he wasn’t fucking dying to have his hands on you, and then he was behind you, the hard panes of his chest flush against your back. He closed the shower door as the glass began to fog up.
The water was scalding as it rained down on your head, steam forming around the small bathroom. You could still feel the dried tears on your face, imprinted underneath your makeup all night, and you did your best to wash them away. Mingyu noticed the way your shoulders sagged, the way you sighed while you were lost in thought, and as much as wanted touch you in places that made those sweet sounds fall from your lips, he held himself back. Instead, he let his hands comb through your wet hair before scrubbing shampoo into the strands. You relaxed against him, closing your eyes as he washed your hair.
It was so domestic that you could cry.
(Again.)
The last person you ever thought could be capable of this kind of care was Mingyu. You both had known each other for eight years, and not once had he displayed this kind of person around you. Or maybe you just weren’t paying attention, too lost in your own perception of him. Even now, you couldn’t help but remind yourself of when he avoided you after the hookup in senior year. He really isn’t the same guy, Vernon’s voice echoed in your head. Give him a chance. You had never trusted those words, but in this moment … you realized where you had went wrong.
The water began to get cold when it came time to wash his own hair and you could tell he was struggling to rush. His mannerisms made you giggle, and even though the steam began to dissipate from the room, you still turned to his front and rested your forehead on his chest, letting the lukewarm water beat down your neck.
When you walked out of the shower, you had never felt more fresh and at ease. Your body was all warm and you had brought the comfiest pajamas for summer weather. The breeze wafting off the ocean blew through your room from the open screen door, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore could lull you to sleep.
But right now, it seemed like neither of you were keen on the subject. As you slipped under the covers next to each other, you were grateful that there was only one bed: one large, king-sized bed that both of you could be using to spread out. Instead, you were huddled close, hair still wet from the shower, and his arms locked around you like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. Your hands cupped his face, studying parts of him that you didn’t think of in your previous lust-induced hazes. Fingers traced his lips, brushed over the tip of his nose – where his tiny mole was stamped – before you skimmed the shell of his ear.
You almost didn’t recognize your own voice as you whispered, “Thank you for tonight.”
“Anytime,” he smiled.
A beat of silence. Hands stilled. Lips pursed.
“Mingyu?”
“Yeah?”
“Please, kiss me.”
His mouth was on yours before you could even finish the sentence, but he still took his time exploring new ways to make you moan into the kiss. He kept one hand splayed on your back, pressing you further into him, while the other played with the hem of your loose t-shirt. Your hands knotted into his hair as he kissed you slow, savoring you like a fine meal. And you simply let him. You were like molten lava, melting in the palm of his calloused hands.
You felt his fingers prod at the waistband of your shorts, and it was game over. Slipping them under, he practically whined into your mouth when he realized you hadn’t put any panties on after the shower. His mouth disconnected from yours, fingers sliding between your slick folds. “Are you trying to kill me?” He breathed against your lips.
“In my defense,” you chuckled softly, “I forgot to bring them to the bathroom.”
He laughed with you, and you were debating on crying again because he was so kind and good and definitely just as obsessed with you as you were with him. No matter how many times you didn’t want to admit it, you had somehow fallen into Kim Mingyu’s trap once again.
He kissed you again, hungrier this time, as he spread you open with his fingers. You whimpered, but he swallowed it with his tongue and began to rub tight circles on your clit. Your leg lifted, hooking onto his waist, and you bucked against his hand. Your body felt like it was on fire, but Mingyu was careful, plucking your strings like a guitar, and you needed moremoremore. Pushing two fingers inside of you, his kiss was like a sound barrier as he consumed all your sweet sounds, as if that would allow him to hear them forever.
It was only when you came apart that he dragged his lips to your neck, wanting to focus on your moans as he fucked you with his fingers. He felt you shake, your pussy squeezing his thick fingers, and he kept rubbing your clit through it, wanting to prolong your orgasm as much as possible. If not for you, then for him, just so he could hear you. He would make you cum as many times as you wanted if it meant he could hear his name falling from your lips.
Neither of you wanted to stop; all fumbling hands and shaky limbs as he finally tugged your shorts off. It was a lot more difficult to take off his boxers without separating from you, but you laughed and you were so pretty that he almost forgot what he was doing in the first place. Once he was situated, you rolled on top of him, straddling his lap. You held his face in your hands, and for a moment, you could almost see reflections of the dark ocean outside in his starry gaze. Your palms drifted down, fingertips tracing the hard panes of his chest. He was all muscle, sculpted like your very own David statue; his complexion so similar to golden hour personified.
You lifted your t-shirt off and tossed it onto the floor. Mingyu was already so hard that it hurt, but he took a few more seconds to stare at you. He wanted to remember this moment forever: the sight of you on top of him, naked and vulnerable, hair wet and a faint blush on your cheeks.
Sitting up on your knees, you positioned yourself right over his cock and gripped the shaft to get the perfect angle inside of you. You were looking at him and he was looking at you as you lowered yourself slightly, grazing his tip against your wet slit, still dripping from your previous orgasm. Mingyu groaned at the sensitivity, throwing his head back against the pillow and muttering, “This is so mean.”
“You like when I’m mean,” you giggled, repeating the same words you uttered that fateful night after Chan’s wedding, when Mingyu’s face was buried between your thighs.
And Mingyu recognized it too, a grin making it’s way to his lips. But that was soon replaced by look of complete bliss as you finally sunk down onto his cock. He was the perfect size, filling you just right but never uncomfortable. He gave you a moment to adjust, but you could tell from his white-knuckled grip on your hips that he was damn near fighting the urge to thrust up into you. He didn’t though. He was patient and perfect and all yours.
You anchored yourself to him with one hand on his shoulder, beginning to rock into him at a snail’s pace. Your eyes connected, and even as he moaned underneath you, he was unable to stop smiling. Mingyu let you set the pace, and you took your time, getting to know what speed had him pulling your hips harder. The angle had him buried so deep inside that you could practically feel him in your stomach, and you sighed each time as you moved against him.
“Fuck,” he whined, shifting to sit up against the headboard. “I’ve needed you so bad.”
“I know, I know,” you confessed in a breathy whimper. “Me too.”
He was digging his fingers into your hips so hard that you were sure there’d be marks, but you didn’t care right now. You just wanted him, wanted this. Wanted to be this connected to him and feel him this deep and cum together as the waves crashed against the shore outside. He began to move you on his own accord, bouncing you on his cock as he leaned forward to nip and suck at your neck. “So pretty,” he mused against your skin, breath stuttering as your walls tightened. “So pretty sitting on my cock.”
You were the one whining now, raking your fingers into his dark strands as your thigh muscles burned. Your breasts jumped with each slam of his hips against yours, and he planted hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat, dipping his tongue into your collarbone, before latching his mouth around one of your nipples.
Your hands pulled at his hair. “Mingyu, please,” you cooed, not exactly sure what you were begging for. Just moremoremore.
His eyes lifted to yours and you watched him fucking smile while tugging at your nipple. You were melting like putty, and he was able to still move you with one hand, using his free one to cup your other breast and run his thumb over that nipple. Tears pricked at your eyes, feeling him pulse inside you with each pass. And when he started to thrust up into you, you were pretty sure that you were close to seeing stars.
“Wanna cum with you,” he rasped while switching breasts and flicking his tongue over your other nipple. “Please, wanna cum inside you.”
You nodded, too cock drunk to say anything besides, “Yesyesyes.”
He was rolling your hips now, practically rutting into you as he lifted his head from your chest, leaving a trail of spit. You leaned down and let his lips ghost over yours. Moans slipped from your mouth into his, and he was bouncing you on his cock so fast you almost couldn’t register to breathe. His breath was hot against your lips, so close he could feel his body shaking, but he needed you to be closer, needed to feel you tightened around him and milk him for everything he was worth.
Snaking a hand between your bodies, he found your clit easily, knowing your body better than anyone ever had. All you could hear in that moment was the sound of the ocean through your screen door and skin slapping against skin. You were so wet and warm and – shit, you were starting to clench around him. He rolled your clit between two fingers, and a whimper slipped out of his mouth when he felt your pussy clamp around his throbbing cock.
He needed to cum and so did you and – fuck, he could feel it, feel you, feel how deep he was inside.
He would do this forever if you asked.
“Fuck, Mingyu, oh my god, right there, right there –” You pleaded in his ear, feeling yourself tip right over that edge –
Then you were cumming.
And so was he.
You moaned his name like it was a prayer, shattering as you came undone. Your walls were squeezing him like a vice, and he was unable to hold himself back anymore, burying himself to the hilt before painting your insides white with his orgasm. Hips jerked, bodies went taunt. You felt your whole being dissolve into nothing but pleasure, molding yourself to him in his arms. When the rush of warmth started to fade and he felt your combined releases seep from between your thighs, he breathed out a sigh of relief, brushing kisses over your jaw.
You weren’t sure you were in your right mind. Everything was so hazy. But you didn’t want to move away just yet. Even when his cock started to go soft inside of you, you stayed connected to him, pushing his hair back from his forehead and whispering praises in his ear like, “You were so good … So good to me … My Mingyu … I’ve always been yours …” You could feel him smiling against your skin, his hands tracing circles on your lower back.
But as time seemed to stop and you felt peace for the first time in a while, you realized just how deep you had fallen. You were drowning in him.
Mingyu had wanted to tell you that it felt exactly like his dreams. If you were drowning in him, he had already sunk to the bottom a long time ago.
Save the Date for the wedding of Nathan Chaney and Your Mother: September 5th
Your mother was remarrying. Her and Nathan had been together since you went off to college, and then got engaged just a year after you graduated. They decided on a long engagement, choosing to plan out a destination wedding in the Caribbean. You thought it was crazy at first, but then your mother said, “If this is going to be my last wedding – and it is – I want to go out with a bang.” You couldn’t exactly blame her. After your dad had cheated and the divorce was finalized, you knew your mother deserved something like this. She deserved the world.
When she had called you just a week before the wedding, babbling on about who you were possibly bringing now that your ex was completely out of the picture, you paused. Holding the phone to your ear and watering one of your half-dead plants with the other, you said, “I’m … I’m going with Mingyu.”
“Vernon?” She asked, not believing what you said.
“Mingyu.”
“Like … the Mingyu from university? The football player?”
You sighed, playing with the dead leaves on the plant. “He was also – and still is – one of Vernon’s good friends.”
“Oh,” your mother said, more surprised than anything. “Well, you better watch for Nathan’s sister. If Mingyu looks anything like how I remember from Family Day, she will go buck wild over him.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” you chuckled.
The truth was … you weren’t exactly sure how this wedding was going to go. Ever since the last one, you had been progressively putting more distance between you and Mingyu. Once again. Your last night together had been so real … too real, and you wanted to save yourself from the heartbreak after this wedding when you never saw him again. As much as you hated to admit it, feelings were now involved, seeping into your bloodstream, until your heart thrummed like the sound of his name on your tongue.
Slowly pushing him away … it hurt, but it was better this way. Pain was temporary and so was your arrangement. You knew that going into it, so how did you end up in this mess? You remembered what had happened after Chan’s wedding, the way Mingyu looked at you as he was shotgunning smoke into your mouth and – yeah, you knew exactly how you ended up here.
If you kept telling yourself this was for the better, maybe you’d start believing it. Maybe your feelings would drift like smoke and your mother’s wedding would be a final farewell before you two went your separate ways.
But you had been doing that for a month now.
And those feelings refused to fade.
You had an early morning flight the day of your mother’s wedding. Typically, you wouldn’t be getting to a destination wedding on such short notice, but the ceremony was small. So small your mother refused to have a rehearsal dinner and no bridal party. It was about her and Nathan, and you had to respect that she was doing things her way this time around.
You had waited at your gate right before doors closed for Mingyu, since you were on the same flight. But he was clearly running late and you were much too awkward around him now to text him. So you finally got on the plane and found your seat, noticing the one seat in the back still left unoccupied. Once you had landed five hours later, you quickly headed to the hotel that Nathan had booked for the ceremony and reception. Your phone lit up as you hailed a ride.
Mingyu: I’m sorry, I got a new flight
Mingyu: I’ll be there just 2 hours after you land
Mingyu: I’ll make it for the ceremony. I promise
Feeling his anxiety radiate through your phone, you believed him, and then wondered if maybe this was a blessing in disguise. You were rewarded a few more hours of alone time before you had your last hurrah with Mingyu. Maybe if you buried your feelings deep enough, you wouldn’t tense up the second you saw his face. Maybe if you didn’t look into his eyes, you wouldn’t have the urge to kiss him. Or let him hold your hand. Or spread your legs to welcome him inside –
You dropped your lipgloss onto the bathroom counter, sick of your own thoughts. Your square-neck, baby blue dress was clinging to every curve, but you felt like you were being suffocated by the fabric. You had just finished doing your hair and makeup, but you couldn’t quite keep your thoughts at bay. Nerves batted against your skull, making your hands shake slightly. What would you do once Mingyu walked in? Would you avoid his stare? Would you tell him immediately how much you liked him and how this wouldn’t work out and you knew you set yourself up for heartbreak –
Maybe you needed a walk.
Grabbing a spare pair of sandals, you headed outside to walk the beach just along the grounds of the hotel. There was still an hour before the ceremony, and you could just see the planners putting finishing touches on the decorations laid out on the shore, where your mother wanted it to take place. Couples were still walking through the water. Kids were making sand castles. The sun was slowly beginning to set and the breeze was whipping your hair off your shoulders.
And you smiled, despite everything you were feeling. Because where there was an end, there would always be a new beginning.
“HEY!”
You spun around, your sandals sinking into the sand. Although you recognized his voice, the last thing you expected to see was Kim Mingyu running towards you in his pristine black tux, his tie loose around his neck and blowing in the breeze. It was like something out of a movie, the kind of movie where there was supposed to be a happy ending, but you knew you weren’t afforded luck like that in real life.
He stopped in front of you, running a hand through his hair. Sand sprinkled down the tops of his shoes.
“When did you get here?” You raised a brow.
“About twenty minutes ago. I flew in my tux because I figured I wouldn’t have enough time to change. But now it just kind of smells like …” He lifted the sleeve to his nose and inhaled. “Like peanuts and old plastic.”
You giggled, holding a hand to your mouth and just … staring at him. He was smiling at you, fangs poking out from under his top lip. His skin was even prettier in the sunset. His hair, despite the messy texture, was effortless and perfect. He embodied sunshine in its purest form.
“Well, you …” You looked to the water, your hands flexing at your sides. “You didn’t need to come find me out here.”
His voice was sweet, soft, like fresh sheets, when he replied, “Yes, I did.” His hand reached out a little, attempting to lace your fingers together, but he stuffed them in his pockets instead. “When I was wondering where you’d be, I remembered something you said to me in college … Do you remember Move-In Day of junior year when we had that bonfire with Vernon and a few other people? You really didn’t enjoy my company back then, but I sat next to you because you agreed to sharing that god awful cheap vodka we used to like.” He laughed when you grimaced. “We got to talking and I asked you, ‘If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?’ And you said something like, ‘I want to be walking on a beach. I’ve always felt the most calm with my toes in wet sand.’”
You blinked, wondering if you had heard him right. He … how did he … “You remember that?”
“I remember a lot of things.”
And there he was, reaching out again and brave enough to brush his fingers over your knuckles. You looked down, watching his hand interlock with yours, and his palms were balmy and calloused. They felt familiar, like home. And you simply couldn’t believe that you had deprived yourself of this.
“Did you mean it when you said, ‘I’ve always been yours?’”
Your head snapped up, tsking under your breath. Hand still intertwined with his, you pushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “You came all the way out here to ask me that?” You asked, flustered and agitated.
His brow shot up. “So that’s a yes then?”
Your mouth opened, but then closed when you realized that he caught you.
He added, his voice like velvet again, “Then why are you avoiding me? I can sense it.”
“Well, if you’re that sensitive to other people’s feelings than I guess that –” You paused, taking a deep breath as you gathered yourself. Your ears reddened. “Look, I think it’s pretty obvious that I’ve … I like you. A lot. But having feelings for you would be so messy. The last time I went through this, we hooked up and you hardly spoke to me after.”
Mingyu’s brow furrowed. “That was years ago.”
“You know how uncommitted you’ve always been,” you quickly remarked, even though you didn’t fully believe those words anymore. “Weren’t you the one that told me at the start of this that men never really grow up?”
His eyes narrowed a little. “Are you playing psychological warfare with me right now?”
Slipping your fingers away from his, you shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I’ve been your date to five weddings this year. It wasn’t just about losing some bet. I did it for you.” He stared at you incredulously. “Are you really going to hold me to a mistake I made six years ago? When I was a shitty 22-year-old that was terrified to tell the girl I liked for years that I was interested in her?”
“I never … I never thought you liked me back then.”
Mingyu’s gaze softened, and he tucked another curl behind your ear that blew in the wind. “I made you believe that I didn’t because it was easier than admitting my feelings. I was terrified of rejection. And an idiot.”
You couldn’t help but snort at his comment, but you knew this conversation was far from over. “Well, I …” You rubbed at your nose and turned away from him, facing the water that looked almost sapphire in color. The waves sparkled under the setting sun. “Wedding season is over after this and we can both go back to our normal lives. Vernon won’t flip a lid when he sees me texting you all the time and everything will be back to the way it was. I always prepared for you to just forget about me after this anyway.”
“I love Vernon, but this isn’t about him.” Mingyu stepped forward into your line of vision. “What if I don’t want to go back to the way things were?”
Your eyes flickered to his, and it was his turn to step closer again. His large palm cupped your cheek, his skin always so cozy and inviting that you just had to lean into him. Fingertips traced your brow bone as his gaze lingered on your lips.
“I don’t want to forget about you or never see you again. I want to be around you,” he confessed. “I … want to go on more dates with you. I want to be your date to more than just weddings.”
You hesitated, unraveling and dissecting each word in your head, before you came to the conclusion that … oh, my god, he had feelings for you too. Had you always been this much of an absolute moron?
Getting on your tiptoes, you closed the distance between you two, your lips crashing onto his like the water against the shoreline. Your body almost suctioned to his, bringing him even closer when your arms wound around his neck. He kept that one hand on your cheek, the other splaying on your lower back, like how he always did when he was nervous. But he had nothing to be nervous about, because you liked him and he liked you. The world felt like it was spinning, but also just right, and his tongue was licking into your mouth enough to make you feel breathless. You could do this forever, be this relaxed in his arms, kiss him as if it was only you two in your own world. And as he tugged on your bottom lip to make your breathing heavy, you decided that your dream had become a reality.
When you broke the kiss, your cheeks were definitely flushed, even under the layer of blush you put on. Mingyu grinned, tilting his head as he whispered, “So you have always been mine then?”
“Such a tease sometimes,” you repeated his fateful words from June.
You turned, tugging on his hand playfully as the waves begin to lick at the sand near your feet. “C’mon,” you chuckled. “If we’re late to this wedding, my mom will kill me before I can even think about calling you my boyfriend.”
Mingyu had wanted to ask you to marry him only two years later, and thank god, he finally found the words.
years of wanting your dad's best friend finally come to a head during one rainy night together.
❛ content 9.8k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, bottom!male reader, dad’s best friend!mingyu, big age gap, begging, big dick!mingyu, praise kink, blowjob, fingering, overstimulation, unprotected sex (p in a), x2rounds, creampie, crying, nipple play, lots of kisses everywhere, aftercare.
the rain started just as you pulled into the long, winding driveway of mingyu's house.
it wasn't a storm, but a steady, persistent summer downpour that turned the world outside the car windows into a watercolor blur of greens and greys. the mansion — because holy shit, that's what it was — stood at the end of the drive, all sleek modern lines and vast glass windows, glowing like a lantern in the gathering dusk.
your poor heart was doing a weird, frantic tap-dance against your ribs. it had been eighteen months. a year and a half of university, bad decisions, a few half-hearted attempts at dating, and one relentless, stupid, all-consuming constant; him.
you killed the engine and just sat for a minute, watching the rain slide down the windshield. you could easily see a silhouette moving beyond the enormous front door, tall and broad-shouldered, and your throat went dry.
get a grip, you told yourself. you're not a kid anymore. you stopped calling him 'uncle' six years ago. you're just an old family friend visiting. nothing more.
the lie tasted bitter.
you grabbed your overnight bag (the flimsy excuse for this visit was that your dad had asked mingyu to pass on some old boxing souvenirs, and mingyu had said; "why doesn't he stay the night? it's a long drive back.") and made a dash for the covered portico.
the door swung open before you could even knock.
and, oh god, there he was.
kim mingyu, your dad’s bestfriend.
time, which had been so unkind to your peace of mind, had been nothing but generous to him. mingyu was, as always, so fucking unfair.
he must have just come from his home gym; he wore simple grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips and a thin white cotton t-shirt that did absolutely nothing to conceal the powerful planes of his chest and shoulders. his black hair — now threaded with more distinguished silver at the temples than you remembered — was damp and messy, as if he'd run a towel through it. his tan skin glowed in the warm light from the foyer, and his face… oh, those soft, almost boyish features, the full mouth, and those big, dark brown doe eyes that were currently wide with a warmth that made your stomach flip.
