Lacy Euphoria

His Favorite Girl/Part One: The Moment He Notices You

Originally published on AO3.

🔞 Adults 18+. MDNI. Fictional fanwork using names fictitiously for entertainment. Not real, endorsed, affiliated, or a claim of real events. All romantic and sexual content is between consenting adults. Please consume fiction with media literacy intact.

Your lips barely brush his, just enough to feel the shift in his breathing, and that’s all it takes.

His hand moves from your jaw to the side of your neck, holding you there while he closes the distance himself this time. The kiss lands controlled at first, measured. Then you lean into him harder and something in him gives.

“fuck…” he exhales softly against your mouth before kissing you again.

Deeper now.

Hungrier underneath the control.

One of his hands slides down your side, pushing beneath your shirt until his palm finds warm skin while his mouth drifts from yours to your jaw, then lower to your neck. The kiss there turns rougher around the edges immediately, enough to make your breathing betray you.

Still not saying it.

Still not giving you the thing you came here for.

But the way he’s touching you is getting dangerously close.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” he says against your skin, voice rough enough now that it barely sounds measured anymore. His hand tightens slightly at your waist before he looks at you again. “Can I?”

The question hits harder than the grip does.

Not because he asked.

Because he did.

Your hands tighten against him instantly. “Yes,” you breathe. “Mingi… fuck me.”

Something shifts in his expression after that.

Relief almost.

Like he’s been holding himself back harder than you realized.

His mouth crashes back into yours immediately, deeper this time, the hand at your neck pulling you closer while the other slides beneath your shirt and pushes it higher impatiently. The room feels warmer suddenly, smaller somehow, your breathing turning uneven the second his mouth drifts lower again.

“You’ve been keeping it together all fucking night,” he breathes against your throat. “Do you know how hard that’s making this for me?”

Your hands slide into his hair, holding him there for a second while your breathing turns uneven against his mouth. That’s the first thing he’s said tonight that sounds genuinely affected.

Not controlled.

Real.

“You’re not exactly making this easy for me either,” you admit quietly.

His forehead drops briefly against yours after that, and the breath that leaves him sounds almost frustrated.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I noticed.”

Your eyes drop before you can stop yourself. And finally, finally, you really see him. The breath leaves your body so fast it almost embarrasses you.

Oh, this man is about to split you in half.

Mingi notices immediately too, the corner of his mouth pulling slightly before he exhales through his nose, quieter now, more focused.

“Yeah,” he says lowly. “That reaction’s usually about right.”

You hate how much that almost makes you laugh.

Because unfortunately for you, your first thought is still:

I need him inside me immediately.

You drop to your knees in front of him before the thought can fully settle. Your hand wraps around him first just to feel the way his breathing immediately changes above you before your mouth follows.

“fuck…” he exhales softly.

One hand disappears into your hair while the other braces harder against the wall behind him, his composure slipping by degrees the deeper you take him. You don’t tease him with it either. You adjust once, then take more like you already knew you could handle it.

“You really don’t ease into anything,” he says, breathlessly now.

You pull back just enough to look up at him. “I didn’t come here to.”

That’s what finally gets to him.

You see it happen in real time.

The control slips another inch.

Mingi pulls you back up almost immediately after that, hands firm at your waist before his mouth finds yours again harder than before. The kiss turns messy fast, breathless around the edges now, all the careful pacing from earlier disappearing underneath actual want.

His hand settles at your thigh, lifting it around his waist while your back meets the wall behind you.

No space left between you now.

The first drag of him against you pulls a sharp breath out of both of you at the same time.

“fuck…” he says again, quieter this time, forehead dropping briefly against yours like he’s trying not to lose the rest of his self-control too fast. “You feel…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Doesn’t need to.

Your fingers tighten against his shoulders while he works you closer slowly at first, deliberate enough to make your breathing turn uneven almost immediately.

“mm… I got you,” he says softly, feeling the way your body keeps tightening around him. “Relax for me.”

Gentle lasts maybe thirty seconds.

The second your body finally gives way for him, the restraint cracks right alongside it.

The pace changes immediately after that.

Harder now.

Closer.

Your head falls back against the wall as his mouth finds your throat again, his grip tightening at your waist every time another reaction slips out of you before you can stop it.

“You’re still trying to hold yourself together,” he says against your throat, voice rough now.

You try to answer him and lose the words halfway through it when his pace changes again.

The orgasm hits harder than you expect.

Your body tightens around him instantly, breath breaking as the reaction pulls straight through you before you can hold it back. The sound that leaves you after finally gives you away completely.

That changes something in him immediately.

You feel it in the way his grip tightens. The way his breathing catches harder afterward. The way he kisses you again gives away that it’s affecting him too.

“Yeah…” he exhales softly against your mouth. “That’s what I wanted.”

And suddenly it stops feeling like he’s the only one losing control anymore.

Your forehead drops briefly against his shoulder while you try to steady your breathing, but he doesn’t let you disappear into the moment completely. His hand slides back along your jaw, pulling your attention to him again.

“Look at me,” he says quietly.

You do.

His eyes stay fixed on yours for a second longer than before, stripped of all the teasing now. No performance left in him anywhere.

Just honesty.

“You wanted it to mean something,” he says softly.

The room goes still around you.

Then finally:

“You’re my favorite girl.”

The words hit harder now than they ever did at the fansign.

Because this time there’s nothing practiced in them. Nothing performative. Nothing meant for anybody else.

His thumb brushes slowly along your jaw while he holds your gaze there with him.

“My only favorite girl,” he says quieter this time. “And I mean that shit.”