didn't think i'd fall here ꒰ mingi ꒱
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ rating: 18+ (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ pairing: song mingi x female!reader
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ word count: 6.5k
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ genre: strangers to lovers, comfort, virgin!reader, virgin!mingi, friends-to-lovers energy, soft angst, smut, fluff
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ warnings: emotional manipulation, toxic friendship, crying, anxiety, self-esteem issues, first time sex, consensual sex, safe sex, soft dom!mingi vibes, realistic first time awkwardness, condom run to the convenience store lol, mentions of blood during sex (light), aftercare, mingi being obsessed with you, reader threatening to chop mingi's dick off lovingly ♡
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ author's note: it's been a while y'all. hope you enjoy this smut, and also I've been trying some new layout lol cuz i'm not satisfied with my previous layout.
You didn't even want to come here today.
Lotte World was supposed to be fun—cotton candy, carousel selfies, maybe something gentle like bumper cars. But with Yujin and Hana, it was never about fun. It was about appearances. About pushing you into situations just to get a reaction, to laugh behind their hands at how you squirmed.
"Ugh, you're seriously scared of this?" Yujin groan, snapping a photo of the massive Atlantis roller coaster ahead, the steel tracks twisting like some cruel maze in the sky. "It's not even the scariest ride here."
"Right?" Hana chimes in. "God, you're so boring sometimes, Y/N. No wonder no guy ever looks at you."
It doesn't stop the sting.
The queue is already packed when they drag you towards the entrance. You hesitate, but Yujin latches onto your wrist like you're a toddler about to run into traffic.
"Don't be a baby. It's just a ride."
"Do not make a scene," she hisses, smiling too widely as a group of boys glance over. "You're already embarrassing enough. Come on."
The line inches forward. Every step closer makes your chest tighter, like the straps of an invisible harness locking you in. Your stomach churns, hands tremble. But you don't say a word.
Yujin and Hana are too busy taking selfies to notice. Or care.
You stand behind them, quiet, small, barely existing.
"Swear to god," Yujin mutters at one point, "you're going to die single if you keep acting like this. You gotta be brave. Guys hate weak girls."
Hana laughs way too loud. "She needs a guy to knock some sense into her. Or just knock her up. Either one might fix it."
You try to laugh again, just to keep up the illusion. It sounds like you're choking.
And still, the line moves.
You're maybe five people from the platform when the operator suddenly shouts, "Two seat available now! Anyone here riding as a pair?"
Yujin doesn't even ask. Doesn't even glance back.
She and Hana leap forward.
They disappear up the stairs in a blink. The group in front of you steps forward. And just like that, you're alone.
But your body's reacting—shaking hands, clenched jaw, vision blurring at the edges. You're aware that walking backward through the crowded line would be more embarrassing than just riding the damn thing. At least, that's what your brain tells you.
The panic bubbles anyway.
You suck in a sharp breath, eyes glued to the track. It creaks and rumbles as the next cart wooshes by in a blur. Someone screams in delight. You're going to throw up. Right here, in front of everyone.
The voice is gentle, low, curious. You turn around.
Three boys stand behind you, next in line. The tallest one—broad shoulders, brown hair—tilts his head at you.
He offers a small smile. "You look like you're about to faint."
You open your mouth, then shut it.
The second boy, shorter but muscular with sharp features and a piercing stare, cuts in. "She was with those girls, right? They just ditched her."
The third guy, softer looking with black hair and pretty eyes, nods. "That's messed up."
You look between them, startled that they even noticed.
"I'm—fine," you lie. "I'll just... I was gonna leave."
"Back through that crowd?" The tall one says, gesturing behind.
He glances at the operator, then back at you. "Well, you don't have to ride alone. I'll go with you."
He smiles again, this time more reassuring. "I mean—if you want. We can ride together. No pressure."
He shrugs. "You look like you need a buddy."
The one with the sharp stare grins now. "This guy's Mingi. He's annoyingly a gentleman sometimes."
"I'm Jongho," he adds, giving you a little nod. "And that's Yeosang."
Yeosang gives you a tiny wave.
"Thanks," you mumble, feeling overwhelmed but... oddly warm. "I'm Y/N."