"you're here," mingyu said, his voice that same rich, warm baritone that had starred in approximately a million of your late-night fantasies.
"i'm here," you managed, suddenly aware you were dripping on his pristine limestone floor. "ah, sorry, i'm getting water everywhere."
"it's just water. come in, come in."
mingyu stepped back, ushering you inside with a wave of his hand. as you passed him, your shoulder barely brushed his chest, and a jolt, pure and electric, shot straight down your spine. he smelled like clean sweat, expensive vanilla soap, and something fundamentally, uniquely mingyu, something you couldn’t name.
he closed the door, shutting out the sound of the rain.
the house was comfortably quiet, cavernous, and impeccably decorated. it was mostly cool tones and modern art. it was beautiful, but it felt a little… sterile? more like a museum. or a very nice cage.
"let me take that," mingyu said, his fingers brushing yours as he took your bag.
the contact was brief, but his touch was searing. he looked you over, a small, fond smile playing on his lips.
"look at you. you've filled out. no more of that scrawny kid who used to steal my sunglasses."
you grinned, shoving your hands in your jeans pockets to hide their slight tremor.
"well, i was never scrawny. and i borrowed them. you have good taste."
"i do," mingyu said, his eyes crinkling. then he seemed to catch himself, the smile softening into something more careful. "how was the drive?"
"really long. glad it's over."
"your dad said you aced your finals."
"he tells you everything, huh?"
"he's my best friend," mingyu said it simply, but the words hung in the air between you, a reminder of the canyon you were trying to cross.
mingyu led you into the great room, a space with a two-story ceiling and a wall of glass overlooking a rain-soaked infinity pool and dark woods beyond. a fire crackled in a minimalist fireplace.
"drink? i was about to have a whiskey."
"sure. whatever you're having."
he moved to a crystal decanter on a sideboard, his back to you. you let yourself look, genuinely look.
the way the sweatpants clung to his strong thighs and the perfect curve of his ass. the way his t-shirt stretched across the formidable width of his shoulders. the corded strength in his forearms as he poured two generous glasses. mingyu was a man in his prime, all latent power and effortless grace. the silver in his hair wasn't an aging flaw; it was a goddamn accent, a mark of experience that made your knees weak.
mingyu turned, catching you staring.
you didn't look away, and a faint, almost imperceptible flush crept up his neck. mingyu handed you a glass, his fingers carefully avoiding yours this time.
"cheers," he said, clinking his glass against yours. "to being home for the summer."
"to seeing old friends," you replied, holding his gaze.
you took a long sip. the whiskey was smooth and smoky, burning a welcome path down your throat.
the conversation flowed easily at first — catching up, safe topics. mingyu’s recent business trip to japan. your classes. his new chef's kitchen that he never used. your mom's gardening obsession… but the undercurrent was always there, a low hum of tension just like the distant thunder outside.
mingyu was touchy by nature, he always had been — a clap on the shoulder, a ruffle of the hair, an arm slung over the back of the couch.
it used to be avuncular, comforting. but now… god, every point of contact was a brand.
mingyu sat next to you on the massive sectional, closer than necessary. when he laughed at a story you told about a disastrous date, his knee bumped against yours. he left it there, a solid, warm pressure. you could feel the heat of him through the denim of your jeans.
"so what happened?" he asked, his eyes twinkling. "was he boring?"
"well… he spent forty minutes talking about the nutritional benefits of different grass-fed beef brands," you deadpanned.
mingyu threw his head back and laughed, a full, unguarded sound that filled the quiet room.
"oh, no. that's tragic."
he shifted, turning his body toward you, his arm resting along the back of the couch behind your head. his fingers were inches from your hair.
"you deserve someone who talks about interesting things. or better yet, knows when to be quiet."
his voice had dropped, just a fraction, and the air between you thickened.
"what would they do? when they're being quiet?" you asked, your own voice quieter than you intended.
mingyu's smile faded.
his eyes searched yours, dark and unreadable. for a long moment, mingyu just looked at you, and you saw the conflict in him — the fondness, the desire, and a deep, churning wave of guilt. he cleared his throat and looked away, toward the fire.
"they'd… listen to the rain. and enjoy the peace."
mingyu took a large swallow of his whiskey. you saw his adam's apple bob in his strong throat, you saw the tight clench of his jaw.
"it's not very peaceful in here right now," you murmured.
his eyes snapped back to you. "no?"
you shook your head slowly, not breaking eye contact.
you leaned forward, just a little, under the pretense of setting your glass on the coffee table. the movement brought you deeper into mingyu’s space, his arm now fully surrounding you.
"it feels like there's a… charge in the air. don't you feel?"
"y/n..." it was a warning, a plea.
his breath hitched, and his gaze dropped to your mouth for a split second before he forcibly dragged it back up.
"don't."
"don't what?" you asked innocently, even as your blood pounded in your ears. "i'm just talking about the weather. static electricity. from the storm."
"you know what you're doing," mingyu said it softly, almost to himself.
mingyu started to pull his arm back, to create distance, but you reached up and placed your hand on his forearm, stopping him. the muscle under your palm was like steel wrapped in velvet. you felt him tense, then shudder.
"do i? maybe i don't. maybe you should tell me what i'm doing, mingyu."
the use of his name, stripped of any title, did something to him. a low sound, almost a groan, escaped him.
mingyu looked utterly tormented.
"this is so... oh my god, this is so wrong. you are his son. you are a kid."
"i'm twenty-four," you said, your thumb stroking a slow, deliberate path along his inner arm. "and you look at me, and you don't see a kid. you haven't for a long time."
mingyu closed his eyes, as if in pain.
"you have no idea what you're asking for."
"i think i do. i've wanted it; wanted you. for years," the confession hung in the air, raw and shameless. "and you want it, too. you're suffering right now because you want it so bad it's killing you to hold back."
his eyes flew open; they were blazing, dark with a hunger so intense it stole your breath. the careful, gentle friend was gone, replaced by something far more primal.
mingyu’s free hand came up and gripped your chin, his fingers firm but not hurting at all.
"you have no right to talk to me like that."
"why? because you're older? wiser?" you didn't pull away; instead you leaned into his touch. "or because you're scared you'll like it too much?"
mingyu stared at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
the internal battle was written across his face in stark relief — the decades of loyalty, the friendship with your father, the societal rules... all warring with the sheer, undeniable force of his want. you could also see the exact moment the dam began to crack.
"you're playing with fire," he breathed, his voice ragged.
"i'm not playing," you held his gaze, letting every ounce of your own longing show. "i've never been more serious about anything in my life."
for a long, suspended moment, he was perfectly still.
the only sounds were the rain, the crackle of the fire, and the frantic beating of two hearts. you watched the struggle finally leave his eyes, replaced by a resigned, desperate surrender.
a soft, broken curse fell from mingyu’s lips.
"damn it."
and then his mouth was on yours.
it wasn't gentle, and it wasn't a question; the kiss feel more like a collision, a release of pressure built over years, and it stole the breath from your lungs.
mingyu’s lips were softer than you'd imagined (and oh, you had imagined it a thousand times) but the kiss was anything but soft. it was hungry, devouring, a hot, wet slide of desperation that had a broken sound halt moan, half sob tearing from your throat. you answered with everything you had, your hands flying up to fist in the damp cotton of his t-shirt, pulling him closer, needing to erase the last sliver of space between you.
mingyu's hands were everywhere.
one large palm cradled the back of your head, fingers tangling brutally in your hair, tilting you to a better angle. the other swept down your spine, a rough, possessive stroke that made desperately you arch into him. mingyu tasted of expensive whiskey and the faint, clean mint of his toothpaste, and underneath it, that essential, masculine flavor that was just him.
his tongue swept against yours, and you met it eagerly, the slick, hot friction making your entire body tremble.
mingyu pulled back just enough to gasp for air, his forehead resting softly against yours, his breaths coming in ragged, hot puffs against your wet lips. his eyes were blown black, his pupils swallowing the warm brown almost completely.
"tell me," he growled, his voice ragged and thick. "look at me and tell me you really want this. that you know what this means."
you didn't hesitate a single second; you kept your gaze locked on his, letting him see every raw, unguarded ounce of your longing.
"i've wanted this. wanted you. for years, mingyu. i know exactly what it means."
a shudder wracked mingyu’s big frame.
he closed his eyes for a second, as if absorbing your words, letting them dismantle the last of his resistance. when he opened them again, the last vestige of 'uncle mingyu' was completely gone, burned away by a heat so intense it was frightening.
"then you're mine tonight," he breathed, the words a low, possessive vow. "right here. i can't... i can't make it to the bedroom. i need you now."
you simply nodded, words failing you, and surged forward to recapture his mouth. this kiss was deeper, slower, but no less desperate; it was a claiming kiss.
his hands moved from your hair and back to roam over your shoulders, down your arms, mapping your body through your shirt with a reverence that contradicted the urgency of his mouth. mingyu’s thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you jerked against him, a sharp, breathy moan escaping into his mouth.
mingyu smiled against your lips, a dark, pleased thing.
"sensitive," mingyu murmured softly, before dipping his head to trail his mouth along your jaw, down the column of your throat.
he sucked a patch of skin there, not hard enough to bruise, but with enough pressure to make you gasp and your hips buck upward, seeking friction.
"i want to hear every sound you make."
he worked his way back to your mouth, kissing you deeply as his hands went to the hem of your shirt. in one fluid, impatient movement, he broke the kiss just long enough to yank the fabric up and over your head, tossing it carelessly across the room. the cool air of the vast room hit your heated skin, raising goosebumps, but his gaze was way hotter.
mingyu leaned back, just looking, his eyes drinking you in with a hunger that made your skin flush.
"jesus christ," he whispered, his voice full of awe.
mingyu’s hands came up, but they didn't grab you; they hovered, then settled on your waist, his thumbs stroking the defined lines of your hips. his touch was calloused, slightly rough, and it set your nerves on fire.
"you're so... fuck. so beautiful."
he bent his head and kissed the center of your chest, right over your pounding heart. then his mouth began a slow, torturous descent. mingyu kissed every dip and plane, his lips and tongue tracing the lines of your muscles, paying special, lingering attention to each of your nipples, sucking and gently nipping until they were pebbled tight and aching, and you were writhing beneath him, fingers clawing at the soft fabric of the couch.
"mingyu... please..." you whined, the sound high and needy, echoing in the quiet room.
you'd never made a sound like that before. it was pure, unfiltered want.
"please what, baby?" mingyu murmured against your stomach, his breath hot on your skin.
his hands hooked into the waistband of your jeans, popping the button with an easy flick of his thumb. the sound of the zipper coming down was obscenely loud.
"tell me."
"touch me," you begged, your hips lifting off the couch in a silent plea. "god, just touch me."
mingyu made a low, approving sound and nuzzled against the trail of hair leading down from your navel, his nose brushing against the straining fabric of your briefs. your cock was painfully hard, a thick, obvious line of heat trapped against your stomach.
"look at you," he said, his voice husky with desire.
mingyu pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss right over the head of your cock through the cotton, and you cried out, your back bowing.
"aww, all worked up for me. been thinking about this, haven't you?"
"yes," you choked out. "always. every damn night."
that seemed to undo him completely.
with a gentleness that belied the tense set of his shoulders, mingyu peeled your jeans and briefs down your thighs, just enough to free you. the cool air was a shock, but then his big, warm hand wrapped around your length, and you saw stars.
"so perfect," he breathed, staring at you in his hand with a kind of rapt fascination.
mingyu gave you a slow, firm stroke, his thumb swiping over the bead of pre-cum at your tip, spreading the slickness. the sensation was so intense your vision blurred, and you threw your head back against the couch arm, a broken moan tearing from your throat.
"look at me," he commanded, his voice soft but insistent; so you forced your eyes open, meeting his dark, heated gaze. "i want to see you."
mingyu held your stare as he slowly, oh so slowly, lowered his head.
his breath ghosted over your sensitive cockhead, and you trembled violently. he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the tip, his lips impossibly soft against that most intimate part of you. a choked sob escaped you.
"is this okay?" he asked, his voice a rough whisper against your skin.
the question, the check-in amidst the frenzy, was almost more devastating than the act itself.
"yes—god, yes, please," you babbled, your hands finding their way back into his thick, silky hair.
mingyu didn’t need to hear anything else.
his mouth sank down on you, hot and wet and perfect, and your world exploded into pure, white-hot sensation. mingyu took you deep, his throat working around you, and the sight of him — kim mingyu, this powerful, beautiful man, on his knees between your legs, his eyes closed in concentration — was more than enough to make you feel dizzy.
mingyu began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that had your hips twitching off the couch. one of his big hands cupped and gently squeezed your balls, while the other rested possessively on your hip bone, his thumb slowly stroking your skin.
his technique was unhurried, meticulous.
he'd pull back until just your cockhead was nestled in the heat of his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge, before sliding down again, taking you to the hilt. the wet, slick sounds, combined with your ragged breathing and his low, contented hums, were the most erotic symphony you'd ever heard in your life.
"f-fuck—mingyu... i'm not gonna last..." you warned, your fingers tightening in his hair.
the coil in your gut was winding impossibly tight, such a sweet, agonizing pressure building with every skillful slide of his tongue, every gentle suck.
but mingyu pulled off with a soft, wet pop, leaving you throbbing and bereft in the cool air. he was breathing heavily, his lips swollen and glistening. mingyu kissed the inside of your thigh, sweetly, then the other, his stubble scratching deliciously against your sensitive skin.
"not yet, baby," he said, his voice wrecked. "we're just getting started."
mingyu leaned forward, softly pushing your legs further apart, and kissed a trail from the very base of your cock down, over your perineum, until his mouth was right there, at your entrance.
you tensed, a new wave of shocking, vulnerable heat flooding you.
"so pretty here too," he murmured, his breath so hot against you.
mingyu didn't do anything more for a long moment, just let you feel the warmth of his breath, the promise of his mouth so close. the anticipation was a sweet torture.
then, finally, mingyu pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss right against your hole.
you jolted, a sharp, surprised gasp leaving you. mingyu did it again, kissing and licking with a tender, exploring curiosity that made you feel exposed and worshipped all at once. your whines were constant now, a high, needy background noise to his quiet, focused attention.
after a minute of this maddening, gentle assault, he pulled back.
you heard the slick sound of him spitting into his own palm, and your breath hitched — mingyu’s eyes were on yours, watching your face as he brought his wet fingers back between your legs.
"just one," he whispered, the pad of his middle finger circling you, slick and insistent. "just to start. tell me if it's too much, okay?"
you could only nod, biting your lip.
the pressure was strange, intense, a slight burn as he pressed against the tight ring of muscle. you forced yourself to relax, to breathe out, and on your exhale, his finger pushed in, just past the first knuckle.
you gasped; it was a full, invasive sensation, a stretch you'd only ever imagined. mingyu went still, letting you adjust, his other hand stroking your flank soothingly.
"okay?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back.
"yeah," you breathed out. "more... please, just... move."
mingyu obeyed immediately, sliding his finger deeper, until he couldn’t go any further.
the feeling of being filled, of having a part of him inside you, was utterly profound. he began to move it slowly, a gentle in-and-out, crooking it slightly on each inward stroke. on one particularly deep push, his fingertip brushed against a spot deep inside you that sent a jolt of pure, electric pleasure straight up your spine.
you cried out, your back arching off the couch.
"there! oh my—god, there!"
a dark, possessive smile touched mingyu’s lips.
"found it," he rumbled.
mingyu focused his efforts on that spot, rubbing over it with a relentless, gentle precision that had you seeing stars. he then added a second finger, stretching you more thoroughly now, the burn melting into a deep, throbbing ache of fullness.
all the while, mingyu watched your face, drinking in every hitch of your breath, every flutter of your eyelids, every broken syllable of his name that fell from your lips.
you were a writhing, moaning mess beneath him, completely at his mercy, floating on a sea of sensation he was meticulously building. the rain still lashed against the glass walls, the fire crackled, and in this isolated, gleaming cage of a house, the only thing that was real was mingyu’s touch, his heat, his dark eyes claiming you, piece by shattered piece.
mingyu leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a deep, messy kiss, his fingers still working inside you. you could taste yourself on his tongue; a salty, intimate flavor that drove you wild.
"you feel so good," he groaned against your lips. "so tight and hot around me. you're taking me so well, baby. my sweet, good boy."
oh, the praise, the pet name, spoken in that rough, worshipful baritone, crashed over you like a wave. you were so, so close again, teetering on the edge just from his fingers and his words.
but mingyu slowed his movements, drawing a very frustrated whimper from you.
"not yet, baby," he repeated, his own breath coming in harsh pants.
mingyu withdrew his fingers slowly, making you feel suddenly, acutely empty.
he sat back on his heels, looking down at you; sprawled, bare, wrecked, and completely his on his expensive sofa. mingyu’s own arousal was a blatant, impressive bulge straining against his grey sweatpants.
he reached out, his thumb wiping away a tear you didn't even know had escaped from the corner of your eye. his expression was a complex mix of raw hunger, tender awe, and simmering, dark possession.
"now," he said, his voice a low, delicious threat, a promise of everything still to come. "now, we get you ready for the rest of me."
the words hung between you, a vow that made your spent body thrum with new anticipation.
but the 'ready' mingyu spoke of wasn't about more preparation; this time, it was about the final surrender, the crossing of a line there was definitely no coming back from. you saw it in mingyu’s eyes — the last thread of his control, frayed and about to snap.
you didn't give it a chance to.
with a strength born of years of desperate longing, you surged up from the couch cushions, your body colliding with his. your mouth found his in a kiss that was nothing like the first one.
that very first kiss had been a shockwave, a detonation; but this one was a conflagration.
it was hot, so desperate, and so fucking messy. it was all teeth and clashing tongues and shared, ragged breaths that were more like sobs. you kissed him like you were trying to crawl inside him, to live under his skin. your hands framed his jaw, your thumbs digging into the hinges, holding him to you as if he might vanish.
mingyu met you with equal, devastating fervor.
one of his big hands cradled the back of your skull, his fingers tangling so tightly in your hair it bordered on pain, a sweet, anchoring ache. the other swept down your naked back, palming your ass, pulling you flush against the thick, hard ridge of his cock still trapped in his sweats. the rough cotton against your oversensitive skin was its own kind of torture.
mingyu broke the kiss with a wet, gasping sound, only to dive back in, nipping at your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth before plunging his tongue back inside.
"god, the way you kiss me," he groaned into your mouth, the words mangled and hot. "like you're starving for it."
"i am," you panted against his lips, your hips grinding down instinctively. "i've been starving for you."
a rough sound ripped from his chest.
in one fluid, powerful motion, mingyu sat back fully onto the sofa, his back against the cushions, and hauled you with him, pulling you completely into his lap. you straddled his thick thighs, the new position forcing a shocked gasp from you as it brought your bodies into even more intimate contact. his sweatpants were the only barrier left, and they felt like the worst insult.
mingyu’s hands were everywhere, claiming every single part of you as the kiss continued, sloppy and deep; they roamed over your shoulders, down your arms, mapping the dip of your spine, the swell of your ass. mingyu squeezed the flesh of your backside, his fingers digging in, massaging and kneading with a possessiveness that made you feel oh so dizzy.
one hand slid around to your front, splaying across your lower belly, holding you down against him as if to say; you're right here, you're mine. his other hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb stroking your fever-hot cheekbone even as his tongue delved deeper.
you were the one who broke the kiss this time, tearing your mouth from his with a ragged cry born of pure, unadulterated need.
you had to see. you had to have.
your eyes locked on mingyu’s, blown black with lust, and you didn't look away as your hands scrambled for the waistband of his grey sweatpants.
your fingers trembled so badly you fumbled with the simple knot of the drawstring. but mingyu didn't help, he just watched you struggle, his chest heaving, a faint, dark smile on his kiss-swollen lips. his gaze was heavy, heated, drinking in your frantic desperation.
finally, you got the tie loose. you hooked your fingers into the band, and with a forceful yank, you pulled both sweats and the boxer briefs beneath them down over his hips, just enough to free him.
the air left your lungs in a silent, stunned rush.
holy. fucking. shit.
you'd imagined, in all those late-night fantasies. hell, you'd felt him, hard and insistent against you.
but oh… imagination was a very pale, pathetic ghost compared to the reality now springing free, thick and heavy against mingyu’s stomach.
mingyu was... monstrous.
thick, velvety-looking, and so fucking long. a prominent, dark vein ran along the underside, pulsing visibly. mingyu was fully erect, the flushed, ruddy head glistening with a bead of pre-cum. he was beautiful in a way that was almost intimidating, a perfect, primal expression of his sheer masculine power.
your mind short-circuited; your own cock gave a painful, interested twitch.
