tags/genre: fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, frat boy-coded mingi, lots of flirting hehe
word count: 2.3k words
synopsis: why did you ever think agreeing to be mingi's designated driver on his birthday night was a good idea?
notes: THAT'S TWIN FR!!!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FELLOW ENTP BABY OUR LEO KING!!!! SO STINKY!!!! (also ik i'm a lil late on mingi's but i promise u it's been a rough 48 hrs LMAO)
"we should be done with our last schedule in about an hour," yunho informs you over the phone as you're wrestling with the cap on your mascara tube. you can hear the other members clamoring amongst themselves, something about hongjoong needing to stop doing fit checks in the mirror before they went onto the set to film.
with a laugh under your breath, you brush your hair from your face and ask, "does he still have no idea?"
"not a clue," yunho confirms.
the two of you had been planning this for weeks. with mingi's birthday on the horizon, you took it upon yourselves as his best friends to wrangle him into a night of drinks and dancing at some of his favorite bars downtown. of course, ateez had a back-to-back packed schedule, so you had to be sneaky about making sure you caught him at the perfect moment to surprise him.
"i'll meet you in front of your apartment, then," you inform him, finalizing the last of your makeup before you turn to your closet, "once i figure out what to wear."
"you know he'll think you look good no matter what," yunho teases, heat rising to your cheeks before you hear him being summoned by the producers. "okay, i have to go, text you later!"
before you can protest and reject his suspicions that mingi is harboring a crush on you, the call ends and you mutter to yourself. you'd known the both of them for years, well before they'd become reputable ateez members and the world knew their name. even then, you'd stifled any lingering "what-if"s you felt toward mingi for the sake of preserving your friendship.
"anyway," you sigh, grabbing your rings from your dresser before heading out to collect the last of your supplies.
"no fucking way," mingi hollers the moment he sees your car pulled up to the curb behind his manager's van. yunho and seonghwa follow after him, their own smiles growing wider as realization dawns on him. you lower the window and holler back at mingi, your voice muffled beneath the thundering bass of the playlist you had on rotation.
"is that the birthday boy?" you sing as yunho and seonghwa slide into the back. mingi's eyes near fully disappear as he beams at you, opting for the front seat beside you. he gasps when he spots the costume-quality crown you'd gotten for him, equipped with a myriad of pink bows and gemstones. "or should i say, princess."
"did you know this was happening?" mingi whips his head around to the pair of members staring at him from the backseat. they shrug nonchalantly and he sucks his teeth with a knowing shake of his head. he turns back to you, excitement lingering in his expression. "so, what's the plan?"
"oh, you just hang tight, baby," you assure him, patting his thigh affectionately as he adjusts his crown. "we've got a long night ahead of us. lucky for you, i'm your designated driver."
"designated driver?" mingi repeats, disappointment evident in his voice as he frowns at you. "you're not getting fucked up with me?"
"that's what they're for," you reply, gesturing to yunho and seonghwa before they reply with a cheer of their own. "you deserve a night like this. i can hang."
"if you say so," mingi hums as he props his hands behind his head with a nod of his head. "onwards."
your first stop of the night is at one of your favorite bars you, mingi and yunho frequented when you were fresh out of high school. the bartenders welcome mingi, familiar with his antics as he tips the plastic novelty crown in their direction. round after round of shots are slid across the counter, the boys hissing as the liquor burns their throat.
you nurse a glass of wine diligently, dancing along against the bar counter as mingi corrals a crowd of strangers to cheer him on. he climbs onto a tabletop, ushering a sheepish yunho and seonghwa to join him as the dj shifts into a more upbeat playlist.
you set your now-empty glass on the counter before the bartender, ready to ask for a glass of water when you feel an arm snake around your waist and pull you into the crowd. a surprised laugh slips out of you as you join mingi at the center. you try to ignore the flutter through your chest at the way his body presses against yours, his hand lingering on your waist as you move to the rhythm with him.
"wait, play that song again," yunho begs from the backseat on the way to the next bar.
"no, i had aux next," seonghwa protests, his voice notably higher in a way that makes you giggle under your breath.
"it's my birthday, bro," mingi counters, reaching for your phone from the center console and thumbing in your password without a second thought. he plays an older hip hop song, belting out the lyrics in a string of slurs as he lowers the window. you glance over at him and roll your eyes playfully as all of the boys do the same.
"go ahead," you say as you pull up to the growing line in front of the next bar. "i'll meet you inside. let me go find parking."
mingi and seonghwa are already out, bickering amongst themselves as yunho taps you on your shoulder.
"i'll wait with you and we can go in together," he assures you. with a nod, you navigate the neighboring alleys and secure a parallel parking spot with ease. yunho takes long strides beside you, the pair of you chatting about anything and everything until you notice that he's looking at you more carefully than usual.
"what?"
"nothing," he says too quickly, shaking his head as strands of tousled brown hair fall over his eyes.
"no, no," you scold as you retrieve your wallet to show the bouncer your id. "i know that look."
"what look—?!"
"that's your thinking look," you reply, "and i know exactly what you're thinking. and the answer is no."
"but what if—"
"no."
"i mean, he might—"
"no."
"what if i talk to him—"
"you look like you need another shot," you ramble quickly, tugging yunho by his arm to a spot by the bar where mingi and seonghwa were waiting. they already had a round of shots prepared, a glass of water in your clutches as they knock back another dose of tequila. mingi's face grows redder by the second, a permanent grin fixated on his face as he bobs along to the music blaring against the walls.
"you look pretty tonight," mingi compliments you suddenly, throwing an arm over your shoulder with his lips pressed to the shell of your ear so you can hear him better. the scent of his cologne envelops you and you pray that your come to your senses and ignore the way he's intoxicating you without a single drop of liquor. "like, really pretty."
"wow, the tequila's kicking in." you laugh nervously, ignoring yunho's suspicious glance in your direction before he pulls another girl toward the dance floor. seonghwa does the same, leaving you alone with mingi. you stir your water absentmindedly, averting mingi's gaze until he plucks the drink from your hands and drags you closer to the dj booth.
the dj shifts into one of your favorite songs and you cheer, your arms thrown high above your head as you free your hair from its claw clip. mingi watches you with half-lidded eyes, swaying at his own pace before he slips his arms back around your waist similarly to earlier that night. for whatever reason, you don't protest this time and allow him to guide you into a steady rhythm.
you meet his eyes beneath the flickering lights, swallowing dryly when you notice the way his gaze flickers to your lips for a brief second that feels like an eternity. your body stills, unsure of how to react when an increasingly drunk seonghwa stumbles over.
"bro, they're doing free shots next door," he garbles over the music against mingi's ear, loud enough for you to hear. "we should tell 'em it's your birthday, too."
"for real?" mingi blinks, eyebrows raised. he threads his fingers through yours to lead you through the crowd back into the night air. the cool breeze is a welcome shift from the sticky, humid heat of bodies pressed together in the bar.
well, that and the fact that you were potentially seconds away from locking lips with mingi.
yunho and seonghwa wait diligently in line for the boys' shots from the curbside window while you and mingi find a seat on a nearby bench. he leans against the wrought iron with a blissful sigh, allowing his head to drop on your shoulder and his nose to press against your neck.
"you're so pretty," he mumbles against your skin, his words becoming increasingly slurred. as much as you knew it was largely the alcohol talking, you internally scold yourself for enjoying the way he was singing your high praises. "have i told you that before?"
"not enough, apparently," you tease, subconsciously brushing your hand through his hair before he straightens and meets your gaze. similarly to before, there's a different weight to it than when he's looked at you in the past.
"take this and then we're hitting the last spot for the night," yunho instructs, handing a blue concoction to mingi in a plastic shot glass twin to his. he accepts the drink diligently, clinking it against his and seonghwa's before throwing his head back with a satisfied smack of his lips.
"alright, we're walking down there." you point towards the largest bar at the end of the block, the line already threatening to snake into the adjacent alley. the music carries through the street, a sign that the night was in full swing.
"c'mere, baby," mingi mumbles, outstretching his hand to you dramatically. with narrowed eyes, you place your hand in his and nearly gasp when he pulls you into his arms to walk down the street together.
"dude, are they fucking?" you hear seonghwa ask yunho from behind you before you whip your head over your shoulder to glare at yunho in warning. yunho clears his throat obediently, straightening as he shoves his hands into his pockets.
"dude, you're drunk."
it's nearly two in the morning by the time you wrangle the boys back into your car. the tequila has fully settled into their bloodstream, their faces flush from the liquor and their words increasingly loud and slurred. you allow them their final request—the windows all rolled down and their favorite song from the dj rotations for the night on full blast.
like clockwork, you pull into the neighboring lot beside their apartment building and walk with them to their units so that you're sure they make it home in one piece. seonghwa shuffles into his shared apartment with san, down the hall from yunho and mingi. you wave him off with a stern warning to drink enough water and to wash off his makeup before you guide the other two inside.
yunho follows his routine to a tee, from taking a quick shower to brewing a pot of hot water for his packet of ramen. on the other hand, mingi stumbles toward his room and falls flat onto his bed without a second thought. you glance at yunho, your fingers flexing at your sides nervously before you point at him.
"i'm just making sure he doesn't kill himself," you assure him, hurrying down the hall as yunho adds his seasoning packets with a sing-song 'if you say so'.
"there's my girl," mingi calls out, his eyes still shut and his limbs still splayed as you shut the door behind you. with another roll of your eyes, you sit on the bed beside him and swat his torso in an attempt to silence the heat rising in your own chest.
"drink some water and go to bed," you order him. he sits up suddenly, offering you the same pointed glance from before until he laughs through his nose.
"stay the night."
"next time."
"but it's my birthday," he urges as he brushes a strand of hair from your face to tuck it behind your ear. you blush profusely at the gesture and scrunch your nose at him in defiance.
"not anymore, it's already past midnight."
"so, i don't get any more birthday wishes?"
"what else could you possibly want?" you tease, your laugh caught in your throat when mingi presses his lips to yours without warning. your eyes widen in shock before they flutter shut. you whimper at the way his kiss sends a shiver down your spine, the sound involuntary and shameless before you pull away with a soft gasp.
"you're drunk."
"no, he's not," yunho calls out in passing on his way down the hall to his bedroom.
"no, i'm not," mingi affirms, arching a brow at you as your mind races with how he could possibly be sober after the flurry of shots they'd thrown back all night.
"but, how did you—"
"you think i didn't drink water all night?" he asks, snaking his arm back around you so that he could pull you into his lap. a newfound desire settles at the pit of your stomach, one you struggle to ignore as you tilt your head in question.
"besides, the designated driver deserves to have a little fun, too."
warnings: suggestive content in some but nothing explicit, cursing
authors notes: songs used (in order) - throw a fit by tinashe, literal legend b ayesha erotica, no comma by slayyyter, stateside by pink pantheress, brutus by the buttress, summertime sadness by lana del rey, garden of eden by lady gaga, decode by paramore
🅰/🅽: help, also please imagine 19 y/o Yunho of the past to be bit less of a loser and no coconut hair also if you don't ship Yungi or Woosan you're going to hate me- get tf out
Sweaty, sticky, and pumping adrenaline. That's how the end of the show left you.
You and your best friend had just exited the venue after what could quite possibly be considered the best ATEEZ show ever.
Your head was pounding in just the right way. Dried tears and "waterproof" mascara had left you looking like a mess.
Outside the venue was the usual chaos. Rides were trying to pick up their passengers while hundreds of people swarmed toward the bus and subway stations.
"Been there, done that a hundred times," your best friend said, looking at all the struggling people cramming down the street.
Instead, the two of you rounded the building and headed straight for the bathroom. Empty as usual. It had become something of a ritual for the two of you. At the last few concerts, you had spent all your time before the show collecting and handing out freebies, leaving barely any time for merch or even a bathroom break.
Looking in the mirror, you cringed slightly at the state you were in, but it was nothing you hadn't fixed before.
You might have gone a little overboard with your outfit today. Sure, low-cut tops and short skirts weren't out of the ordinary at an ATEEZ show, but the bold red "Fix On" written across your chest had earned you compliments from other ATINYs all night.
You hadn't quite made it to the barricade, even though you would have loved nothing more than for Mingi to catch a glimpse of you. Well a hoe can dream.
With your mascara fixed, most of your makeup simply rubbed off, deodorant reapplied, and bladders empty, you and your bestie made it out of the bathroom.
Back out in the cooling night air, it was quieter and significantly less crowded than it had been just a few minutes earlier. You decided to walk the extra few minutes to the subway instead of taking the long bus back to the hotel.
Right now, both of you wanted nothing more than your all-inclusive hotel, the AC, and to sort through all your freebies. Some people might think you should sleep after spending more than ten hours on your feet. Wrong.
Back at the hotel, your other friend was still waiting, probably lying awake for the freebie haul of her life, even if it was about the 150th one you'd shown her.
You preferred going to concerts outside your own country for one simple reason. You could turn them into a one-week girls' trip.
After a way too humid and painfully hot trip on the subway, you finally made it back to your hotel.
Crossing the lobby, you noticed it was unusually empty and quiet for a Saturday night. The staff at the front desk gave you a nasty look—nothing you weren't used to. You wrote it off as jealousy, assuming it was the outfit.
Your friend was practically clinging to your arm. Sleep had almost claimed her on the subway ride back. The problem with being the mom friend of the group was that everyone felt comfortable around you at all times, which could become a slight inconvenience every now and then.
Stepping into the elevator, you pressed the button for the third floor, where your lush hotel room was waiting. Two double beds. Your friends shared one, leaving you with the other all to yourself.
So why was the elevator going down?
After only a few seconds, the back doors of the double-sided elevator slid open to the hotel's underground garage.
Standing just outside the elevator was Song Mingi.
Gone was the oversized jacket, ripped pants, and the Alpha-Wolf woof woof stage presence he'd worn only an hour ago. Instead, he stood there in a black hoodie and loose grey jeans. Comfortably ordinary.
Everything except the makeup.
The sharp eyeliner was still intact, smokey clinging stubbornly to his eyes despite the sweat from the concert. Under the harsh fluorescent lights of the garage, the dramatic stage makeup looked out of place.
Mingi looked up.
You looked back.
For one painfully long second, nobody moved.
You raised an eyebrow.
He blinked.
The doors started beeping.
"...Well."
You pressed the close button.
The doors slid shut.
Your friend, suddenly wide awake.
"You just closed the elevator on Song Mingi."
"I closed the elevator on a man who apparently forgot how elevators work."
You reached your floor with your friend still hanging onto your arm. She was probably, no is, definitely freaking out inside.
Oh my God. ATEEZ are staying in the same hotel.
What if they stay the night?
What if we see them again?
"Hold up. Let's grab some water," you said, steering the both of you down the hallway in the opposite direction of your room.
Like most all-inclusive hotels, yours had water carts placed throughout each floor, stocked with complimentary bottles for guests to take whenever they wanted.
Each of you grabbed a couple before making your way back.
Just as you turned toward your end of the hallway, the elevator chimed in front of you.
The doors slid open.
Out stepped Mingi and Yunho.
Neither of you said a word, sharing a quiet look.You simply adjusted the bottles in your arms and continued toward your room, naturally ending up a few steps behind them.
"I swear she was an atiny," Mingi muttered as they walked. "And she didn't even let me get on the elevator."
Yunho snorted at Mingis defeated tone
"I did not stop you from getting on that elevator," you said before you could stop yourself.
Both of them looked over their shoulders.
"I closed the doors because we'd probably still be standing there if I'd waited for you." You shrugged.
"I figured either get on or don't. The elevator isn't gonna wait forever."
Yunho blinked for a second before a grin spread across his face.
"She has a point."
"I was getting on," Mingi defended himself.
"Eventually."
"I..."
He frowned.
"...was thinking."
"Clearly."
Your friend's laughter echoed through the hallway.
As you caught up enough to pass them, Yunho's eyes briefly flicked downward.
Bright red.
Fix On.
The henna lettering written across your chest, impossible to miss.
His eyebrows lifted.
"That's actually sick." he said more to himself.
He nudged Mingi with his elbow.
Mingi glanced down for the briefest moment before looking back at you.
By the time the two of them stopped outside a room on the right-hand side of the hallway, you and your friend had nearly reached the very end.
"So..." you called over your shoulder while fishing your keycard out of your bag.
"You done thinking?"
Your friend nearly dropped the water bottles.
Yunho chuckled and raised an eyebrow at his roommate
Mingi just sighed.
"...Goodnight."
"Night."
The lock clicked open.
You pushed the door with your shoulder and disappeared inside.
The first thing to go were your shoes.
You hadn't realized how much they were killing your feet until you peeled them off.
One landed somewhere near the TV. The other disappeared underneath the desk.
"Future us can deal with that."
"Future us is going to trip over it," your other friend mumbled from the bed without even opening her eyes.
The room smelled like pizza, ordered by who you now considered the love of your life.
"...And then all he said was, 'Goodnight,'" your friend finished dramatically, catching your other friend up on the very brief encounter with Mingi and Yunho.
"And she called him slow," she added, pointing at you.
"I did not."
"You basically did."
Meanwhile, you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, completely focused on organizing your freebies.
Bracelets in one pile.
Photocards in another.
Stickers...
You sighed.
You had officially accumulated enough Bbyongming stickers to last you a lifetime of journaling.
Satisfied with your little system, you carefully packed everything back into your tote bag before standing up.
"Dibs on the shower."
Neither of them objected.
The bathroom door clicked shut behind you.
Warm water washed away layers of hairspray, sweat, glitter, and the last remnants of concert adrenaline. You watched black mascara disappear down the drain while the red henna across your chest remained almost untouched.
Still looked good.
Worth every second it had taken to apply.
You caught your reflection in the fogged-up mirror, baddieliscious
Three more days of Vacay before your ass had to get back to work, emails, family and bullshit.
Three more days before reality came crashing back.
So you intended to make the most of every second.