Jongho snorts. "Yeah, we heard your friends being total assholes. Y/N, you seriously deserve better than that."
You swallow. The words hit harder than they should.
Mingi gently touches your elbow. "You okay riding the roller coaster with me?"
You look at him—his soft gaze, his open posture, the zero judgement in his tone. And for once, someone isn't making you feel like a burden.
"...yeah," you breathe. "Okay."
The staff waves you forward.
Mingi lets you take the seat first, then slips in beside you, pulling the safety bar down. He's close—his knee brushes yours, and his scent is something clean and warm, like citrus and sun.
"You're brave for doing this."
The ride jerks forward with a lurch.
Your fingers grip the bar.
Mingi's hand moves, gently resting on top of yours.
It's warm. Your fingers twitch beneath his at first, unsure, but then the roller coaster jolts forward with a hiss of steam, and you instinctively grip him back like your life depends on it.
He chuckles low under his breath. "That tight already? We haven't gone up yet."
You shoot him a panicked glance, knuckles going pale. "I'm not gonna survive this."
"You will," he says, voice soft. "You've got me now."
The ride starts its slow, agonising climb. Your heart funds like it's trying to launch itself out of your chest.
Mingi doesn't let go. Not even once. His thumb strokes over your knuckles in lazy circles, like he's trying to distract you from the threatening death drop ahead.
"Deep breath," he murmurs. "You've got this, Y/N."
It's not even cute. It's pure terror.
And Mingi just laughs—not at you though, but in joy, throwing his hands up as you fly down the track, wind whipping through your hair, your body tossed left and right.
You never let go of his hand.
By the time it slows and returns to the platform, your voice is gone, and your legs feel like jelly. You stumble forward a little when the bar lifts, but Mingi's hand on your back steadies you.
"You alright?" he asks, eyes scanning your face.
You nod, breathless, dazed.
He smiles, wide and proud. "You did amazing. Seriously! That was brave as hell."
You want to say thank you, but you're still processing the fact that your heart is beating and your limbs are still attached. You let out a small laugh instead, cheeks flushed, the adrenaline not quite fading yet.
You turn your head toward the exit ramp and spot them—Yujin and Hana—posing near a churro cart, phone angled high, lips puckered in matching fake smiles.
The voice is unmistakable.
"Probably chickened out and left the roller coaster," Yujin mutters, loud enough that you catch every word.
Hana scoffs, adjusting her hair. "We should find her, I guess. We did come with her car, after all."
"Ugh," Yujin groans. "So annoying. I hate her sometimes."
Hana snorts. "Sometimes?"
They both burst into laughter.
It hits you harder than the drop on the coaster.
You freeze. The sting behind your eyes burns hot, and you blink rapidly, refusing to let the tears win. Not here. Not in front of Mingi, Yeosang and Jongho.
You feel the shift in his posture beside you, the way his jaw clenches just slightly. He glances back at Jongho and Yeosang, who both clearly clock the situation. A silent nod happens between them.
Then, without warning, Mingi gently grabs your wrist.
You look up, startled. "Wait—what? Where are we going?"
He's already walking you in the opposite direction.
"I—I need to go to them," you say, stumbling to keep with his pace. "I need to send them home—"
"Are they your close friends?" he asks, cutting you off calmly.
"Do you hang out with them a lot?"
"…No. We used to be close in high school. But now… not really. We're all in different universities and barely meet up anymore."
Mingi hums like that’s exactly the answer he expected. "Good. So you can cut them off."
He turns to face you properly, his expression serious but not harsh. "Why spend the rest of your day with people who treat you like that? Just hang out with us."
You open your mouth to argue, but then Jongho jogs up beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulder like you've been besties for years.
"You didn't hear what they said? They're literally using you for your car and shitting on you behind your back."
"Yeah," Yeosang says, catching up, a rare frown on his usually passive face. “That's not what friends do. That's just… sad."
"I don't wanna ruin your guys' day though," you say quietly, unsure.
Mingi shakes his head. "You're not. I asked you to stay. You're not an obligation. You're a choice."
That line makes your heart skip.
Jongho smirks. "Besides, Mingi's in his hero mode now. You're stuck with us."
Yeosang chuckles. "He only gets like this when something really pisses him off."