"jesus, mingyu," you breathed, the words barely audible.
he saw the awe, the flicker of apprehension in your eyes, and mingyu’s smile softened instantly, turning unbearably sweet. he brought his hands up, cupping your face again, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones. his touch was a direct contrast to the fierce, demanding weapon of his body just beneath you.
"it's okay," he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "we'll go slow. we have all night. just look at me, baby. keep looking at me."
mingyu’s calm was an anchor; you nodded, swallowing hard, your gaze slowly lifting from his cock to his eyes. the tenderness in them, mixed with the smoldering hunger, steadied you.
tentatively, you reached down between your bodies; your hand wrapped around him.
a low, punched-out groan vibrated deeply through mingyu’s chest. your fingers couldn't even come close to touching; the girth was staggering, the heat of him searing your palm. m
you began to stroke him, slowly, from root to tip, feeling the iron-hard shaft under the silken skin, tracing the prominent vein with your thumb. mingyu’s head fell back against the expensive sofa cushion, his brown eyes squeezing shut. a long, slow, filthy moan dragged itself from his throat, a raw sound of pleasure that went straight to your own cock.
"f-fuck... just like that," he gritted out, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary upward thrust into your fist. "your hand feels—god, it feels like heaven."
you worked him, spreading the slickness from his tip down his length, the wet, slick sounds obscene in the quiet room. you watched mingyu come apart — the corded tendons in his neck standing out, his full lips parted, his breath coming in harsh gusts. he was letting you see him, utterly vulnerable to your touch.
"need you," you whispered, your own voice frayed. "i need you in me. now."
mingyu’s eyes flew open, dark and intense.
"you're sure? you're ready?"
"more than ready. i've been ready for years."
mingyu nodded, his hands moving to your hips, his grip firm and guiding.
"okay. okay, baby. you control it. you take what you need. slowly. just... slowly."
you positioned yourself, lifting up on your knees. with one hand still gripping mingyu’s shoulder for balance, you used the other to guide him. the broad, slick head of his cock pressed against your entrance, and you both froze for a second, the reality of it crashing down.
you were stretched and slick from his fingers, but this was an entirely different league.
"breathe," mingyu whispered, his hands soothing on your hips. "just breathe out for me, sweetheart."
you exhaled shakily, and as you did, you sank down.
the initial pressure was immense, a blunt, burning stretch that stole all the air from your lungs. you cried out, a sharp, shocked sound. mingyu's hands tightened on you, holding you softly, his own breath held.
"shhh, i've got you," he cooed, his voice thick with strain.
mingyu leaned forward, peppering your face with soft, urgent kisses; he kissed your trembling eyelids, the damp corner of your mouth, your sweaty temple.
"that's it. just the tip, baby. just get used to me. god, you're so tight... you're taking me so perfectly."
you slowly pushed past the burn, sinking down another impossible inch. the stretch was really agonizing, overwhelming, but beneath it was a rightness, a fullness you'd craved without even knowing the shape of it. you moaned, long and low, your forehead falling against his.
mingyu was breathing hard, his nostrils flared, every muscle in his torso locked with the effort of staying still.
"f-feel you," you gasped. "oh my god—i… i can feel you everywhere."
"look at me," mingyu begged softly.
you opened your eyes, meeting his. they were glazed, swimming with an emotion way too deep to name.
"stay with me."
you nodded, biting your lip, and sank down further, and further, in tiny, incremental surrenders. each fraction deeper made you whimper, a high, pathetic sound. mingyu murmured a constant stream of praise and encouragement, his lips never leaving your skin.
"my beautiful boy… so good for me... wrapping around me so tight... never felt anything like this..."
when you finally, finally seated yourself fully, his hips flush against your ass, you both let out a simultaneous, shattered groan.
you were impaled, filled to the absolute limit. you could feel him in your throat; in your soul. the burn was subsiding, replaced by a deep, throbbing ache of completion. you were so full you couldn't move, couldn't even think. you just sat there, trembling, feeling him pulse inside you, feeling his own tremors of restraint.
"f-fuck," mingyu choked out, his head dropping back again, his adam's apple bobbing. "you're... you're really everywhere. i'm so deep, baby. are you okay? please, tell me you're okay."
you could only nod, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.
"so full," you mumbled against his tan skin. "never... never felt this full."
mingyu held you like that for what felt like an eternity, his big hands running up and down your back, whispering sweet nothings into your hair, patiently letting your body adjust to the invasion. the rain was a distant melody now, the fire a warm witness.
slowly, the unbearable pressure began to transform; the ache became a sweet, heavy throb.
a need to move, to feel him move, began to coil deep in your gut. tentatively, you flexed your inner muscles around him — mingyu jolted as if electrocuted, a broken cry tearing from him.
"fuck—don't... don't do that unless you want this to be over before it starts."
a spark of power shot through you; and you did it again, a slow, deliberate squeeze.
"baby," mingyu warned, but it was a plea.
you lifted your head, looking down at him. you placed your hands on his broad, solid chest for leverage, and you took a deep, shuddering breath.
finally, you started to move.
you rose up, slowly, agonizingly, feeling every single inch of him drag against your oversensitive walls. and oh, the sensation was so intense your vision spotted; you heard mingyu's breath hitch, you saw his hands fist at his sides, knuckles completely white.
when just mingyu’s cockhead remained inside, you paused a little, hovering, before sinking back down in one slow, smooth slide.
the moan that ripped from both of you was guttural, unison. it was too much; god, it was everything.
"that's it," mingyu rasped, his hands flying back to your hips, not really to guide, but simply to feel you. "ride me, baby. take what you want. use me."
you found a rhythm, slow and deep at first, a rolling grind of your hips that rubbed him against that sweet, devastating spot inside you with every downward stroke.
your movements were unsteady, clumsy, fueled by pure sensation. your thighs burned, but hell — you didn't care. the only thing that mattered right now was the drag and fill, the hot slap of skin, the way his eyes never left yours, dark and worshipping.
"look at you," mingyu breathed, his voice wrecked with awe. "look at you moving on my cock. you were made for this. made only for me."
his words lit a fire in you.
you moved faster, your rises and falls becoming more desperate, losing the smoothness for a more frantic, hungry pace. the sofa cushions squeaked beneath you, the room filled with the symphony of your union; wet, slick sounds, the slap of flesh, your ragged sobs, his deep, guttural groans.
"mingyu... oh my—mingyu, please..." you chanted, a broken mantra.
you didn't even know what you were begging for. more? harder? to never stop?
"i know, baby, i know," he groaned, his hands sliding from your hips to grip your ass, spreading you wider, helping you take him even deeper.
his control was fraying fast. his hips began to meet your downward thrusts with small, upward snaps of his own.
"you feel so fucking good. so perfect. my perfect boy."
one of mingyu’s hands snaked up your torso, his thumb brushing roughly over your nipple. you cried out, arching your back, which drove him even deeper. he pinched the nub, rolling it between his fingers, sending jolts of sharp pleasure-pain straight to your cock, which leaked steadily onto his stomach.
"touch yourself," he commanded, his voice ragged. "i want to see you come while you ride me."
you obeyed without thought, your hand wrapping around your own length, stroking in time with your frantic bouncing. the dual sensation — the internal fullness, the external friction — was too much, too good. you were babbling, a stream of incoherent praise and filth;
"yes—yes, just like that... you're so big... filling me up... i'm yours, all yours..."
mingyu’s name became the only word you knew.
the tension coiled tighter, a spring ready to snap. your movements became erratic, your rhythm falling apart into desperate, jerking motions.
mingyu saw it; he sat up suddenly, wrapping his arms around you, crushing you to his chest. he took over, his own powerful hips pistoning up into you from below, his pace brutal and perfect. he was everywhere — his mouth on your neck, sucking a bruise into your skin, his hands clutching you to him, his cock nailing that sweet little spot inside you with unerring accuracy.
"i'm gonna... i'm gonna cum—" you sobbed.
your orgasm tearing through you without warning, a white-hot detonation that seized every muscle in your body; you clenched around mingyu violently, your release striping his chest and stomach in hot pulses.
the feel of you milking him, the raw, shattered sound of your cry, was mingyu’s undoing.
with a roar that was half your name, half a prayer, mingyu desperately buried himself in the deepest part of you and stilled. you felt the hot, deep pulse of his release flooding you, wave after endless wave, marking you, claiming you from the inside out. he held you there, locked together, as he emptied himself, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.
the collapse was gradual; the frantic energy seeped away, leaving behind a boneless, trembling exhaustion.
mingyu slumped back against the cushions, taking you with him, still joined. you lay sprawled on top of him, a mess of sweat and cum and spent desire, your ear pressed to his sweaty chest, listening to the frantic, slowing gallop of his heart.
his arms came around you, not in passion now, but in a sheltering embrace. one of mingyu’s hand stroked your damp hair, the other drew lazy, soothing circles on your back; you were both breathing hard, the air thick with the scent of sex and sandalwood and rain.
for a long time, there were no words.
none were needed.
the silence was full, a living thing woven from the crackle of the dying fire, the distant patter of rain outside, and the slow syncing of your breaths.
you felt mingyu soften inside you, a gradual, intimate withdrawal that made you clench involuntarily, drawing a soft, spent groan from deep in his chest.
"shhh, baby," he murmured, his voice a rough, warm rumble beneath your ear. his hand moved from your hair to cradle the back of your head. "just rest. i've got you."
you nuzzled into mingyu’s neck, breathing him in. his skin was salty, his familiar scent now layered with something new, something that was you and him mixed together. god, you'd never smelled anything better.
you felt his lips press against your temple, not a kiss of hunger, but one of... reverence.
it made your throat tighten.
mingyu’s hand continued its slow journey up and down your spine, over the curve of your ass, as if he couldn't stop touching you, even now. his touch was different; before, it had been about claiming, about desperation. but now, it was about savoring, about memorizing.
"you feel that?" he whispered after a while, his voice low and awed. his palm flattened against the small of your back, holding you firmly to him. "how perfectly you fit? like you were carved to slot right here."
you made a soft, affirmative little noise, way too wrung out to form words.
"the way you moved," mingyu continued, his voice taking on a husky, wondering quality.
he was talking more to himself than to you.
"taking all of me. fucking yourself on my cock like you were born for it. so greedy. so perfect," his fingers traced the knobs of your spine. "i've never seen anything more beautiful in my life."
a warm, syrupy tlush spread through your chest at his words. you turned your head just enough to press an open-mouthed kiss to the base of his throat, tasting salt and skin. he hummed, the sound vibrating through you.
slowly, with a tenderness that made your heart ache, he shifted beneath you. mingyu guided you to slide off him, the loss of connection making you whimper softly.
"shh, i'm right here," he soothed, arranging your limp body beside him on the wide sofa.
you were laying on your back, and mingyu hovered over you, propped up on one elbow, his big body caging you in completely, blocking out the rest of the vast, dark room. his free hand came up to brush the sweat-damp hair from your forehead.
mingyu’s eyes were soft, impossibly dark, and they roamed over your face like a man seeing a miracle.
"look at you," he breathed. "all wrecked because of me."
he bent his head and kissed you.
it was nothing like the kisses before; there was no clash, no frantic battle for dominance. no, this time, the kiss was slow — a slow and sweet exploration.
mingyu’s lips were soft, plush, moving over yours with a devastating tenderness. he licked gently at your lower lip, asking, and you opened for him with a soft sigh. his hot tongue met yours in a lazy, wet slide that tasted of whiskey and shared pleasure. mingyu kissed you like he had absolutely all the time in the world; like discovering the shape of your mouth was the most important task he'd ever undertaken.
he pulled back just an inch, his breath mingling with yours. a small, dazed smile touched his swollen lips.
"can't get enough of that," he admitted, his voice a gravelly whisper. "your mouth. it's fucking addictive."
you managed a shaky smile of your own, lifting a heavy hand to trace the silver strands at his temple.
"old man's got stamina," you teased, your voice hoarse.
the smile on his face widened, turning boyish and bright, crinkling the corners of those big, doe eyes. he caught your finger and brought it to his lips, kissing the tip.
"who you calling old?" mingyu rumbled playfully, nipping at your finger. "i seem to recall a certain someone being the one who tapped out first."
"you overwhelmed me," you protested weakly, but you were smiling brightly, a giddy, post-coital lightness bubbling up inside you.
this — this easy, affectionate teasing. yeah, this was something you'd dreamed of, too.
"i'll overwhelm you anytime you want, baby," he said, his tone dropping back into that low, possessive register that made your spent nerves twitch.
mingyu’s gaze grew heated again as it traveled down your body. you were a complete mess — his release was already leaking from you, sticky on your thighs, your own cum drying on your stomach.
you should have felt embarrassed, exposed. but under his gaze… you felt nothing but worshipped.
mingyu’s hand, which had been resting on your hip, began to drift. it slid over your abdomen, his fingers splaying wide; the touch was so warm, so possessive. he pressed down, gently, massaging the muscle there.
"feel that?" he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. "so soft here. so warm."
you did feel it. and you felt something else, too.
beneath your ass, where his thigh was pressed against you, you felt the unmistakable, thickening heat of him beginning to harden once more. a jolt of pure, electric shock went through you, and your eyes widened.
mingyu saw your expression; a faint, self-deprecating blush crept up his neck, but his eyes were dark with unabashed want. he gave a small, helpless shrug, his thumb stroking your belly.
"i can't help it," he said, his voice thick with a kind of bewildered desire. "the way you're looking at me... the way you feel... god—you're all over me. inside and out. it's... it's making me crazy."
mingyu was already half-hard, and the proof of it was pressing insistently against your thigh.
after everything, the man was starving. damn it, he was desperate. and the look in his eyes — a mix of awe, obsession, and sheer, unadulterated lust — shattered any last shred of resistance you might have had.
who were you to say no to this man? to kim mingyu, who you'd wanted with a singleminded ache for what felt like your entire adult life? this beautiful of a man was here, real and warm and hard for you again, looking at you like you'd hung the moon.
"you're really insatiable," you breathed softly, but you were already shifting, spreading your legs a fraction in blatant invitation.
a ragged breath left him. mingyu leaned down, capturing your mouth in another deep, languid kiss.
"only for you," he growled against your lips. "only ever for you. tell me yes. tell me you want me again."
you pulled back from the kiss, holding his desperate, beautiful face in your hands. you looked right into those big, dark, pleading eyes.
"yes," you said, simple and sure. "i want you. i always want you. please, mingyu."
the sound mingyu made was pure relief and hunger. he kissed you hard and quick, then began to move.
"my turn," he whispered, his voice a promise. "let me take care of you this time. let me love you properly."
mingyu nudged you, and you understood, rolling onto your stomach; but he made a soft, disapproving sound.
"no. look at me. i want to see you."
mingyu guided you onto your back again.
then, with surprising strength and gentleness, he hooked his hands under your knees, spreading you wide and lifting your legs. he arranged you so your calves were resting over his shoulders, your body open and utterly exposed to him. the position was vulnerable, intimate, and so deep you gasped just thinking about it.
"mingyu..." you whispered.
"shhh. just feel."
and then he began.
mingyu started at your ankles, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to the bone. he worked his way up your calves, his lips and the rough scrape of his stubble a delicious contrast on your sensitive skin. he took his time, worshipping every inch. he'd murmur against your skin, his voice a low, continuous hum of praise.
"such strong legs... carried you right to me... my baby is so beautiful..."
he reached your inner thighs, and he lingered there, kissing and sucking gently at the tender skin, nipping playfully, making you jump and giggle breathlessly.
"ticklish here?" mingyu asked sweetly, a smile in his voice before he soothed the spot with his tongue. "good. i'll remember that."
his journey was agonizingly slow, deliberately torturous. mingyu bypassed your aching cock entirely, which was already filling again, lying heavy and interested against your stomach. he kissed your hip bones, licked a stripe along the crease of your thigh and torso, his big hands holding you steady.
"mingyu—please," you begged, arching up, seeking any kind of friction.
"wait a little more," he chided softly, blowing a cool breath over your wet skin. "i'm not done admiring."
he moved to your chest, his mouth finding your nipples again; mingyu gave them the same devoted attention, sucking one into the wet heat of his mouth while his fingers rolled and pinched the other. the dual sensation, now in the oversensitive aftermath of your first orgasm, was almost painfully good.
you cried out, your hands flying to his head, not to push him away, but to hold him there.
"so responsive," mingyu moaned, switching sides. "every little touch. you're a dream."
finally, after what felt like an eternity of sweet torment, mingyu lowered you gently from his shoulders, your legs falling to bracket his hips.
he leaned over you, bracing himself on his massive arms, caging you completely. his body was a furnace of taut muscle and tan skin above you. he looked down at you, his face serious, his eyes blazing with intent.
"you're sure?" mingyu asked one last time, even though the thick, hot length of him was pressed against your slick, used entrance.
you reached up, cupping his jaw.
"i've never been more sure of anything. please, mingyu. i need you."
he nodded, his expression softening into something unbearably tender. mingyu leaned down and kissed you, deep and slow, as he began to push forward.
this entrance was different; there was no frantic, sharp burn of first penetration. this was a slow, inexorable, aching stretch. your body knew him now, welcomed him happily, but the sheer size of his cock was still a breathtaking challenge.
mingyu fed himself into you inch by inch, his breath huffing in soft, controlled pants against your mouth.
"oh... god... mingyu—" you chanted into the kiss, your head falling back against the cushion.
he broke the kiss to watch where you were joining, his eyes hooded with fierce concentration.
"look at that," he breathed, his voice thick with wonder. "taking me so easy now. opened up so pretty for me."
mingyu sank another inch, and a full-body shudder wracked him.
"oh—fuck... you're still so tight, baby. like a hot, perfect fist around me."
mingyu paused when he was entirely in, buried to the hilt in a different, deeper way. he wasn't rushing; no, hes was taking all the time to savoring. he dropped his forehead to yours, his eyes squeezing shut.
"you feel that?" he gritted out. "feel how deep i am? you are hugging me everywhere"
you could only nod, overwhelmed by the profound fullness. mingyu was everywhere, just as you'd felt before, but this time it was a slow, thorough possession.
he began to move, and the world narrowed to the glide of his body into yours.
mingyu set a pace that was pure, unadulterated torture; slow — oh, so, so slow. he would draw almost all the way out, until just the flared head of his cock stretched your rim, then push back in with a deep, rolling thrust that entirely punched the air from your lungs. each stroke was deliberate, measured, and hit so deep it felt like he was rearranging your soul.
"o-oh my—god... oh, f-fuck..." you babbled, your hands scrambling for purchase on his sweat-slick back, your nails digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders.
your back arched off the couch, seeking more, deeper, but mingyu controlled the rhythm completely.
"that's it," he praised, his voice a low, rough rumble.
mingyu shifted his angle just slightly, and on the next deep, slow drive, his cockhead brushed directly over that devastating little spot inside you.
a sharp, broken cry tore from your throat. your eyes flew open, wide and unseeing.
"there?" he asked, a dark, knowing smile gracing his lips.
mingyu did it again, and again, that same slow, deep thrust aimed with deadly accuracy.
"hmm? yeah, that's my sweet spot—right there. making my baby see stars."
you were completely unraveling.
the slow pace wasn't giving you a frantic, sprinting climb to the edge; it was building a deep, tidal wave of pleasure from the ocean floor up. it was everywhere; in every single cell. you couldn't stop the sounds pouring out of you — high, keening whines, sobbing moans, his name repeated like a desperate prayer.
mingyu was murmuring constantly, a stream of filthy, beautiful praise.
"you're doing so good, baby... taking me so deep... you feel like heaven... my good boy, my perfect boy... all mine... fucking made for me..."
one of his big hands slid between your bodies, his fingers wrapping around your leaking cock. his grip was firm, his strokes perfectly timed to his languid thrusts. the double stimulation was too much. way too much. you were being pleasured from the inside and the outside, surrounded by him, drowned in him.