Your gaze drifted from your face, down to your chest. The red "Fix On" henna was stark against your damp skin, it felt wasted on just a concert crowd. It was a shame, really. A look this good, all about to be wasted on room service and sleep.
A slow smile spread across your lips. Sleep was for the boring. Reality was for Monday. Tonight was for... fun.
You reached for your phone, unlocking it with a quick swipe of your thumb. Your fingers, almost with a mind of their own, navigated to the familiar purple icon of the Fet(ish) app. The logo was a simple, ripped heart a promise of fun and hidden desires. You opened it, the feed instantly populating with people nearby. Profiles, pictures, requests. Mostly anonymous, all looking for the same thing you were.
A new selfie was definitely in order. Something to push to the top of everyone's feed.You propped your phone against the mirror, angling it just right. Leaning forward, you rested your forearms on the cool marble of the countertop, arching your back slightly. Your left arm came up to cross over your chest. It covered just enough, the curve of your breast pressing against your arm, your nipple hidden.
You tilted your head down, letting your hair fall to partially obscure your face. The camera would cut you off right at the bridge of your nose- And there, in the center of the frame, bold and unmissable: the red letters of "Fix On."
You snapped the picture.
Without a second thought, you uploaded it. Your fingers flew across the keyboard as you typed out a caption
"who wants to be my good boy ?"
You hit post. The notification confirmed it was live, you tossed the phone onto the counter and straightened up, a satisfied thrill running through you. Now, you just had to wait and see who would answer.
Down the hallway, the world was a different kind of quiet. Mingi and Yunho had both emerged from their respective showers, the scent of hotel soap and steam clinging to the air. They lounged together in Yunho's single bed, a tangle of limbs and loose fitted clothes, while Mingi's perfectly made bed sat untouched at the other end of the room like a silent accusation.
Mingi was lost in the endless doomscroll of TikTok, the blue light of his phone illuminating his face in short, rhythmic bursts. His thumb moved with a practiced, mindless rhythm, the want to go out and grab some food forgotten on both the boys minds.
Yunho, however, found his attention drifting from Mingis face to his own phone lying face down on the duvet, but his thumb hovered, tempted. He couldn't help but gravitate toward the purple icon of the Fet app. Did he need a fetish app, specifically? No. But he'd learned pretty early, back when he was just nineteen, that people were far more discreet and anonymous when it came to this kind of dynamic. The app had stuck with him ever since.
A senior, overhearing a semi-awkward discussion between a younger Yunho and Seonghwa about boring hookups and confessions of what he'd rather have, had been the one to put him on to it.
He didn't use it regularly. His profile was deliberately blank, a ghost. Maybe one or two discreet hookups every few months, just enough to take the edge off. He didn't need much. But every once in a while, especially after Mingi had ragebaited him for a few days too many in a row, he needed to let off some steam. He needed to have someone, anyone, just listen to him. He needed a space where he could be in charge, because he could never really put Mingi in his place, not where it counted. Not in the way that left that delicious, simmering tension.
He picked up his phone, his thumb swiping open the app. The familiar feed overflown. He was just scrolling, not really looking, when a new post appeared at the top of his feed. The location pin read less than 1 mile away.
His breath hitched.
The photo was a masterpiece. A woman leaned over a bathroom counter, one arm crossed over her chest, covering just enough to make the imagination burn. Her face was cut off, but the plush curve of her parted lips was a clear invitation. And there, stark against her damp skin, was the unmistakable red lettering.
"Fix On."
Yunho's eyes widened. He knew that henna. He'd seen it not thirty minutes ago. He glanced over at Mingi, who was still oblivious, lost in a dance challenge video.
Then he read the caption: "who wants to be my good boy ?"
A slow, predatory grin spread across Yunho's face. He looked from his phone back to the man beside him, the one who drove him to this in the first place. Oh, this was going to be fun.
Yunho dared to have a closer look at your profile. While you didn't have an intricate biography, you had quite the collection of posts. Pictures taken in various places, in various positions, and not all of them alone.
"Message me more than a Hi, and your message might come through," your biography read. A message filter. Smart.
Pretty women were sparse on an app overpopulated by horny men just here for a quick fuck instead of, well, anything fetish-related, really. Yunho had heard it all from the few women and one man he had hooked up with from the app by now. Most people were tactless, with no idea about common courtesy in the fetish world. You, clearly, were not one of them.
He scrolled through your profile, his thumb moving with a newfound purpose. He landed on your BDSM test results. 70% Dom, 30% sub. He figured as much just by your pictures; you radiated a control that was both a challenge and an invitation. Scrolling down, he saw your second-to-last post was almost 4 months ago. So, not a regular, just like him.
The image made his breath catch. It was you, laying on your stomach, dragging the leash of a man who was presumably fucking you from behind over your shoulder. The lower half of his face was covered, but Yunho could clearly see the desperation in his eyes and the satisfied, knowing smirk on your face as the camera once again cut off half of it.
He swiped to the next post, and his heart rate skipped. You were outside, and he was already imagining you two together. You were tied up to a tree in pretty shibari ropes, a light brown that contrasted beautifully with your skin. The picture looked almost too artistic for the heavy implication. Your flowy pink dress and frilly socks were a stark contrast to the dirty forest floor. Your hair cast a shadow across your face as you looked to be happily swaying back and forth as much as your restraints let you. The location tag was Germany. He wondered if that's where you were from. But the Countries tagged kept changing as he scrolled on.
He could see the appeal, the power. He could see himself with you tying the ropes himself. he could see Mingi, too, with that desperate look in his eyes, looking to you for release, even if he shouldn't imagine his best friend there right now, or ever like this.
He scrolled back to your most recent post, the one from the hotel bathroom.
Mingi sensed a slight shift in the energy radiating from his ever-so-calm best friend, a sudden edge? He looked down from where his head was resting slightly on Yunho's shoulder while staring at his own phone to look at Yunho's. He choked, literally choked on his own spit, ending in a coughing fit that ripped Yunho from his daydreams.
"What the fuck was that?" Mingi rasped, his eyes watering as he tried to catch his breath.
Yunho fumbled, nearly dropping his phone as he scrambled to lock the screen, but it was too late. Mingi had seen enough. He'd seen the flash of skin, and most damningly, the bold red letters he'd just seen in the hallway.
"Is that... is that her?" Mingi asked, his voice a hoarse whisper, from his coughing . He pushed himself up, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and something else, something close to intrigue.
Yunho just stared at him, caught. He could lie, say it was a random profile, but what was the point? The evidence was still burned into Mingi's retinas. He could see the calculations happening behind Mingi's eyes, connecting the dots from the hallway encounter to this very specific, very private post.
"Yunho," Mingi said, his voice dropping lower, a new kind of awareness dawning on his face. "What are you doing?"
"Doing? Not much, as you can see," Yunho answered Mingi indifferently. Truth be told, he felt exposed, awfully so, but he tried to play it off, leaning back against the headboard with an air of nonchalance he didn't feel.
Mingi wasn't buying it. He sat up properly, the blankets pooling around his waist. "You know what I mean. What was that? Why do you have that?" He gestured vaguely at Yunho's phone, his expression a tangled mess of confusion and dawning horror.
Yunho sighed, the act dropping. He was caught. "It's an app, Mingi. A... hook-up app, I guess. But different."
"Different how?" Mingi asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"It's for... specific stuff. Fetishes and kinks ." Yunho ran a hand through his damp hair. "A senior put me on to it years ago. It's discreet. No names, no fuss." As Yunhos little ramble went on he filled his best friend in on what he had missed the hookups the girls and the guy.
He watched Mingi's face, saw the way his plush lips parted slightly, his boba eyes wide as he tried to process the new information. It was cute, the way he looked so flustered, like a computer trying to run a program it wasn't built for.
Mingi tried not to linger on the part where he mentioned hooking up with a guy, but Yunho saw the flicker in his eyes anyway. Yunhos mind also kept wandering there, to that one time, to the way Mingi was looking at him right now, with an unguarded curiosity that went straight to Yunho's crotch. He flinched internally. His best friend. This was not the time or the place.
Yunhos mind was running wild with what he'd just seen. He knew where you were, just down the hall. So accessible. Would you deny him? Or would you throw yourself at him because of who he is? Maybe you'd just want Mingi. Mingi, who was giving him doe eyes right now.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken questions. Finally, Mingi broke it, his voice small and awkward. "So... you just... use it? Sometimes?"
"When I need to," Yunho said simply. "To let off steam."
Mingi nodded, his gaze dropping to the blanket. "I... I always thought women like that were hot," he confessed, so quietly Yunho almost missed it. "You know. Confident. The ones who... take charge."
A slow grin spread across Yunho's face. This was too good. "Oh, really? And here I thought you were the big alpha wolf. Especially with the last few girls you've brought around. All that posturing."
Mingi flushed, a deep pink creeping up his neck. "Shut up. It's different."
"Is it?" Yunho teased, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial murmur. He picked up his phone, unlocking it and bringing up your picture again. He dangled it in front of Mingi's face. "What about her, then? This one from the hallway. What do you think about her?"
Mingi's eyes were glued to the screen, to the curve of your arm, the bold red letters. He swallowed hard.
"Bet she wouldn't believe what her bias is saying right now," Yunho whispered, his voice a velvet taunt right beside Mingi's ear. "Since he's supposed to be such a big alpha."
He tried to look away from the phone, from the image of you leaning over the counter, but his eyes kept darting back. "I... I didn't mean... like that," he stammered, but his usual flustered demeanor was quickly being replaced by a defensive bravado he often wore around Yunho. "I just mean, she's hot. It's not that deep."
Yunho just grinned, a slow, predatory thing. He knew Mingi too well. He saw the flicker of genuine curiosity beneath the posturing. "Oh, I think it is," Yunho teased, his voice a low murmur. He let his thumb brush over Mingi's hand where it rested on the blanket. "I think you wonder what it would be like to have a woman like that look at you the way she's looking at the camera. To have her tell you what to do."
Mingi shivered, a barely perceptible tremor that he tried to cover with a scoff. "Shut up. I'm the one who'd be telling her what to do."
"Are you sure?" Yunho challenged, his eyes glinting. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "you don't look so sure."
Mingi's jaw tightened. He hated when Yunho saw right through him, but he also craved it. It was a maddening push and pull that had been simmering between them for years. He looked at the picture again, at the confident smirk on your face A fleeting thought, one he'd always pushed away before, surfaced with startling clarity. What would that even feel like?
"Fuck it," Yunho said suddenly, pulling back and standing up. He grabbed a t-shirt from his bag and pulled it on, then reached for his room key. "We're going down there."
Mingi's eyes went wide. "What? No. Yunho, we can't just show up."
"Why not?" Yunho challenged, turning to face him. "She's right down the hall. She put it out there. We're interested." He gestured between them. "What's the worst that can happen? She says no. At least we'll know."
Mingi hesitated, his mind racing. The thought of it, of seeing you again, was terrifying. But the thought of Yunho going alone was somehow worse. He stood up, "Fine. But if she laughs at us, I'm blaming you."
Meanwhile, you were back on the floor, meticulously organizing your newly acquired stickers into a binder while your friends debated the artistic merits of bead placement on Freebie bracelets. A sharp, unexpected knock on the door made you all jump.
Your best friend, closest to the door, rolled her eyes and got up. "If that's room service, I swear to god..."
She pulled the door open, and her annoyed expression instantly melted into one of pure, unadulterated shock. Standing in the hallway were Song Mingi and Jeong Yunho.
"Hi," Yunho said, his voice a smooth, confident rumble. "Sorry to bother you. Is our friend from the hallway in? The one with the... very direct fashion sense?"
Your other friend, the non-ATINY, just looked confused. "Who?"
Your best friend shot her a look that could kill before turning back to them. "Uh... yeah. She's here."
You finally found your feet, standing up and walking to the door. "Yunho. Mingi," you said, your voice steady despite the frantic pounding of your heart. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"We were just having a debate," Yunho said, his eyes roaming over you in a way that made your skin tingle. He leaned against the doorframe, all casual grace and simmering confidence. "Mingi here seems to think that 'Fix On' is just a fashion statement. I think it's a challenge."
Mingi, standing slightly behind him, managed a smirk that was surprisingly convincing. "I just think you talk a big game," he said, his voice deeper than you expected.
You laughed, a genuine, delighted sound. "Is that so? Well, you're standing in the way of me and my very important sticker-sorting. Was there something else you wanted?"
"Maybe we just wanted to see if you're as bold in person as you are on your phone," Yunho added, his tone playful.
Your brow furrowed in confusion. "My phone? I don't..."
Without another word, Yunho swiftly raised his phone, the screen illuminating your face. There it was. Your mirror selfie. The damp skin, the strategically placed arm, the bold red "Fix On," and the caption: "who wants to be my good boy ?"
Your best friend let out a choked gasp, while your other friend just looked between you and the phone, her expression a mixture of confusion and realization that you were still on the damn app she told you to delete about 5 hookups ago. Your own eyes widened for a split second before you masked your surprise with a slow, knowing smile. "Well, that depends on who's asking."
Your friends, sensing a shift in the atmosphere, took a step back, giving you space. One mouthed "what the fuck" to your other best friend, who just frantically shushed her with wide, excited eyes.
Yunho's smirk was devastating. "I think you know who's asking." He took a small step forward, invading your personal space just enough to make your heart beat faster. "So, are you going to invite us in to find out? Or are you all talk and no action?"
Mingi, emboldened by the charge in the air, added his own two cents. "We're just curious. About the game you're playing."
You let the silence hang for a moment, enjoying the way their eyes were fixed on you. "Curiosity killed the cat, you know."
"Good thing we're not cats," Yunho shot back smoothly.
A slow grin spread across your face. "Alright," you conceded, your voice dropping to a low purr. "I'll play. But this isn't exactly the right venue for the kind of games I have in mind." You gestured vaguely down your room. "Too many ears."
Yunho's eyes flicked past you into the room again, his grin never faltering. "We have a bit of a problem with that," he said, his voice dropping slightly. "Our room only has single beds. Not exactly... conducive to a party."
Mingi, catching on faster than you expected, stepped forward slightly. "Yeah, maybe let's just trade," he suggested, his tone surprisingly practical. "You get our room, we get yours." He looked at you, a genuine question in his eyes. "Think you can get your friends to do that?"
You held up a hand. "Alright," you said, your voice firm. "Give us a minute."
The moment the latch clicked, you whipped out your phone, your fingers flying across the screen. You pulled up the app, your heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and suspicion. You went to your profile views, a new notification blinking at the top. There it was. A view from just 15 minutes ago.
The username was 'yunGhoST'. It was a blank profile, just as you'd suspected. No bio. But the roles were listed: 100% Dom. And the only picture was of a man in a black Spider-Man jacket, his back turned to the camera as he looked out over what looked like a city skyline at night. Yeah Ghost my ass- I see you.
A thrill shot through you.
You turned to your friends, your expression a desperate plea. "Okay. You guys need to leave. Now."
"to where exactly? Ist past midnight." they both looked at you confused, "their room, the only have singles so I kinda agreed in your name that you would trade" you gave them your best puppy eyes, they didn't need to know that you technically didn't agree to anything.
"Are you kidding me right now?" your best friend whispered, her eyes wide with glee. "Yes! A thousand times yes!"
You looked to your other friend, who was already shaking her head. "Oh no. I'm not sleeping in some strange room. I'm comfortable here. And I'm tired."
You grabbed her hands, your voice dropping to a frantic whisper. "Please. I'm begging you. I will buy you whatever you want tomorrow. Blindboxes! All the Blindboxes you can find. I'll pay for your Miniso trip. Just... please. Take one for the team."
She sighed, rolling her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips. "Fine. But you owe me. Big time."
"You're the best!" you said, grabbing some snacks and shoving them into their arms. "Now get out before you change your mind."
You pushed them out the door, Mingi and Yunho waiting to hand them the key. As they scurried down the hallway, your best friend looked back, and Yunho, ever the showman, caught her eye and gave her a playful, conspiratorial wink. She nearly tripped over her own feet.
"Well," you said, leaning against the frame. "Looks like it's just us now."
The click of the door latch echoed in the sudden silence, a final, definitive sound that sealed the three of you in the room. The air quickly grew thick, heavy with unspoken intentions. Mingi, ever so slightly, took a step forward, a confident smirk playing on his lips. He was your bias. In his mind, the script was already written.
"So," he started, his voice a low purr as he reached for you. "I guess we should—"
"Ah, ah, ah," you interrupted, holding up a single finger that stopped him in his tracks. You didn't even look at him. Your eyes were locked on Yunho, who was leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed, watching the exchange with an amused, predatory glint in his eyes. "You don't get to make the rules here, Mingi-ya."
You slowly crossed the room and stopped directly in front of Yunho, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body. You looked up at him, a challenging smile on your lips. "He's right, though. We should. But you brought me the pretty, puppy," you gestured vaguely towards Mingi without breaking eye contact with Yunho, "so I think you get to go first. No?"
Yunho's smirk widened. "I like the way you think."
"well I don't"
Before Yunho could make a move, you grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the bed. "Sit," you commanded, your voice soft but firm. He didn't hesitate, sinking onto the edge of the mattress, his eyes never leaving yours. Then you turned to Mingi, who was standing there looking utterly lost, his confidence shattered. "And you," you said, pointing to the plush armchair in the corner. "Sit. Watch."
Mingi's jaw tightened, a flicker of defiance in his eyes, but he did as he was told, sinking into the chair. He watched, his gaze intense, as you knelt on the floor in front of Yunho.
You didn't rush. You ran your hands slowly up Yunho's thighs, feeling the taut muscle beneath his jeans. You leaned in, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the bulge straining against the denim, smiling when you heard him take in a sharp breath. You looked up at him from under your lashes, your expression a perfect blend of innocence and sin. "Eager, are we?"
"Something like that," he gritted out, his hand coming up to rest on the back of your head. He applied the slightest bit of pressure, a silent request to get on with it.
