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mingkily · 2 years ago

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x the f word ~ s.mg x

CURRENTLY AIRING

starring: mingi x f! reader

features selected: small popcorn (3.9k), romcom, drama, erotica, friends to lovers

audience warnings: UNDER 18 DNI! language, alcohol, nsfw (oral - m & f)

skip the wait: @mangomingki | @yunkiwii | @absentcaryatid | @treasure-hwa

behind the scenes: so i’m in my thot era i think. also my tag list for nsfw is kind of reset, only tagging ppl i know are of age and read this kinda stuff!

synopsis: it’s the cliché. boy and girl are at a party, end up in bed, and have to figure out what happens to their friendship after the deed. but just because it’s cliché doesn’t mean it’s easy being the one to experience it

you don’t know how it happened. you’re pretty sure neither does he. except you don’t have any alcohol you could blame, because you didn’t drink anything. you’re fairly certain mingi didn’t drink enough to completely lose all composition, either, but who knows. not like you could judge, not like you know how much alcohol is needed for what degree of uncontrolled behaviour. you’re not sure if he drank enough soju to warrant having sex. you’re not sure what it was that made you have sex with him. it’s almost funny, how cliché this is, we’ve always just been friends but then it just happened and now i don’t know what’s up. at a party, too. at least you were at his place, at least you didn’t fuck in some stranger’s bed, but still. this is bad enough, as a look into the mirror confirms when you go to clean yourself up the next morning. you’re purple from the ears to your belly button, your thighs, too, and you doubt there’s any way for you to explain this away once you return to uni in two days. well, you clearly didn’t think that far last night, too busy trying to get his shirt off without making him stop attacking your neck. how the fuck did it even get to that point?

“you’re so pretty.”

that was how it started. it wasn’t like he never called you pretty, or like you never called him pretty, but he never looked at you like that when he told you that you’re pretty. but now he did. and you didn’t really know what to do with it.

you knew he’d drunk a little, though you hadn’t kept track of how much, had gone around to socialise while he played host (even though he wasn’t - seonghwa was, but since they lived together mingi decided to claim the title for himself, as well), before you returned to the living room and plopped down next to him. he’d looked at you in surprise, as if not recognising you, before his face lit up. and then he told you this. told you that you’re so pretty.

and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t like it. that you didn’t care if he thought you were pretty. you were hoping he’d say more, though you’re not sure why. maybe it was just the way he said it, the way that was so different from his usual compliments. you didn’t like him, you were pretty sure, had been eyeing one of the guests all night in hopes that maybe something would happen, but it seemed like that wasn’t meant to be.

so here you were, with your best bro, leaning against him because you were getting kind of tired, and he told you that you’re so pretty. with an earnesty that made you look up at him again, even though you were so incredibly tired; now that you’d gotten to rest at all you crashed, ready to fall asleep immediately. but you still looked at him, and he looked at you, and then he leaned in and mumbled out something that kind of sounded like “okay?” and you could guess what he meant. and he wasn’t unattractive, definitely not, so you figured a small kiss couldn’t hurt. it wasn’t like it was in the law that you can’t kiss friends. you liked kissing, and you knew he wasn’t drunk enough for this to be questionable from your side at all. you knew he wasn’t completely knocked out, because he had been once and you’d been the one to drag him to bed because no one wanted to deal with him throwing up, and he most definitely would not have asked if it was okay if he was in that kind of state. so it was okay.

and then his lips were on yours. you were a little disgusted, you had to admit, by the taste of alcohol still on his tongue, but you decided to ignore it. you figured that pulling away and saying “ew” or something of the sorts wouldn’t really land well with him. and by the time he leaned in to kiss you again you didn’t really notice the taste anymore, and then it was nice. he was a good kisser, you guessed. not that you had that much experience, but you figured you’d know if he wasn’t. he was incredibly sweet, careful, too, trying not to come off too strong, and you appreciated that.

you didn’t know where to put your hands, so you opted for his hair, except just when you put your hand in his hair he leaned in even more, changed angle, and you ended up pulling at his hair. not hard, but you were about to apologise either way, until you heard what could only be a moan. and while mingi wasn’t off-his-ass drunk he was drunk enough to not be embarrassed about it, pulling you closer, less gentle now, until you pulled away. you just wanted to change positions, get into his lap because this was awkward, but your best friend immediately pulled back, looking at you worriedly, as if to ask if he’d crossed a line.