You glance at Mingi, who's pretending not to listen, but the way he nudges your arm with his elbow says otherwise.
And for once… it feels okay to be pulled in a different direction.
You're still holding your tray with half-finished tteokbokki when Mingi takes a seat beside you at the picnic table. Jongho and Yeosang are opposite, poking fun at each other while stealing bits from the fishcake skewer pile.
"You okay?" Mingi asks quietly, sipping from his soda.
You nod. "Actually… yeah. Thanks to you guys."
It feels so normal, sitting here with them. You were smiling. Genuinely smiling. For the first time in weeks, maybe.
The stand nearby is selling fresh corndogs and hotteok. You notice Jongho eyeing them, and your stomach grumbles too.
"I'll grab some more snacks," you say, standing. "My treat."
"Are you sure?" Yeosang asks.
"Yeah," you smile. "You guys saved me today. Least I can do."
You approach the snack cart, debating how many corndogs to grab when—
It's not hard enough to knock you down, but enough to make you stumble forward a step. You turn, startled.
"Oh my god, we knew we saw your big back over here," Yujin says with a laugh, like it's the funniest thing in the world.
Hana smirks, standing beside her, arms crossed.
You step back, lips parting. "You guys left me."
Yujin rolls her eyes. "No we didn't? We were waiting for you by the churros stand."
"I was standing alone in line," you reply, your voice still soft, careful not to escalate anything. "You jumped ahead without even checking on me."
"Please," Hana mutters. "You probably didn't see us because you were too much of a pussy to ride."
They both burst into laughter.
You feel it again—that familiar sting in your chest. But this time, before you can say anything, another voice cuts through the air.
"Hey, Y/N. Is there a problem here?"
Mingi's there, standing tall, eyes dark, jaw clenched. And when he looks at Yujin and Hana, the playful energy around them dies instantly.
Yujin straightens up, adjusting her top. "Oh heyyyy~" she says, her tone suddenly flirty. "And who might you be?"
"Do you know him?" Hana adds, nudging you.
"Yes," you reply clearly. "He offered to ride the roller coaster with me."
Yujin raises an eyebrow. "Really now…"
Then Mingi steps closer, resting a firm hand around your wrist—not hard, just protective.
"If you don’t have anything decent to say to Y/N," he says, voice sharp like a knife, "you can leave. She's hanging out with me and my friends now."
He doesn't wait for them to respond. He gently pulls you away, guiding you back toward the table where Jongho and Yeosang are already watching with narrowed eyes.
You think it's over—until Yujin and Hana follow you.
"Oh my god, Y/N," Yujin says loudly. "Don’t be such a whore and take three guys at once~ At least leave one for us."
"…Excuse me?" you blink slowly, not even sure you heard her right.
Yujin grins, proud. "Sharing is caring, babe."
You glance at Hana, who won’t meet your eyes.
"…Yujin," you say softly. "You have a boyfriend."
"So?" she scoffs. "You're being a greedy whore with three guys up your ass. You're no better than me."
Your breath catches. You stare at her, shocked. Embarrassed. Ashamed, even though you've done nothing wrong.
Hana still won't look at you.
And that's when Mingi steps forward.
"You know what's actually disgusting?" Mingi says, his voice suddenly cold. "That you think humiliating someone publicly makes you funny. That mocking someone you call a friend is just a joke. That dragging her down is the only way you feel better about yourself."
"And calling her a whore?" Mingi scoffs. "Girl, she's more decent than either of you. If having three people care about her makes her a whore, then maybe you should ask yourself why no one treats you that way."
Hana lets out a tiny breath like she's been slapped.
Mingi turns to them fully now, shielding you with his body.
"Don't talk to her again," he says firmly. "Don't call her. Don't look at her. Don't even think about her. Got it?"
Yujin crosses her arms. "Oh really? But she's our ride. She drove us here."
Jongho suddenly stands from the table. "Then go ask your boyfriend to pick you up."
Yujin's mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Hana still won't look at you.
You don't say a word. You just follow the boys as they walk away, head high, shoulders squared. Mingi's hand brushes yours. You don't pull away.
Behind you, you hear Yujin groan like a spoiled brat not getting what she wants.