You just smiled, pulling back slightly. "My pace, Yunho." You slowly, torturously popped the button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper. You freed him, his cock springing out, hard and flushed. You wrapped your hand around the base, giving it one slow, firm stroke before leaning in to swirl your tongue around the tip.
Yunho's head fell back with a groan, his fingers tightening in your hair. You took him into your mouth, setting a languid, teasing rhythm. You weren't kneeling before him in worship; you were in control, and every slow drag of your lips, every flick of your tongue, was a reminder of that fact. You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you took him deeper, your free hand resting possessively on his thigh.
Across the room, Mingi was a statue of barely contained frustration. He watched the way Yunho's face contorted in pleasure, the way your head bobbed between his legs. He could see the way you were teasing him, the power you held, and a fresh wave of arousal washed over him. His own cock was painfully hard, trapped in his jeans. Without thinking, his hand drifted down, pressing against his erection, seeking some friction.
As he palmed himself, his gaze drifted from you to Yunho. He watched the way Yunho's head was thrown back, the long line of his throat exposed, his lips parted in a silent moan. The dim hotel light caught the sweat beading on his temple, making his skin glow. He looked... wrecked. Beautiful. And a thought, dangerous and unwelcome, surfaced in Mingi's mind: He looks so hot like that.
Almost as if he'd heard the thought, Yunho's eyes, half-lidded with pleasure, flicked over to Mingi. Their gazes locked across the room. Yunho saw the movement, the desperate palming, but he also saw the raw, unguarded longing in Mingi's eyes. It wasn't just directed at you. A jolt of something hot and possessive shot through him. He wanted to be the one to put that look on Mingi's face. He wanted to be the one to make him fall apart
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. "You're not being a very good boy for her, Mingi," he rasped, his voice thick with arousal. "Touching yourself without permission."
Your movements stopped. You lifted your head, turning to look at Mingi over your shoulder, your lips swollen and wet. "No one told you you could touch yourself," you said, your voice dangerously calm. "Did we?"
The words hit Mingi like a physical blow. A shiver, sharp and electric, shot down his spine. He wasn't used to this. He wasn't used to being the one who was corrected, the one who was told no. His mouth fell agape, but no sound came out. He didn't apologize, not yet, but he slowly, reluctantly, removed his hand, placing it on the arm of the chair as if it were chained there. He just stared at you, wide-eyed and breathing hard.
Satisfied, you turned back to Yunho, but instead of resuming, You rose slowly from your knees, The silence in the room was a living thing, your lips felt swollen, your jaw ached in a satisfying way, and a predatory thrill hummed under your skin. You wiped a stray bit of moisture from the corner of your mouth with your thumb, not breaking eye contact with the man still panting on the edge of the bed.
Then, you turned your full attention to the other one.
Mingi was a statue carved from tension and disbelief. He sat in that armchair like it was an electric chair, his back ramrod straight, his hands gripping the armrests so tightly his knuckles were white. His eyes, wide and dark, were fixed on you, but it was a look of pure, unadulterated shock. He looked like a man who had just seen a ghost, or perhaps a god, and wasn't sure whether to pray or run.
"You wanted to go first, didn't you?" you asked, your voice laced with a condescending sweetness that made him flinch. You gestured to the bed, to the spot right beside Yunho. "Sit there."
The command hung in the air. For a second, you thought he might actually bolt. His gaze darted to the door, then back to you, a wild animal caught in a trap. Yunho, the silent observer, watched the exchange with a dark amusement, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he leisurely began to pull down the rest of his jeans, the soft shuffling of the fabric loud in the quiet room.
Mingi moved as if in a trance, rising from the chair and crossing the small space to the bed. He sat, but not where you'd pointed. He perched on the absolute edge of the mattress, a good foot of pristine white hotel bedding separating him from Yunho, as if it were a demilitarized zone. He looked like he was about to flee into the night, coiled and ready to spring.
A flicker of something- doubt, maybe crossed your mind. Was this too much? Too fast? You were pushing, and you knew it. The power was intoxicating, but you needed him to want this, not just be cornered by it. You softened your tone just enough to take the sharp edge off, letting a sliver of genuine care show through.
"Before we go any further," you said, your voice losing its teasing lilt and becoming serious, "we need a word. A safeword. If anything gets too much, if you feel weird or scared or just want to stop, you say 'red.' We stop instantly. No questions.Green if you're fine and yellow if you need me to slow down. Understand?"
Mingi stared at you, his breath hitching in his chest. Red? The word echoed in his head.It was so… formal. So real. This wasn't just a drunken fumble; this was a scene with rules, and he was the one who didn't know them. He was more unsure of what you were planning to do than ever before, but the compulsion to listen, to obey, was a magnetic pull he couldn't escape. He gave a short, sharp nod.
"Good," you said, your voice snapping back to its previous sternness. "Then come closer."
He hesitated for only a second before shuffling on his knees toward the center of the bed, finally settling right next to Yunho, their shoulders nearly touching. The proximity made the air crackle.
You knelt again, this time positioning yourself between Yunho's spread legs. You didn't touch him yet. Instead, you looked up, past Yunho's chest, and locked eyes with Mingi. This was for him. A performance. You leaned in slowly, letting your breath ghost over the head of Yunho's cock before you flattened your tongue and gave one long, slow lick from base to tip.
Yunho's head fell back with a guttural groan, his hand flying to your hair. "Fuck," he breathed. But then he remembered his role. He lifted his head, his eyes finding Mingi's. "Look at her, Mingi," he rasped, his voice tight with pleasure. "See how good she is? Pathetic that you can only watch."
The word "pathetic" hit Mingi like a physical slap. He flinched, his face burning with shame, but his cock, trapped painfully in his jeans, throbbed in response. He hated it. He hated the way Yunho's words cut him down, but he loved the way they made him feel, the way they coiled hot and tight in his stomach.
Yunho, meanwhile, was fighting his own war. Every nerve ending was on fire. You were torturing him, your mouth a perfect, wet heat as you took him in, your hand gently rolling his balls. He wanted to let go, to fuck up into your mouth, to grab your hair and hold you down until you were crying and choking around him. But he held back, thinking of the payback for later. He channeled all that frustration, all that desperate need for control, onto the man beside him.
"I bet you didn't think you'd get chucked tonight, did you?" Yunho ground out, his voice a low taunt as he watched Mingi squirm. "Big bad Mingi, can't even lay his own fan." He watched, fascinated, as Mingi's hands fisted the sheets. He saw the way Mingi's gaze kept dropping from his face to his cock, to your mouth. He saw the frantic, trapped look in his eyes and the way his own body was betraying him. It was then that Yunho noticed it: a small, dark damp patch on the light wash of Mingi's jeans, right over the head of his cock. He'd leaked through his underwear.
Yunho let out a dark chuckle. "Look at you. So desperate you're soaking your jeans."
Mingi made a choked sound, immediately trying to cover the spot with his hand, his face a mask of mortification. But you were faster. Without breaking your rhythm, you reached over and firmly grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand away and pinning it to the bed. You forced him to bathe in the humiliation of it, to sit there, rock hard and leaking, while you sucked his best friend off.
The shame was a tidal wave, but beneath it, a darker, more thrilling current pulled at him. He was exposed, completely at your and Yunho's mercy, and the helplessness was terrifyingly arousing.
A new, dangerous thought flickered through Yunho's mind. He imagined Mingi right there, next to you. He pictured Mingi's plush lips, the ones he'd seen a million times, stretched around his cock, licking the parts of his shaft that didn't fit in your mouth, sucking his balls into that hot, wet mouth while you worked the head. The image was so vivid, so potent, that he felt his balls tighten.
He looked down at you, at the way your hollowed cheeks and the determined glint in your eyes. "I'm close," he managed to warn.
And just like that, you stopped.
You pulled off him with a wet pop, leaving him twitching in the cool air. You wrapped your hand around his slick, hard length and pumped him fast, your thumb rubbing mercilessly over the sensitive head. He hissed, his back arching, his head thrown back in a silent scream of pleasure and frustration.
"Keep eye contact," you commanded, your voice sharp.
Yunho's eyes snapped open, locking onto yours.
"Not with me," you said, nodding your head toward Mingi. "With him."
The world tilted on its axis. Both boys' heads whipped toward each other, their gazes clashing. It was raw and immediate. You felt the power surge through you. "If either of you breaks eye contact until I let you, neither of you will be coming tonight."
The threat hung in the air, absolute. Yunho's abdomen began to tense, the orgasm building, a freight train speeding down the track. He forced himself to stare at Mingi, at the blown-out pupils and the parted lips. He saw a universe of confusion and want in Mingi's eyes. He saw the desperate, deranged need to look away, to look at Yunho's cock, to watch him cum, and something else… a long-underlying want to be the one to make it happen.
"Focus on me," Yunho growled, his voice strained. It was both a command and a plea. "You probably wish that was you, huh? Wishing you were the one making me feel this good?"
He expected a defiant glare, another flinch. He didn't expect the tiny… nod.
That was it. The unspoken confession. The simple, submissive gesture sent Yunho's body into overdrive. You felt it, the sudden, powerful pulse of the vein in his cock against your palm. You let go just in time, leaning back to watch the show.
Yunho's orgasm ripped through him. His back arched off the bed, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as he came, stripes of white painting his own stomach and chest. His eyes, wide with shock and pleasure, remained locked on Mingi's through the entire, shattering climax.
The room was silent save for their ragged breathing. You let the moment hang, letting them both float down in the charged atmosphere.
"I didn't say you could cum just now, did I?" you reminded Yunho, your voice calm and casual.
His eyes, still locked with Mingi's, widened fractionally. He had been so lost in the storm, so focused on the command to maintain eye contact, that he'd forgotten the most fundamental rule: you were in charge right now. A flicker of defiance warred with the post-orgasmic haze in his expression, but it was a short-lived battle. He was the one who'd practised this game, and he knew how to play. Slowly, while still looking at his best friend, he shook his head, the gesture a clear admission of his transgression.
"Look at me," you commanded.
Both boys finally freed from their staring contest whipped their heads up toward you, their movements almost comically synchronized. Yunho's face was a mask of dawning resignation, his chest still heaving. Mingi just looked lost, his gaze darting between you and the mess on Yunho's stomach, his own shame and arousal a palpable cloud around him.
You let your gaze drift from Yunho's face down to the cum splattered across his toned abdomen. Then you looked at Mingi. His lips were parted, his eyes wide and fixed on the same spot. You saw it then-the desperate, thirsty curiosity. You remembered Yunho's taunt, "You probably wish that was you, huh?" and how Yunho had throbbed right after. You saw the way he'd looked at Yunho after he came. You put two and two together, and the sum was a beautiful Idea. You wanted to see how far you could take this, how far you could push your little yaoi fantasy into reality.
"You want to taste?" you asked Mingi.
It wasn't a command. It was a question, soft and direct, and it landed like a bomb.
Mingi's entire body went rigid. A deep, violent blush spread from his chest up his neck, flooding his face until he looked sunburnt. He was ashamed, mortified to be so transparent, but he was also desperate, the desire a gnawing ache in his gut. He couldn't speak. He couldn't even breathe. All he could do was give another tiny nod.
"Use your words, baby," you coaxed, your voice dropping to a low, encouraging purr. "Yes."
The word was a whisper, a puff of air so quiet you almost missed it. But it was there.
"Good boy," you praised, and the simple phrase made his shoulders slump in relief. You stood up, gesturing to the space you'd just vacated between Yunho's legs. "Clean him up."
Mingi hesitated before moving, his body stiff with uncertainty. He took your spot, settling on his knees. Yunho groaned, a low, broken sound, and let his head fall back against the pillows, his eyes squeezing shut as if he couldn't bear to watch.
Mingi leaned down, his movements clumsy. He stuck out his tongue and, with a hesitant flick, licked a tiny bit of cum from Yunho's pelvic bone. The taste was salty, bitter, it sent a jolt straight through him.
"Come on, baby, we don't have all day," you chided from your new vantage point above them.
You reached down, your fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of Mingi's neck. You tightened your grip, just enough to make him gasp, and used it as a handle to push his head down, dragging his tongue through the cooling mess on Yunho's abs.
Mingi moaned, a muffled, desperate sound vibrating against Yunho's skin. He lost all pretense of hesitation, his tongue lapping eagerly, cleaning every drop. He could feel Yunho's cock, which had never fully gone down, begin to stir again against his neck, thickening and bobbing with renewed interest as he licked his best friend's release from his body. The sensation was overwhelming, a heady mix of submission, intimacy, and a raw, primal arousal that made his own cock ache in response.
When he was done, he drew back, his face glistening, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He looked utterly wrecked. You leaned down and, to his complete shock, pressed a soft, satisfied kiss to his flushed cheek. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Mingi was reeling. The taste of Yunho was still on his tongue, a salty, bitter proof that he had crossed a line he never even knew was there. He was frozen on his knees between Yunho's legs, his mind a chaotic storm of shame and a terrifying, exhilarating arousal. He had just… licked his best friend's cum off his stomach. At a fan's command. The reality of it crashed over him in waves, and he had no idea how to swim.
Yunho saw the internal turmoil. He saw the way Mingi's shoulders had started to shake, the way his gaze had gone distant. While Yunho was still buzzing from his orgasm and the shocking thrill of watching Mingi, he knew the scene would shatter if Mingi broke now. With a sigh that was part fondness, part exasperation, he hooked his thumbs into his boxers and pulled them back up, covering himself.
"Mingi. Come here."
Yunho's voice was soft but firm, leaving no room for argument. He reached out, his hand closing around Mingi's bicep, and tugged. Mingi, pliant and lost, offered no resistance, allowing himself to be pulled up and maneuvered until he was straddling Yunho's lap. The intimacy was shocking. Their chests were pressed together, their faces mere inches apart. Yunho's warm, bare skin was a stark contrast to the rough denim of Mingi's jeans. It was too close, too real.
And then Yunho kissed him.
It wasn't gentle. It was a rough, claiming press of lips, a way to ground him, to pull him back from the ledge. But beneath the force, there was a question. Are you okay with this? Is this too much? Mingi, overwhelmed and desperate for an anchor, just melted into it. He parted his lips with a soft gasp, his hands coming up to grip Yunho's shoulders as he kissed back with a clumsy, desperate need. It was messy and raw, all clashing teeth and shared breath, and it was the most honest thing that had happened all night.
When they broke apart, they were both breathing heavily. You were watching from the side of the bed, your arms crossed, a slow, satisfied smirk spreading across your face.
"That's a good start," you said, your voice a lazy purr. "But I want to see how desperate you are. Yunho, lie back." Yunho complied instantly, settling against the pillows, his hands resting on Mingi's hips. " I want you to rut against his thigh. Show us." You came up behind Mingi, whispering right over his shoulder.
The command hit Mingi like a splash of ice water. He froze, his entire body locking up. It was one thing to be commanded, to be pushed into a moment. It was another thing entirely to perform so blatantly, to put his desperate, untouched arousal on display. "I... I don't..." he stammered, his gaze darting between you and Yunho, panic flaring in his eyes.
You moved instantly, kneeling on the bed in front of him. You took his face in your hands, your touch gentle but firm, forcing him to look at you. "It's okay, baby," you murmured, your thumbs stroking his burning cheeks. "Just feel. Don't think. Let us take care of you. Doesn't it sound hot, letting us control you?"
Your words were a balm to his humiliation, a permission slip for his own desire. The gentle dominance in your voice soothed the frayed edges of his panic. He searched your eyes and found no mockery, only a genuine, heated anticipation. He looked down at Yunho, who was watching him with a dark, encouraging gaze, his hands still resting on Mingi's hips, a silent promise of support.
Slowly, shyly, Mingi nodded.
"Good boy," you whispered, and you leaned in to press a soft, reassuring kiss to his forehead. "Now move."
He took a shaky breath and started to move. It was awkward at first, a slow, experimental rock of his hips. The friction of his jeans against Yunho's firm, muscular thigh sent a jolt of pleasure straight through him. He did it again, a little more confidently this time, and a choked moan escaped his lips.
"That's it," Yunho encouraged, his voice a low rumble. His grip on Mingi's hips tightened, guiding him, setting a rhythm. "Just like that. Show her how bad you need it."
The words, the praise, the friction it all became a blur. Mingi's shyness eased just a little, replaced by a desperate, grinding need. He chased the pleasure, his movements becoming more erratic, more frantic. He was rutting against his best friend like a teenager, his head falling onto Yunho's shoulder as soft, broken whimpers fell from his lips. He could feel Yunho's hardening cock against his own leg, and it only spurred him on, the proof of Yunho's arousal a validation of his own.
You watched, utterly captivated. This was better than you'd imagined. The sight of your "bias," completely undone, reduced to a whimpering, desperate mess seeking release on his best friend's thigh, was the most intoxicating thing you had ever seen. He was beautiful in his desperation, and you wanted to see him fall apart completely.
For a few moments, they were lost in their own world. The rhythm of Mingi's hips grew more confident, more desperate, as he ground himself against Yunho's thigh. Yunho met his movements with small, upward thrusts of his own, his hands a firm, grounding pressure on Mingi's hips. It was a frantic, clumsy dance, a silent conversation of need and want. An hour ago, Mingi would have never, in his wildest dreams, believed he would end up in this situation. The sheer unreality of it was staggering, but right now, he didn't trust his brain to form coherent thoughts, let alone find the words to ask for what he craved next: your attention.
His eyes started drifting from Yunho's face, searching the room, landing on you. A soft, desperate whine escaped his lips, a sound he didn't even realize he was making. It was a plea.
Yunho noticed the shift immediately. He felt the change in Mingi's focus, the way his rhythm faltered as he sought you out. With a low hum of understanding, Yunho's mouth drifted from Mingi's jawline down to the long, vulnerable column of his throat. He remembered this. He remembered how Mingi would come back from his very few sexual encounters or short-lived girlfriends with artfully concealed purple marks blooming on his skin, his neck and throat his most obvious weakness.