that worry disappeared when you got into his lap and straddled him, tired of the weird angle you’d been in before, your butt pressed against whoever sat next to you on the sofa, and mingi seemed delighted about this turn of events. his mouth was back on yours in a heartbeat, hands on your waist, pulling you tight, and by the time he’d moved to your neck you were more than aware of the fact that he had a boner. for some reason that only made you pull him closer, rolling your hips, even though you knew that this was where you should have stopped.

you didn’t stop there, and you didn’t stop when he asked you if you wanted to go to his room, and you didn’t stop when he gingerly took off your dress, and you didn’t stop when he left your entire chest covered in purple - you’d managed to give him his fair share of hickeys, too, by this point -, or when he proceeded lower, or when he painted your thighs purple as well, or when he took off your underwear, or when you felt him kiss you at the opposite end of where he’d put his mouth just minutes prior, or when his nose nudged at your clit, or when you got to experience first-hand just how long his fingers were, or when you buried your hands in his hair to keep him there when he got worried by how quiet you were (you weren’t the type to be loud during sex, and this action told him all he needed to know about whether you were enjoying this or not), you didn’t stop it when he drew the first moan of the evening out of you with his tongue, or when he decided he needed your juices for dessert, and you did quite the opposite of stopping when you grabbed his crotch - why was he still in his pants, anyway? -, pulling at his pants impatiently until they joined the rest of your clothes on the floor and he looked at you with an expression you’d never forget, you grabbed his dick and were embarrassed by how small your hands were in comparison, convinced you’d suck at this because you couldn’t even fit the entire thing in your hand, had to work with both hands, but if his sounds were anything to go by you had no reason to be embarrassed. where you were quiet, mingi was vocal, and it made you want to do better. so after his thighs had gotten the adequate attention you decided that it was too late to stop now anyway, and you took him in your mouth - as much as would fit, anyway - and you gave him a blowjob, mingi displaying admirable levels of self restraint as he kept himself from bucking up into your mouth, up until the very last moment, cumming into your mouth but still controlling himself enough to not make you choke on his dick, and you appreciated that, because you weren’t stupid and you’d noticed how the muscles on his thighs were incredibly tensed, twitching every now and then. he definitely wasn’t that drunk, you were sure.

and he was still the kind, caring mingi you’d befriended, taking a moment to calm down before he gave you a quick kiss and went to the bathroom, coming back with a glass of water and a couple wet wipes, cleaning up after the two of you while you got to get rid of the taste of cum in your mouth, throwing one of his boxers your way and putting on underwear himself, before collapsing on the bed and pulling you close to his chest. and then you fell asleep.

and that’s where you are now. or, more accurately, where you’re planning to return now after your trip to the bathroom that confirmed that you did not, in fact, just have an incredibly graphic wet dream about your best friend. bourgie brat has a small toilet in his room, something you usually tease him about but that you’re now incredibly grateful for. you don’t exactly want to meet anyone else - having to face mingi after all of this is bad enough.

you hope he’ll tell you that this doesn’t have to mean anything, that you’re still friends, just friends, but when he tells you exactly that upon your return you feel your stomach sink. and again you wish you’d drunk so you could pretend you were hungover, rather than hurt by the thought that to your best friend this was what you’d assumed it was, a one-night stand and nothing to worry or think about.

you nod, sit down on the bed while mingi goes to scavenge for a pair of pants that might fit you, throwing you some clothes before getting dressed himself.

and then he asks if you want to get breakfast, to which you just nod, and you don’t even realise that something’s off when he offers to make you pancakes. mingi never cooks.

you eat your pancakes sullenly, trying not to let him notice anything, and he’s too deep in his thoughts to be aware of your unusual silence. that is, until one of his flatmates comes into the kitchen, sees mingi making pancakes while his neck and thighs are bright purple and so is your neck, and decides to make a joke that isn’t at all funny.