You're quiet as you sit back at the table. You feel small again—not because of what they said, but because of how much it still hurts.
Jongho passes you a drink without a word. Yeosang silently offers you the hotteok you didn't get to buy.
Mingi sits beside you again, elbows on the table, glancing sideways at your face.
"You okay?" he asks for the second time today.
"You don't have to be," he adds softly.
"…I don't get it," you murmur. "I never did anything to them. I was always… trying to be nice."
"You were too nice," Yeosang says, voice calm. "Some people take kindness as weakness. That's not on you."
"She was jealous of you," Jongho adds bluntly. "Both of them were. You're quiet and kind and people like you without having to perform for it. That's threatening for girls like them."
You stare at your lap. "…I just hate that it got so ugly in front of everyone."
Mingi leans in closer, dropping his voice low. "If anything, you should be proud of yourself. You stood your ground. And you have three guys now who will never let anyone talk to you like that again."
You look up, eyes wide, lips parting.
Yeosang raises his soda. "To cutting off shitty people."
And Mingi… he just watches you.
Like he’s already planning to keep you close all day.
The sun had dipped low by the time you all wandered back to your car, arms full of leftover snacks, plastic bags rustling with street game prizes and bottled drinks. The entire afternoon had gone by in a blur. One that smelled like honey butter corndogs and felt like safe hands holding you up.
"This your car?" Jongho asks, tapping the roof lightly.
You nod, unlocking it. "Yeah. It’s not fancy, but she gets me from A to B."
"It's cute," Yeosang says, popping a piece of candy into his mouth. "Matches you."
You glance at him, surprised. "Matches… me?"
"Yeah." He shrugs, smiling. "Kind of cozy. And a little beat up, but still standing."
You laugh. "Are you calling me emotionally damaged?"
"Absolutely," he says without blinking.
Mingi chuckles, watching you giggle as you swing the backdoor open to stash the snacks.
Jongho leans against the trunk, stretching. "We should hang out again sometime."
"Seconded," Yeosang says.
You smile. "I'd like that."
Mingi steps beside you and pulls out his phone. "Give me your number."
You blink. "Just like that?"
"Yeah," he grins. "No games. Just want to be able to text you."
You rattle off your number, and he saves it under Y/N 🎢, making you groan and hit his arm.
"What? You survived that roller coaster like a champ."
"And held my hand the whole time," he says, low and teasing.
You turn away before your face gives too much away.
They all pile into their own car a few minutes later—Yeosang at the wheel, Jongho arguing over aux cord rights. Mingi rolls his window down just before they drive off.
"Hey, text me when you get home."
You glance up. "You too."
You're sitting under a shady tree, picking at your sandwich while scrolling on your phone. Midterms are creeping up and your brain is half-fried. You barely notice the tall figure walking toward your bench until a shadow falls across your lap.
He grins, hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket. "Surprised?"
"Uh—yeah?? What are you doing here?"
"Your university's not that far from my dorm. I was in the area… and I was hungry."
You raise a brow. "So you decided to find me?"
"Obviously," he shrugs, plopping down beside you like this is the most normal thing ever.
Your heart does a backflip. "You're really bold, huh?"
He leans back on his palms, tilting his head toward you. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. After all… I haven't heard much from someone."
You flush. "I—I've been busy…"
"I know. I'm just teasing."
The breeze rustles the leaves above. He's looking at you again, but this time with something softer in his expression.
"You seemed kinda quiet that day when we left," he says. "Was worried."
You glance down at your hands. "I was just… processing everything. It felt weird cutting someone off like that."
"They deserved it," Mingi says, voice firm. "You don't need people who treat you like garbage just because they've known you for a long time."
"…I know," you admit. "It just takes time to process all that."
He nods slowly. "Makes sense. Still. You're stronger than you think."
You smile, small. "You really don't have to keep being this nice to me, you know."
That makes your breath catch.
He sits up straighter, taking a bite of the snack he brought—some triangle kimbap from the uni convenience store.
"Anyway, what's your major again?" he asks, chewing.
"Communications," you say. "Why?"
"Just wondering what kind of power you'll have in the future. I gotta make sure I stay on your good side now."
You laugh. "What about you?"