Yunho bit down gently, then soothed the spot with his tongue, before sucking a patch of skin into his mouth. He was rewarded instantly. Mingi cried out, his entire body shuddering violently. His hips stuttered and then began to grind with a renewed, frantic energy. The combination of the friction on his cock and the sharp, possessive pleasure on his neck was unraveling him completely.
That was your cue. You moved onto the bed behind Mingi, fitting yourself against his back. The heat of his body seeped through your clothes. You wrapped your arms around his front, your hands sliding under the hem of his still-wrinkled shirt. Your palms splayed across the warm, firm skin of his stomach, feeling the way his muscles clenched with every roll of his hips.
"Is this what you want?" you murmured directly into his ear, your voice a low, teasing whisper. "My attention?"
Mingi could only manage a frantic, jerky nod, his head falling back onto your shoulder as he panted for breath. He was completely surrounded, pinned between the two of you, a prisoner of pleasure. Your hands roamed upwards, your fingers tracing the lines of his ribs, your thumbs brushing over his nipples. He gasped, his back arching, pushing his chest further into your touch.
The stimulation was overwhelming. The relentless pressure of his jeans, the solid muscle of Yunho's thigh, the wet heat of Yunho's mouth on his throat, and your teasing hands on his chest—it was all too much. He could feel the coil in his stomach tightening to an impossible degree. His movements became jagged, his whimpers turning into high, desperate cries. He was right there, teetering on the edge, about to make a mess of himself like a teenager.
Just as he felt the first wave of his orgasm begin to crest, you stopped him.
Your hands flew from his chest to his hips, stilling his movements with an iron grip. At the same time, Yunho's hands clamped down, holding him in place. Mingi cried out in pure, agonizing frustration, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding back
"Aww, did you really think I'd let you finish that easily?" you cooed, your tone sickeningly sweet as you nipped at his earlobe. He shook his head, a sob of denial caught in his throat. He felt like he was going to die.
You released him and pushed yourself away from them both, kneeling back on the bed to survey your work. Yunho was watching you with a dark, hungry look, while Mingi was a whimpering, disheveled mess, his face buried in Yunho's shoulder, his body shaking with denied release.
"Strip," you commanded, your voice leaving no room for argument. "Both of you."
The air in the room was thick with the scent of sweat and denied release. Mingi was still trembling, his face buried in the crook of Yunho's neck, trying to piece himself back together. Yunho's gaze, however, had found yours. It was a look of shared, dark triumph, a silent acknowledgment of your perfect, cruel harmony. But beneath it was something else, a promise. A silent, heated vow that this wasn't just about Mingi. That you would come back to each other. That when this was all over, it would be your turn. You gave him a subtle nod, and the understanding passed between you, unspoken but solid as steel.
Your attention shifted back to the man on the bed. Mingi had finally pushed himself up, his movements slow and clumsy as he fumbled with the button on his jeans. You knelt on the bed, watching him. As he shucked the denim down his legs, his belt, a thick strip of black leather, clattered onto the hotel carpet. Before he could kick it away, you snatched it up. The leather was still warm from his body.
He froze, his eyes wide as he watched you stand up, the belt dangling from your finger like a trophy. "Since you're clearly new to this," you began, your voice a low, calm murmur, "we're going to make sure you behave. A few rules. You don't touch unless you're told. You don't cum unless you're told. Understand?" He nodded, his throat working. "Good. Touching me is a reward. Touching Yunho is a reward. You have to earn it. And right now," you said, looping the leather around your hands, "you're just going to watch."
You moved him to the head of the bed. "Hands out." He hesitated for a split second before holding out his wrists, his pulse fluttering wildly under your thumbs as you wrapped his own belt around them, cinching it just tight enough to hold. He tested the restraints, a flicker of panic in his eyes as he realized the reality of his helplessness.
"Hey," you said, your voice firm but gentle, catching his gaze. "Color?"
"Green," he whispered, the word a breath of air.
"Good boy."
You stood up, and the real show began. With Mingi's eyes locked on you, you took of your top and slowly reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, letting it fall away. Yunho rose from the bed, moving to stand behind you. His hands were warm on your waist, his chest pressed against your back. He was a silent partner in this performance, his touch a brand on your skin as you hooked your thumbs into your shorts. You slid them down your legs, stepping out of them and tossing them aside.
Now you were almost naked, standing before them both in just your lace panties. Yunho's hands began to wander, tracing the curve of your hips, sliding up your stomach to cup your breasts. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping you as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. This was for Mingi. Every touch, every sound was a weapon aimed directly at his self-control.
You moved closer, pressing your ass against his already hard cock. You began to grind against him, a slow, deliberate roll of your hips that had him hissing in your ear. You kept your eyes on Mingi, watching the way his fists clenched in his restraints, the way his cock, now free and impossibly hard, lay flush against his stomach.
You pulled away from Yunho and crawled back onto the bed, straddling Mingi's thighs. The sheer size of him was thrilling. You had to spread your legs so wide to accommodate his lap, your thighs stretched taut around him. You loved it, this feeling of physical dominance over such a large man. You began to grind yourself against his cock, slow and torturous. The fabric of your panties was a thin barrier, you could feel the heat of him, the hard line of him pressing against your clothed slit.
You leaned down, flicking your tongue over one of his nipples. He gasped, his entire body jerking. "Sensitive here?" you murmured against his skin.
Yunho moved to kneel on the bed beside you, his presence a hot, heavy weight. He leaned in, his lips brushing Mingi's ear. "She's so wet, look at that," he whispered, his voice a low, filthy rasp. "All for us. You'd make her feel so good if we let you."
Mingi was a mess of whimpers and shudders. He was the center of their universe, every touch, every word designed to elicit a reaction from him, and he was starting to understand the dynamic. He was the one in restraints, the one being tormented, but both of you craved his submission.
You shifted your hips, changing the angle. You dragged your clothed clit over the head of his cock, over and over, a slow, maddening rhythm. The friction was incredible, soaking the thin fabric with a mixture of his leaking precum and your own arousal. You could feel yourself getting closer, your own breath hitching as you chased that high.
Yunho's hands were on you again, from behind this time, pushing you down. "That's it," he growled in your ear, his voice thick with desire. "Take what you want." He was domming you, just a little, and you let him, letting him guide your movements, pressing you harder against Mingi's straining cock.
The combination was too much. The feel of Mingi beneath you, the sound of his desperate whines, and Yunho's possessive grip on your hips sent you over the edge. You cried out, your body shuddering as your orgasm washed over you. As you came, you felt Mingi tense beneath you, a choked sob tearing from his throat as his own orgasm was ruthlessly denied by Yunho, who lifted you up slightly just in time, to break his best friends rythm .
You collapsed against his chest, panting, and felt the frantic, desperate beat of his heart against your cheek. He was so close, so painfully close, and you had just used him for your own pleasure, leaving him a trembling, whimpering mess. And you knew, with a certainty that thrilled you to your core, that you were going to do it again.
"God, look at you two," came from behind you, you smile at Yunho over your shoulder, looking back down at Mingi, who's looking at you with hopeful eyes, waiting on your every command. Your hand reaches up to stroke some of his blonde hair out of his face, gently stroking his head to help him relax.
You slide off Mingi's lap to kneel beside him. You start a slow, methodical exploration of his upper body with your hands and mouth, not teasing him , but grounding. You trace his collarbones, kiss the line of his jaw, murmur about how strong his shoulders look. "You have no idea how long I've dreamed about this," you tell him, your voice low and sincere. Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, the air crackles with a promise that this is more than just tonight.
While you're focused on his chest and arms, Yunho takes his lower half. He's not gentle. He kneels between Mingi's spread legs and runs his hands possessively up his strong thighs. A hard bite to the inner thigh followed by a soothing lick makes Mingi yelp. Yunho's marking his territory. "Look at you. you're just letting us use you. Fucking pervert."
Slowly, you morph your touches back into edging. Your hands drift down his stomach, your fingers ghosting over his cock. Yunho's hands are on his thighs, holding him open. You finally wrap your hand around him, but you don't move. You just hold him, feeling him pulse and throb in your grip. You start a painfully slow, twisting stroke, just enough to build pressure. You give him a clear command: "Don't move."
When Yunho is sure that Mingi won't move for now, he moves. Like a predator, he sets his eyes on you, the neglect of his throbbing erection catching up to him. He takes charge. He stands up, his cock proudly on display, and looks down at Mingi. "You've had all the attention so far. It's my turn." You look up at him, stroking his cock right next to your face. Usually, you'd have put any man in his place; you don't take commands well, and Yunho should know by now that no one commands any turn from you, but you humor him, mostly because you know it will edge Mingi on. You can already feel his restraint slipping, trying hard not to buck up into your hand. You slow down your stroking much to his demise and stick your tongue out towards Yunho's cock. Yunho pushes forward, the head barely on your tongue, and you jerk back, teasing him with a smile on your face. You give one last squeeze to Mingi's cock and stop your administration, feeling his increased squirming from watching the show.
Not wanting to risk him blowing his load "early"—as early as it can be after being denied multiple times—you keep your hand around his shaft, possessively still.
Yunho grits his teeth and tangles a hand in your hair, slightly pulling your head forward to test the waters. You let him. He pulls you towards him while simultaneously pressing his cock back towards your mouth. This time, you envelop him fully, letting him buck up to the back of your throat as he throws his head back in pleasure.
From Mingi's point of view, this is exquisite torture. He's suffocated by the scent and sight of you, but he can't touch. All he can see is Yunho's hands all over you, Yunho's cock in your mouth. He can hear the soft sounds you make for Yunho. He's being cucked, again, and the humiliation is burning him alive. He can feel your hand pressing against his cock; he's so hard it hurts.
Mingi's frustration is written on his face. He tries to utter a complaint before Yunho stops him with one stern look. His throat tightens, the words dying on his tongue. He knows he's in no position to complain; all your attention has been on him, but god, he wants you for himself and Yunho, and maybe he's just an attention whore. Yunho's pace picks up until he's just rutting in small, fast strokes down your throat. "I need to cum—please, can I?" he looks down at you, his ears red, eyes glassy. You have a feeling this is the first time Yunho has begged a girl for anything.
You pull off and stroke him over your mouth. "Whenever you want, baby," your voice is sore. Yunho groans at the sight, then looks at Mingi. "Look at her, Ming. She's waiting for my cum. Bet you wished you were me, hm? Or would you rather be her, eat my cum again, you little whore?" Mingi's mouth hangs open. He can't answer, just takes it as his best friend speaks right out of his mind. He doesn't know who he'd rather be, you or him; it overwhelms him, and just as Yunho finally cums, shooting his load onto your mouth and face, it happens. The combined sensory input is too much, the lack of movement while your hand rests so possessively on him... He tries to obey, he really does, but his hips start to twitch. A small, involuntary buck. Then another. He's trying to fuck your hand, breaking the cardinal rule.
You and Yunho stop instantly.
The pleasure vanishes, replaced by a sudden, cold emptiness. Mingi's eyes fly open, wide with horror at what he's just done. He looks from your still face to Yunho's smirking face.
You pull your hand away completely, leaving him bereft. "Aww," you coo, your voice dripping with condescending disappointment. "You were doing so well. But you just couldn't help yourself, could you? You couldn't follow one simple instruction."
Yunho chuckles, a dark, dangerous sound. "Looks like someone needs to be taught a lesson in patience."
The air in the room was thick with the aftermath of Yunho's pleasure and Mingi's failure. You wiped a smear of cum from your cheek with the back of your hand, your gaze fixed on Mingi, who looked utterly devastated.
"Rules exist for a reason, Mingi," you began, your voice calm and steady, cutting through his panicked breathing. "You broke one. So, now there's a consequence." You paused, letting the weight of your words settle. "This is new to you. If you don't want this, we don't have to take it this far. You can say no."
Mingi's head hung low, his gaze fixed on the tangled sheets. He couldn't look at Yunho, couldn't bear to see whatever judgment or disappointment might be there. "It's fine," he mumbled, his voice thick with shame. "I broke the rule. I understand."
He missed the proud, possessive look Yunho shot you, a silent acknowledgment of their shared creation.
"Good," you said. "Yunho, sit on the edge of the bed." Yunho complied instantly, settling himself. "Mingi, lay across his lap."
Mingi's head shot up, his eyes wide with disbelief and humiliation. Across his lap? "Can't... can't I just lay on the bed?" he asked, his voice small.
One look from you was all it took. He knew better than to argue. With a sigh of utter resignation, he got up and awkwardly positioned himself across Yunho's thighs, his ass presented, his face buried in the mattress beside Yunho's hip. The position was mortifying. You took of the belt restraining his arms, leaving him to Yunho
"You're going to get ten hits," you explained, your hand resting on the small of his back. "Five from me, and five from him. We want you to count them."
Yunho's arm came around Mingi's waist, pinning him securely in place. You raised your hand and brought it down on his bare ass. The sharp smack made him yelp.
"Count," you reminded.
He was so embarrassed he could barely speak. "...One."
You delivered the next four, each one making him flinch, his voice growing more strained with every number. By the fifth, he was crying softly, the humiliation and the stinging heat overwhelming him.
You stopped, gently rubbing his now-flushed skin. "You took your punishment so well, baby. So good for me. Now it's Yuyu's turn." You leaned down and kissed the tears from his cheeks. This was the moment it all came pouring out.
"I... I liked it," he choked out, his voice muffled by the sheets. "I... I liked you being mean to me."
You and Yunho shared a look over his head. Exstatic. You'd found his core desire.
Yunho grabbed his ass, his grip harder than necessary, making Mingi gasp. "Do you only like it when she's being mean to you?" he finished his question with his first slap to Mingi's reddened ass. His hand was larger, the force significantly more intense. Mingi let out a long, unrestrained moan—the first real moan you'd heard from him all night, not a held-back whimper, but a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
It was a reward for you and Yunho, who only chuckled. "I'll take that as a no," Yunho said, massaging the stinging flesh. He took his time with his part of the punishment, letting his hand wander from Mingi's ass to his thighs before slapping down again. Mingi was biting his lip again, mortified by the sound he'd made earlier. After the five slaps were over, Mingi had a fresh set of tears running down his face, was closer than ever to coming untouched, and could feel how turned on Yunho was just from spanking him.
Yunho commanded Mingi to sit back in the chair across the bed. He couldn't believe it. After everything, after taking his punishment, he was hoping for a reward. You looked skeptically at Yunho, no idea when you'd given him the reins, but interested to see what he'd do. After all, you were just another Yungi shipper.
Yunho pulled you towards him. "How far are you willing to go tonight, baby?" The question took you aback. You didn't really think about how far you'd go; usually, you were alone with one sub, who you'd usually have fucked by now. But with both of them? The different vibes, the air so thick... you wanted everything.
You answered by dropping yourself into Yunho's lap and kissing him. He pulled you flush, your wet panties rubbing against him uncomfortably. He hissed and pulled you up. "Let's take these off," he mumbled against your lips, helping you out of your panties. He tossed them over onto Mingi's lap, who didn't dare move or touch them.
Yunho moved back on the bed and turned you around towards Mingi before pulling you down on his lap, spreading your legs towards him. Mingi sucked in a breath, his eyes fixed on you, raking down your body and up your face, unable to focus. Yunho let his hands wander across your skin, your stomach, your thighs, making you shudder and relax back into his embrace. You closed your eyes, the world slowing down as you focused on his hands running down your thighs together, stopping right before your core. One hand traveled up your stomach to your right breast, slowly massaging it. You couldn't see it, but you could feel his and Mingi's stares on you, the feeling of pure desire evident on both their faces.
Mingi was on his breaking point. He wanted nothing more than to touch you like this. You looked like an ethereal goddess to him. He surprised both you and Yunho when he suddenly pushed forward in his chair and, before he even got up, dropped right to his knees before you. "Please, let me touch her," he stared Yunho in the eyes, his voice loud and clear, so different from the shy Mingi from a few minutes ago. "Please, Hyung—" Mingi's voice broke slightly at the end, his composure not as strong as he was willing it to be.
You stretched your hand out towards the pretty man. "Come here, baby." Without needing it to be commanded, he crawled the small distance to you until he was right between yours and Yunho's legs on the edge of the bed. "I guess we should reward him, he was so good tonight, right baby?" Yunho spoke over your shoulder, landing a kiss on your jawbone. His left hand finally found your core, running his fingers through your folds to collect your wetness. You bucked your hips forward, but he held you back. Once he felt his fingers were satisfyingly coated, he held them out towards Mingi. "Taste her."
Mingi had to be told no more. His composure gone, his mind blank, his mouth wrapped around Yunhos's fingers. Yunho's other hand was busy grinding your ass back and forth against his length. After a minute you took matters into your own hands, pulling Mingi off Yunho's fingers by his hair, earning a groan from the man on his knees. You moved his face towards your core, needing your release like you needed air to breathe. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding when his plush lips immediately found your clit, wrapping around it and giving you a gentle, almost teasing suck. But it wasn't teasing; no, Mingi needed this almost as much as you. This was him savoring his reward he had begged for.
You rocked forward a little, pushing yourself into his face to give him better access. Yunho's hand came back, squishing itself in between Mingi and you, but Mingi didn't let up. "Need to prep you for me, angel, okay?" Yunho whispered against your temple. Your head had fallen back on his shoulder at the combined pleasure of Yunho's hand and Mingi taking whatever he could in his mouth, running his tongue everywhere. Yunho pushed one finger inside you to start you easy. You immediately started to chase more, rutting your hips forward against Yunho's hand and Mingi's lips. Yunho held one of your legs up in the air for better access and to give Mingi more space. You felt yourself rush towards an orgasm faster than you ever had. Yunho pushed another finger in and scissored you open as Mingi worked his magic on your clit, sometimes slipping lower to lick the juices gushing out of you past Yunho's fingers, whining when he couldn't get enough.