“so either the sex was really good and you’ve got him on his best behaviour now, or the sex sucked and he’s trying to make up for it.”

mingi’s “shut up” gets interrupted by your “we didn’t have sex” - which is technically true, you rationalise with yourself, because usually people think that sex is p in v, and that didn’t happen, so you didn’t have sex and you don’t have to feel like a pathetic one-night stand -, and instead of getting mad at his friend the cause of your messed up feelings now looks at you completely baffled, his eloquence entirely gone as all he finds the words for is: “what?”

it’s fairly clear that something is going on here and that that something maybe isn’t meant to be broadcasted to everyone around, so you’re left alone, mingi still incredulously looking at you even after the two of you are alone in the kitchen.

“don’t look at my like that”, you tell him when you can’t bear it anymore, “you said we should just act like this didn’t happen so that’s what i’m doing.”

“no but i didn’t mean it like that”, he replies, even though he doesn’t even know how he meant it. he just said what was expected of him in that situation, really. he didn’t have the time to think about it. as long as you’re still friends.

“then how?”, and your poor pancakes have to deal with your hurt feelings as you reduce them to the particles everything in this world is made of.

“i don’t know”, he admits, and you sigh. you should have expected this. what did you think would happen if you fuck your best friend? because even if you’re trying to deny it, even to yourself, that’s what happened.

“yeah.”

you don’t have much more to say to that, continue angrily eating the pancakes he made for you, and he stands there, helpless, not sure what else to do so he just mass-prodcues more pancakes, anything to keep him at least a little busy.

by the time you’re done with your breakfast an impressive amount of pancakes is waiting for whoever wants them, because mingi isn’t about to eat until he knows if he’s messed up your friendship, and he isn’t about to discuss that in the kitchen. so he suggests that maybe you should talk, about, you know, in his room?

and there you are, sitting on his bed, an awkward air surrounding the two of you, until he says: “sorry. i shouldn’t have started anything.”

because obviously what’s wrong is that this happened in the first place, right?

“you were drunk. i should’ve stopped you. should’ve known that i shouldn’t have come to your room with you when you’re drunk. i should’ve made sure you won’t regret this.”

because obviously he just did it because he was drunk, right?

“you asked me like every two minutes if this was fine. and i wasn’t like, completely shitfaced drunk, just enough to get my head out of my ass and finally-”

there he interrupts himself. because obviously you’d never want to hear how he really feels about you, right? because obviously you want to just go back in time and prevent this so you can go back to just being friends without anything awkward and in-between going on between you two, right?

but he can tell from your expression that you’re about to argue, about to blame yourself even more and the last thing he wants is you thinking you took advantage of his drunk state when it very much had been him who’d almost dragged you to his room, so he decides you being mad at him for tricking you like that is better than you being mad at yourself.

“finally tell you that i like you.”

those words drop like a needle to the floor, everything else entirely silent as you try to take in what he just told you. he’s not just saying this because he can sense you’re upset, right? he’s not just-

“and like, not the best way to go about it, but i thought hey, i can just pretend i was completely knocked out if you make any weird comments about it. didn’t think you’d start thinking you like, forced me or something. though i should’ve been prepared for that, you’re always way too worried about hurting others even when they say it’s fine.”

he smiles, a halfhearted smile, trying to be at least a little funny as he tells you that he likes you, but he fails miserably. you just stare at him dumbfounded, can’t believe what he’s saying, so he continues because embarrassing himself is better than this tense silence that follows whenever he stops talking.

“i should’ve just asked you on a date i guess but like, how weird would it be if you said no? like that would’ve been so awkward, be honest.”

as if this isn’t. but it makes you smile, frees you from your frozen state, and “yeah, it really would’ve”, you admit, and when he hears that you’re still talking to him he mentally lets out an exaggerated, cartoonish “phew”, because really, he’d been convinced you’d just ask him when you should return his clothes before leaving and not coming back ever again.

“but this is super awkward too”, you add.

he lets out a short, huffed laugh, because it sure is, but it seems like the ice is broken now and you can actually talk about what happened.

the first thing you say is that you don’t regret anything, that it didn’t, like, suck or anything, as if you needed to specify that with how both of you looked, and then you apologise for acting weird this morning.

“i have a question, though. i’d say feel free not to answer but i actually really want you to answer.”

an awkward laugh from your side and the sound of blood rushing in his ears on his.