"Dance," he says proudly. "But I'm also thinking of minoring in theatre. I like performing."
"That… makes sense. You're kind of a natural."
"At… pulling attention," you admit, looking away. "You make people feel comfortable."
He hums. "Not everyone. But I guess I try."
There's a comfortable silence again.
Then Mingi glances at your phone screen, noticing the time.
"Yeah. In twenty minutes."
"Damn," he says, standing slowly and stretching his long arms. "Time flew."
"It did," you say. "I didn’t think I'd talk to anyone this long today."
"Lucky you. I'm charming."
He steps a little closer now, towering over you just slightly—but he's not intimidating. He's playful. Easy. Gentle.
"Hey," he says, voice low.
"Do you wanna go out Friday night?"
He smiles. "Yeah. Just us."
You swallow, trying not to look too flustered. "Sure. That sounds nice."
He winks. "It's a date then."
And with that, he turns and walks off toward the exit gates, hands still shoved in his pockets like nothing happened.
You just sit there, dumbfounded, heat crawling up your face.
You're pretty sure you don't taste your sandwich after that.
When you open the door, the last thing you expect to see is Mingi in all black—loose button-up tucked into slacks, gold necklace glinting faintly under the porch light—and a massive bouquet of pastel flowers in hand.
Your mouth opens. But nothing comes out.
"I—no, no," you sputter, staring at the bouquet. "These are gorgeous. Are those peonies? Wait… are these imported?"
He glances at them. "I dunno, I just told the florist I wanted something that looked like you."
Your face burns instantly.
"Stop saying stuff like that so casually!"
Mingi laughs, handing you the bouquet as you step aside to let him in briefly. "It's true though. Pretty, soft, and a little expensive-looking."
You glare, trying not to melt.
Once the flowers are safely in a vase, you both head out. He opens the car door for you like a damn drama male lead, and you have to mentally scream at yourself not to act too giddy.
The drive is filled with music, light banter, and the occasional glance that lingers too long at red lights. When he pulls up to a high-rise building with a fancy valet and dim chandelier lighting peeking from the glass walls, you blink twice.
"Wait," you say slowly, reading the restaurant sign. "We're eating here?"
"Yeah," he says, unbuckling his seatbelt casually. "Why?"
"Mingi… this place is expensive. Like, minimum 5-digit bill expensive."
"So?" He laughs, turning to look at you. "It's not every day I take someone out on a date. Plus, I invited you. I can't just take you to the food court."
You stare at him. "You're rich…"
He snorts. "Does that make you look at me differently?"
You shake your head. "Of course not. It's just… I grew up thinking that when people date, it should be fifty-fifty. I feel kinda guilty when someone spends too much on me."
Mingi looks at you for a second, soft but amused. "That's cute."
He continues, voice warm, "But seriously, Y/N, today's my treat. Maybe in the future you can treat me. But for now… your presence is already more than enough."
You make a face. "You're such a flirt.”
He grins. "You haven't seen the half of it."
Dinner is unreal. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the Han River, and your seats are by the glass. The food is plated like art, the conversation flows effortlessly, and the wine Mingi orders (which you swear costs as much as your monthly internet bill) is surprisingly good.
At one point, you both laugh over nothing, and Mingi leans his cheek on his hand.
"You know," he says, "Jongho hasn't shut up about that day."
"Oh yeah. For someone who's a year younger than me, he sure loves teasing me like he's older."
You pause. "Wait—Jongho's younger than you?"
Mingi blinks. "Oh, we didn't clarify that, huh?"
"Oh my god, I thought he was the oldest!"
Mingi bursts out laughing. "You're not the first person to say that! Everyone thinks that! He's just too mature for his face."
"Or," you smirk, "maybe you and Yeosang are just too immature."
He gasps. "Hey! I'm mature!"
"I stalked your tagged photos on Instagram," you say nonchalantly. "Your friends call you a big princess."
He chokes on his drink. "You what?"
You grin. "That's right. I did my research."
Mingi leans in closer, voice suddenly low and playful. "Why were you stalking me, hmm? Miss this princess that much?"
Your heart slams in your chest.
"Mingi, stop it," you say, rolling your eyes to hide your very real flustered state.