"m-mingyu... i can't—it's too much.." you sobbed, tears welling in your eyes from the sheer, overwhelming intensity of it.
you weren't crying from pain or sadness, but from the absolute, soul-crushing goodness of it. in your entire life, you'd never felt so connected, so claimed, so utterly loved in a physical sense.
mingyu saw your tears and his face softened with a tenderness that broke you further. he bent down, kissing the tears from your cheeks.
"shhh, it's okay," he whispered against your skin, never ceasing the slow, deep rhythm of his hips or the steady stroke of his hand. "let it be too much. i've got you. i'II always catch you. come for me, baby. let me feel you come around my cock."
his words, his touch, the deep, relentless pleasure — it coalesced into a tight, screaming knot at the base of your spine. you were babbling, completely incoherent, a mess of yes and please and his name.
"i'm... i'm gonna—"
"come with me," he demanded, his own control fraying.
mingyu’s thrusts lost a fraction of their measured pace, becoming deeper, more urgent.
"look at me. come with me."
you forced your tear-blurred eyes to meet his. mingyu’s expression was one of fierce, beautiful strain, his lips parted, his brow furrowed in ecstasy.
the sight of him, of kim mingyu coming apart above you, was the final trigger.
your orgasm detonated, a silent, white-hot supernova that ripped through you with a violence that stole your voice. you arched off the couch, your mouth open in a soundless scream as your release shot over your stomach and mingyu’s hand in hot, pulsing stripes.
your inner muscles clamped around him in frantic, rhythmic spasms, milking him desperately.
the teel of your climax tearing through you, the vise-like grip of your body, shattered mingyu’s last vestige of control — with a guttural roar that was pure release, he completely drove into you one last, final, punishingly deep time and held. you felt the hot, deep pulse of his release flooding you, one crushing wave after another, marking you, filling you, sealing what you'd done.
mingyu collapsed on top of you, his full weight a warm, heavy blanket, his face buried in your neck as he shuddered through the last aftershocks.
you lay there, wrecked and pinned, floating in a haze of endorphins and profound satisfaction. mingyu’s weight was crushing, and you never wanted him to move; his breath was hot and ragged against your neck.
slowly, gently, mingyu softened and slipped from your body; a soft, oversensitive whimper escaped your lips at the loss, followed by the hot, intimate trickle of his release down your thigh.
mingyu made a soft, soothing noise and slowly rolled in the sofa, taking you with him so you were once again sprawled on his chest.
you were both silent for a long time, utterly spent. your limbs felt like lead, and your mind was blissfully empty. you tilted your head up, finding mingyu’s lips in a very slow, very exhausted, salty kiss.
it was a kiss of completion — of gratitude.
"sleepy," you mumbled against his mouth.
"sleep, baby," mingyu murmured, his arms tightening around you. "i've got you."
you didn't fight it; your eyelids were too heavy.
the last thing you were aware of was the steady, strong beat of mingyu’s heart under your cheek, and the feeling of his lips, pressed softly to the crown of your head.
and just like that, you drifted off.
you didn't know how long you slept — maybe twenty minutes, maybe an hour. all you know is that it was a deep, heavy, satiated sleep.
you were roused gently by soft, warm movements beneath you.
you blinked open gritty eyes. the fire was embers now, casting the room in deep, dancing shadows. mingyu was carefully, oh so carefully, extricating himself from under you — of course, you made a sound of protest, trying to cling to his warmth.
"shhh, go back to sleep, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice like velvet in the dark. "just let me clean you up."
you were way too tired to argue, so you simply let your body go limp, watching him through slitted eyes.
mingyu moved with a quiet, efficient tenderness; he fetched a soft, warm cloth from the adjoining bathroom, wet with warm water. he knelt by the sofa, and with a touch so gentle it physically made your chest hurt, he began to clean you — he wiped the drying spend from your stomach, his strokes slow and careful, he cleaned between your legs, dabbing softly at the sensitive, used flesh, cleaning away the evidence of his possession.
there was absolutely no disgust, no hesitation — only a focused, loving care.
once you were clean, he fetched a throw blanket from a nearby armchair and draped it over you, tucking it around your shoulders. he stoked the fire quietly, adding a log, bringing it back to a gentle, warm glow.
then, he simply stood there, looking down at you.
the firelight played over the incredible planes of mingyu’s body — the broad shoulders, the tapered waist, the powerful legs. he was still naked, utterly unselfconscious, and he looked like a god. but his expression... his expression was utterly, devastatingly human.
mingyu’s big, dark doe eyes were so soft, full of a wonder so profound it took your breath away even in your half-asleep state. yeah, he was looking at you like you were the most precious thing he'd ever seen — a small, private smile touched his lips.
mingyu reached down and brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his fingers lingering on your skin.
you saw it then, in the quiet of the firelit room.
the conflict, the guilt — it wasn't gone. you could still see the shadows of it in the lines of his face. but they were being drowned out, overwhelmed, by something brighter, stronger, and infinitely more terrifying;
love.
mingyu wasn't just looking at a lover, or his best friend's son — no, mingyu was looking at the man he loved. the realization was quiet and absolute in his gaze.
he leaned down, his lips brushing your forehead in a kiss so soft it was almost a breath.
"mine," he whispered to the sleeping air, the word a vow.
mingyu didn't say the rest; he didn't say he didn't care about the age, his friendship with your dad, the potential fallout, the scandal.
he didn't have to.
you could see it in the set of his jaw, in the possessive yet protective gleam in his eye as he finally sat down on the floor beside the sofa, his back against it, close enough to touch you. he was going to stay there, watching over you.
mingyu had crossed his line, and he had no intention of looking back.
mingyu is a giver. the term “bare minimum” doesn’t exist in his dictionary.
you make dinner for him? he’s lifting you up onto the counter and eating you out right there and then.
you iron his clothes for him? he’s putting his freshly-ironed shirt on just to fuck you balls deep into the mattress.
you greet him at the door when he comes home? his tongue would explore your mouth, your back against the wall as his hand starts to wander upwards to your ass.
you offer to wash his back in the bath? he’s spreading you open in between his thighs, his fingers buried deep in your gummy walls, palm flush against your clit.
you send him a sexy pic of you while he’s at work? he’d practically sprint to the bathroom to send you back a video of him fisting his cock, making sure that every breath, and every moan is captured on video.
a/n: ahghhhh i’m so sorry i’ve been so IA lately!! work has been kicking my butt lately + being sick does not help!!
You never thought your insecurities would’ve led you to the near destruction of your own relationship.
❧ PAIRING; mingyu x reader
❧ GENRE; angst, fluff, hurt/comfort
❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; established relationship, reader is very insecure, arguing, yelling, swearing, lots of tears, lgbt themes, very dramatic and cliche oop-, panic attack, fainting, hospitalisation
❧ WORDCOUNT; 11.1k
𐚁₊⊹
▎11 JULY 2025
09:34 p.m.
The echo of the front door slamming against the wall rattled through the house. You stormed inside and without a second thought, you threw your black Chanel clutch across the entryway, and the bag skidded until it thudded against the baseboard.
Your chest was heaving as anger and humiliation boiled within you, so hot it felt like your skin was on fire. There were fast and heavy footsteps pounding behind you. You tried to block them out, but before you could make it to the living room, a strong hand clamped around your arm.
The sudden grip yanked you backward and spun you around so hard you almost stumbled. Mingyu stood inches from you with his jaw clenched, and his dark eyes blazed like he was holding back a raging storm.
“What the fuck is your problem Y/n? What the hell was that back there? Huh?” he spat out.
Your own rage flared. “My problem? Are you seriously asking me that right now Mingyu?” you snapped back, jerking your arm free from his grasp.
“YES!” he shouted like thunder. You didn’t flinch, at least not outwardly, but your heart was hammering inside your chest.
“Because not only did you ruin what was supposed to be a nice get-together dinner party,” he continued, his voice rising with every word, “you made a complete spectacle. You embarrassed Gaeul in front of everyone. Do you even realise what you did?”
Gaeul.
Of course it had to be her. Gaeul was Mingyu’s ex-girlfriend. They were the duo everyone thought he would end up marrying. The two had been together for almost two years, but knew each other long before you were ever in the picture. And even after they broke up, she never really disappeared. She stayed close because she was still Mingyu’s friend, and he still cared about her.
You hated how much that bothered you. Mingyu told you over and over again that he didn’t love her anymore, and that the past was the past. And maybe you believed him most days. But every time Gaeul showed up, that pit of insecurity cracked open again.
How were you supposed to compete with someone who knew him inside out, someone who shared years of memories that you were never a part of?
Tonight was the final straw. You watched Gaeul lean in too close to your boyfriend. You watched her hand brush his arm. You watched her laugh like she still had a claim to him, and it tore every fragile stitch of your restraint completely.
Part of you knew Mingyu’s anger made sense, because you just caused a scene and humiliated someone he still cared about. But the burning jealousy and pride overpowered any rational part of you. You refused to look small.
“She was all over you Mingyu!” you snapped.
“How the fuck was I meant to sit there and let her be all touchy with you?!” you argued back.
Mingyu’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw worked as if he was physically biting back words. “What are you even talking about? She wasn’t all over me Y/n. You’re blowing this way out of proportion!”
You let out a sharp laugh, but it didn’t sound like humor, it sounded like disbelief. “Out of proportion? She had her hands on you the whole damn night Mingyu. Everyone saw it. And you just sat there and let it happen!”
He stepped closer as frustration radiated off him. “What did you want me to do? Push her away in front of everyone? Cause a bigger scene and embarrass her than you already did?”
“Oh, so this is my fault now?” you shot back. “I’m the crazy one because I don’t like your ex-girlfriend being all over you?”
“She’s my friend, Y/n” Mingyu snapped, his voice growing louder this time. “That’s all she is. Why can’t you trust me on that?”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you Mingyu, I don’t trust her!” your voice cracked as you yelled. “And the fact that you’re just sitting there and letting her be all over you, that’s what’s fucking pissing me off!”
Your throat burned. Your eyes began to glisten with tears no matter how hard you tried to blink them away. You hated showing weakness, especially in the middle of a fight, but the hurt was too much to overcome.
Mingyu’s face softened for a split second when he saw your eyes shine, but the absurdity of your accusation riled him up more. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a short step away before spinning back around to face you.
“Do you even hear yourself right now? Do you know how ridiculous you sound?” he questioned.
“You didn’t even give anyone a chance to explain. You jumped straight to conclusions because you were too fucking insecure to see anything past what you already decided in your head” he stepped towards you with dark eyes.
“Let me tell you something Y/n,” he said, breathing heavy.
“I don’t love Gaeul anymore, and neither does she love me. We’re friends, only friends, and that’s all it’s ever going to be. Everyone in that room knew it. You know why?” he paused, waiting for you to look at him.
“Because Gaeul already has a girlfriend.”
The words felt like it knocked the air out of you.
Mingyu let out a shaky breath as he rubbed a hand over his face. “We didn’t just break up because we drifted apart. She realised she was into women, not men. That’s the truth. And honestly? It’s not even my story to share, but you pushed me here” his voice cracked a little as his shoulders dropped.
“If you actually understood how friendships really work, you’d see she wasn’t being ‘all over’ me. That’s not who she is. Gaeul knows her boundaries. She’s not the villain you’re making her out to be” his tone softened at the end, but his words left you stunned and speechless.
Your mouth went dry. For a second, you just stared at him, completely blindsided. “She— she has a girlfriend?” you managed to say with your voice smaller than you wanted it to be.
Mingyu sighed, running both hands through his hair before letting them fall uselessly to his sides. “Yeah. And she’s happy, really happy. That’s why she was laughing so much tonight, because she was telling me about her. But you didn’t even give yourself the chance to hear it. You were too busy glaring holes through her like she was some homewrecker.”
To say you were ashamed would be an understatement. You were embarrassed. The tears you were holding back finally slipped, and you turned your face away, hating how exposed you felt.
“I— I didn’t know,” you whispered as you hugged your arms around yourself.
“Of course you didn’t know,” Mingyu shot back, though his tone had softened. “You didn’t even want to know. You just assumed the worst, like always.”
“Do you have any idea how exhausting it is Y/n? Constantly having to prove that I chose you?” his voice broke, and it hurt more than his anger.
You turned back to face him, and the sight broke you. The hurt in his eyes and the exhaustion etched into his expression felt like a punch straight to the chest.
“If you can’t get past your insecurities, then how are we supposed to move forward? How many more times do I have to prove to you that you’re the one I want? That you’re the person I want to spend the rest of my life with?” Mingyu’s voice trembled, like he was begging you to understand.
When you saw a single tear slipping down his cheek, your heart dropped into your stomach. You panicked, “baby—” you desperately reached out for him.
But Mingyu stepped back. His jaw clenched as he wiped his face quickly, like he didn’t want you to see him break. You flinched in hurt, watching him create more distance between you.
“I need some time,” he muttered with a rough voice. Without waiting for your reply, he turned and walked out the door, leaving you frozen in the silence and your hand still hanging in the air where he pulled away.
You closed your eyes as your shoulders sagged in defeat. The strength left your body all at once, and your hands fell limply to your sides.
A shaky, broken sob escaped your throat before you could stop it. The shame pressing down on your chest was so heavy that it almost hurt you to breathe.
You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe yourself.
Things with Mingyu had been rocky lately. The two of you were fighting more than you ever had before. The arguments that started were small, but they always seemed to escalate into something bigger. And almost every single time, the root of it came back to the same person. Gaeul.
You hated that she was even part of the picture, even if it was “just as a friend.” No matter how many times Mingyu reassured you, it felt strange and uncomfortable to watch your boyfriend stay so close to someone he used to love.
It didn’t matter that they had history, or that they claimed it was all in the past, you just couldn’t wrap your head around it. The idea of your boyfriend laughing with, texting, or leaning on his ex like nothing ever happened made your stomach twist in knots.
To you, it wasn’t about jealousy in the simple sense. It was the awkwardness and the uneasiness of knowing that there was a part of his life you’d never be able to compete with. She had been there first. She knew sides of him you were still learning.
As much as you hated to admit it, you were insecure. You tried to act like you had it all together, and that things from the past didn’t bother you anymore, but deep down, they did.
Your love life before Mingyu hadn’t exactly been a fairytale. The two guys you dated before him each left their mark in the worst ways.
One made you feel invisible, like nothing you did was ever enough to keep his attention. The other didn’t even bother to hide it. He flat out left you for someone else. Both relationships ended the same way, with you questioning what you lacked and why you weren’t worth staying for.
And that kind of hurt doesn’t just disappear, no matter how much you want it to. It still lingers around. It makes you second-guess yourself in moments you should feel secure. It makes you wonder if maybe there really is always going to be someone better, someone prettier, someone smarter, someone easier to love.
So even with Mingyu, who had never once made you feel unwanted, those old wounds had a way of creeping back in and whispering that maybe you still weren’t enough.
Maybe you were still stuck in the past. Maybe a part of you was still carrying all that fear of not being enough, of being replaced the way you had been before.
It wasn’t Mingyu you doubted, never for a second. You knew he loved you. You knew he was loyal, and you never truly believed he would betray you. The problem was you. You were the one second-guessing yourself at every turn. Even after three years of being together, even after all the ways he had shown you that he loved you, that old voice in your head never fully shut up.
You kept wondering if you were enough for him. If one day he’d wake up and realise he deserved better. And every time that fear bubbled up, it always led to frequent arguments. It led to jealous comments and moments that didn’t need to turn into fights but always did.
Deep down, you knew it wasn’t fair. Mingyu wasn’t the problem. Your insecurities were. They were the reason why your relationship was close to crumbling. And no matter how much you hated it, you could see it clearly now. More often than not, the fights weren’t because of what Mingyu did. They were because of what you couldn’t let go of inside yourself.
And today, you could see that Mingyu had finally hit his breaking point. The way he looked at you and the way his voice cracked when he said he needed space, it told you everything. He was done carrying the burden of your doubts. And honestly? You couldn’t even blame him for it.
Because you knew this wasn’t on him. It was on you. You were the one letting your insecurities run the show. You were the one picking fights you didn’t need to start. You were the one who kept pushing even when he tried to reassure you. It wasn’t fair to him, and you knew it.
For the first time, it really sank in. Maybe you weren’t just hurting yourself with all this doubt. Maybe you were slowly tearing down the person who did nothing but love you. And that thought hit harder than anything else.
You weren’t just the problem. You might have been the reason things were falling apart.
▎12 JULY 2025
08:07 a.m.
You didn’t even realise you cried yourself to sleep waiting for Mingyu until the next morning, when you woke up on the sofa. The brightness of the sunlight streaming through the window hit your eyes instantly, making you groan as you scrunched your nose and lifted a hand to block it. Your body felt heavy and stiff from spending the whole night in one position.
When you pushed yourself upright slowly, that was when it hit you. The house was quiet, too quiet. Where was the same hollow silence that settled in after Mingyu walked out last night. And just like that, the ache you’d tried to sleep off came rushing back.
You wondered if he was even home. You stood up and dragged your feet across the floor as you made your way upstairs. Maybe he came back late and went straight to bed, sleeping it off like nothing happened.
You held onto that hope, even as your hand hovered on the doorknob. Taking a shaky breath, you pushed the door open, only to find the bedroom empty. The bed was still untouched and perfectly made, just before you two left.
Your heart sank.
Maybe he left you a message, at least, telling you he was crashing at Wonwoo’s place, or that he just needed space for the night. Clinging to that thought, you hurried back downstairs and grabbed your phone off the coffee table.
But there was nothing. The only notification lighting up your phone was from your friend Minghao telling you that you needed to apologise to Gaeul. Minghao was not the one to sugarcoat anything, his message was just a blunt reminder of how badly you messed up last night.
You weren’t surprised that people were upset with you. Honestly, you would’ve been shocked if they weren’t. The way you acted last night was out of line, and you knew it. “Embarrassing” or “shameful” didn’t even come close to describing how you felt right now. The guilt was eating you alive.
You had to apologise.
Chewing nervously on your lip, you unlocked your phone and opened Instagram. It felt a little pathetic, but it was the only way you could think of. You and Gaeul didn’t follow each other, because you never had any reason to, and you didn’t have her number either. So this was there only way to reach her.
Your fingers hesitated over the search bar. Part of you wanted to slam your phone shut and pretend none of this happened. But you knew better. You made the mess, and now you had to face it.
You sat there staring at the screen, fingers hovering above the keyboard. Your chest felt tight, because honestly, you didn’t even know where to start. What were you supposed to say? “Sorry for causing a scene”? Or “Sorry for being insecure”?
None of it felt like enough. But hiding behind silence wasn’t going to fix anything. If you were going to apologise, it had to be face to face.
So, swallowing down your nerves, you finally typed out a message.
[jeon.yn08] : hey, it’s Y/n. Can we please talk?
⇥ [kgaeul_] : sure
[jeon.yn08] : in person would be better
⇥ [kgaeul_] : okay, where?
[jeon.yn08] : Moonbird Coffee, in 30 minutes?
⇥ [kgaeul_] : 👍
You switched off your phone and set it back down on the coffee table.
A long, shaky sigh slipped out of you as you let yourself sink deeper into the sofa cushions, face buried in your hands.
Every part of you, especially the introverted and stubborn part that hated confrontation, was begging you not to do this. Normally, you’d rather keep quiet and wait for things to blow over than reach out first. But this time, you knew you didn’t have a choice. If you wanted things to get better, you had to swallow your pride, face the discomfort, and actually do the right thing.
The guilt sitting in your chest was hard to ignore, eating at you more with every second that passed. You couldn’t just sit there pretending nothing happened while knowing how much you had hurt someone. Seeing Mingyu so exhausted and hurt last night kept flashing in your mind. If you couldn’t do this for yourself, then you had to do it for him.
╴╴╴╴╴
08:36 a.m.
After forcing yourself through a quick shower, brushing your teeth and changing into something presentable, you grabbed the house keys and stepped out the door. Mingyu had taken the car, so the subway was your only option. Not that you minded much, it gave you a little time to think.
You slid into a corner seat once the train doors closed and, out of instinct, unlocked your phone. Part of you hoped you’d see his name light up your screen, but there was nothing.
Good thing you had your mask on and your hair down. Otherwise, it would’ve been way too obvious that you were biting the inside of your cheek, fighting to keep yourself together from breaking down in public.
Your fingers itched to type out something, but you stopped yourself. He needed space, and you had to give him that. So, swallowing the lump in your throat, you shut the screen off and shoved your phone into your jacket pocket while holding back the tears threatening to fall.
A few stops later, you finally got out of the station and headed towards the café you told Gaeul to meet you at. Your steps slowed the closer you got, and you felt your nerves tightening. By the time you reached the door, your palms were clammy, and you could feel your heart beating a little too hard.