“you said that you like, kind of wanted the party to end up this way? but then why’d you tell me to just forget about it? did i like, suck?”

you know that isn’t it, that it’s not that you gave him a bad blowjob, but you are scared that he changed his mind after having seen you like that, naked and vulnerable and horny, and that he decided that he isn’t actually into that kind of stuff. into someone like you. that the idea he had of being with you was much better than reality turned out to be.

but that isn’t what happened, and even though he’s embarrassed he decides that he might as well. it’s not like it can get worse, really.

“well i mean, it looked like you got caught trying to sneak out when i woke up this morning, so i kind of just short circuited and said what they always say in the movies. like, we can still be friends, this was just a mistake, a one-time thing, whatever. this doesn’t change anything, you know the gist. as long as it gets you to not like, block me and tell everyone i have a small dick, i would’ve told you whatever, really.”

you nod, “mmh”, thinking of what to reply, but he doesn’t like the thinking pause, apparently, because he goes on to tell you: “actually i was kind of hoping to ask you out if that’s what you wanted to get at with that question. but like, it didn’t really seem like you wanted to hear that, you more looked like you’d just seen a ghost or something. so i decided to play it safe. sorry if that like, upset you.”

you know he’s serious, that he’s genuinely sorry and that it’s just the situation that makes everything awkward. and you appreciate that he even told you, because if you’d been in his place you’d probably have come up with the stupidest lie ever.

you don’t really know what to reply, though, kind of overwhelmed by it all, but you know he’s anxious and you know it’s not fair to just be silent and make him do all the talking. so you say the first thing that comes to mind, which is: “take two?”

he looks at you bewildered, even as you walk towards his little toilet, and now it’s your turn to feel anxious.

“you should go to bed if it’s gonna be authentic.”

because that’s exactly what he needs to hear in this situation. this certainly wasn’t your brightest moment.

“if what’s gonna be authentic?”

he looks so lost that you feel sorry for him.

“like, you can, uh… ask me out again?”

those last words are said in the same breath, hurriedly, because it’s embarrassing and you don’t want him to tell you that he doesn’t want to, but you know you have to say it.

“oh. okay.”

his reaction is a little underwhelming,but you get it. this is weird. the entire day has been weird so far. and in a funny twist of events, the fact that you sucked off your best friend isn’t the weirdest part of it all.

you take a deep breath, walk into the bathroom and then out right after, and you’re surprised to find that mingi actually went back to bed. he’s dressed this time, but you still remember how he looked when you first woke up, and part of you wishes you just hadn’t gotten up.

“uh, good morning”, he mumbles, then shakes his head.

“i mean, come here?”

he pats the space next to him and you tentatively walk towards him, still unsure where this will go even though he’s basically already spelled out his intentions for you.

“do you want to, uh, hug?”

why he’s more shy about asking you to hug than he was about telling you to cum on his face will probably remain a mystery forever.

you scoot closer to him and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you to his chest where his heart beats against your forehead, faster than you think it should. he seems aware of it, too, because he chuckles, embarrassed, “i get nervous when asking out pretty ladies”, and that joke - or whatever it was - seems to be what gives him the courage to actually get to the ‘asking out’ part.

“so, uh, do you want to go on a date? or two, i mean. as many as you want. i guess i’m asking if you’d consider dating me? not right now, no pressure, just whenever. like, an interest check?”

the more he says, the weirder the things he says get, but you appreciate that. it tells you he’s serious in what he says.

and you’re serious, too, when you say that yes, you do want to go on a date or two, and that you’d like to pre-order girlfriend benefits.

your way of phrasing it is possibly the worst way you could have phrased it, but mingi seems delighted, a smile lighting up his features that makes your stomach do flips, and you can’t help but smile as well.

“do you want a pre-order benefit? like, an exclusive gift, i guess those are still a thing, right?”

then he puckers his lips and you can’t help but laugh, and he laughs too, until you shut him up with a peck. then he looks like he just saw jesus in drag, shocked but not unhappy about it.

shocked enough to forget that he was supposed to give you a pre-order gift, because he demands you to do it again, and again, and again, and that’s how you end up spending the morning. you guess you should have read the fine print when signing up for girlfriend benefits. you’re not unhappy about it, though.

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