He chuckles, pleased. "I love teasing you."
"And you're way too good at it."
He shrugs. "Only with people I like."
That line hits harder than it should.
By the time you finish eating, the staff clears your plates and refills your glasses with water. You sit back, full, sipping slowly.
You glance at him. "So… where are we going next?"
Mingi raises a brow. "Someone's excited."
You smirk. "I mean… I haven't been on a real date in a long time. This already beat my expectations."
He leans forward slightly, tilting his head. "Wanna do something more relaxed? We can go for a walk near the river. There's a quiet park close by with lights and benches."
You nod. "That sounds really nice."
"Cool," he says, standing and reaching for your coat. "Let's go. I've got a playlist ready and everything."
"You have a date playlist?"
"I might have made one last night."
He shrugs. "What? You make me nervous."
Mingi walks you to your door, still chatting about some guy from his dance class who tried to moonwalk in socks and almost dislocated his knee.
You laugh softly, fingers brushing your keys, reluctant for the night to end.
He leans in quickly, and before you can process it, he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. Warm. Quick. Sincere.
He pulls back, eyes wide, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry if that was too sudden. You can tell me if you're not okay with it—seriously."
You blink—then laugh, cheeks warm.
He exhales, a tiny puff of relief, then smiles as he starts walking back toward his car.
You grin, still standing by your door. "Let's go out next week. My treat."
His smile stretches so wide it almost splits his face.
"Okay, princess. See you next week. Update me always, okay?"
He winks, hops into his car, and drives off—while you stand there, clutching your warm cheek and thinking about nothing but him.
You've gone on more dates than you can count now.
Some were cute and simple—arcades, cafés, late-night convenience store runs. Others were more put-together, gallery dates, dance showcases, even grocery shopping for dinner you'd cook together. There's a comfort between you and Mingi now.
Tonight, it's just a Netflix night.
It's Saturday, you're at your place, and Mingi's stretched out on your couch, arm around you while a movie plays. You're curled beside him, blanket over both of your legs, a half-finished bag of popcorn resting on his thigh.
And then—on screen—an erotic scene plays out. Soft moaning, slow kissing, heavy breathing.
"Are you okay watching this?" he asks, voice low, cautious.
You scoff, barely glancing at him. "Uh, yes? I'm not a child, Song Mingi."
He laughs, head tilting. "Well, excuse me. Just making sure."
Then he glances down at you again. "What are your thoughts on doing this kind of stuff… y’know, as a couple?"
You pause for a second, then answer honestly.
"Um… I don't mind, honestly. Everyone's different, right? But for me—it's about trust. It doesn't matter whether it's before or after marriage. What matters is… being safe, knowing the risks, and being sure you're with someone who respects you."
Mingi nods slowly. "Yeah. I feel the same way."
You turn your head slightly. "Have you done it before?"
That question slips out faster than you meant.
Your eyes go wide. "Oh my god—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make that weird. You don't have to answer—"
"No, no!" he says quickly. "It's just surprising coming from you. But nah—I haven't. I'm a virgin. And I'm not embarrassed."
You smile. “There's nothing to be ashamed of. Some people just use sex like it's a status thing. Like if you're not doing it, you're behind."
"Exactly!" Mingi grins. "It's such a stupid mindset."
He turns slightly toward you. "What about you?"
"I'm a virgin too," you admit. "But I've always been curious. Just never wanted to give that part of me to someone random. One-night stands never appealed to me."
Mingi nods, biting the inside of his cheek. "It's so weird that we both feel the same."
You squint. "Are you just saying that to get on my good side? Trying to look all respectful and boyfriend-of-the-year?"
Mingi gasps, dramatically offended. "What?! I would never! I swear I mean it!"
You elbow him lightly, both of you laughing.
"…Do you want to try it together?"
You freeze. Eyes wide. "Wait. What?"
Mingi blinks hard. "In the future!! I meant—in the future! Not now—God, Song Mingi, you're an idiot—"
You laugh. Full-on giggle that makes your shoulders shake.
Then you lean in, gently place your hand on the back of his neck, and pull him into a kiss.
It's deep. Soft. Lingering.