The café was quiet inside, with only three other customers scattered around. It should’ve been comforting, but the calm atmosphere only made your nerves stand out more.
And soon enough, you spotted Gaeul sitting in the corner. Her cherry-coloured hair stood out, so it was easy not to miss. She was leaning back against the cushioned chair with her phone in her hand, looking somewhat bored, like she had been waiting for a while.
You were nervous, still too embarrassed to face her after what you did last night. Nevertheless, you opened the door and made your way straight towards her with hesitation.
As your footsteps drew closer, Gaeul’s attention snapped away from her phone and finally lifted her head. The moment her eyes met yours, you froze for half a second and felt your nerves spiking all over again.
You forced a small, wary smile. “Hey,” almost too quietly. For a second, you weren’t sure she even heard you.
“Hi,” she answered, her lips curving into a polite, almost tired smile. It wasn’t warm, but it also wasn’t cold, and somehow that was enough to make you loosen up just a little. At least she wasn’t glaring at you, or throwing knives at you with her eyes. Honestly, you wouldn’t have blamed her if she had.
You pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, sliding yourself closer to the table. Your hands instantly needed something to do. You slipped your mask off, cleared your throat, tucked your hair behind your ear. You looked at the floor, the table, the window, anywhere but at her face.
Eye contact felt impossible, at least just for a moment.
Of course, Gaeul noticed. She let out a soft sigh, not harsh but enough to tell you she wasn’t here for small talk. “So…you wanted to talk?” she said finally, breaking the silence.
You swallowed and forced yourself to look up. When her eyes met yours, you could see how drained she looked, like she hadn’t slept much. But there was still hurt in those brown orbs, the hurt you caused.
“Y-Yeah,” you stammered.
Closing your eyes briefly, you exhaled. There was no use dragging this out. You had to be honest.
You fiddled with your fingers under the table, feeling your throat tighten. For a second, no words came out. But eventually, you forced yourself to speak.
“I— I’m sorry,” you blurted out.
You chewed on the inside of your cheek, and forced yourself to keep going. “I’m sorry for last night. I’m sorry for everything I said and the way I acted. I know I crossed a line, and I know I made things way harder than they needed to be. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
Gaeul didn’t say anything right away, she just sat there watching you. Her silence made your chest ache even more, but somehow you pushed through it.
“I was insecure, and jealous, and honestly? Just scared,” you admitted.
“I was scared that Mingyu might look at you and realise that you’ve always been better than me. And instead of dealing with it like a normal person, I lashed out at you. That wasn’t fair. I let my insecurities get the better of me, and I hurt you in the process.”
You sighed. You felt tears building up in your eyes, but you kept them locked on hers this time. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, or even at all. I just…I couldn’t let things stay like this without at least apologising to your face. You deserve that much.”
Your palms were sweaty against your jeans, and your heart was beating like a drum. For the first time, you felt like you laid everything bare. There were no excuses, no defenses, just honesty. Now all you could do was wait for her response.
You were ready for her response, whatever it could be. She could laugh at your face or spit harsh words she had for you, you were ready to take it all in.
But you got nothing.
Instead, Gaeul leaned back in her chair and let out a long breath like she’d been holding it in since you walked through the door. Her expression stayed unreadable as her eyes flicked down to the table and then back up to you.
“You know…” she finally started, calmly, though sounding tired at the same time.
“When you implied I was being a ‘homewrecker,’ I can’t even tell you how much that hurt. I was furious, hurt and embarrassed all at once. I wanted to snap back and prove you wrong to defend myself right there. But I didn’t, I just froze. It was one of those moments where you’re so shocked, you don’t even know what to say, you know?”
Your heart dropped to your stomach as her words sank in. Your bottom lip trembled and you lowered your head in shame. God, you felt awful. So damn awful. If the situation had been reversed, you knew you would’ve lashed out too. Anyone would, to protect their dignity. You couldn’t even blame her for being angry because it made perfect sense.
“But,” she continued, “I get where you’re coming from. I mean, I would feel weird too, considering the history Mingyu and I have. So I can’t really pretend that it doesn’t make things complicated sometimes.”
Gaeul’s tone then softened a little. “But Y/n, that doesn’t mean I’m trying to take him away from you. I moved on, and I have an amazing girlfriend who I love more than anything. Mingyu is your boyfriend now, and I respect that. I would never try to mess with what you two have” she said.
She paused to choose her next words carefully.
“You have to understand that Mingyu and I were good friends way before we ever dated. He’s been one of my friends for a long time, and that bond didn’t just vanish after we broke up. We don’t love each other in that way anymore, but we still care about each other. We still laugh, we still tease, we still share that old comfort. That’s just the kind of friendship we have. And I need you to know, that’s all it is now, friendship. Nothing more.”
It had been pretty obvious to everyone, well, at least to their close friends, that Gaeul was into women by the time she and Mingyu broke up. Still, when it first came out, it threw everyone for a loop. Nobody saw it coming, because Gaeul had always dated guys, and she and Mingyu seemed solid for a long time. So when she finally told them, there were definitely a few dropped jaws and awkward silences.
Perhaps it was the fact that she hid it all so well in fear of being judged, or at least, to figure out her sexuality.
But over time, it started to make sense. The way she talked about love and the way she carried herself, it all just fell into place. She seemed lighter and more like herself than she’d ever been when she was with Mingyu. And her friends noticed that too. The same girl who used to second-guess everything was suddenly glowing, laughing more and completely at ease in her own skin.
So, what started out as a shock quickly turned into one of those “ah, okay, that actually makes perfect sense now” moments.
The only person who hadn’t caught on, or maybe just didn’t want to, was you. Everyone else seemed to have accepted it ages ago, but you were stuck in your own head, replaying the same thought over and over, that Gaeul and Mingyu used to date.
That was it. That was the line your mind refused to cross. No matter how many times Mingyu reassured you, or how harmless Gaeul’s actions actually were, your insecurities kept twisting everything into something ugly.
And now, sitting there with everything laid bare right in front of you, it all hit you so hard. Gaeul wasn’t the problem, she never was. You were just too caught up in your own worries to see what was obvious to everyone else. You couldn’t help but feel incredibly stupid, and honestly, a little ashamed of how much you let your insecurities take over.
You couldn’t stop yourself as your hands flew up to cover your face, the tears finally breaking free. All the guilt, the embarrassment and the exhaustion from holding everything in just crashed at once. You felt miserable, really. You didn’t even know what to do with yourself anymore.
“I’m so, so sorry, Gaeul,” you said, voice trembling as you tried to steady your breathing. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that, especially in front of everyone.”
You forced yourself to uncover your face, even though your cheeks were still wet and your eyes bloodshot and puffy. You wanted her to see how much you meant it, and that it wasn’t just some quick apology to ease your conscience.
Gaeul could see right through you. She could see every bit of guilt, regret, and exhaustion written all over your face. There wasn’t a single trace of defensiveness left in you, just sincerity. And that alone was enough to soften her expression. She let out a quiet sigh, then gave you a small, almost tired smile.
She reached across the table and gently placed her hand over yours, and the simple gesture nearly made you tear up again.
“Hey,” she said gently, “it’s okay Y/n. I forgive you. I’m honestly glad you came to talk about it face-to-face instead of just texting. It means a lot. I hope we can move past it and maybe…be friends?”
You gave her a small nod as your lips curled into a faint, broken smile. It wasn’t much, but it was all you could manage without crying again. And you felt the tension in your chest loosen a little.
You didn’t really know what came next. Things between you and Gaeul weren’t magically fixed, and it would probably take some time before things felt normal again — if they ever really could. But for now, that didn’t matter.
What mattered was that she didn’t hate you. She didn’t resent you or hold that moment against you. She forgave you, genuinely and wholeheartedly.
Taking a quiet breath, you wiped the corner of your eye and looked at her with a bit more steadiness this time. “Thank you,” you whispered.
Gaeul smiled softly in return. “So…” she started, dragging the word out just a little as she leaned back against her chair.
“I’m guessing you and Mingyu got into an argument?”
You let out a soft, awkward laugh as you tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. “Is it that obvious?” you asked, though you already knew it was.
She raised an eyebrow and gave a little snort. “Uh, yeah. Considering how pissed off Mingyu looked and how he basically dragged you out of the restaurant, I’d say it was pretty obvious. The whole table went dead silent after that.”
“Also, you looked absolutely shit the moment you walked in,” she added, jokingly.
You couldn’t help but laugh this time. “Wow, thanks,” you said sarcastically, using both palms to wipe at your still-wet and puffy eyes.
“God,” you muttered, shaking your head as another laugh slipped out.
After a brief pause, your smile began to fade, replaced by worry as last night replayed in your mind. “Hey..do you perhaps know where Mingyu is?” you asked, breaking the silence.
Her expression shifted immediately as her brows pulled together in concern. You took a shaky breath, “I haven’t heard from him since he left the house last night” you added.
Gaeul leaned back and frowned. “After dinner ended, we all went home. He came by my place to apologise for what happened, but I’m not sure where he went after that,” she said honestly.
“I just assumed he went back home.”
Your heart sank at her words. He didn’t come home. You struggled to breathe for a second as your mind raced through all the possibilities. Was he really that angry? Was he avoiding you?
Or worse, was he regretting everything?
Gaeul noticed your face pale and quickly leaned forward to hold your hands. “Hey,” she said softly, trying to pull you back to reality.
“He’s probably okay wherever he is. Maybe he just needs more time to cool off?” she reassured you with a small, hopeful smile.
You let out a tired sigh, resting your elbows on the table and rubbing your temples. “Yeah, that’s what he said before walking out,” you murmured.
“It’s just…it’s so hard right now,” you admitted.
“We’ve been arguing so much lately, way more than we should. And it’s gotten to a point where it doesn’t even feel healthy anymore. And after yesterday…” you swallowed hard, fighting the lump in your throat. “I’m scared I might’ve pushed him too far.”
Your voice cracked on the last word, and you quickly dropped your gaze to the table, hoping she wouldn’t see the tears already forming in your eyes.
“I don’t even know how to fix this anymore,” you whispered. “I just hope I don’t lose him. God, I’ll fall apart if I do.” A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.
You didn’t mean to start crying again, but it just hurt. You were scared, because you didn’t know how you were going to reconcile with him. What if this time apart wasn’t just him cooling off? What if it was him realising he didn’t want to come back at all?
The idea alone made your stomach agitate. Losing Mingyu was more than just a nightmare, it felt like it would be the end of everything you both built together.
You pressed the heel of your hand to your eyes, trying to pull yourself together, but the ache in your chest stayed. All you could think about was how badly you wanted to rewind and do things differently, before it was too late.
“Hey, hey,” Gaeul cut in quickly.
“You’re not going to lose him, alright? Trust me, I know Mingyu. When that man loves someone, he loves hard. He’s stubborn about it too. He’d rather get hurt himself than let go of the person he cares about. That’s just who he is” she said.
You looked up at her with your glossy eyes, but her words slowly started to sink in.
Gaeul smiled softly. “He loves you so much, Y/n. Seriously. More than he ever loved me, and I say that with full confidence.”
She gave a small laugh, shaking her head like she still couldn’t believe it herself. “I’ve never seen him so gone over anyone before. You have no idea how obvious it is. Everyone sees it. He’s completely whipped for you.”
She leaned back in her chair. “So, please don’t start thinking the worst. I promise you, Mingyu’s not the type to walk away just because things get hard. If anything, he’ll fight even harder for you. That’s how much you mean to him.”
Your heart fluttered. And somehow, hearing that from her, the one person who used to know him best, made it all feel a little more real.
╴╴╴╴╴
12:25 p.m.
After saying goodbye to Gaeul, you let out a long breath you didn’t even realise you had been holding. It felt like a weight had finally been lifted off your chest. Though not completely gone, you felt lighter, like you could finally breathe again. Things between you and her had been tense for so long that just clearing the air felt like a small victory.
At least that part was over. At least she didn’t hate you. But then your thoughts drifted right back to Mingyu, the one thing was still weighing heavy in your heart.
You didn’t know what you were supposed to say to him when you finally saw him again. Would he even want to see you? Would he still be angry, or just done?
Though with Gaeul’s reassurance, you still felt a little uncertain.
But at the same time, you were determined. No matter how hard it would be, you were ready to do whatever it took to make things right.
So, after stopping by the supermarket and grabbing everything you needed for beef bulgogi and kimchi fried rice, you headed straight home with your arms full of shopping and your head full of nerves.
But when you stepped into the house, your heart immediately sank. Mingyu still wasn’t home. The place felt weirdly empty without him because you weren’t used to this kind of silence. Usually you would hear him humming from the kitchen as he cooked, yelling your name from the living room, or just rambling about whatever random thing popped into his head.
Normally, he would always greet you by the door and wrap you in a warm, tight hug. Then he’d press a soft kiss to your lips and say something stupidly sweet that would make you forget about the terrible days you’d had.
It felt weirdly gloomy without him around. The slice was almost unsettling, and you couldn’t shake off how strange it felt not to hear his voice, or any noise that indicated that he was home.
Still, you wanted to do something. Maybe cooking his favourite food as an apology would help. That was always your thing, after all. If you messed up, you’d make his go-to comfort meals, like beef bulgogi or kimchi fried rice. If he was in the wrong, he’d show up with your favourite soup or spicy stir fried noodles.
With the little hope you had left in you, you sighed. You didn’t even bother to change out of your outfit. You simply took your shoes and jacket off before dumping the bags on the counter and getting to work.
╴╴╴╴╴
03:10 p.m.
As much as you wanted to text Mingyu, you forced yourself not to. You told yourself over and over that he needed space, and you had to respect that. And for a while, you tried, you really did. But the longer the silence stretched, the more you started to feel suffocated. It was becoming unbearable to just sit there in the empty house without the sound of his presence.
The food, which you haven’t dished up yet, was still sitting on the stove, and it had long gone cold now. You hoped that Mingyu would walk through the door in time for lunch, but noon turned into afternoon, and there was still no sign of him.
Eventually, you couldn’t wait any longer, so you texted a few of his friends and asked if they had seen or heard from him. The replies came quickly, but none of them helped. None of them knew where he was.
You stared at your phone, and felt that familiar knot tighten in your throat. He wasn’t answering anyone, not even you, and that was what scared you most. You tried to tell yourself to relax, but it was getting hard to breathe in this silence.
Finally, you exhaled shakily and picked up your phone again. Enough waiting — you were going to call him directly.
After three rings, you were hit with the sound of the automated voice telling you the number you were trying to reach was unavailable. And just like that, whatever little bit of strength you had left completely snapped.
Your chest tightened so painfully, and it felt like the air was sucked right out of the room. That stupid robotic voice kept echoing in your head, and suddenly everything around you blurred. The knot in your throat grew until it felt like you couldn’t swallow, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think straight.
Your breathing turned sharp and even, like you were gasping for air through a straw. Tears started welling up so fast that your vision went foggy, and you could barely see your phone screen anymore. You pressed a hand to your chest to try and calm yourself down, but your heartbeat was wild and erratic. It was like your body was stuck in fight-or-flight mode.
You wanted to cry, to scream, or do something to release the ache choking you, but you couldn’t. The sobs stayed trapped in your throat, and it was burning their way up but never escaping. Your whole body was trembling hard, uncontrollable shakes that made it impossible to even sit still.
Your fingers went numb, and your phone slipped from your grasp and fell onto the floor. You curled in on yourself and clutched your chest, desperately trying to breathe.
You were in the middle of a full-blown panic attack, and it was worse than any you ever had before.
Was this really the end? Was Gaeul wrong about everything she had told you? What if Mingyu had finally made up his mind? What if he was done with you for good? The thought alone sent you spiraling even more.
Your mind went completely blank afterwards, except for one thought, your mother.
“M-Mum,” you choked out with your trembling voice as your hands shakily reached for your phone.
Everything felt blurry, like you were underwater. Your fingers could barely move properly as you scrolled through your contacts. It took what felt like forever to find her name, while your legs were barely keeping you upright. When you finally pressed call, you could hear your heart pounding in your ears.
Your mother was your best friend. You told her everything, your highs, your lows, your plans and your stupid little worries. She was your safe place, and hearing her voice was all you needed right now.
So when she picked up and that warm, familiar voice greeted you with, “hey darling,” you just broke.
“M-Mum,” you managed to croak out between choked breaths.
Instantly, she picked up on it, and her calm tone turned into panic. “Y/n? Honey, what’s wrong? Talk to me, what happened?”
“H-He doesn’t w-want m-me anymore,” you stammered. “H-He d-doesn’t want t-to c-come b-back home M-Mum.”
Your voice cracked completely, breaking into sobs. You could hear her calling your name, trying to calm you down, but her words sounded so far away and muffled, like they were coming from another room.
“I-I can’t…b-breathe,” you gasped out, clutching your chest as your vision began to tunnel. The phone slipped slightly in your hand, and you heard your mother’s voice grow louder and panicked now as she yelled your name through the speaker.
But it was too late. Your knees buckled and the phone fell from your grip. The last thing you heard was your mother’s desperate shouting before everything faded to black.
╴╴╴╴╴
Meanwhile, Mingyu was sprawled out on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling of his old bedroom.
He didn’t really plan to end up at his parents’ house. After storming out and stopping by Gaeul’s place to apologise to her for what happened, he realised he had nowhere else to go. His parents’ place seemed like the safest option. It was more comforting and quiet where he could breathe for a bit.
The moment he walked through the door, though, his parents bombarded him with questions asking him what happened and why he looked so down. He didn’t have the energy to explain, so he brushed it off with a vague answer that you both fought and that he needed some time to cool off. It was enough to make them drop it, well, at least for the night.
But by the time the sun rose the next morning, his mother had clearly noticed his phone buzzing every few minutes on the nightstand. She was beginning to get annoyed at her son’s lack of attention. And hearing the constant vibration and seeing the unread notifications piling up on his phone, she smacked his chest, saying, “stop being childish Mingyu. If she’s calling this much, you should answer her.”
He didn’t respond though. He just stared at the screen lighting up again with your name. He knew you were trying to reach him, and he knew exactly how worried you must’ve been. But as much as it hurt to ignore you, he didn’t want to reply. He was still angry, yes, but more than that, he was exhausted, both emotionally and mentally.
So instead of replying, he switched his phone off completely and left it on the bedside table like it didn’t even exist. Out of sight and out of mind, at least, that’s what he tried to tell himself.
Mingyu knew he was being ridiculous at this point, but he couldn’t help it. It just felt like no one really got what was going on in his head, not even you. He loved you, god, he loved you so bad. He loved you so much it almost scared him sometimes.
No matter how insecure you got, he always tried to make sure you felt seen, safe, and loved. He would go out of his way just to remind you how much you meant to him, whether through small text messages, giving you forehead kisses, or staying up late at night to talk things through when you were overthinking again.
To put it simply, you were everything to him. His entire world.
And yet, it felt like you couldn’t see it. Like no matter how hard he tried to show you that there would never, ever be another woman he could love the way he loved you, it wasn’t enough. Every time there were misunderstandings, every argument that circled back to the same insecurities, it chipped away at him little by little.
He was tired. He wasn’t tired of you, rather, he was tired of the fighting. He was tired of the endless reassurance he’d give you, and the feeling that love alone wasn’t fixing things anymore.
And after what happened last night, when things went a little too far, it pushed him over the edge. It broke something inside him, and now as he laid staring at the ceiling, he wasn’t even sure how to start putting those pieces back together. He just didn’t know how else to prove to you.
Mingyu let out a long sigh and rolled onto his side, eyes drifting toward the window where the sunlight was spilling through the curtains. The sky was clear with not a single cloud in sight, and the breeze that slipped through the slightly open window carried that midday freshness. It was perfect beach weather.
And instantly, his mind went to you, because you loved this kind of day. You loved the sound of the waves, the feel of sand between your toes, the excuse to pack a basket full of snacks and just lie there for hours talking about nothing.
Mingyu could almost picture it, of you laughing as you laid your head against his bare chest. And walking hand in hand down the beach, admiring the sunset.
He would drive the four hours down to Busan without a second thought if it meant seeing that smile again. That was how much he loved you. Even now, when things between you were such a mess, that love was still sitting strong in his chest, refusing to fade.
It wasn’t long before Mingyu heard quick footsteps storming down the hallway, followed by his bedroom door bursting open.
“Kim Mingyu!”
He quickly rolled onto his other side at the sound of his mother’s sharp and panicked voice. She stood in the doorway with her phone in her hand. “Where in God’s name did you put your phone?” she snapped as she took a few quick steps towards him.