You were so close, so close to your orgasm, when Yunho finally pushed a third finger in. You felt so full, but nothing could compare to his length pressed against your ass. It took all your willpower, so close to coming, to stop the two, grabbing Mingi's hair with one hand and pulling him back while simultaneously grabbing Yunho's wrist. "Stop!" your voice cut through the room, stern and rushed. Breathing heavily, you looked up at Yunho. "Wanna cum with you in me. Please—now!" you half-commanded, half-begged. You couldn't keep your act up with him; you wanted to give and take, and Yunho was intoxicating.
He cooed down at you, running his clean hand along your cheek. "How do you want me, baby?"
You didn't answer with words. You got up, the movement deliberate, and positioned yourself on the bed, ass up, face down. You presented yourself without a shred of modesty. You didn't care that you looked like a bitch in heat; you might as well have been.
Mingi and Yunho moved up on the bed, Mingi settling beside you, Yunho lining up behind. You felt Yunho's hands grab your cheeks, pulling them apart. You spread your legs wider, giving him a clear view of your hole, still slightly open and glistening from his fingers. He groaned at the sight, at the thought of finally being inside you.
Without the distraction of your pussy in his face, Mingi felt the awful ache of his hard, neglected cock, a screaming demand for release. He dug his hands into his upper thighs, rubbing and digging into the skin painfully, his head hanging low.
"It's okay, baby," you said, looking up at him, your voice soft. "You can touch yourself."
His face was a picture of pure unexpected relief. "Thank you..thank you so much," he breathed, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock. He gave a slow, experimental tug and almost fell forward, a litany of broken thank yous falling from his red, bitten lips.
"Tell us when you're close, baby," Yunho said from behind you. You didn't know if he was speaking to you or Mingi. You moaned as he finally pushed forward just the tip enough to strechyou so deliciously.
And then he was inside. He didn't ease into it. Yunho fucked you hard, his hips snapping against your ass with a force that stole your breath. His hands were everywhere, roaming up your back to grip your shoulders, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust. One hand snaked around your front, finding your clit and rubbing tight, harsh circles that made you see stars.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he grunted, his voice a low, rough growl. "So tight and wet for me. You take my cock so well, angel." He was watching himself disappear into you, his gaze fixed on the place where your bodies joined. He thought about how this was real, how many times he'd imagined fucking a fan, and how it was even better than his fantasies.
You were lost in the sensation, the overwhelming fullness, the delicious stretch, the friction against your most sensitive spots. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, and you pushed back against him, meeting his rhythm, begging for more with your body.
Mingi watched, completely entranced. His hand moved on his cock, but it was a subconscious, teasing rhythm. He didn't want it to be over yet. Every time he felt the familiar tightening in his balls, the tell-tale tingle at the base of his spine, he would slow down, hissing at the denial. He would stop stroking altogether, just rubbing the head of his cock with his thumb, focusing on the sight of you pushing back against Yunho, on the sound of your moans, on the slap of skin on skin.
Yunho couldn't help it, his need to edge Mingi on and all the revenge for his constant rage baiting "Look how pretty she is taking my cock, Mingi," Yunho grunted, his pace never faltering. "You got her so wet for me. Such a good boy, getting her ready for me, only for me to fuck her, not you"
The praise washed over Mingi, making his chest ache with a strange, pleasurable warmth. He was part of this. He was contributing. He was being good.
You could feel Yunho's rhythm becoming erratic, his thrusts losing their precision as he chased his own release. "Where do you want it, baby?" he gritted out.
"Inside," you gasped. "Cum in me."
With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep and groaned, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself into you. The feeling of him filling you up sent you tumbling over the edge, your own orgasm crashing through you, your walls clamping down around him as you cried out his name.
For a moment, you all just breathed. Then, you slowly turned over onto your back. Yunho collapsed beside you, a sated, lazy grin on his face. Mingi was still touching himself slowly, his eyes wide, locked on the sight of Yunho's cum beginning to drip out of your used hole. He was so close, so desperately close.
He finally broke. "Please," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Can I... can I come?"
You looked at him, at the hunger and desperation in his eyes. You knew what you're about to ask him would be a gamble, he'd never even thought of this, never considered this kind of depravity. "Come here and clean me up first," you said softly, "and I'll let you come soon."
It was the biggest test yet. He barley hesitated for less than a second before crawling between your legs and obeying. It was an act of ultimate submission, and it solidified his role. He lowered his head, his tongue hesitantly darting out to taste the combined mess of you and Yunho. When you didn't stop him, he grew bolder, licking you clean with a desperate hunger
He ate you, his movements a desperate hunger. He wasn't aiming for an orgasm; he was simply obeying, savoring the reward he'd been given. You praised him the entire time, your voice a soft, encouraging guide. "That's it, baby, just like that. You're doing so good for me. Our good boy." The praise was a potent drug, making his chest swell with a confusing mix of humiliation and pride.
As his tongue worked, his hips moved of their own accord, slowly rutting his neglected cock against the mattress, seeking friction, chasing a release that was still just out of reach. He was lost in it, in the service, in the taste of Yunho's claim and your pleasure. The slow, torturous drag of his cock against the rumpled sheets was a desperate, grounding rhythm, a reminder of the ache that still needed to be sated.
And through it all, Yunho watched.
He wasn't just a spectator; he was a connoisseur.Laying on his side, his head propped on his hand, his gaze heavy-lidded and dark with a renewed, predatory interest. He watched the way Mingi's broad shoulders flexed as he held himself over you, the way his muscles trembled with the effort of holding back. He saw the utter devotion in the line of Mingi's back as he bowed to your body. A slow, satisfied smirk spread across Yunho's face. He had shared you, but this, this was something else. This was Mingi, his best friend, willingly debasing himself for a taste of what Yunho had just taken. It was a power trip of the highest order.
"Look at that," Yunho's voice was a low, lazy purr, cutting through the soft, wet sounds of Mingi's mouth. "He's starving for it. Didn't even hesitate." His eyes flickered to yours, a shared, wicked amusement passing between you. "You've made him into a perfect little slut for us, baby."
The words made Mingi's entire body freeze for a second, a fresh wave of humiliation washing over him, but it only spurred him on. He licked into you with more fervor, his tongue flattening against your clit, wanting to prove Yunho right, wanting to be good.
You tangled your fingers in Mingi's hair, pulling him just a fraction closer. "He learns fast," you moaned, your back arching slightly. " good boy knows what he has to do to get what he wants."
Yunho's smirk widened. He reached out, his hand landing heavily on the small of Mingi's back, a proprietary touch. "Is that what you want, Mingi-ya?" he asked, his voice dropping to that low, teasing register he knew so well. "You wanna be our good boy? Gotta earn it. Make her feel good. Show me how grateful you are for the mess I left."
The command, coming from Yunho, was the final push. Mingi redoubled his efforts, his hips now grinding more insistently against the bed. The combination of your praise in his ears, Yunho's hand on his back, and the taste of you on his tongue was a sensory overload. He was so close, so painfully close, the friction of the mattress almost enough to send him over. He could feel his orgasm coiling at the base of his spine, a hot, tight promise.
He pulled back for a second to breathe, his lips slick and swollen, his eyes pleading. "Please," he whispered, the word directed at both of you. "I'm so close. I can't... I need to come."
You looked down at him, at his wrecked, desperate face, and then at Yunho, who gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. You had the final say.
"Focus baby," you said, your voice firm but kind. "I want to come again. Make me come again. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good boy and wait?"
A choked sob escaped Mingi's throat, but he nodded frantically, burying his face back between your legs. He worked with a singular focus now, his tongue flicking and sucking, his nose nudging against your clit. Yunho's hand slid down from Mingi's back to his ass, squeezing it roughly. "That's it," Yunho encouraged. "Don't you dare stop. Let her feel how good you are."
Mingi's hips stilled their frantic rutting, his entire being focused on the task at hand. The pressure of holding back his own orgasm was immense, a physical ache that made his eyes water, but he channeled it all into his mouth. He curled his tongue just the way you liked, finding that spot inside you that made you gasp and tighten your grip in his hair.
"That's it, right there," you moaned, your thighs beginning to tremble. "Don't stop, Mingi, please, don't stop."
He obeyed, his tongue working relentlessly as you rocked your hips against his face. The coil in your stomach tightened, snapping in a wave of pleasure that washed over you, more intense than the last. You cried out, your body arching as you came against his mouth, his name a breathless whisper on your lips.
He lapped at you gently through your aftershocks, cleaning you meticulously until you were trembling with oversensitivity. You had to gently push his head away. He rested his cheek against your inner thigh, his breathing ragged, his cock still hard and leaking against the sheets. He had done it. He had waited.
You looked from his hopeful, desperate face to Yunho's triumphant one. You had something much better than the sheets in mind for where he was going to cum.
Mingi is a tear-stained, desperate mess. He's given you everything. It's time to give him what he needs.
You pull him up for a soft, praising kiss, tasting yourself and Yunho on his lips. "You've been so good for us, Mingi. So patient. You deserve a reward." You look deep into his eyes. "You want to fuck me, baby? Cum inside me?"
You kissed up his jaw as he moved over you, desperately nodding his head. You felt his hot length rub against your wet lips, and he groaned, unable to hold back. He looked at you with pleading eyes, wanting to sink into you, terrified of messing this up. Just a minute ago, he thought he'd have to cum rutting against the mattress; now, this was heaven on earth. You wiped the tears from his cheek as you wrapped your legs around him to pull him down and pressed a hot kiss against his lips.
He sobs in relief as he sinks into you, barely moving. He wants to savor this, so close to cumming it's like his first time all over again. In a sick and twisted way, it is his first time like this. He can't focus on the kiss as he slowly draws back to sink back in, his head dropping to your shoulder, another round of thank yous and pleases falling from his lips. He doesn't know what he's pleading for, having received a greater reward than he could have imagined. You crane your neck up towards Yunho, who immediately leans down to kiss you, long and passionate, all tongues and no breath.
And Mingi? He's whiny, his head moves down, crying into your chest. You move his face towards your nipple, and he doesn't need words, sucking it into his mouth and moaning around you.
The feeling of Mingi inside you is exquisite, but it's not enough. You want it all. You break the kiss with Yunho, panting. "I want you both," you gasp, looking from Yunho's dark eyes to Mingi's tear-filled ones. "I want you to fill me up completely."
Mingi freezes, his mouth still latched to your breast. He pulls back, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and excitement. He looks at Yunho, as if for permission, for confirmation that this is real.
Yunho's smirk is pure sin. "Hear that, Mingi-ya?" he growls. "She wants us to wreck her together. Think you can handle that?" The challenge is clear, and it's exactly what Mingi needs to snap out of his headspace and into the moment.
You take charge of the logistics. "Mingi, stay still for me, baby. Just like that." You command, your voice soft but firm. Then you look at Yunho. "Yunho, I want you behind me. In my ass."
The words hang in the air, filthy and electrifying. Yunho groans, his cock already hardening again at the thought. He moves, positioning himself behind you as you shift, leaning forward to rest your chest against Mingi's. This new position presses Mingi deeper inside you, and he whimpers, his hands flying to your hips to hold himself still.
You turn your head to the side, offering your mouth to Yunho for a quick, dirty kiss before he gets to work. You feel him spit, and then a slick, cool finger presses against your tightest hole. You moan, pushing back against him. He works you open slowly, carefully, one finger, then two, scissoring you, stretching you, while Mingi remains buried in your cunt, a hot, throbbing presence. The dual stimulation is mind-bending.
"Please," you beg, your voice muffled against Mingi's chest. "Now, Yunho. Please."
He lines himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your just barley prepared entrance. He pushes in slowly, and the burn is immediate, overwhelming. You cry out, your body sandwiched tightly between them. There's no space, no air, just them. They fill you completely, a stretch so intense it borders on pain, a fullness that consumes you.
"Fuck," Yunho grunts, his hands gripping your hips as he finally seats himself fully. "So fucking tight."
They start to movea clumsy rhythm. When Yunho pulls out, Mingi pushes in. When Yunho thrusts back in, Mingi retreats. It's a relentless, intoxicating seesaw of pleasure. The praise continues, a constant, filthy . "Look at you, taking both of us," Yunho pants. "Such a greedy girl. Our perfect little slut."
The pressure is building to an impossible peak. You need more. You need an edge. You turn your head, your cheek brushing against Mingi's sweat-slicked shoulder, and look up at Yunho. ",Choke me" you gasp out.
But Yunho has a better idea. He looks down at Mingi, whose face is a mask of overwhelmed pleasure. "Mingi," he commands, his voice low and authoritative. "She wants it harder. Put your arm around her throat. Hold her. Make her take it."
Mingi's eyes widen in horror. He shakes his head, his movements faltering. "I... I can't. I'll hurt you."
"You won't," you promise, your voice a strained whisper. "Please, baby. I want you to. I want to feel you. Make me feel good."
Trapped between your plea and Yunho's dominant gaze, Mingi succumbs. He slowly, hesitantly, wraps his arm around your neck, his bicep pressing against the sides of your throat. It's not a hard squeeze, just a firm, possessive hold. It's perfect. The restriction of your airflow, the feeling of being completed by both of them, sends you hurtling towards your orgasm.
"That's it," Yunho groans, his pace becoming erratic. "That's our good girl."
The praise, the feeling of you around him, the tight heat of you, the sight of his arm around your throat, it's all too much for Mingi . With a broken, shuddering sob, he buries his face in your neck and cums without permission, his cock pulsing inside you, filling you up. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." he chokes out, his body trembling.
But there's no anger. "Shhh, it's okay. You were so good. So perfect for us," you and Yunho both murmur, holding him as he cries. The feeling of Mingi's release triggers your own, and you clench around them both, a silent, violent orgasm that steals your breath. Yunho follows with a final, deep thrust, spilling into your ass with a loud groan.
You collapse, a boneless, sweaty heap between them. They stay inside you for a moment, a heavy, comforting weight. Then they carefully pull out, and you all collapse onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. You both hold Mingi, praising him and grounding him as he comes down from the most intense experience of his life: he gave you his everything.
After a little while, Yunho gets up, disappearing into the bathroom and returning with a warm, wet cloth. He gently cleans you both up, his touch tender
-
While you spent a night of pure bliss with these two men, your best friends were having the time of their lives just down the hall. In Mingi and Yunho's room, they were ordering room service on the boys' dime like the world was their personal buffet. They giggled, making up the most random, lurid scenarios about what was happening down the hallway, their laughter echoing into the middle of the night.
What they didn't know is that Woosan… was right next door, convinced Mingi and Yunho had brought two hyenas back to their room. The noise was unbelievable. "Un-fucking-believable," San had grumbled, throwing a pillow over his head. The girls gracefully cockblocking San. There was no way he was getting any action from Woo under these conditions. But no way were they gonna get up and go over there, the tour having destroyed them both. They called it a night and tried to get some shut eyes with their handy dandy ear plugs in.
-
When morning came you three separated unwillingly early, to not raise any suspicion. You weren't sad. Yunho put your number in his and Mingi's phone after you passed tf out, correctly guessing Mingi's birthday to be your phone pin. You would find your way back to your boy. You sent your pouting idol and his not-so-much-just-his-best-friend-anymore out the door towards their room, as your best friends made their tired asses back to your room, after you woke them up with 'just a few' spam calls. The three of you girls going straight back to bed, Yunho and Mingi being less lucky, just after they showered… together… the boys got called down to the hotel restaurant by their staff for breakfast.
At the table with the boys, Hongjoong, who also slept in a room on the right side of the boys' room, kept his mouth shut, but Wooyoung, who slept with San in the left room.. oh no— "You two look like death warmed over," he observed, squinting at them. "And you," he pointed his fork at Mingi, "are walking funny. Did you two actually manage to seal the deal- You two idiots do know that you're supposed to fuck the girls you take back to your room, not just perform a comedy show for them, right?" Wooyoung's voice was loud and cutting, drawing the attention of a few nearby staff members.
Mingi's face, already pale from exhaustion, flushed a deep, painful red. He fumbled with his napkin, completely unable to form a coherent sentence. He shot a panicked look at Yunho.
Yunho, however, was a master of deflection. He just shrugged, taking a long sip of water. "We had a good time," he said simply, his voice neutral. "That's all that matters."
But Wooyoung wasn't letting it go. "A good time? San and I heard more giggling than anything. Sounded like you were having a slumber party. We thought you'd brought a whole girl scout troop back there, not just two women."
San, who was quietly trying to eat his pancakes, sighed and put his head in his hands. "They weren't that loud," he mumbled, though he'd been thinking the exact same thing just a few hours ago.
This was the moment. The moment where any other guy would lie, would make up a story, would deflect with a crude joke. Yunho looked at Mingi, who was now staring into his coffee cup as if it held the secrets of the universe. He saw the genuine confusion and embarrassment on his best friend's face. He saw Hongjoong watching them with a knowing, unreadable expression.
But before Yunho could say anything, San spoke up, his voice quiet but carrying over the table. He wasn't looking at Wooyoung; he was looking directly at Yunho and Mingi, a strange, calculating look in his eyes.
"I didn't hear you two at all," he said, his tone casual, but the words landed like a bomb.
The table fell silent. Wooyoung's fork clattered against his plate. "What do you mean?" he asked, looking between San and the other two. "You said you heard them!"
"I heard giggling," San corrected, not breaking eye contact with Yunho. "I heard your 'friends'. But I didn't hear a single peep from either of you." He let the implication hang in the air.
Yunho's carefully constructed neutral expression didn't crack, but his jaw tightened. Mingi looked like he was going to be sick. He opened his mouth, then closed it, a fish out of water.
Hongjoong finally set his coffee down with a soft click, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet. "Maybe they're just more considerate than you, Wooyoung," he said, his voice mild. "Not everyone wants to narrate their entire night for the whole floor."
It was a deflection, but it was also a shield. Hongjoong was closing ranks.
But the seed of suspicion had been planted. Wooyoung's eyes lit up with malicious glee. "Oh my god," he whispered, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You weren't even in there, were you? You snuck out! You left the girls and went somewhere else! Where did you go?"
Mingi looked at Yunho, his eyes wide with panic. He was begging him to say something, anything.