He stiffens slightly at first, surprised, but then relaxes—his hand finding your cheek as his lips move slowly with yours. His eyes shut. The world fades.
When you pull away, your forehead rests lightly against his.
His eyes flutter open and you can see the blush rising to his ears.
You also can't help noticing the very obvious bulge forming in his pants.
"Are you hard just from kissing?" you tease gently.
"…Yeah," he admits shyly. "And because I love you so much, that's why."
He kisses you again, deeper this time, one hand stroking up your back, careful and slow like he's memorizing the shape of you.
And your fingers start to tighten around his shirt.
You don't remember when the shift happened—from sitting side by side, to lying down with your fingers gripping his shirt, his hand on your waist, mouths moving together slowly. But you don't care. Mingi's lips are hot, breath a little shaky, body pressing against yours like he wants to crawl inside your skin.
You moan softly when he licks into your mouth—hesitantly at first, then with more confidence as you whimper and tug at his hair. His hand slides under the back of your shirt, fingers brushing up your spine. It's slow. Careful. Nervous.
He pulls back, panting slightly. "Is… this okay?"
You nod, cheeks flushed. "Yes."
"I mean, we can stop anytime."
He hesitates, and you see it in his eyes—nervousness, excitement, a little disbelief. You lean forward, kissing his jaw, then whisper in his ear,
Mingi's hands start to explore more freely—stroking your thighs, up your shirt to caress your sides, then cup your breasts over your bra. He's still tentative, like he's worried he's doing it wrong.
"I am," he says, confused.
"No—touch me for real, Mingi."
You guide his hand under your shirt, placing it over your bare skin. He swallows hard, fingers trembling just a little. When he finally cups your breast fully, brushing your nipple with his thumb over your bra, you arch into his touch with a quiet moan.
You laugh breathlessly. "What?"
"You're cute when you're this overwhelmed."
"You're evil," he groans.
You switch positions slightly, tugging your shirt off and tossing it aside. He stares at your chest, clearly enchanted.
"You can touch more, you know," you tease.
"Permission granted?" he raises a brow, smiling.
His hands roam—soft kneading, lips kissing between your breasts before he pulls your bra down and takes one nipple into his mouth. You gasp, threading your fingers through his hair, while he moans against your skin.
"You're a quick learner," you mumble, breath hitching.
"Porn and imagination," he replies.
You snort. "Didn't you learn this in school?"
"Yeah," he scoffs. "As if the teacher taught us about sex positions and nipple sucking."
You both burst into laughter—even mid-makeout—and it's oddly comforting how fun this is. Messy, awkward, real.
Your hands slide down his chest, under his shirt, feeling lean muscles flexing under your touch. When you unbutton it, he lets you strip it off—his skin warm, his face flushed, his body trembling just slightly.
You reach between his legs, palm cupping the hard bulge in his pants. He jerks.
You kiss his throat, voice low. "Wanna keep going?"
Then—his eyes widen. "Shit. I—I don't have a condom."
You blink. "Wait, seriously?"
"I didn't think—fuck—I'll go get one!! There's a 7-Eleven like two streets down—"
"You're gonna run to the convenience store right now??"
He's already scrambling off the couch, grabbing his t-shirt with his chest still bare. "I'll be back in ten minutes! Don't fall asleep!!"
You burst into laughter, watching him panic-shuffle into shoes and sprint out the door like a man on a mission.
He returns, slightly out of breath, holding a small plastic bag.
You arch a brow. "How many did you buy?"
You're both half-laughing when you strip again, kissing between giggles, settling back into each other's arms. But this time, it's different. Calmer. More focused.
Mingi slowly pulls your shorts down, kissing your thighs, his breath hitching when he sees your panties already damp.
"Don’t be shy," you whisper.
He slides them down and tosses them aside. His fingers brush between your legs, and when he finally touches you—fingers stroking through your folds—you whimper and press into his hand.
"You're so wet," he says, awed.
He swears softly under his breath.
You moan louder when he finds your clit, gently rubbing, unsure at first—then more confidently as your hips twitch under his touch. You reach down, palm cupping his erection through his boxers.
"Yeah. You're kinda ridiculously sexy."
You roll him onto his back and tug his pants off.
And when his boxers come down—you both freeze.