He blinked, caught off guard. “Why? What happened?” he asked.
His mother stopped beside the bed, taking a shaky breath before speaking. “I just got a call from Y/n’s mum,” she began. “She was looking for you, and said Y/n called her while having a panic attack. A really bad one.”
For a split second, everything froze. His heartbeat, his breathing, even his mind. And when the words finally hit him like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head, his heart started racing with dread.
“She— she what?” he almost stuttered as he shot upright, fumbling for his phone on the nightstand. His hands were getting clammy, shaking so badly he almost dropped it as he pressed the button to turn it on.
“Her mum said she was struggling to breathe,” his mother said in a worried tone. “The last thing she heard before the call was cut off was Y/n saying she couldn’t breathe.”
Mingyu’s stomach contorted agonisingly, but before he could even react, his mother went on to say something that made his whole world tilt.
“When she rushed over to your place, she found Y/n collapsed in the living room.”
His heart shot straight to his throat, eyes widening in alarm. “C–Collapsed?” he stammered, quickly standing up to his feet.
“What do you mean collapsed? Where is she now?!” his voice rose slightly in fear as he walked towards his mother.
“Yes Mingyu! Collapsed!” his mother snapped. “She’s at the hospital right now. Her mum said she wasn’t responding, and they’ve all been trying to reach you for the past thirty minutes! Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”
Mingyu barely heard the rest of what his mother was saying. Her voice, the ticking clock, even the sound of his own breathing, everything around him blurred into static. The air suddenly felt too thin to breath, and his chest felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of his lungs.
He couldn’t think straight. His head was spinning, and his heartbeat was too loud in his ears.
“Hospital,” he mumbled, almost to himself,
And without wasting another second, he bolted out of his bedroom. Mingyu practically flew down the stairs. He nearly tripped trying to shove his feet into his shoes, and he didn’t even bother to tie the laces properly. His hands were shaking so badly that he fumbled with the keys on the counter before finally grabbing them.
“Mingyu!” his mother called after him, shouting the name of the hospital. He barely heard it over the rush of blood in his ears.
“I got it!” he yelled back, though his voice cracked halfway.
He yanked open the door, ran outside as fast as he could, and jumped into his car. Turning on the engine, he hurriedly reversed out of the driveway.
Mingyu knew better than anyone how dangerous, and stupid, it was to drive recklessly, no matter how desperate the situation was. You’d drilled that into him numerous times.
Every time he’d grab his keys to leave, you’d give him that little reminder, “drive safe, okay? No speeding.”
It became your thing. And the irony was, you didn’t even have a driver’s licence, but you still lectured him like you were the highway authority itself.
And Mingyu, being the confident driver he was, sometimes got a little too bold behind the wheel. He’d often take turns too fast or tailgate when he was late, and you would always call him out for it later with that disappointed look he hated seeing.
Even now, when all he wanted to do was slam his foot on the accelerator and break every speed limit in the book just to get to you faster, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The thought of going against your words was enough to keep him in check.
Don’t speed Mingyu.
Still, it was torture. Every time he got caught at a red light, his hands tightened around the steering wheel til his knuckles turned white.
He couldn’t stop muttering curses under his breath while bouncing his leg anxiously. And when a car in front of him moved at the speed of a snail, he’d slam his hand on the honk button.
He was, really, trying so damn hard to stay calm.
By the time Mingyu finally pulled up to the hospital, he didn’t even care how he parked. The car was barely in the lines, maybe even sideways, but that didn’t matter to him. He just threw the door open, slammed it shut behind him, and sprinted straight through the sliding doors.
The receptionist was startled a little when he rushed up to the desk. But more so by his dishevelled appearance — hair messy, chest heaving and sweat beading down his temple. He looked completely frantic, like he ran a marathon.
“Jeon Y/N, where is she?” he asked, leaning forward on the counter, barely able to catch his breath.
The receptionist blinked at him. “I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t give out any information about patients unless you’re a family member,” she told him.
“She’s my girlfriend. Please, just tell me where I can find her” he pleaded, trying not to lose his cool.
Before the receptionist could speak up, Mingyu heard your mother’s voice call out his name from somewhere behind him. “Mingyu?”
His heart leaped at the sound, spinning around instantly. “Mrs Jeon!” he exclaimed in relief as he rushed toward her.
Mingyu reached your mother in seconds, almost stumbling to a stop in front of her. “Where is she? How is she? What happened?” he blurted out, voice breaking halfway through the sentence. His breathing was uneven as his eyes darted around the hallway like he was searching for you.
“Hey, slow down,” your mother said softly.
“The doctor said her body was under a lot of stress. The panic attack made it worse which caused her to faint. But she’s okay. They said she just needs a lot of rest” she explained.
Mingyu felt a lump form in his throat, and eyes sting with tears. “Is she awake right now? Or is she sleeping?” he asked.
Your mother’s expression softened, and let out a small sigh, “she’s awake, but she doesn’t really want to talk to anyone right now. She just keeps asking for you.”
It was like the final string that snapped. Mingyu’s bottom quivered as he fought to hold himself together. But involuntarily, a small whimper escaped from his lips.
“Which room is she in?” he whispered.
“Room twenty-six,” she said, pointing down the corridor.
But she didn’t even finish before Mingyu’s feet were already on the move. His shoes squeaked against the hospital floor as he ran, and he didn’t care about the people staring or the nurses telling him to slow down. All he could think about was getting to you, and seeing you with his own eyes.
When Mingyu finally reached your room, he stopped dead in his tracks right outside the door. His hand hovered over the handle, but he couldn’t bring himself to push it open just yet. His heart was pounding, so hard it felt like it might burst out of his chest.
All that adrenaline that had carried him here suddenly turned into nerves. He was so desperate to see you, but now that he was here, he didn’t know what to do.
He swallowed hard, running a shaky hand through his hair as he stared at the small window on the door. Through it, he could see you sitting on the bed with your knees pulled up to your chest and your face buried in your arms.
The thin hospital blanket was draped around you, but you still looked so small, so fragile. The lump in Mingyu’s throat began to suffocate him. His hand reached up to clutch his chest, trying to steady the rapid thump of his heart.
His vision blurred as he tried to fight back the tears threatening to spill. Then, he let out a shaky exhale, “God, what have I done?” he whispered to himself, You looked completely broken, and knowing he was part of the reason you ended up like this made him want to tear himself apart.
Mingyu dragged in a shaky breath, roughly wiping his eyes before finally pushing the door open.
The sudden sound made you flinch, but the second your eyes landed on the man you had been dying to see, your whole body seemed to let go of the tension it had been holding.
“Mingyu…” you breathed out with a trembling voice as you threw the blanket aside and got to your feet.
The sight of your red and puffy eyes completely broke him.
Whatever strength he had left just shattered right there. A strangled sob tore out of his chest as he rushed to you, closing the distance in seconds before wrapping you up in his arms in a tight, desperate hug.
You melted into him immediately, and your hands gripped at the back of his shirt. “Where were you?” you choked out as you buried your face against him. “I thought you left me.”
“I thought you weren’t coming back,” you continued, your sobs growing harder. “I was so scared.”
“I’m sorry Mingyu. I’m so, so sorry. I never wanted to make things harder for you. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to prove anything to me. I just—” you broke off, gasping through another wave of tears.
“Please don’t leave me. I’ll do better. I’ll be better.”
“Hey, hey, hey—” he stammered as he pulled back to cup your face in his large, shaking hands. His thumbs brushed over your damp cheeks, and his heart shattered with every sob that left your lips.
“Look at me baby” he said.
When your eyes flicked up, that was all it took for his composure to crumble all over again. “Shh, calm down baby. It’s okay,” he reassured you, almost desperately.
“I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave you, I swear” he said, blinking back his own tears.
You tried to say something, but the words dissolved into another sob, and that broke him to the core. “Fuck,” he choked, shaking his head.
“Fuck, I didn’t mean for things to go this far. I didn’t mean to hurt you like this. I’m so fucking sorry my love.”
He leaned forward until his forehead pressed against yours, eyes shut tight as he breathed you in.
“God, I’m so fucking stupid,” he croaked as he leaned in and pressed a shaky kiss to your lips.
When he pulled back, his forehead stayed pressed against yours, and you could feel his hot and uneven breath fan over your lips. “But I’m here now,” he whispered.
“I’m right here with you baby girl. I’m not going anywhere again, I swear. I’m never leaving you.”
He kissed you again, slower and longer this time, and you could practically feel him trembling against you. “I’m so sorry” he whimpered against your lips.
“I’m so sorry I left you like that, baby. I shouldn’t have walked away at all. I shouldn’t have ignored you. God, I hate myself for it.” His tears mixed with yours, tasting the salty warmth spreading between your lips as he kissed you again and again.
“Hey,” you whispered softly, voice still hoarse from crying.
“At least you’re here now,” you said softly, giving him a small, tired smile as you reached up to brush the messy strands of hair away from his eyes. “That’s all that matters.”
Mingyu let out a low hum, almost like a sigh of relief, before he cupped your cheek and pulled you in for another long, deep kiss.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours once again. His eyes were still glassy, but they were much calmer now.
“I love you baby,” he said as his thumb traced lazy circles against your jaw.
“Always remember that, okay? No matter how angry I get, no matter how bad we fight, that anger’s never going to be stronger than how much I love you. Ever.”
You blinked at him, your heart squeezing at his words. You saw him swallow hard, “I love you too much to ever let you go. You have no idea how much it scares me at the thought of not having you around. I swear, I’d rather take all the pain in the world than ever lose you.”
His words hit so deep that your eyes started welling up with tears all over again. You didn’t have to doubt that he meant every one of them. The sincerity in his eyes, the way he kissed you and held you, it gave you the security you desperately needed at this moment.
You smiled through your tears, “I know” you responded. “I know you do. And I love you too.”
Mingyu cracked a small smile and leaned in again, kissing the corner of your lips gently before enveloping you into a hug.
“We’ll be okay.”
╴╴╴╴╴
10:20 p.m.
After you got discharged, Mingyu drove straight home, one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours the entire way. He was quieter than usual, but the way his thumb kept brushing over your knuckles said enough.
Not long after you got settled in, his mother dropped by with a pot of warm rice porridge. Of course, a few minutes later, Mingyu was the one with the bowl in his hands, devouring it like he hadn’t eaten in days.
You just sat there and watched him shovel spoon after spoon into his mouth. “You do realise that was supposed to be my porridge, right?” you tried not to laugh.
Mingyu glanced up, a bit of rice stuck to his lip, and gave you a sheepish grin. “You love me too much to stop me.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. He did love that porridge way too much, and honestly, you weren’t even that hungry anymore. Just the sight of him looking so happy enjoying it made your heart feel full.
After that, the two of you hopped into the shower together, mostly because Mingyu didn’t trust you to stand for too long on your own. You complained, but you didn’t really mean it. The way he was so gentle when washing the shampoo out of your hair and kissing your temple every few minutes, it made your chest ache in the best way possible.
Dinner was whatever leftovers you had cooked in the afternoon. And then, predictably, you both migrated to the sofa. Mingyu grabbed the thickest blanket he could find and wrapped the two of you up like a burrito before putting on a random rom-com movie.
Now, halfway through your second film, your eyelids were starting to grow heavy. The rhythmic movement of Mingyu’s fingers tracing soft circles over your bare stomach wasn’t helping at all.
You tried to fight the sleep, whether it was by blinking hard, shifting your position, or even pretending to be interested in the plot. But his warm and his quiet breathing beside your ear, and that comforting hand on your bare belly were all working against you.
Mingyu noticed, of course. He glanced down at you with a small grin. “You can sleep, you know” he told you.
“I’m fine,” you mumbled, eyes already half-shut.
He chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Sure you are,” he responded, still drawing lazy patterns on your skin.
You stayed quiet for a while, eyes still closed, somewhere between awake and asleep.
“I talked to Gaeul today,” you mumbled sleepily, breaking the silence.
Mingyu blinked and took his eyes off the television, glancing down at you. If he was surprised, he made sure to make it seem less obvious. “Yeah?” he asked softly.
“Mhm,” you hummed, finally blinking your eyes open to look up at him. “We met at this little cafe and just…talked it out. I apologised to her for last night and everything, really” you said.
“After learning everything, I just felt incredibly stupid for everything I’ve said to her. I felt so crap” you continued, shifting a little to adjust yourself in his arms.
“So I messaged her to meet me at a cafe. And honestly? I didn’t know what kind of reaction to expect, but I just wanted to put it out there and let her know how sorry I was.”
Mingyu tilted his head slightly, “and how did that go?” he asked as his fingers brushed through your hair. Though he could already guess how it went, he wanted to hear it from you.
“Better than I thought it would, honestly. I cried a lot, and God it was so embarrassing now that I think back to it. I was such a mess” you gave a small laugh, shaking your head at yourself.
“But she was really kind about it. She said she appreciated me reaching out and talking to her in person. She said it meant a lot” your voice softened a little.
“Most importantly, she forgave me” you added.
Mingyu’s expression melted into one of quiet pride. “That’s good,” he said, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I’m proud of you baby.”
You let out another soft laugh, almost sleepy. “I just felt so stupid, you know? The things I said to her were just…ugh!” you groaned and buried your face against his chest again.
“I don’t even know what came over me.”
Your body relaxed again, and you let out an airy hum as Mingyu’s fingers continued to move through your hair. “I’m glad I talked to her though,” you whispered, half-drifting back into sleep.
“I am too,” Mingyu said quietly, resting his chin on your head. “Means you can finally stop carrying everything around like a burden.”
You hummed in agreement, your words slurring slightly as you mumbled, “maybe now I can actually sleep without crying.”
You felt Mingyu’s chest vibrating under your cheek as he let out a small laugh. “Good,” he whispered, holding you a little tighter. “You deserve that.”
You could feel sleep creeping up on you again, and your eyelids grew heavier and heavier with every lazy stroke of Mingyu’s hand on your back. You didn’t bother fighting it this time, and just let yourself sink into his warmth.
“I love you, Kim Mingyu,” your words slurred together as sleep started to win.
Then, in a voice so soft it almost broke his heart, you whispered, “please don’t ever leave me.”
The room fell quiet after that, and Mingyu’s smile faltered just a little. It wasn’t the first time you said something like that half-asleep, especially when you two made up after an argument, but it still hit him the same every time. He hated that there was even a part of you that worried he’d go anywhere.
Your body grew heavier in his arms as you finally drifted off completely. Mingyu adjusted his position and sat up a little straighter so you could rest more comfortably against him. He tugged the blanket higher and tucked it snugly around your shoulders, before wrapping both arms securely around you.
He looked down at your sleeping face, your lashes resting softly against your cheeks, lips slightly parted, breathing slow and steady. His chest ached in the best and worst way.
Leaning down, he pressed a long, gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too princess,” he murmured against your skin. “And I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
You didn’t stir. You were already deep in sleep with your small breaths fanning over his chest. Mingyu smiled faintly as he brushed a thumb over your cheek.
“I don’t even wanna think about what I’d do without you” he said, almost to himself.
a/n; sorry it took so long! my iPad broke and I needed a way to edit the fonts. and also sorry if you commented on my post to join the tag-list and aren’t listed on here, for some reason I can’t find your username under the @ search.
synopsis: you're struggling to get out of a bad academic slump, feeling overwhelmed by the constant pressure of grades and the inability to focus. after a few failed attempts to get motivated, you decide to do something different—start going to the gym. at first, it’s just about getting out of the house, but that all changes when mingyu, the gym’s resident greek god, notices you. no amount of reps or cardio can compare to how fast your heart races every time you cross paths, and it becomes impossible to ignore a six-foot tall kim mingyu.
pairing: mingyu x reader (ft. dino and riize wonbin + roommate!jeonghan)
genre: college au, romance, smut (18+ markers for start and end if you wanna skip), fluff, slice-of-life, slow-burn, gym buddy!mingyu
warnings: slightly awkward moments, gym-related humor, slow-burn, soft smut, heavy flirting, unprotected sex (do not do this lol), aftercare <333, making out with random ppl at a party, alcohol consumption, y/n is an absolute LOSERRRRR, profanity of course, mentions of body image (positive)
wc: ~8.5k
a/n: oh my godddd it’s finally here !! my first full fic <333 tysm for 500+ notes on the preview alone like ??? taglist is massive as well so that will be placed under the cut ^^~ shoutout to @meltinghershey, @mochisdayone, and @tigerhoshii for beta reading and dealing with my chaos lmaooo. hope u enjoy <33
you’ve always been the kind of person who keeps yourself busy. your friends say you get “flustered” a lot, but you know it’s less about nerves and more about not seeing the point in stretching out conversations when you could be doing something useful. you’re good with people — you can hold small talk, swap stories, even keep up in a group chat when you need to — but it never feels as rewarding as finishing a project or getting ahead on an assignment. practical, that’s what you are. efficient with your time. so when the stress of midterms and the constant pressure to stay ahead starts to pile up, you fall into a familiar cycle of overworking without actually getting anywhere.
jeonghan, your roommate, always tells you to “take a break” when he finds you buried under a pile of textbooks, but you ignore him. while your dorm neighbor, seungkwan, who’s become your unofficial therapist, insists that maybe a change of scenery might help, but you brush it off. you don’t know what’s worse—failing or the thought of being the one who’s not keeping up with the others.
that’s when you decide to take a leap. you’re not sure if it’s just the idea of doing something different, or the fact that every other option has failed, but you sign up for the gym. you’re not sure what you’re expecting—just that you need to shake things up.
the first day is terrible. you’re awkwardly trying to figure out how machines work, watching everyone around you who seems like they know what they’re doing, while you’re stuck on a treadmill wondering if you’re supposed to be running or walking faster.
that’s when he notices you.
kim mingyu.
he’s not hard to spot—tall, broad-shouldered, a greek god in a compression shirt, with muscles you can’t even begin to fathom. you try not to stare, but your eyes can’t help it. he’s on the other side of the room, lifting weights with ease, his form flawless. you can’t even imagine having a fraction of that confidence. you turn back to your treadmill, your face flushed as you try to focus on not tripping over yourself.
but then, out of nowhere, he’s right there in front of you.
“hey, are you new here?” his voice is so casual, but your heart skips a beat at the sound of it. “first time at the gym?”
you freeze, where the fuck did he come from?
pretty hard not to spot a giant like kim mingyu walking towards you, y/n.
without thinking, you mumble, “oh shit—” and immediately stumble forward. you try to catch yourself but end up tripping over your own feet, your hands flailing to find balance.
“whoa!” mingyu’s quick reflexes kick in, and before you know it, he’s right there, steadying you with one hand on your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks, voice tinged with concern, but there’s a hint of amusement in his smile.
you gulp, heart racing. “i—yeah. i just—uh, didn’t see you coming.” you let out a pathetic laugh, heat flooding your cheeks.
mingyu chuckles, his laugh deep and warm. “i kind of figured. you look like you’re on the verge of a wipeout.”
you can’t help but give a lopsided smile, despite your embarrassment. “thanks… i guess,” you mutter, still trying to regain your composure.
“don’t worry about it,” he says with a friendly smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “you’re still alive, so that’s a win in my book.”
and just like that, mingyu’s gone, back to his workout as if he hadn’t just saved you from making a fool of yourself in front of everyone.
for the next few days, mingyu’s presence haunts the gym. you see him everywhere—lifting weights, chatting with people, giving advice, being… well, perfect. and all you can do is watch from the sidelines, still too embarrassed to approach him, but also unable to tear your eyes away.
there’s something so confident about him, so effortlessly kind, and you begin to notice the way he always looks out for people. he’s just a regular guy, right? except he’s mingyu, and somehow, he makes everything look effortless.
oooh, and those. arms.
and you? well, you’re still stumbling through the basics. and you learned pretty early on that no amount of cardio can beat your heartrate every time your gaze catches a sight of kim mingyu.
“y/n, you’re going again?” jeonghan asks, raising an eyebrow as you tie your sneakers, preparing for yet another trip to the gym.