But Yunho just picked up his piece of toast, took a calm bite, and chewed slowly. He swallowed. Then he looked at Wooyou, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "We had a good time," he repeated.
Wooyoung groaned, throwing his hands up in frustration. "You're impossible!"
San just watched them, a thoughtful frown on his face. He knew something had happened, something different. But as he looked at Yunho's confident smirk and Mingi's silent, unwavering loyalty to him, he knew they'd never get the real story.
Summary: You’re famous, breathtakingly beautiful, and adored by everyone. At a party, Mingi approaches you. At first, you assume he’s just like every other guy who’s only interested in your looks and status. But his cocky yet effortlessly charming personality has you laughing far more often than you’d like to admit. Before you know it, you find yourself agreeing to go on a date with him…
a/n: Guyssssss, it’s continuing! This chapter is more of a transition chapter too! So it’s filled with fluff and romance, but I promise you, things are going to get exciting!
Warnings: smut! Mdni 🔞
8. chapter/ capítulo/ kapitel/ 제1장
The second night in Seoul feels quieter than the first, like your body is only now realizing it has finally caught up with where your heart has been trying to go. You’re back with Mingi. Back in the luxury hotel suite he insisted on booking just so the two of you could actually exist without the world pressing against the doors. Somewhere high above the city, Seoul glows in soft lights beyond the windows—but inside, it’s just warm air, soft lamplight, and the sound of your heartbeat still trying to settle after the flight, the jet lag, and the anticipation. Mingi is already in bed. Laid back against the pillows, one arm behind his head, the other scrolling lazily on his phone—though his attention clearly isn’t on it. It keeps drifting toward the bathroom door. Because you’ve been in there for too long. And he knows you well enough now to know that “too long” usually means you’re planning something. “Y/N?” he calls out, voice low and amused. “You’re not falling asleep in there, are you?” You laugh under your breath, adjusting something inside the bathroom mirror. “Don’t come in,” you warn. That gets his attention. A pause. Then that familiar, cocky little smile in his voice. “Oh? Now I’m intrigued.”
“No,” you say quickly, trying to sound serious. “And you’re not allowed to laugh.” Then, smooth as ever: “I would never laugh at you, sweetheart. Now come out.” The nickname makes something in your chest tighten in the best way. You take one last breath, fix your hair, and finally step out. The door opens. And the moment you appear, the atmosphere in the room shifts so sharply it almost feels like it crackles. You’re wearing it. The old costume from your college series—the one he had teased you about for weeks after binge-watching it in secret. The one you swore you’d never wear again. The cheerleader outfit sits a little too perfectly now, the short skirt, the fitted top, the deep neckline that feels suddenly much more noticeable under his gaze. Especially now. Because you’re also slightly sun-kissed from a week in Los Angeles, your skin glowing softly under the hotel lights, your confidence caught somewhere between nervous and playful. For a second, Mingi doesn’t say anything. Not a word. He just stares. His eyes slowly travel over you—no rush, no shame, just unmistakable attention, like he’s trying to memorize every detail all over again. His throat moves as he swallows. Hard. “Fuck, Y/N…” His voice drops, rougher now, quieter. “Are you trying to kill me?” That breaks the tension instantly. A small, shy smile tugs at your lips as you step further into the room. “Maybe a little.” He exhales a laugh—half disbelief, half surrender—and pats the edge of the bed. “Come here,” he says, softer now, but still carrying that same confident warmth. You hesitate only a second before walking over. The moment you sit down beside him, he doesn’t give you much time to adjust. Mingi pulls you gently—but decisively—onto his lap. Your breath catches. His hands settle at your waist, steady and warm, holding you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And then he just looks at you again. Slowly. Deliberately. Like he’s taking his time undoing every bit of composure you thought you had. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice turning teasing again, that familiar cocky edge returning just beneath the softness, “you keep surprising me.” His eyes flick up to yours, darker now—but still playful. “And I’m starting to think you enjoy doing it.”
You really hope the hotel has incredibly thick walls, because otherwise your neighbors will be able to hear—in vivid detail—that Mingi is currently fucking you like there’s no tomorrow. "God, sweetheart... shibal, so good," he moans lustfully, hammering his cock deeper inside you. His large hands grip your hips tightly, surely leaving marks on your skin. Even though you’re standing uncomfortably on your tiptoes so Mingi can take you from behind, all you can focus on is the feeling of his thick cock buried deep inside you. Your difference in height makes this position a bit tricky, yet Mingi still pumps his fat penis deep inside you with powerful thrusts. The skirt of your cheerleader costume is hiked up, and the top has slipped slightly out of place. "Yes—aaah, Mingi—fuck me harder," you pant, your climax already announcing itself. Mingi thrusts harder, faster, and deeper inside you; his grip tightens even further. His fat balls slap against you in a rapid rhythm. "Oh, fuck," he groans in surrender. "Come with me—come, Mingi!" you cry out, moaning loudly and uninhibitedly. You come hard and fast, your pussy clenching tight—a sensation that pushes Mingi over the edge. Your insides milk him dry, your legs cramp, and you can barely hold yourself up on your forearms. Your legs give out; you fall forward—and Mingi falls with you, landing right on top of you. You let out a short gasp as you feel his weight on your back, even though he is supporting himself on his hands. How heavy is this guy? His cock is still buried deep inside you. Mingi’s heart is pounding, his breathing rapid and ragged. He lets his head drop between your shoulder blades. "Fuck, Y/N, I..." he gasps, catching his breath. "I really missed that, too, by the way."
Afterward, the room settles into that soft, lazy kind of silence that only exists after intimacy. Warm. Heavy. Comfortable. You’re curled against Mingi‘s chest, your cheek resting over his heartbeat while one of his oversized T-shirts slips off one shoulder. His arm is wrapped around your waist, keeping you tucked impossibly close, skin against skin beneath the blankets. Outside, Seoul glows through the hotel windows. Inside, it’s just the two of you. You’re half-listening to Mingi complain about one of his stage outfits—something about leather pants being a human rights violation—when your phone lights up on the nightstand. A message from Patrizia. You immediately smile. “What?” Mingi asks, noticing your expression. “My sister.” You open the message, and your grin widens the second the ultrasound picture on the screen. Mingi leans over curiously, chin resting on your shoulder as he peers at the phone. His brows furrow instantly. “…I don’t understand a single word,” he admits, squinting at the long German text. You laugh softly. “She had her big third-trimester ultrasound today,” you explain. “She’s having a boy.” Mingi’s face immediately brightens.
“Ohhh.”
“And apparently,” you continue, scrolling through the messages, “he’s already huge. Like… really huge. The doctor says he’s going to be a very heavy baby.” You snort quietly as another picture loads. “And my sister has gained a lot of weight already. Which you can very clearly see in this photo.” Mingi glances at the picture again and nods solemnly like he’s reviewing scientific evidence. “Yeah,” he says seriously. “That baby is absolutely winning.” You laugh and quickly type out a reply before tossing the phone aside again. Then you stretch lazily across his chest with a sigh. “God,” you murmur dramatically, “if I ever have kids, I just hope they’re tiny. Small. Delicate.” Mingi hums absentmindedly, fingers tracing lazy circles against your side. “Otherwise,” you continue dryly, “that’s the end of my career.” That gets his attention. He looks down at you, amused. “In my family,” you explain, “the women get very round when they’re pregnant. It’s genetic. There’s no escaping it.” Mingi immediately bursts into laughter and pulls you even closer. “Don’t worry,” he says confidently. “We’ll have cute, tiny, beautiful kids.” You blink. Then he adds casually— “Maybe three or four.” Slowly, slowly, you lift your head to stare at him. “…Excuse me?” You sound horrified. Unfortunately, you also start laughing immediately. Mingi just grins—cocky, shameless, completely pleased with himself. “You heard me,” he says. You smack his chest lightly. “Mingi!” He catches your wrists instantly and drags you upward until you’re kneeling beside him on the bed. “Mingi,” you repeat, trying very hard to be the reasonable one between you two. “How are you already talking about children??” “Oh, come on, babe,” he says smoothly, hands sliding to your waist. “We would create perfect kids.” Then his mouth curls into a filthy grin. “Besides, making them would be easy for us.” You immediately break into helpless laughter. “MINGI!” He’s laughing too now, fully delighted with himself. You shake your head dramatically. “God. If I got pregnant with your children, I’d probably explode.” Your eyes travel pointedly up and down his body. “You’re enormous.” Mingi gasps in mock offense. “I‘m sorry, but… ” he says, placing a hand against his chest. „… my genetic material is premium.”
“Sure, sure,” you wave him off dismissively. Then you lift the hem of his T-shirt slightly, looking down at your flat stomach. “Seriously though,” you laugh, “but how is a Mingi Junior supposed to fit in there?” Mingi’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. Then suddenly he grabs one of the pillows. You barely have time to react before he shoves it underneath your shirt. “Mingi—what are you—” He adjusts it with ridiculous concentration. And somehow— Somehow he does it so well that when you look down, it genuinely looks like a baby bump. You stare at him. “…Seriously?” Mingi leans back proudly, admiring his work. “See?” he says smugly. “No problem.” One large hand spreads over the fake bump possessively, and the expression on his face changes immediately. Oh no. Oh, he likes this way too much. His eyes go soft and dark at the same time, completely locked onto you. You start laughing instantly. “You are such a child.“ Apparently with a pretty strong breeding kink. You reach down to pull the pillow back out, but Mingi catches your wrists before you can. Then he tugs you forward until you tumble against him again. “Mingi, what are you doing?” you ask through laughter. But he just kisses you. Slowly. Warmly. Completely distracted. “The idea of you having my baby is turning me on a little,” he practically purrs against your mouth. You jerk back, scandalized. “MINGI!” You’re laughing so hard you can barely breathe. “What is wrong with you?!” But he clearly has no intention of listening. If anything, he pulls you even closer, completely obsessed now with the stupid fake baby bump resting between you. You let out a short gasp when he shifts underneath you. “And also,” you laugh into the kiss, barely able to speak, “you are crushing mini Mingi right now!” Mingi just grins against your lips, utterly gone for you.
For a few blissful seconds, you’re still half asleep, curled beneath expensive hotel sheets with the faint scent of Mingi’s cologne lingering on the pillow beside you. Then the pain hits. “Fuck,” you groan. A sharp cramp twists through your lower abdomen hard enough to make you curl forward. Another follows immediately after. Oh hell no. No, no, no. You throw the blankets aside and practically sprint toward the bathroom. Behind you, you hear a sleepy noise from the bed. “Mmh… sweetheart?” You barely register it. The bathroom door clicks shut behind you. Two minutes later, you’re sitting on the edge of the toilet, staring at the evidence of your terrible luck. Your period. Four days early.. You close your eyes and let your head fall back against the wall.“Seriously?” Because naturally it chooses now to arrive. Not next week. Not after Seoul. Not after your romantic hotel getaway with the incredibly attractive rapper you’ve spent the last two days practically glued to. Now. Accompanied by cramps. And the beginnings of a headache. Fantastic. Somewhere in the suite, you hear movement. Then Mingi’s voice, rough with sleep. “Sweetheart?” You let out a dramatic groan. “Yeah,” you call back weakly. Another cramp answers for you. You sigh. Well. You had a good run. Eventually you flush, wash your hands, and make your way back into the bedroom. The sight waiting for you immediately makes you smile. Mingi is still mostly asleep. He’s sprawled across the enormous hotel bed like a giant cat, shirtless, hair sticking up in every direction, one arm thrown over his head. The blankets have somehow ended up tangled around one leg. He lifts his head slightly when he sees you. His eyes are barely open. “Hi.” You can’t help giggling. God, he’s so adorable. You cross the room and climb back into bed. The second you’re close enough, Mingi automatically reaches for you without even fully waking up. His arm wraps around your waist. You settle against him. “There you are,” he mumbles. His voice is so sleepy that it melts your heart. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here.” For a moment neither of you says anything. You simply run your fingers through his messy hair while he presses closer, clearly determined to use you as a pillow. Then you hesitate. Maybe this is awkward. Maybe it shouldn’t be. But suddenly you’re overthinking. You bite the inside of your cheek. Should you just tell him? Was this weird? How did people usually talk about this in Korea? Were there unspoken rules? Were you making it weird? The longer you think about it, the more uncertain you become. Mingi makes a small sound against your chest. Suspiciously similar to a purr. You look down. He’s already noticed. Of course he has. “Sweetheart.” His voice is muffled. “Mm?”
“I can literally hear you thinking.” You laugh softly. “What is going on inside that pretty little head?” You continue stroking his hair. For a second, you consider brushing it off. Then you look down at him. He’s still half asleep. Still holding you like you’re his favorite thing in the world. Still completely unaware that you’re spiraling over something that probably isn’t a big deal. “Well…” You start. Then stop. Mingi immediately lifts his head. The sleepy amusement vanishes from his face. “Is everything really okay?” The concern in his eyes is instant. And genuine. That’s the thing about him. Underneath all the flirting and teasing and ridiculous confidence, he always pays attention. Always. The knot in your chest loosens immediately. “Yeah,” you say softly. “Then what’s wrong?” You glance away briefly. Then back at him. “I…I got my period.” For a moment Mingi simply blinks. Processing. Then his expression changes. “Oh.” Another pause. Then, without warning, he grabs the hem of your T-shirt and lifts it. You stare. “Mingi…” Before you can finish, he drops his face dramatically against your stomach. Directly over the source of your suffering. “Oh no.” You already know he’s about to say something ridiculous. “I am so sorry, Mingi Junior.” You immediately burst out laughing. His voice is full of tragic disappointment. “We’ll see us next month, buddy.”
“MINGI!” You laugh so hard that another cramp almost makes you regret it. He remains exactly where he is. Face buried against your stomach. Completely committed to the bit. “Mingi!” You grab his shoulders and attempt to pull him upward. Nothing happens. He’s far too big.
“Tell him I’m sorry.”
“Oh my God.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“MINGI!” You are laughing so hard you’re nearly crying now. Eventually he relents and turns his head slightly so one eye peers up at you. The grin on his face is completely shameless. You shake your head.
“I can’t believe you.”
“I know.”
“You are impossible.”
“I’ve heard that before.” You roll your eyes. Then your smile softens. Because underneath the joking, there is still the reality of it. The cramps. The headache. The disappointment. You brush your fingers through his hair again. “It also means…” you begin quietly. Mingi immediately notices the change in your voice. “What?” You hesitate. Then shrug. “It means we’ll probably have to wait a little while.” His eyebrows lift. “For sex.” The words come out more apologetic than you intended. For a second he just stares at you. Then his entire expression softens. Completely. The teasing disappears instantly. He pushes himself up and moves closer until his forehead rests lightly against yours. “Hey.” His voice is warm. Gentle. “Don’t apologize for that.” You blink. “It’s okay.”
“But—”
“It’s okay.” The certainty in his voice leaves no room for argument. One hand reaches up and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to be sorry because your body is doing normal body things.” A tiny smile tugs at your lips. Mingi smiles back immediately. You laugh softly and continue running your fingers through his hair. Within seconds, his shoulders relax. The tension leaves his body. And despite the cramps, despite the headache beginning to settle in, despite the terrible timing of everything—You find yourself smiling. Because somehow, with Mingi curled up against you again, warm and sleepy and ridiculously affectionate, the situation doesn’t feel nearly as awful as it did five minutes ago. A moment later, his voice drifts up toward you again. Quiet. Sleepy. Almost gone. “Still sorry for Mingi Junior, though.” You groan. “Mingi! Stop!“ His laughter vibrates against your chest. And somehow, that makes you laugh too.
The next morning with Seonghwa and Yunho is simply perfect. Somehow, Seonghwa manages to transform the boys’ living room into a tiny spa overnight. You have absolutely no idea how he pulls it off, but you’re not complaining. From traditional facials to the newest anti-aging techniques, you spend the morning being thoroughly pampered, surrounded by skincare, soft towels, and enough products to make you feel like you’ve accidentally booked yourself into a luxury resort. You and Seonghwa spend hours talking about designers and fashion, especially his work as a model, while you and Yunho naturally end up talking about acting and his small role in a K-drama. He tells you about his experience on set, and you encourage him to try more acting if the opportunity comes along. Somehow, the conversations never feel forced. You just… click. It feels like you’ve known them forever rather than barely knowing each other. You lose track of time completely, laughing, talking, sharing stories, and getting to know each other more with every passing hour. And at least a thousand times throughout the morning, you thank them for making your first proper Korean spa experience so unbelievably perfect. By the time you finally realize how much time has passed, you’re already wondering how you somehow managed to make two new friends before lunchtime.
By the fourth day in Seoul, Mingi is visibly starting to relax again. The first two days are basically just the two of you hidden away together — sleeping in late, ordering room service, wandering through the city in hoodies and masks late at night when nobody’s paying attention. And having sex like maniacs, of course. It feels weirdly domestic for two people whose lives are usually chaos. And honestly? You love it. You love waking up with his arm around your waist. You love hearing him hum quietly while making coffee in the hotel suite kitchen. You love how clingy he gets whenever you leave the room for more than five minutes. But tonight, he has somewhere he has to be. “It’s private,” he says immediately while getting dressed, already sounding defensive. “Like actually private. Barely any people.” You sit on the bed watching him with growing amusement while he adjusts the rings on his fingers for the fifth time in two minutes. “It’s mostly friends,” he continues. “Some producers. A few industry people. Nobody weird.”
“Mhm.”
“And everyone there already knows how to keep their mouth shut.” You raise an eyebrow. Mingi pauses for one suspicious second.
“…Mostly.”
“Mingi.”
“What? I literally considered making everyone sign NDAs.”
You stare at him. “You cannot make your friends sign legal documents because I‘m coming to a rooftop party.”
“I absolutely can.” You burst out laughing while he looks genuinely offended. “I’m serious!” he insists. “Do you know what would happen if people found out you’re here?”