"Too big?" he teases nervously.
You lie back, legs spread, heart pounding.
Mingi positions himself between your thighs, hands on either side of your face, eyes locked with yours.
He lines himself up and pushes in slowly.
Not unbearable, but a deep stretch, an ache that makes your body tense.
He pushes in again, carefully, slowly—
And then you both freeze.
"…Is that… blood?" Mingi asks, voice rising slightly.
You look down. Just a bit. But enough.
Mingi freaks. "Oh my god. Are you okay?? Did I hurt you?!"
You put a hand on his cheek, trying not to laugh at his horrified expression. "Mingi—it's normal."
"But—are you sure? Should we stop?"
You smile. "Let’s just take a break. Five minutes. You're overreacting."
"I'm not overreacting! You're bleeding. I've seen horror movies that start like this!"
You burst into laughter, gently shoving his shoulder.
After a short pause (and a lot of overthinking from Mingi), you kiss him again—slow, soft, grounding.
"I still want to keep going," you whisper. "If you're okay."
He nods, exhaling. "Yeah. Just don't die on me."
This time when he slides in—it's easier.
Your body's more relaxed, your hands are tangled in his hair, and Mingi is whispering "so beautiful" and "you feel amazing" into your skin like it's the only language he knows.
The pace is slow, careful. You moan under him, hips rolling together, your bodies finally syncing.
He kisses your neck, your lips, your forehead. You're both sweaty and shaky and a little uncoordinated—but it's perfect.
You're his first. He's yours.
You cling to each other like the world is too small to contain what you're feeling.
And when you come—whimpering his name, shaking underneath him—Mingi follows right after, burying his face in your neck with a moan so sweet it makes your heart throb.
Afterward, you lie tangled on your couch, barely covered by the throw blanket.
Mingi's still red in the face. "I think I panicked like ten times."
You giggle. "It was cute."
You nod, nose brushing his cheek. "It was more than good."
Mingi's breath is still a little shaky as he pulls out of you carefully, rolling the condom off and tying it, tossing it into the little trash bag beside the couch. You hiss faintly at the sudden emptiness and sensitivity.
"Yeah. Just sore. And… wow."
He lets out a soft laugh, brushing your hair out of your face.
"We should clean you up," he murmurs. "Don't want you to get an infection."
You nod, and he helps you sit up slowly. Your thighs are sticky, a little shaky, and you wince slightly as you stand.
"Shit," Mingi mumbles, catching you. "Are you hurting?"
"Not really. Just sore and, you know… my pussy probably looks like a war zone."
Mingi laughs, even as he scoops you up bridal-style without warning.
"We're washing you properly, princess," he says, grinning as he carries you into your bathroom like some romcom idiot boyfriend. "Gotta take care of my girl."
He helps you sit on the toilet, then kneels in front of you, helping you clean. Every touch is gentle now—damp tissue wiping your thighs, warm water trickling slowly, his hands making sure not to rub too hard.
"Sorry if this feels weird," he mumbles.
"It doesn't," you whisper. "I like this."
He smiles at you, so soft, so genuine it makes your chest ache.
Once you're clean and dry, he carries you again—back to your bed this time, gently laying you down before slipping beside you under the blanket.
Your head rests on his bare chest, legs tangled, fingers tracing random patterns on his stomach.
Mingi shifts a little, looking down at you.
"You're so beautiful, Y/N."
You glance up, smirking. "Took you long enough to say that."
But then he kisses your forehead.
"I'm serious," he says quietly. "You're so fucking beautiful. Your body… your heart… your whole existence. I've never felt this way before. Not even close."
You blink slowly, heart beating in your throat.
You grin. "We better be a thing. If not, I'll chop your dick off."
Mingi wheezes out a laugh, pulling you into a kiss. "God, I love you."
"Thank you for coming into my life." His arms tighten around you.
"No, you saved me," you say, brushing your nose against his. "Thank you for coming into mine."
You breathe in deeply, warm and full in his arms.
A few minutes later, while cuddling in silence, you shift a little.
You glance up at him, playful sparkle in your eyes.
"…Should I satisfy you more?"
You smirk. "You’re still a little hard. I can feel it against my leg."
He flushes red instantly.