“yeah, i—um, just need to clear my head,” you mumble, looking down at your shoes to avoid his teasing gaze.
jeonghan grins. “mhm, sure you do. so, what? you’ve got your eyes on some hunk down there?” he teases, making air quotes with his fingers, clearly referring to some “eye candy” at the gym. “someone’s been going to the gym a lot recently…”
you freeze, trying to play it cool. “what?” you ask, slightly panicking. “no, i-i’m just, you know, trying to get out of a rut with my studies. nothing else.”
jeonghan watches you carefully, then his eyes widen. “wait… there is someone, isn’t there?” he grins widely, and it suddenly hits you. “wait, y/n, don’t tell me that it’s kim mingyu? the gym’s golden boy?” he laughs, clearly amused by your flustered face.
you freeze in shock. “what? no—he’s just a guy who works out a lot! i mean, yeah, he’s nice, but it’s not like—”
jeonghan bursts out laughing. “so you do know him! oh, honey, don’t even try to act like you’re not into him. everyone knows who mingyu is. have you seen him? dude’s got the perfect physique, perfect grades, perfect car, and perfect everything. i’ve heard he’s loaded too. his dad’s some big-time olympic weightlifting official. he’s literally the walking definition of the ‘golden boy’ on campus.”
you blink, your mind struggling to keep up with the avalanche of information. “wait… the olympics? his dad?”
jeonghan nods. “yeah, exactly. i’ve heard he comes from a pretty well-off family too. so yeah, mingyu’s literally perfect. it’s no surprise that he’s in everyone’s top ten crush list.”
you feel your face heating up as the realization settles in. “oh my god…”
jeonghan chuckles, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. “don’t worry, y/n. if you want to stare at a perfect person in peace, you just gotta deal with the fact that you’re not the only one who has their eyes on him.”
you groan, burying your face in your hands. “stop teasing me,” you mumble, but there’s no denying the fact that you’re definitely starting to feel a little more… interested than you’d like to admit. but it’s just a silly gym crush. definitely.
as if he wasn't already a regular in your daydreams, you bump into him again, outside of the gym this time.
the first time is when you’re standing outside the lecture hall, waiting for class to start, fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie. your mind’s still racing from last night’s study session, and you’re so absorbed in your thoughts that you barely notice when the doors to the hall open. as you look up, though, you catch a glimpse of a familiar face.
mingyu.
he’s wearing his usual easy-going smile, his gym bag slung casually over one shoulder, walking right into the building like he owns the place. you stare at him, frozen, as your heart rate picks up. he’s in your class?
“y/n?” a voice snaps you out of your trance.
you look over to see jeonghan, who raises an eyebrow at your flushed face. “you okay?” he asks, his lips quirking into a teasing smile as he follows your line of sight.
“uh, yeah… just didn’t expect to see… him.” you try to sound casual, pointing toward mingyu, but your voice cracks slightly.
jeonghan looks over, nonchalant, as if he didn’t just see your face turn fifty shades of red. “oh. him. so, you’re saying you haven’t noticed our campus' very own golden boy in your minor classes? phys ed major, i heard.”
“he’s a…?” you blink, confused.
“yeah,” jeonghan smirks, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “mingyu. doesn’t surprise me, though. he’s always around. always looks like he’s got his life together, the body of a perfect poster boy for fitness promos in those gyms across town.”
you watch mingyu walk into the lecture hall, now knowing the one thing that had never occurred to you: he’s actually here, at the same school as you. sharing a class with you, at that.
it’s like a punch to the gut. of course he is.
and you? you’re here, stumbling through calculus with a mountain of textbooks you can never seem to get through.
but you can’t stop thinking about how easy mingyu makes everything look.
turns out… going to the gym wasn’t the worst decision you’ve ever made.
you weren’t exactly sculpting a six-pack yet, but you didn’t feel like complete shit all the time now. your brain fog was thinning, your mood was lighter, and you kinda liked walking past your reflection and noticing how your arms didn’t look so soft anymore. jeonghan had clocked it too.
“look at you,” he teased one night while you were getting ready for another house party he dragged you to. “all swole and glowy. is this a gym glow? did mingyu spot you or something?”
you rolled your eyes, fumbling with a random lock of your hair. “well… he’s definitely a looker, i do think it wouldn’t hurt to gawk at him wearing a compression shirt a few times a week.” you admitted, trying to keep your voice casual but you could already feel the heat crawling up your neck.
jeonghan gasped, immediately abandoning his lip balm to lean closer. “no way. tell me more.”
you huffed, giving in. “he’s just—okay, he’s really tall. and stupidly buff. and he always looks like he walked out of some greek mythology fanfic. and he’s nice?? like unfairly nice.”
“oh, babe. poor you. no one comes out of a gym crush on him alive.”
you both laughed it off, but the truth was… you were actually starting to enjoy the gym. not just for the obvious eye candy, but because it made you feel good. and you were slowly clawing your way out of that academic slump one sweat-soaked session at a time.
and parties helped too.
jeonghan had been on a social streak lately, dragging you to every decent gathering he caught wind of. and for once, you weren’t staying glued to the walls. you mingled, you danced, you maybe flirted a little.
like that one night with the guy named chan.
cute boy. bright smile. quick to pour you a drink and compliment your hair. he was a little too eager, but harmless. you didn’t mind giving him a peck on the cheek, his cheeks blushing a dusty pink in response.
“what year are you in?” you asked casually over the music.
“i’m a sophomore!” he beamed.
“oh,” you blinked. “you’re...”
his smile faltered a little at your sudden reluctance. jeonghan appeared at your elbow at the perfect moment, smirking. “poor kid. you just got downgraded to ‘little brother’ status.”
chan pouted but took it like a champ, even offering to get you another drink before you politely excused yourself. harmless. kinda endearing, honestly.
but the real kicker came a week later.
you were halfway through a very sad attempt at curling a dumbbell too heavy for your current strength level when someone suddenly appeared in your peripheral vision.
“oh, hey,” a boy with bright eyes and soft features said, slightly breathless like he’d jogged over. “you’re… y/n, right?”
you blinked. “um— yeah?”
“i—i’m chan.”
“nice to meet you, chan.” wait.
you stopped your reps abruptly.
he rubbed the back of his neck, looking nervous. “i, uh, think we met at that party last week?”
oh no.
the pieces clicked a little too late in your brain, but they did click. he was the same guy from the party you went to last weekend who’d offered you a drink and talked you up. and you, in a half-drunk, affectionate spiral, planted a quick kiss on his cheek before finding out he was way too young to be your type, jeonghan saving you as you both run away, making a break for the kitchen.
he looked so hopeful now it physically hurt.
before you could fumble out an apology or awkwardly escape, a very familiar voice called over from the other side of the room.
“yo, chan! quit slacking, get your ass over here.”
mingyu.
he was leaning against the leg press, towel draped over his shoulder again like a damn fitness magazine model. chan gave you an apologetic little smile and jogged over.
you took a moment to quietly die inside.
and then—as if fate wasn’t already laughing at you—mingyu clapped a hand on chan’s shoulder and grinned, talking loud enough for you to catch while pretending not to.
“this kid’s soft as hell, y’know that? started hitting the gym ‘cause some random girl at a party ghosted him.”
you nearly choked on your water.
oh my god. you had hope chan had attended a few more parties since then. because if not, then...
it was probably you. you were the girl.
you quickly turned away, pretending to be very interested in adjusting your earbuds (it wasn’t even connected to your phone).
chan would clear his throat awkwardly at this—mingyu didn’t know, of course. he was teasing chan like a big brother would, completely unaware that the object of the kid’s little tragedy was currently staring wide-eyed at her reflection in the nearest mirror.
fuck. fuckfuckfuck.
it had been a week or so since your… unfortunate run-in with chan at the gym. you’d done your best to laugh it off, though the way mingyu casually mentioned some poor kid started training because of a heartbreak at a frat party had you spiraling internally for a solid three business days. because what were the odds? your chan? apparently heartbreak over a 15 minute encounter was a hell of a pre-workout.
either way, you were ready to get back out there. another weekend, another party—fingers crossed you wouldn’t unknowingly crush some poor guy’s spirit this time and discover their glow-up arc at the campus gym. you sent up a silent prayer as you got dressed, hoping the universe would cut you some slack for once.
you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been a little more… experimental with your outfits lately. nothing wild, just a few tops cropped a little higher, jeans sitting a little lower. maybe if you showed a bit of skin, you’d start to feel as hot as you hoped you looked. besides—you’d been busting your ass at the gym. you deserved to show it off a little.
“okay, i see you!” jeonghan wolf-whistled from the other side of the room when you stepped out of your closet. “damn, baby, if i didn’t know you were one tragic gym crush away from full insanity, i’d think you were tryna pull tonight.”
“maybe i am,” you teased, smoothing your hands down your sides, a little proud of how good you felt lately. maybe it was the gym, maybe it was the new skincare routine seungkwan bullied you into, maybe it was pure spite toward every man who’d ghosted you, but you were glowing a bit, and you weren’t about to waste it.
jeonghan grabbed his keys and slung an arm over your shoulders. “alright, let’s go break hearts—consensually.”
the party was already in full swing when you got there, neon lights bleeding into every room, the bass so deep it made the walls thrum. you lost jeonghan somewhere between the kitchen and the makeshift dancefloor, though not before downing two shots together like some chaotic ritual.
an hour later you were a little tipsy, flushed from dancing, with the beginnings of a hangover clawing at the edges of your brain when you found yourself leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping on lukewarm water. you’d just successfully escaped making out with some ridiculously pretty boy named wonbin you barely knew. his hands had been nice, sure, but his cologne was giving you a headache and you had a 10 a.m. gym session you weren’t about to flake on.
“look at you,” a familiar voice teased, low and warm and way too close to your ear.
you turned your head—and there was mingyu, grinning down at you, tight black polo stretched over his chest and looking like he’d walked out of a men’s fitness ad. or maybe a sin. who could say.
“don’t tell me you’re partying too,” you half-giggled, setting your cup down. “and here i thought you were some gym purist.”
“could say the same for you,” mingyu shot back, leaning against the counter beside you. “what kind of maniac hits the gym after a night at a rager?”
you let out a laugh, the alcohol making you bolder than usual. “an insane one, apparently.”
your gaze dropped—you couldn’t help it—to the way his biceps flexed as he lifted his drink. god, you were barely sober and apparently even less subtle. before your brain could stop you, your hand reached out and squeezed his arm.
a full, proper squeeze.
and then you registered what you’d just done.
“oh my god,” you blurted, snapping your hand back like it burned. “i can’t believe i just did that. i’m so sorry—”
mingyu just barked out a laugh, reaching out to catch your wrist before you could flee the kitchen entirely. “nah, it’s cool. you like it that much, huh?”
his grin was sharp, teasing, and you were definitely too sober for this now. your pulse jumped as his fingers slid from your wrist to your hand, giving it a little squeeze back before letting go.
“i—” you started, but your brain short-circuited.
mingyu tilted his head, still smiling. “come on, i’ll walk you back. wouldn’t wanna lose our future gym freak to some frat house debauchery.”
the walk back was… quieter than you expected. not awkward, just easy. mingyu had one hand shoved into his pocket, the other loosely holding the bottle of water he’d swiped for you on the way out. the cool night air sobered you up faster than any coffee could’ve, but it didn’t stop the way your heart kept doing this stupid little jump every time your arms brushed.
you should’ve felt bad about ditching jeonghan—traitor behavior, honestly. but in your defense, he’d disappeared into a dark corner with someone you swore was a philosophy major who looked like trouble, so technically you were both abandoning each other tonight. friendship cancelled out.
“you good?” mingyu asked, glancing down at you.
you hummed. “better now. needed that fresh air.”
mingyu’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “told you. you’re almost as insane as me.”
you snorted. almost. the man had a literal six-pack under that shirt and probably ran marathons for fun. meanwhile, you nearly keeled over after fifteen minutes on the treadmill your first week.
by the time you reached your dorm building, the campus had quieted down. only the hum of street lamps and the occasional tipsy laughter echoing from other party stragglers.
you fished your keys out of your bag, hands clumsy from a mix of nerves and residual buzz. mingyu leaned against the wall by your door, watching you with that same soft amusement you hated how much you liked.
and you weren’t drunk anymore. you couldn’t blame it on that. not the flutter in your stomach. not the way your fingers twitched at your side.
you liked to believe it was the alcohol, but you knew better. because even sober, even under these shitty yellow hallway lights, mingyu looked unfairly good. and you were still a little bit of a loser inside.
you swallowed, gripping your keys too tight before blurting out, way too fast, “do you—wanna come in? or, i mean, just for a bit. like—i have snacks. and, uh. water. and… i guess my air conditioning’s nice.”
jesus christ.
your voice cracked a little at the end and you wanted to throw yourself out a window.
mingyu’s brow arched in surprise for half a second before a slow grin spread across his face. not cocky. not smug. just… warm. maybe a little endeared.
“snacks and air conditioning, huh?” he teased, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “hard to say no to that.”
your ears burned. “it’s fine if you’re tired or whatever—”
but he was already stepping forward, hand reaching to nudge the door open when you finally got the key to work.
“lead the way, gym buddy.”
and god help you, you did.
you don’t know what possessed you. maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way mingyu looked under those shitty streetlights, hair a little messy, grin too easy. either way, you were now standing in your tiny dorm, watching him take a seat on your bed like he’s been here a hundred times before.
and you? you were having a mental breakdown.
“oh my god, what am i doing,” you muttered under your breath, moving to your tiny fridge to grab two bottled waters like your life depended on it. your hands shook a little, and you cursed yourself for acting like you’d never had a boy in your room before — let alone this boy. this unfairly gorgeous, golden boy, smile-that-can-take-down-roman-empires , literal greek god of a man—kim mingyu.
“you good?” mingyu chuckled, and when you turned, he was grinning at you, legs spread lazily, leaning back on his hands like he owned the place. “you’re acting like you just smuggled me in past your strict parents or something.”
you huffed out a laugh, plopping down a water bottle next to him on the bed and keeping a very respectful distance on the opposite side. “sorry. i just—this wasn’t planned. like at all.”
mingyu shrugged, cracking open the bottle. “spur of the moment’s fun sometimes.”
you eyed him, unsure what to do with yourself, fidgeting with the label on your own bottle. “if you wanna head back to the party, you totally can. i mean, i’m tucking in for the night anyway. i promise i’m completely sober now, so no babysitting required.”
he looked at you, one brow raised, a teasing glint in his eye. “and miss out on the snacks and air conditioning you promised? no way.”
you rolled your eyes but smiled, heart doing its usual ridiculous flip when his knee brushed yours. casual. accidental. but you felt it all the same.
“plus,” mingyu added, leaning a little closer, voice dropping in that way that made your stomach twist up in knots. “what about our gym sesh tomorrow? together?”
you blinked. “our… what now?”
he laughed, reaching over to pluck the bottle from your hands and set it aside like you were both settling in for a long talk. “you’ve been avoiding me at the gym, you know.”
“i have not—”
“have too.”
your face warmed again. “okay, maybe a little. it’s intimidating, okay? you’re like… you.”
mingyu’s grin softened, eyes crinkling into those damn crescent moons. “i’m just a dude, y/n. and apparently, i’m now a dude who ditches parties for you.”
your head spun.
“you’re insane.” you try to brush it off.
“almost as insane as you.” he pushes further.
you laughed, the sound filling the room like something easy, and when mingyu’s hand found yours for half a second—a fleeting touch, a gentle squeeze before letting go — you didn’t even think about pulling away.
and you know what? maybe jeonghan was right. maybe you did have a type.
snack wrappers littered your coffee table, the air conditioning blasting at a level jeonghan would dramatically declare a war crime if he were here. you glanced over at mingyu, who looked far too at home on your couch, long legs stretched out, hair a little messy, that annoyingly perfect face lit by the glow of the tv screen playing some random old action movie neither of you were really watching.
“you don’t mind me staying over, do you?” mingyu asked, suddenly, tone so casual it made your brain short-circuit.
you choked on your water. “w-what? no! i mean—no, not at all! you can stay. totally. of course. i mean, obviously you’re gonna be on the couch, hahah, it’s totally fine, not weird at all.”
he raised a brow at you, clearly amused. “didn’t even ask to share the bed, y/n.”
“right! of course. couch it is.” you fumbled, standing up a little too quickly. “i’m—gonna wash up.”
you darted toward the balcony, trying not to faceplant on the way, heart hammering so stupidly hard in your chest it felt like a crime. outside, the night air was cool against your skin, and you grabbed a hanger off the clothesline — one of jeonghan’s oversized shirts and a pair of old sweatpants, thankfully dry and still carrying a faint scent of clean detergent and your roommate’s obnoxiously expensive cologne.
when you stepped back inside, mingyu was still sprawled on the couch, only now looking over his shoulder at you with a soft little grin. you cleared your throat, holding up the clothes. “these should fit. jeonghan’s taller than me, but probably not as tall as you, but he loves baggy clothes, so… y’know. good enough.”
“they’ll be perfect.” mingyu smiled, and you couldn’t believe how easy it looked on him.
you escaped to the bathroom, scrubbing your makeup off and washing up as fast as humanly possible, trying not to analyze your reflection too hard, might risk an existential crisis if you did. when you came out, hair wet and towel draped over your head, you froze.
because mingyu was already changed.
and holy shit—jeonghan’s oversized clothes looked offensively good on him. the shirt stretched just enough over his broad shoulders, the sweatpants hung low on his hips, and he gave you that soft, grateful grin like he wasn’t lowkey ruining your life.
“thanks for this, by the way.” he said, plucking a stray thread off the hem of his sleeve.
you nodded wordlessly, eyes shamelessly fixed on him now, not even bothering to pretend otherwise. your feet carried you over to grab your own water bottle, and then—because your brain was fried and you didn’t know what else to do with yourself—you dropped down cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, towel still draped over your head, grabbing the remote with one hand and surfing aimlessly through streaming services, while the other dried your hair with the towel.
mingyu leaned forward. “give me that.”
you blinked, snapping out of your momentary daze. “huh?”
“your towel,” he said, grinning like it was the most natural thing in the world. “your hair’s dripping. let me dry it.”
“you don’t have to—”
“i want to.” he smiles. that damn smile again.
and because you were a fool, you let him.
he sat on the couch, legs on either side of you, the towel over your head as his hands worked gently, drying your hair with easy, practiced motions. his fingers brushed the nape of your neck, and your heart straight-up stopped functioning properly. the domesticity of it all, the weird, too-close familiarity, it was driving you absolutely insane.
you swallowed hard, your cheeks heating up so bad you were thankful your wet hair could still pass for cold skin. and maybe it was the way his thumb lingered on your jaw, just a little too long, or the fact that his legs bracketed yours like some kind of ridiculously domestic setup—either way, you felt that invisible line between you both shift. and for the first time since this night started, you weren’t sure if you wanted to stay on the safe side of it.
“there,” mingyu murmured after a while, pulling the towel off your head with a final little tousle, his voice low and weirdly fond. “all good.”
you fiddled with the hem of your shorts, feeling way too aware of how close he was. the room felt quieter now, save for the hum of the air conditioning and the faint sound of the tv playing some car chase scene neither of you were watching.
“okay, so… um.” you cleared your throat, standing up abruptly. “you can take the bed. i’ll sleep on the couch.”
mingyu’s brows shot up. “what? no way.”
“what do you mean ‘no way’? you’re a guest.” you protested, already grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket from the closet.
“y/n, look at me.” he gestured down at himself, at the way his knees practically hit his chest sitting on your too-small couch. “i can’t even sit on that thing properly, let alone sleep. you’d be sentencing me to a night of back pain and leg cramps. i’m not making you sleep out here just for my sake.”
you scowled, stubborn. “but it’s my bed.”
“exactly. and it’s your apartment, so you deserve the comfy bed.”
“jeonghan’s room’s locked.” you grumbled, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. “he never leaves it unlocked when he’s not here. no other choice.”
mingyu leaned back against the couch, flashing you a crooked grin. “then we share.”
your brain practically bluescreened.
“w-wait, what?”
“the bed. we share. it’s big enough, isn’t it?” his grin widened. “i promise not to hog the blanket.”
you opened and closed your mouth a few times, grasping for some kind of coherent argument but coming up short because damn it, he was right. the couch barely fit him sitting down—there was no way he’d be able to sleep on it comfortably. and you weren’t about to let him throw his back out for a stupid reason like this.
“fine,” you muttered, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “but stay on your side.”
“scout’s honor.” he held up two fingers in mock solemnity.
“and don’t snore.”
“i don’t snore.”
“i’ll be the judge of that.”
you grabbed your phone charger and shuffled into your room, leaving the door open behind you. mingyu followed a beat later, still grinning like the smug menace he was. and even though every rational part of your brain screamed that this was such a bad idea, a tiny, reckless voice at the back of your head whispered that maybe, just maybe, you kind of wanted to find out what it felt like to fall asleep next to someone like him.
for the record: it was totally the alcohol talking.
probably.
maybe?
…fuck.
you told yourself it was fine.
just two pals. gym buddies. campus friends. besties.
two completely platonic people sharing a bed because of spatial logistics and the cruel, unrelenting limits of furniture design.
haha.
ha.
you were malfunctioning.
you sat on your side of the bed, clutching your phone like a lifeline as mingyu tugged the blanket over himself with an ease that should not have made your stomach flip. he lay there, eyes fluttering shut almost immediately like the world’s most peaceful golden retriever, while you stared at the ceiling, brain absolutely going to hell.