“Yes,” you say dryly. “So we must be cautious! We can not trust anyone!“ He starts pacing again immediately. “And what if someone posts something? Or someone talks? Or someone notices we disappear together—”
“Mingi, relax!“
“And everyone speaks English too, so if someone talks too fast in Korean I’ll translate everything—”
“Mingi.”
“And if you get uncomfortable we can leave immediately, okay? Like immediately immediately.” You finally stand and walk over to him before grabbing both sides of his face.
“Dude,” you say, trying not to laugh. “Chill.” His eyes narrow instantly. “I am chill.”
“You’ve been pacing for twenty minutes.”
“I just don’t want you to feel left out.”
Your expression softens immediately. Because that’s the thing about Mingi — underneath all the flirting and dramatics and confidence, he’s absurdly attentive with you. He notices everything. Every tiny shift in your mood. Every moment you get quieter. You brush your thumbs gently over his cheeks. “I’m okay,” you promise softly. “Seriously.” His shoulders loosen slightly. “A little overwhelmed maybe,” you admit. “But not because of you.” He stares at you for another second before sighing dramatically and dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “You’re too cute,” he mumbles.
The party ends up being exactly what he promised. Small. Private. A rooftop lounge high above Seoul with dim golden lighting, low music, expensive drinks, and maybe thirty people total scattered around the space. Mostly producers, stylists, songwriters, artists — people used to secrets. Used to privacy. No phones out. No weird attention. No pressure. Still, the second you walk in with Mingi beside you, a few heads turn immediately. Not in a dramatic way. Just recognition You’re still you, after all. An internationally famous actress showing up quietly at a private music industry party in Seoul is still enough to make people blink twice. Mingi visibly tenses beside you almost instantly. You can literally feel it in the way his hand tightens around yours. But to your surprise, everyone is… incredibly normal about it. A producer greets you politely in English. A stylist compliments your hair. Somebody shyly tells you they loved your last movie. And after maybe fifteen minutes, one of the guests, a younger Idol hesitates before approaching carefully. “Sorry,” he says politely, looking almost embarrassed. “Could I maybe ask for an autograph? Mingi’s soul nearly leaves his body. You feel him physically stiffen beside you. “Oh my God,” he mutters under his breath. But you barely react. Because this part? This is normal for you. You smile warmly immediately. “Of course.” The poor guy looks genuinely relieved while handing over a small notebook, and you sign it casually, asking his name and thanking him for supporting your work. By the time he leaves, two more people awkwardly approach after seeing how nice you are about it. Mingi looks increasingly horrified with each interaction. “Sweetheart,” he whispers while you sign another paper someone apparently had in their bag for some reason, “you don’t have to do this.” You glance up at him softly.
“It’s okay.”
“But you’re off work right now.” You nearly laugh at how offended he sounds on your behalf.
“It takes like ten seconds.” Still, he hovers beside you protectively the entire time, glaring suspiciously at every single person who comes near you like they’re attempting corporate espionage instead of asking for signatures. Wooyoung notices immediately. “Why does he look like he’s watching a crime happen?”
“Because he thinks everyone here is trying to exploit me,” you answer dryly while signing another napkin. “They ARE,” Mingi says instantly. San starts laughing. And then somehow it gets worse. Because Jongho appears. Quietly. Suddenly. Holding three things already prepared. A pen. A picture of you And — for some reason — a folded restaurant receipt. You stare at him. Jongho stares back completely seriously. “Can you sign these too?” Mingi whips around so fast he nearly gets whiplash. “Serioulsy Jongho?” Jongho ignores him entirely. “You can make it out to Jongho,” he says calmly. “You’re unbelievable,” Mingi says, sounding betrayed. You’re already laughing while taking the pen. “Do you actually want my autograph?”
“Yes.”
“Hyung,” Wooyoung yells from the couch immediately, “leave her alone, you have enough money!” Jongho points at him without looking away from you. “Silence.”The entire room bursts into laughter. Meanwhile, Jongho watches with complete focus while you sign the photo carefully. “Thank you,” he says politely the second you hand it back. Then he glances at the signature for maybe two seconds before looking at San completely seriously. “This will increase in value after the wedding.” Mingi chokes on his drink. “JONGHO!“ The room absolutely loses it. You nearly fall over laughing while Mingi hides his face in his hands.
“You people are insane,” he groans.
“No, think strategically,” Jongho continues calmly, already holding up the signed receipt. “This one especially has investment potential.”
“You are NOT selling her autograph on eBay!”
“I never said eBay.”
“That’s somehow worse!” You’re laughing so hard tears actually gather in your eyes while Jongho quietly slips the signed items into his jacket like priceless artifacts. “Thank you,” he says again very sincerely. Mingi looks moments away from collapse. “You’re all banned from interacting with her.”
“Too late,” Wooyoung says happily. “She likes us now.” And weirdly? That’s the exact moment everything becomes easy. Because suddenly you’re not “the famous actress secretly dating an idol.” You’re just there. Curled up cross-legged on a couch with San, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and now a deeply pleased Jongho while somebody teaches you a Korean drinking game that immediately devolves into complete chaos. “You’re competitive,” San accuses ten minutes later. “She absolutely is,” Mingi says from across the room, already sounding exhausted.
“I want to win.”
“You don’t even fully understand the rules!”
“Ahh, doesn’t really matter.”
Wooyoung is losing his mind laughing. And somehow — somehow — you keep winning. Every round gets louder. Every drink makes you warmer and softer and less aware of how many famous people are technically in the room. By the time another bottle appears at the table, you’re fully flushed, laughing so hard your stomach hurts while Yeosang quietly watches you like he’s trying to figure out where all this energy suddenly came from. “You’re terrifying,” he says calmly after you somehow win again.
“I’m talented.”
“You’re drunk.”
„I‘m german, I‘m used to being drunk.“ Mingi is across the room talking to a producer when he suddenly hears loud yelling behind him. “NO, NO— listen,” you insist passionately, pointing at Wooyoung. “You have to roll the r.”
“I am rolling it!”
“That is NOT rolling it.” Wooyoung tries again. It somehow sounds worse. You collapse against San laughing while he wheezes beside you. “Oh my God,” you gasp. “You sound possessed.” Mingi turns around fully at that point. And just stops. Because you’re glowing. Actually glowing. Long Hair falling everywhere from laughing too hard. Face flushed pink from alcohol. Eyes bright. Hands animated while trying to teach German pronunciation to three increasingly drunk idols.
“You have to say it from here,” you explain seriously, touching your chest dramatically. “German comes from emotional damage.” San nearly falls off the couch laughing. Wooyoung points at you immediately. “See? This is why she’s my favorite.” Mingi walks closer slowly, watching you with an expression so soft it almost hurts. The second you notice him, your whole face lights up. You immediately grab his wrist and pull him down beside you.
“Mingi, listen to this—”
“No, no,” Wooyoung interrupts. “Tell him the emotional damage thing again.”
“It’s true!” Mingi is barely listening anymore. Because now that he’s closer, he can see every detail. The way you’re smiling without holding back. The way your body is relaxed instead of tense. The way you’re completely comfortable now. And suddenly all the nervousness he carried the entire night just disappears. You notice him staring after a second. “What?” you ask, still smiling. He just shakes his head softly, one hand automatically settling on your thigh. “Nothing,” he says quietly. But his thumb keeps rubbing gently against your leg while he watches you argue passionately with Wooyoung about German accents like you’ve known everyone for years. At some point during the night, the entire party somehow devolves into geopolitical discussions. Which honestly says a lot about the amount of alcohol currently involved. You’re squeezed into a long couch between San and Mingi while Wooyoung sits dramatically across from you, one leg thrown over the armrest like he owns the place. Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, two idols from another group you vaguely recognize, and half the table are all talking over each other at once. “No, listen,” Yunho insists passionately, pointing his drink around like he’s giving a political speech. “Germany and south korea are actually similar.”
“Explain immediately,” you demand.
“Efficient,” Yeosang says calmly.
“Emotionally repressed,” San adds.
“Good public transportation,” Seonghwa contributes. “Trauma,” Wooyoung says instantly. The entire table explodes laughing. You nearly spill your drink. “Okay, that one is true,” you admit through laughter. “And strict parents,” one of the other idols adds. “Competitive school systems,” another says. “Suspiciously aggressive drinking culture,” Jongho says from somewhere behind his glass. “OH MY GOD,” you yell. Mingi is fully crying laughing beside you at this point. Mingi is still wheezing with laughter when Seonghwa suddenly lifts his glass. “Wait,” he says, looking at you with sudden seriousness. “Do you actually know how to drink properly in Korea?” You blink. “…I am slightly concerned by the phrasing.” Wooyoung gasps dramatically.
“She doesn’t know.”
“No way.”
“That’s illegal.”
“You brought a foreigner and didn’t teach her?” Yunho says, staring at Mingi like he’s committed a crime. Mingi lifts both hands defensively. “She knows how to drink!”
“That is not the same thing,” Jongho says flatly. San immediately reaches for a fresh glass and slides it toward you. “Lesson one,” he says. You straighten up like a student. He holds up his drink. “When someone older than you pours for you, you accept with both hands.” He demonstrates, one hand under the glass, the other supporting it. You mimic him carefully. “Like this?”
“Good.” Seonghwa nods approvingly.
“Very respectful.”
“Okay,” you say. “That part I can do.”
“Lesson two,” Yeosang says, “when drinking with elders or seniors, you usually turn your head slightly away.” He demonstrates elegantly, turning to the side before pretending to drink. You stare. “That’s… kind of adorable. It looks like sneaky drinking.” Wooyoung nearly spits out his drink laughing. Jongho raises one finger. “Most important part.” Everyone suddenly gets weirdly serious. You narrow your eyes.
“Why does this feel like a cult ritual?”
“Because now,” San says gravely, “you learn the sacred words.” The whole table raises glasses. Mingi already knows what’s coming and grins. Together, half the group shouts—
“Geonbae!” The rooftop echoes with it. You jump slightly before laughing.
“Geonbae?”
“건배,” Mingi repeats beside you, softer. “Basically cheers.” You lift your glass. “Geonbae!” The table erupts into applause like you’ve achieved something monumental. Wooyoung wipes fake tears.
“She’s Korean now.”
“I always knew.”
“Welcome.” You laugh so hard your shoulders shake. “Okay, okay— now my turn.” Instant attention. Wooyoung points. “Yes! German drinking culture!”
“Teach us your dangerous European customs.” You straighten with exaggerated dignity and lift your glass.
“In Germany,” you begin, “we say— Prost.”
“Prost,” San repeats carefully.
“Prohest?”
“No, shorter.”
“Prost.”
“Perfect.” Mingi repeats it too, low and smooth. “Prost.” You absolutely do not react to how attractive that sounds. Nope. Not at all. “And,” you continue, “there is one very important rule.” Everyone leans in. “You must look each other in the eyes when you clink glasses.” Wooyoung squints. “That’s the rule?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” You open your mouth. And freeze.
Because. Right. You know exactly why. And suddenly every ounce of alcohol confidence leaves your body. Your face heats immediately. Mingi notices first. His eyes narrow. “…Why are you blushing?” San leans forward. “Wait.” Yeosang slowly lowers his glass. “Oh no.” Wooyoung’s eyes widen with delighted horror. “Oh, this is going to be good.” Twenty eyes are on you now. You want to evaporate. “It’s just—” you start. Nothing comes out. You try again. “It’s because if you don’t…” You trail off. Mingi stares.“If you don’t what?” You make vague hand gestures.“…there may be consequences.” Wooyoung gasps. “Consequences?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?” You begin aggressively. You cover your face with one hand. “This is so embarrassing.” Mingi is now fully invested.
“No, no, continue.” You groan. “It’s superstition.”
“What superstition?” Your ears feel like they’re on fire. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone. “If you don’t look someone in the eyes while toasting… Then, in the tiniest voice— “…you get seven years of bad sex.”
Dead silence. Absolute dead silence. The entire rooftop explodes. Wooyoung SCREAMS. San folds in half. Yunho physically falls backward against the couch wheezing. Seonghwa is laughing so hard no sound comes out. Jongho slowly lowers his glass. “…That escalated.”
“I KNOW.” Mingi just stares at you. Then at the glass. Then back at you. “…Seven years?” You bury your face in both hands.
“Yes.”
“Exactly seven?”
“I don’t make the rules!” Wooyoung is crying. “Germany is insane!”
“It’s motivational,” you mutter.
“It’s threatening!” San gasps.
“That’s so aggressive!” Yeosang nods thoughtfully. “Actually highly effective.” Jongho raises his glass. “Brilliant policy.” Mingi still hasn’t stopped staring at you. There’s something dangerous in his expression now. A slow grin spreads across his face. He leans closer. Very close. Close enough that only you hear him. His voice drops low and rough. “So if I break eye contact…” His fingers slide over your thigh. “…I suffer for seven years?” Your entire brain short-circuits. “Mingi.” He ignores that. Still watching you. Not blinking. “Good thing,” he murmurs, lips twitching, “I’m very motivated.” Your face goes nuclear. Mingi finally lifts his glass. Still staring directly into your eyes. Not once looking away. “Prost,” he says. The way he says it should honestly be illegal. You swallow hard and raise your glass with shaking fingers. “…Prost.” Clink. His gaze never leaves yours. Not for a second. Then he smiles. Slow. Satisfied. “Great,” he says softly. “Now we’re safe.” Wooyoung gags dramatically. San wipes tears from laughing. “No, no, I need a German passport immediately.” Jongho raises his glass again.
“To eye contact.”
“To safety,” Yeosang adds.
“To not suffering,” Yunho says. The whole table lifts their drinks. And together, in wildly terrible accents, eight drunk idols yell— “PROOOOST!” You laugh so hard you nearly spill your drink straight into Mingi’s lap. Mingi just watches you. Warm hand still on your thigh. Eyes soft. Completely gone. And somewhere between the laughter and the chaos and the ridiculous cultural exchange, one thought lands in his head with terrifying clarity. He’s done for. Completely. Because he’s already thinking— Seven years? Nahhhh. He wants forever.
“But hear me out,” Wooyoung says immediately. “I’m just saying Germany is cool, but personally?” He leans back dramatically. “I prefer your Spanish side.” The table erupts instantly. You nearly choke on your drink while Mingi narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What does that mean?” he asks flatly. Wooyoung ignores him completely and points at you again. “Flirt with me in Spanish.” Your entire body short-circuits. Normally — sober — you would rather throw yourself directly off the rooftop than flirt with someone in front of an entire group of people. You are not naturally bold. You are not naturally loud. You are definitely not naturally the kind of person who flirts publicly. But right now? You are drunk. Which means your brain goes: Sure. Why not? You sit up straighter immediately. “Okay,” you say. Mingi’s head snaps toward you. “Okay?!” he repeats. You point at Wooyoung dramatically. “I say something flirty in Spanish first,” you explain seriously. “Then in German.” Wooyoung is already losing his mind. “And then,” you continue, “you decide which language is sexier.”
“Oh my God,” San whispers. Mingi already looks stressed. “No, absolutely not,” he says immediately, reaching for your arm. “Y/n, stop encouraging him.” Too late. Because now the entire table is screaming.
“DO IT.”
“SPANISH FIRST.”
“WOOYOUNG YOU ASKED FOR THIS.”
You’re laughing so hard you almost lose focus before finally turning back toward Wooyoung. And then— Like a switch flipping. Your entire demeanor changes. You straighten slowly, eyes locking onto his. Your lashes lower slightly. Your voice softens. Drops deeper. Rougher. The entire table goes quiet almost instantly. Because suddenly it’s not drunk-you laughing anymore. It’s actress-you. The version of you that fills movie theaters and magazine covers and red carpets. The version that knows exactly how to hold eye contact long enough to ruin someone’s life. Even Mingi visibly freezes beside you because he recognizes that look immediately. You lean slightly closer toward Wooyoung. Then quietly, in soft Spanish, you murmur: „Me gustaría ser el motivo de tu sonrisa esta noche.” /I would like to be the reason for your smile tonight./
Wooyoung stops breathing. Actually stops breathing. The reaction is immediate. His eyes widen. His mouth parts slightly. And for one horrifying second, he has the exact same expression Mingi had during your forest date when you first flirted with him in Spanish. Complete system failure. The entire table SCREAMS. San physically falls sideways into Yunho. Seonghwa grabs Mingi’s shoulder in absolute disbelief. Yeosang looks like he just witnessed psychological warfare. Meanwhile Wooyoung is sitting completely frozen staring at you like his soul just left his body. Then he swallows hard. Slowly regaining consciousness. “…Okay,” he says weakly. “I have a boner now.”
“WOOYOUNG!!” You immediately scream his name while collapsing into laughter. The entire table loses it. Mingi lunges across the couch trying to smack Wooyoung while yelling incoherently.
“YOU CAN’T SAY THAT!”
“YOU TOLD ME TOO!”
“Stop listening to me!” Wooyoung is still clutching his chest dramatically.
“I don’t need German,” he declares breathlessly. “Nothing is sexier than her flirting in Spanish.” You immediately sit back up offended. “Excuse you.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“German is sexy too!” The entire table reacts immediately. “Oh this is going to be terrible,” San says.
“German cannot physically sound seductive,” Yunho argues. You gasp dramatically. “That is xenophobic.” Mingi is laughing so hard he can barely breathe anymore. “You literally sound angry when you order coffee in german,” Wooyoung says. “I’m defending my culture.”
“You sound like you’re preparing for war.” You point at him furiously. “Watch me.” Then once again, you turn toward him fully. And again, your expression changes. Slower this time. More deliberate. Your voice drops into that same dangerously soft tone while the entire table watches in complete silence. You lean closer.Eyes half-lidded. Then quietly say in German: „Hey hübscher Kerl, nimmst du mich heute Abend mit zu dir?“ / Hey handsome, are you taking me home with you tonight?/
Wooyoung stares at you for two full seconds. Then slowly shakes his head. “Nah.” The table bursts into laughter immediately.
“SPANISH WINS.”
You gasp in outrage.
“WHAT?”