‘totally normal. nothing weird. just two amigos. chingus! bros!’
you squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to sleep, repeating the words like a desperate mantra. and for a while, it worked. you drifted off into something hazy and warm, the hum of the air conditioning and mingyu’s even breathing lulling you under.
until a shift in weight on the mattress made your eyes snap open.
and you felt it—a puff of warm breath against the curve of your neck, so close you shivered.
‘oh my god.’
you yelped, a tiny, startled squeak that made mingyu jolt awake, eyes bleary and confused.
“shit— sorry! sorry, did i—” he started, voice rough from sleep.
“no, it’s— it’s okay, i just—” you flailed for words, completely undone.
he rubbed at his eyes, blinking at you with a sheepish smile. “i tend to roll over a lot when i sleep. didn’t mean to get all up in your space.”
“it’s fine,” you mumbled, cheeks burning.
he studied you for a beat, then tilted his head, grinning softly. “you sure? i mean… you didn’t seem that mad.”
you wanted to crawl under the covers and never come out.
“it was…” you swallowed. “weirdly nice.”
his grin turned smug. “yeah?”
before you could lie or backtrack, he shifted again—leaning in until his lips brushed the same spot on your neck, the featherlight contact making your skin prickle.
“like this?” he murmured, half-asleep and reckless.
you could barely breathe. “mingyu…”
your voice cracked, hoarse and small in the dark.
he hummed against your skin, one strong arm draping lazily around your waist, pulling you back against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. you could feel the steady beat of his heart, the solid warmth of his body.
“i like this,” he whispered, barely audible.
and just like that, every single one of your loser brain cells went into cardiac arrest.
his arm around your waist felt heavy. solid. grounding in a way that made your breath hitch.
and then there was his hand—splayed across your stomach, fingertips brushing the hem of your sleep shirt, barely touching skin but leaving a trail of heat in their wake. his face was still buried against your neck, his lips pressing featherlight there, like he wasn’t fully awake, like his body was moving on instinct alone.
and god, it shouldn’t have felt this good.
you swallowed, pulse stuttering in your throat, trying not to focus on the way your thighs instinctively pressed together under the covers.
‘what the fuck is wrong with me?’
this was mingyu. your gym buddy. the guy who spotted you when you were too scared to touch the free weights. the man who chugged protein shakes like water and complained about his laundry bill.
but now he was pressed up against you in your tiny dorm bed, all warm muscle and lazy affection, and you felt… something.
something low and traitorous in your stomach, fluttering sharp and hot between your legs in a way you hadn’t expected. a dull ache, a clench of nothingness that made you shift in place without meaning to.
and of course, of course, mingyu noticed.
“hm? you okay?” he mumbled, voice still husky with sleep, his hand tightening a fraction around your waist.
you let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a whimper and hoped to god it passed for sleepy noise.
“yeah,” you whispered. “just… warm.”
“you want me to move?”
the words made your stomach drop. panic spiked sharp and bright in your chest.
“no!” too quick, too loud. you winced, immediately mortified. “i mea—it’s fine. i like it.”
his smile was lazy, smug even in half-sleep. “yeah?”
you bit your lip. “yeah.”
and then his hand slid a little lower.
not on purpose—you told yourself it wasn’t on purpose—but the way his palm brushed the dip of your hip, fingers grazing bare skin, made you feel that something again.
your breath hitched.
‘oh my god.’
your brain was a storm of sirens and red flags but your body didn’t care. it was already reacting, warmth pooling in places you didn’t dare name, and you squeezed your eyes shut, praying he couldn’t tell.
but mingyu, perceptive even in sleep, let out a low chuckle against your skin.
“you’re kinda squirmy, y/n,” he teased softly.
“shut up,” you croaked, absolutely humiliated, heat rushing to your face.
he laughed, that same warm, boyish sound that always made your chest hurt, and settled in closer.
“don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips ghosting your ear. “i don’t mind.”
you didn’t know who moved first.
maybe it was the way his fingers curled against your skin, rough pads stroking just a little too slow, a little too deliberate.
maybe it was you—traitorous, loser brain short-circuiting—turning your face toward his, catching the curve of his smile in the dark.
maybe it was the sheer tension that had been crackling between you for weeks, building in glances, brushes of hands, the weight of his gaze on you across a crowded gym floor. it had to break sometime.
and it did.
because then his lips were on yours.
soft, warm, tasting faintly of the cheap beer from earlier and the mint of your toothpaste. it was clumsy at first, a messy slide of mouths and teeth, a surprised noise catching in your throat as his hand tilted your jaw, deepening the kiss.
“fuck,” you breathed when you broke apart, and mingyu just grinned against your skin.
“you sure?” he murmured, thumb stroking under your chin, eyes searching yours in the dim light.
and you—flustered, awkward, a little tipsy but painfully sober now—nodded. “yeah. yeah, i’m sure.”
he kissed you again, slower this time, one hand at the small of your back pulling you flush against him. you felt everything—the press of his chest, the solid heat of his thigh between yours, and the unmistakable, undeniable hardness against your hip.
your head spun.
‘oh my god.’
mingyu pulled back just enough to laugh, breath warm on your cheek. “now who’s feeling something?”
“shut up,” you gasped, but you were smiling, you couldn’t stop smiling, even as your face burned and your hands trembled where they clutched his t-shirt.
his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “can i—?”
“please.”
he was so gentle, like he thought you might break if he touched you wrong, murmuring your name like it was a prayer, all those muscles for show but his touch impossibly careful.
the room spun, your heartbeat louder than the air conditioner, mingyu’s breath ragged in your ear as he settled between your thighs, his hand slipping under the waistband of your shorts and—
“mingyu,” you whimpered, your voice cracking, half-laughing at yourself because holy shit this was really happening.
“i got you,” he promised, lips ghosting your jaw. “i’ll take care of you, y/n.”
and he did.
slow, achingly careful, like you were something precious—and for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe you were.
then it was a tangle of hands, mouths, clothes splayed somewhere in the dark, it was messy and desperate and you should’ve known better than to underestimate him. you’d seen those muscles at the gym, felt them under your hands—but it wasn’t until now, when he hooked your thigh over his hip and pressed you down into the mattress, that you realized just how strong he really was.
and when he flipped you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing, his palm sliding down your back in a slow, reverent stroke, your brain short-circuited.
“jesus christ,” you gasped, cheek pressed to the pillow.
“like this?” he murmured against your ear, voice low and warm.
you barely managed to nod.
he started slow, careful—his hips rolling into yours, lazy and deep, one hand laced with yours against the pillow. you felt the strain in his forearm where it bracketed your head, the soft curse in your ear at how tight you clenched around him.
then, when your hips pushed back into him, a helpless little sound catching in your throat, something in him snapped.
the next thrust was harder—not rough, but deeper, firmer, his hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that made your toes curl and your eyes squeeze shut.
“fuck—mingyu,” you choked out, hands clawing at the sheets.
he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin. “feel so good, baby,” he rasped. “been wanting this—wanted you—”
you couldn’t answer, too busy trying not to drool into your pillow as he kept going, the thick drag of him inside you dizzying. it was too much and not enough at the same time, your body trembling and brain turning to static.
every roll of his hips made your breath hitch, the room filled with the slick, filthy sound of skin against skin, the low broken noises leaving both your mouths.
and even as his pace picked up, as your body went pliant under his and your legs shook, mingyu was still achingly gentle in how he touched you—hand smoothing your hair from your face, lips brushing the back of your shoulder.
“good girl,” he groaned, voice cracking as his rhythm faltered. “fuck—‘m close—gonna—”
his hips stuttered, a deep, desperate moan spilling from his throat as he pulled out last second, rutting his cock against the curve of your ass as he came hard, hot ropes of it painting your lower back and thighs.
your body trembled, face buried in the pillow, breath ragged and uneven as you felt the warmth of it on your skin, the heavy, shaky way he exhaled against your shoulder.
and for a moment, neither of you moved—just the soft hum of the air conditioner, the buzz of blood in your ears, and the lingering ache between your thighs.
he collapsed on top of you, catching himself just in time, his strong arms holding you close as he tugged you into his chest. you were too tired to protest, too exhausted to do anything but let him hold you, feeling the heat of his body against yours.
his arms were so strong, tanned and muscular, yet the way he held you was impossibly soft. despite everything—the hours you’d spent at the gym, the newfound strength you were building—you felt so small in his hold, a feeling you couldn’t deny you loved. it wasn’t in the sense of weakness, but in how careful he was with you, how you felt like he was holding you like you were the most fragile thing in the world. his warmth, his scent—it was all consuming in the best way.
“fuck,” he whispered, his voice raw. “you’re amazing.”
you smiled, your heart fluttering, but you didn’t have the energy to respond. all you wanted to do was lie there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek as he held you close. it was almost as if the world had stopped. just the two of you, tangled in the sheets, in each other’s arms. his hand ran over your back, a soft, soothing motion that made you want to curl further into him, to let yourself fall into the safe space he’d created.
after a few quiet minutes, you felt the bed shift as mingyu reluctantly untangled himself. you made a small sound of protest, but he just chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “hang on,” he murmured. the mattress dipped again when he returned, and then—
a wet, warm cloth brushed over your skin.
your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping before you could stop it. the gentle, careful way he wiped you down made your whole body ache in a different way, a deep, fluttery warmth blooming in your chest.
“just cleaning you up,” he said quietly, his voice so tender it made your stomach flip. “can’t have my girl falling asleep like this.”
and you would’ve made some flirty comment if you weren’t so bone-tired. though, in your haze, your eyes flickered down and caught the cloth in his hand—wait. was that… jeonghan’s shirt? you squinted, brain foggy, but you could recognize that obnoxious band tee anywhere. a breathy, disbelieving laugh slipped from your lips.
“is that—?”
mingyu grinned, clearly unbothered, continuing to wipe you down with maddening gentleness. “it’ll go missing after tonight, hope he won’t miss it.” he lets out an airy chuckle.
you wanted to laugh with him but the tenderness with every touch and wipe over your skin made your throat feel tight, your eyes blinking back slumber, overwhelmed in the best, most ridiculous way.
when he finished, he tossed the poor shirt aside and pulled you back into his arms like he’d never let go. “don’t wanna move,” he mumbled against your hair, pressing another kiss to your forehead. his arm tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “sleep. we’ve gotta be up for the gym later.”
you almost giggled, but let out a dreamy sigh instead—you were too tired, too content with the way he was holding you. the night had been a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, but here, in his arms, everything felt right. you nodded, not trusting your voice, but somehow, that was enough for him.
the room was silent now, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and your steady breaths. he shifted just slightly, ensuring you were tucked securely against him, and before long, you felt the weight of sleep tugging at your eyelids.
you drifted off, wrapped in his warmth, still feeling the echoes of everything that had happened. for once, you didn’t feel like that burned out student who can barely lift anything at the gym anymore. not when you had someone like mingyu holding you this tightly. you could lift the whole world with this euphoric feeling.
the next morning came too fast.
mingyu kissed you before he left, still smelling like your bodywash and the lingering trace of sweat and skin. you were half-asleep, face buried in your pillow as you felt the press of his lips against your temple, his voice a low murmur. “i’ll see you at the gym, cutie.”
then the door clicked shut, and you groaned into your sheets.
by the time you dragged yourself to the gym, your legs were jelly, your thighs aching in ways you hadn’t expected. you caught mingyu leaning against the front desk, grinning like he hadn’t just rearranged your guts a few hours ago.
“leg day?” he asked innocently, one brow arched.
you scowled. “i am so not doing leg day.”
he laughed—the kind of laugh that made you want to hit him and kiss him at the same time. “c’mon, i’ll go easy on you.”
“you said that last time, you liar.”
still, you let him lead you through the warm-up, pretending you weren’t staring when his shirt lifted a little, exposing tan skin and the cut of his abs. your banter bounced back and forth, teasing, smug little grins exchanged between reps. you managed to trip over your own foot during lunges, and mingyu caught you by the waist like it was nothing, steadying you with those massive hands—the same ones that held you close last night, skin to skin. before you had the chance to get over the thought, he had already tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
“careful, lightweight,” he teased.
you rolled your eyes, heart pounding way too hard for a simple gym mishap.
it was gonna be a long morning.
after the gym session, you and mingyu were a mess of sweat and sore muscles, but there was still an undeniable energy buzzing between you. you didn’t want to go home yet, not when he was looking at you like that—eyes soft, smile easy, and that unmistakable pull between the two of you that hadn’t quite worn off yet.
“smoothie?” mingyu asked, his voice almost too casual, but you could tell he was trying to keep his cool.
you blinked, still trying to catch your breath after a killer session. “uh, sure, i’m down for a smoothie.”
the smoothie place was just a block away, and soon enough you were sitting at a little outdoor table with your huge cups, the kind of smoothies that were so large you could probably share with a small army. but instead, mingyu leaned toward you, grabbing one of the oversized straws and slipping it into his mouth.
“i’m serious about the flavor,” he said with a grin, “this is the one. trust me. the secret add-on’s spinach, by the way.”
you rolled your eyes and gave him a playful look, but didn’t argue. you took a sip from the same straw, the cold tang of mango, strawberry, and pineapple flooding your senses, no weird spinach flavor in sight. it tasted like summer. and something else, too—something sweet and comfortable that made you want to stay here in this moment forever.
mingyu was looking at you again, that soft, almost shy smile on his face, and for once, you didn’t feel like you wanted to leave, even if conversations stretched for hours. you didn’t feel like the try-hard academic you push yourself to be.
no, with mingyu, you were just you—the girl he had kissed and laughed with and shared a smoothie with. there were no pretenses between you two anymore, no more awkward glances or confusing feelings. it was simple. it was easy. and that made everything feel right.
“it’s good, right?” mingyu asked, taking another sip.
you smiled at him, your lips still tingling from the kiss the night before. “yeah. you were right.”
he leaned back, looking like he was about to say something, but instead, he just chuckled softly. “this smoothie tastes like something my future partner would like.”
you raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “bold of you to assume they’d date a guy who puts spinach in his smoothies.”
mingyu laughed, eyes crinkling. “what, you don’t think so?”
you leaned back, crossing your arms with a smirk. “guess that’s something my future boyfriend will find out.”
and with that, everything seemed to click. it wasn’t just the gym, or the smoothies, or the fact that you were already falling asleep on him every night. it was this—being with him, sharing these little moments that felt so much bigger than anything you could’ve imagined.
mingyu looked at you then, his expression soft and sincere, and you realized that this—whatever this was—was real. you weren’t just friends anymore. you weren’t just gym buddies. you were something more, and that was enough for you.
as you sat there, sipping your smoothie and enjoying the warm morning sun, you couldn’t help but smile. things with mingyu were simple, but they felt so right. and right now, that was all you needed.
a/n: phew this has been such fun to write <33 and i hope it gets as much love as its preview !! tysm to carats and other multistans ^^~ if u liked reading this, drop me a follow, lets be moots !! and feel free to send in prompts of ur favorite idols to my inbox ~ i prioritize requests and they r always open !! have a nice day every1 !!!!!!!!!!
you offer to shave mingyu’s face for the first time, despite having no idea what you’re doing—and he lets you, all smiles and patience. between messy foam, playful threats, and him trying (and failing) to stay quiet, the slow morning turns soft in all the ways that matter. [wc. 1k]
PAIRING. husband!mingyu x wife!reader
GENRE. fluff
NOTE. come back after god knows how long, hoping that you enjoy this.
“okay. sit. don’t talk. don’t move.”
mingyu raised both brows as he lowered himself onto the small stool in the bathroom, the one you usually kept tucked under the sink. it wobbled slightly under his weight.
“you sure this thing’s safe?”
“well, if it breaks, that’s on you for being massive,” you muttered, grabbing the can of shaving foam and shaking it aggressively.
he smirked, adjusting the towel around his shoulders. “wow. love the support, babe.”
“just shut up,” you said, but you were smiling too.
he obeyed, lips twitching as he pressed them together dramatically and tilted his chin up. he looked ridiculous—bare-faced, sleepy-eyed, hair still damp from his shower, and way too amused for someone about to have a first-timer drag a razor across his face.
you stared at him for a second, holding the razor awkwardly. “you know i’ve never shaved anyone else before, right?”
“mm-hmm,” he hummed.
“like, i know how to shave my legs and stuff, but this is your face. your pretty face. what if i mess up?”
he opened one eye. “you won’t. i trust you.”
you groaned and leaned in to press some foam onto his jaw. “you’re so annoying. why are you always sweet when i’m trying to be mad at you?”
he smiled, lips still sealed, and made a little mmm sound to tease you.
you rolled your eyes and started carefully spreading the foam across his face, moving slowly like it was some kind of art project. the cream coated his jawline and chin easily, but then he opened his mouth slightly to speak—
“stop.”
you pointed the nozzle directly at his lips. “i’m warning you.”
he blinked, then tried to say something again, just to be difficult.
so you squirted a big blob right over his mouth.
“there,” you said proudly. “you talk too much anyway.”
his eyes widened. he made a muffled noise and reached up to wipe it, but you slapped his hand away.
“nope. hands down. let the professional work.”
he laughed through his nose, head tilted back slightly as you brought the razor closer to his face.
you moved slow at first, dragging the blade carefully across his cheek. every tiny scratchy sound made you more nervous, but mingyu didn’t even flinch. he just sat there quietly, eyes flicking up to yours every now and then, like he was studying your face more than he cared about his own.
you paused halfway through and frowned. “do i… go up or down?”
he tapped the counter behind you twice with his fingers — his way of saying ‘down.’
you nodded to yourself. “right. that makes sense. i think.”
he made another sound, like a muffled laugh, but you just wiped more foam on him to shut him up again.
“this is harder than it looks,” you said under your breath. “you have such a big face.”
he pointed to himself proudly. big face, big brain.
you rolled your eyes and kept shaving.
it took longer than you thought. he had a lot of facial hair, and you were being extra careful not to nick him. your hands were a little shaky at first, but eventually, the rhythm settled. foam, razor, wipe. again. again.
at one point, you felt his eyes on you again — really watching you this time — and you glanced at him.
“what?”
he shrugged slightly.
“you’re staring.”
he raised both brows and gestured like you’re cute, duh.
you narrowed your eyes at him. “stop being romantic. i’m holding a blade.”
he smiled through the foam. “mmph.”
finally, you finished the last section on his neck and stepped back, exhaling like you just ran a marathon.
“okay. done. don’t touch anything yet.”
he sat still, eyes curious, while you grabbed a damp cloth and gently wiped the leftover cream from his skin. the towel was warm from the water and smelled like your fabric softener. you could feel the way his skin was smooth now under it, freshly shaved and clean.
he didn’t say anything, just let you wipe his face like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“there,” you said softly. “mission complete.”
he reached up to touch his face and let out a soft, impressed, “woah.”
you blinked. “what? did i miss a spot?”
he grinned. “no. it’s good. really good.”
you looked at him suspiciously. “you’re not just saying that to make me feel better, right?”
he stood up and leaned down to kiss your forehead, hands on your waist. “nope. you actually did a great job.”
you felt yourself smiling as you leaned into his chest. “i was scared the whole time. you’re lucky i love you.”
“i know,” he said, kissing the side of your head. “i could feel the love in every terrified little stroke.”
you smacked his shoulder lightly, laughing. “shut up. go get ready. you’re gonna be late.”
“don’t wanna leave now,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on top of your head. “you just pampered me. feels wrong to go.”
“mingyu.”
“okay, okay,” he sighed, finally pulling away and heading to the bedroom.
you stayed behind to clean up the mess — foam on the sink, water on the floor, the little towel you used to wipe his face. five minutes later, he came back out fully dressed, wearing that navy button-up you loved.
you paused when you saw him. “you look really good.”
he smiled and opened his arms dramatically. “because my amazing wife shaved me.”
you laughed, stepping into his hug again. “yeah, yeah. just don’t let anyone else touch that face today.”
“only you,” he said easily. “always.”
you walked him to the door and kissed him goodbye — once, then again, because he always stole a second one.
“text me when you get there,” you reminded him.
“i will.”
“and don’t skip lunch just ‘cause you’re busy.”
“i won’t.”
you watched him leave, the front door clicking shut behind him, and let out a breath.
quiet mornings like this were your favorite — where nothing big happened, but everything still felt soft and full. shaving cream in your hair, mingyu being annoying in the best way, your little apartment filled with sleepy laughter.