“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung says, holding his hands up helplessly. “Spanish sounds like falling in love.” He points at you dramatically. “But German sounds like you’re about to ruin my credit score.” You collapse sideways against Mingi laughing so hard you can barely breathe while he’s fully wheezing into your shoulder. Meanwhile Wooyoung is still staring into space slightly.
“I’ll never recover from the Spanish one,” he mutters quietly. Mingi immediately points at him.
“She‘s mine.”
„Yet.“ At this point, the party has fully dissolved into chaos. Alcohol keeps appearing from nowhere. Someone has abandoned all attempts at speaking one language consistently. San is halfway lying across the couch laughing at something Yeosang said ten minutes ago. Wooyoung has officially declared himself your “platonic soulmate.”
“You can’t just decide that,” you tell him through laughter. “I already did.”
“That’s not how friendship works.”
“It is now.”
“You’re insane.”
“And yet,” Wooyoung says smugly, pointing at himself, “We are besties!“ Mingi, sitting beside you with one arm lazily draped around your waist, doesn’t even look up from his drink. “No,” he says calmly. “You’re annoying.” Wooyoung gasps dramatically. You’re still laughing when the music changes. And instantly— Your entire face lights up.
“Oh my God.”
The second the opening notes of your favorite Spanish song start playing through the speakers, you practically jolt upright. “No way!“ Mingi blinks at you in confusion while you grab his hand immediately.
“This is OUR song.”
“You have a song?”
“This is me and Ana-Maria’s party song!” The alcohol buzzing warmly through your veins makes everything feel brighter somehow — the music louder, the lights softer, your body lighter. You tug hard on Mingi’s hand.
“Come dance with me.” He barely moves. Mostly because he’s huge. And because he’s staring at you like you’ve suddenly become a completely new person. “You dance?” he asks, genuinely shocked. You laugh loudly.
“Mingi, come ON.”
He lets you drag him halfway off the couch before finally standing fully, towering over you while the others immediately start yelling.
“DON’T DO ANYTHING I WOULDN’T DO,” Wooyoung shouts.
“That changes literally nothing,” Seonghwa says dryly. You’re still laughing while pulling Mingi toward the tiny open space near the windows where a few people are already dancing casually. The second the rhythm fully kicks in, your body moves automatically. It’s instinct. Natural. Your hips sway easily to the beat while you grin up at him, completely uninhibited now in a way you almost never are sober. Mingi just stares. Because this is new too. He’s seen you soft. Shy. Sleepy. Flustered. Sweet. Fucked. But this? This bright, warm, laughing version of you with flushed cheeks and loose hair and your body moving effortlessly to the music? He thinks he might actually die.
“Sweetheart,” he says weakly. You just laugh again and pull him closer. And unfortunately for your sanity, Song Mingi can dance. Really dance. The second his hands settle on your waist and he starts moving with you, the entire room collectively loses composure. Because Mingi’s hips are ridiculous. Actually ridiculous.mSmooth and slow and perfectly controlled while he pulls you flush against him effortlessly, one hand firm against your waist as your body follows the rhythm naturally. The music is warm and vibrant and teasing. Latin drums echo softly through the rooftop while Seoul glows outside the windows. And suddenly all you can focus on is him. The heat of his body. The way he looks at you. The lazy grin spreading across his face every time you laugh. Your back presses against his chest for a moment as you turn with the music, his hand sliding lower against your hips while your head tips back briefly against his shoulder. His breath catches immediately.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath.
You giggle.
“You’re good at this.”
“Baby,” he says, almost offended. “Have you met me?” Fair.
The two of you keep moving together, closer now, slower somehow despite the upbeat music. His hands stay respectful but confident, guiding your body easily while your hips brush against his with every beat. And maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the music. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s looking at you like you personally invented happiness. But suddenly you want him alone. Now. You turn slightly in his arms until your lips brush near his ear. “I wanna be alone with you,” you murmur softly. Mingi freezes. Actually freezes. His entire body goes still behind you. You pull back slightly just in time to see his brain completely malfunctioning. Eyes blank. Mouth parted. Full system crash. Then you burst into drunken laughter. “Oh wait,” you giggle. “No, no— let me say it correctly.” Mingi looks terrified already. You rise onto your toes slowly, one hand sliding up his chest to steady yourself before your lips hover beside his ear again. And this time, in soft, low Spanish, you whisper:
“Quiero estar sola contigo esta noche.”
Mingi stops functioning. Entirely. For one full second, he just stares ahead like his soul left his body. Complete system update. Loading. Loading. Loading— Then suddenly his arms tighten around you. “Oh, we’re leaving,” he says immediately. “What—” Before you can react properly, he hooks an arm around your waist, lifts you effortlessly, and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh absolutely nothing. You squeal so loudly the entire rooftop erupts. “MINGI!” He’s already walking. Fast. One hand securely holding your legs while you laugh hysterically against his back.
“Oh my GOD!” The room is in complete chaos now.
“THAT’S INSANE,” Wooyoung screams.
“HE DIDN’T EVEN HESITATE,” San yells.
Seonghwa is fully crying laughing into his drink. Meanwhile Mingi just raises one hand briefly without slowing down. “Goodnight everybody,” he calls calmly. “You’re not even saying goodbye properly!” Yunho shouts after him.
“I’m busy!”
“MINGI!”
You’re still laughing uncontrollably over his shoulder while he carries you toward the exit like a man possessed.
You weren't lying when you said in that interview how much you’re into thick thighs—referring to Mingi all along. Because when you’re kneeling between them with his cock deep in your throat, you get wet between your legs, even though you’re on your period. You let his penis slip almost entirely out of your mouth, only to stop and start licking the head. "Fuck, baby, that feels so good," Mingi whimpers, and a soft giggle escapes you. You take the head into your mouth and suck hard on his thick cock, driving him to the brink of madness. Loud, obscene moans escape his lips as his hips jerk forward uncontrollably, ramming his penis deeper into your throat. "Babe... I... ah... I'm... gonna cum," he stammers hoarsely. You place his hand on the back of your head and let him fuck his way into your mouth without restraint.
Breathing heavily, Mingi leans back; his muscular, fleshy thighs frame you, and you audibly swallow his hot cum in your mouth. When Mingi sees—or rather, hears—this, he whimpers again. "Aish, sweetheart... I..." he gasps for air, “I…this…is…fuck,“ You giggle softly. Mingi pulls you onto his lap; his fleshy legs force you to spread your own legs even wider. Immediately, Mingi’s hands land on your ass, and just as quickly, his lips find yours. He greedily thrusts his heavy tongue into your mouth, and you let out a raspy gasp in response. "Let me do something good for you, sweetheart," he purrs huskily, and the deep timbre of his voice sends shivers through your body. His right hand trails along your hip, slipping inside your panties, and his fingertips instantly make contact with your hot flesh. " Mingi," you moan softly, spreading your legs wider still. Your breasts press against him just beneath his chin, and slowly, he begins tracing circles around your clitoris. You moan into his open mouth, until your lips drift further across his cheek toward his ear—into which you let out an obscene moan. Your hips instinctively thrust forward, seeking the touch of his fingers against your clit. "Mingi," you whisper, "I want more." For a second, Mingi looks confused. "I thought you had your period... which is why we couldn't... well, because you said you did," he stammers uncertainly, and your lips curl into a faint smile. "Mingi," you coo affectionately, gazing into his dark eyes. You have to pull yourself together a little to keep from laughing, for Mingi looks just like a bewildered schoolboy trying to make sense of a math problem. But without saying a word, you kiss him again—gently, lovingly, and softly. Then you trail delicate kisses across his cheek, and once again, your full lips find his ear. Your fingernails caress the nape of his neck. "Mingi," you whisper, "I want you in my ass." You pull your head back to catch Mingi’s expression. He looks as if a system update has just started inside his brain. You flutter your eyelashes, and once again, you have to fight the urge to laugh. Mingi’s mouth hangs slightly open; he seems completely frozen—until a heavy swallow and the bobbing of his Adam’s apple make him appear alive again. "Can you do that for me, baby boy?" you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck; you press your elbows together slightly, squeezing your large breasts in the process. Mingi clears his throat rather awkwardly, snapping out of his trance. "O-of course—no problem," he stammers, visibly taken aback. You grin with satisfaction and lean forward once more to whisper something in his ear. "I want you to put some lube on your fingers, and then I want you to finger me until I scream your name—and stick a finger in my ass," you explain in a breathy voice. "Did you get that, big boy?" Mingi just gives a stiff nod. "And if you do a good job, then next time you’ll get to fuck me in the ass, too—okay, handsome?" you promise him, licking his earlobe. Mingi lets out a strangled sound—somewhere between choking and wanting to let out a scream. Clumsily, he reaches for the lube, coats his fingers, and begins to lavish attention on your clitoris once again. "Fuck, Mingi—yes!" you whimper in a high-pitched voice. "Don't be so shy—give me more." Mingi lets out a heavy exhale, and you have to really bite back a grin. The cool rapper from ATEEZ—suddenly so unsure of himself. As you feel him carefully slide his finger into your ass, you let out a loud moan. "Yes, Mingi—just like that. You’re such a good boy," you praise him, knowing that always really turns Mingi on and gets him fired up.
The dual stimulation—once at your clitoris, once at your asshole—makes you moan out loud. "Ah, Mingi... yes... just like that, my good boy.“ You also notice Mingi getting turned on again himself, as you feel his thick cock pressing against the inside of your thigh. You call out his name, your arms tightening around his neck; Mingi’s long, thick fingers are perfect for this kind of stimulation. Your stomach clenches, and you feel the knot inside you on the verge of bursting. "Mingi!" you scream out one last time before you come hard, squirting all over Mingi’s stomach. Your breathing is ragged and loud. Once again, Mingi seems to have completely frozen; he neither moves his fingers inside you, nor does he move at all. You are still too swept up in the aftermath of your orgasm to react to his speechlessness—or rather, his abrupt paralysis. "Did you... did you just squirt?" Mingi asks softly, yet there is no shame or anger in his voice—only a hint of curiosity. "Yes, I think so," you say calmly, leaning back. Everything between your thighs and Mingi’s stomach is soaked. "Have you ever experienced anything like this before?" you ask in a steady voice, looking at him. "No," he admits kind of shy, shaking his head. "Do you like it?" you ask him, honest and direct. Mingi clears his throat and looks down at the puddle on his stomach. Then his gaze wanders back up to you, and his eyes light up. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he confesses, and you can’t help but laugh at his statement. “Mingiiii!” you scold him playfully. “Ahh sweetheart … I had no idea you could be this wild.”
The last few days have felt almost unreal. Somehow, tucked away behind hotel doors and tinted windows, the two of you have managed to forget—if only for a few hours at a time—that you’re two people the world is constantly watching. Almost. Because every now and then, reality sneaks back in. A passing thought. A glance over a shoulder. A reminder that this can’t stay this easy forever. It’s your second-to-last day in Seoul, and those questions have started lingering a little longer in the quiet moments. What happens when you leave? What are we actually allowed to become? You refuse to let those thoughts steal tonight. Tonight is special. Mingi has apparently spent days organizing a restaurant so private that no cameras, no fans, and no curious eyes can reach you. He refuses to tell you where you’re going, only insisting, “You’ll like it. Trust me.” So you’re choosing excitement instead. Just a few minutes ago, the two of you were still tangled together under the hotel blankets, lazily talking about absolutely nothing. Now, unfortunately, reality demands showers, proper clothes, and looking like the celebrities you’re supposed to be. You slide reluctantly out of bed with an exaggerated groan. “I don’t want to be productive.” Mingi stretches dramatically beside you, his hoodie riding up just enough to reveal a strip of skin before he yawns. “Me neither.” He grabs his phone from the bedside table. “But…” A mischievous grin spreads across his face. “…I do have an idea.” Before you can even ask what that means, Latin music suddenly fills the suite. Your eyebrows shoot up. “…Mingi?” He doesn’t answer. Instead, he spins around with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen, extends one hand toward you like he’s starring in some overly dramatic romance movie, and gives you a small bow. “My lady.” You stare. “…What are you doing?”
“Bachata.”
“You don’t know bachata.”
“I watched three videos.”
“Mingi.”
“I’m basically a professional.” You burst out laughing before you’ve even taken his hand. “Oh my God…” He doesn’t give you time to protest. The second your fingers touch his, he dramatically pulls you against him, places one hand on your waist—
—and immediately starts doing… something. It’s definitely movement. Whether it’s dancing is highly debatable. “Mingi!” He ignores you completely. His face is absurdly serious, like he’s competing in the finals of an international dance championship. Except his feet are doing entirely different things than the music. “You have to trust your partner,” he says with complete confidence. “I don’t!”
“You should.”
“I absolutely shouldn’t!” Without warning, he spins you. Once. Twice. Then somehow forgets what comes next. You squeal as you’re sent stumbling sideways.
“Mingiii!”
“I got you!” You dissolve into helpless laughter, grabbing onto the front of his shirt before your tiny body gets launched straight into the wardrobe. He’s six-foot-one. You’re five-foot-two. This feels less like dancing and more like surviving a natural disaster. “Oh my God, stop!” you wheeze, barely able to breathe. “You’re going to throw me into the furniture!”
“I would never.” He immediately proves himself wrong by attempting another turn. Your feet barely touch the floor anymore. You cling to him with both arms, laughing so hard your stomach hurts.
“Mingi!”
“What?”
“This isn’t bachata!”
“It is in my heart.”
“You made that up!” He gasps dramatically.
“I am an artist.” Then, as if inspiration suddenly strikes him, he steps back, still wearing that ridiculously serious expression.
“Wait.”
“…What now?”
“I saw this move online.”
“Oh, absolutely not.” Before you can escape, he gently catches one of your hands, then lifts your leg with surprising confidence. Your foot rises. Higher. And higher. Until you’re standing there in what is essentially a standing split, your flexibility making it look almost effortless. You blink at him. “…Mingi?” He doesn’t answer. For a moment, he just… stares. His eyes slowly travel from your foot, down the elegant line of your leg, lingering for a heartbeat before finally returning to your face. The completely unserious dancer from two seconds ago is suddenly gone. His expression softens into something almost dazed. “My God…” he murmurs under his breath. A slow smile spreads across his face. “Sweetheart…” He lets out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. “You’re so ridiculously sexy.” Heat immediately rushes into your cheeks.
“Mingi!”
“What?” he says innocently, still holding your leg as though he’s admiring a work of art. “I’m just making an observation.”
“Stop!.” Then he grins again. “…Also, I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to do next.” You burst into laughter. He carefully lowers your leg again before dramatically clearing his throat like nothing embarrassing just happened. “Anyway.” He points confidently into the air. “Back to professional dancing.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” Then, as if he suddenly remembers something incredibly important, one of his large hands slides down to your hip—and then shamelessly settles on your ass. He grins. “Feel the rhythm, sweetheart.”You throw your head back laughing. “Oh my God!” He’s completely committed now. The original singer has long since been drowned out because Mingi has started singing over the music at full volume. Unfortunately…he’s no longer singing the actual lyrics. He’s making up entirely new ones.
“MINGI!”
“I’m improvising!”
“You’re committing crimes against music!”
“Hey! I‘m the musician here!” You laugh so hard tears start forming in your eyes. “I can’t breathe!” He doesn’t stop. Not even a little. Instead, he attempts what he apparently believes is a dramatic dip. Unfortunately, he forgets one very important detail. To warn you. You let out the loudest squeak of the evening as your upper body suddenly tilts backward.
“MINGI!”
“I HAVE YOU!”
“I KNOW YOU HAVE ME, THAT’S THE PROBLEM!” He laughs so loudly that he almost loses his own balance. For one horrifying second, both of you wobble together. Then collapse onto the edge of the bed in one tangled heap of limbs. Your laughter echoes through the enormous hotel suite, loud and uncontrollable, until your sides ache. You end up half sprawled across his chest, trying unsuccessfully to catch your breath. He looks at you with the biggest, most ridiculously proud smile.
“…See?” You can barely speak.
“See… what?”
“We danced.” You stare at him.
“…That was attempted homicide.”
“It was romantic…It had passion.” He snorts so hard he has to hide his face against your shoulder. You shake your head, still giggling, running your fingers through his messy hair. “I had no idea you were like this.” He peeks up at you. “Like what?”
“So unbelievably… ridiculous.” His grin only grows wider. “You’ve only met cool Mingi.” He shrugs innocently. “This one only comes out for people I really like.” The teasing fades from his eyes for just a heartbeat. He brushes a loose strand of your long dark hair behind your ear, smiling with a softness that still catches you off guard every time. “Besides,” he murmurs, “it’s kind of nice.”
“What is?”
“Being able to act like complete idiots with someone.” Your smile softens instantly. Outside, Seoul keeps moving. Somewhere beyond the hotel walls are cameras, schedules, expectations, and all the rules waiting for both of you. But in this suite, with Latin music still playing from his phone and both of you laughing on the edge of the bed after the world’s worst bachata, you’re not an actress. He’s not an idol. You’re just two hopelessly smitten people who somehow turned getting ready for dinner into a full-contact dance disaster—and neither of you would have it any other way.
You find yourself staring out the passenger-side window as the city lights of Seoul blur into ribbons of gold and white, reflecting across the glass. It still amazes you. Somehow, against all odds, the two of you have managed to keep this… whatever it is… completely out of the public eye. You’re one of Hollywood’s most recognizable actresses. He’s one of the biggest idols in Korea. Between paparazzi, fans, gossip pages, and schedules, this should have fallen apart weeks ago. And yet somehow… It hasn’t. Even during your first trip to Seoul, every date Mingi planned had been tucked away somewhere impossibly private. Quiet Aquarium after closing hours, hidden rooftops, restaurants with private entrances only a handful of people seemed to know about. You still have no idea how he keeps pulling it off. Your gaze remains fixed on the glowing skyline while your thoughts drift. Tomorrow, just after lunch, you’ll be boarding another flight back to Los Angeles. Back to fotoshootings. Back to interviews. Back to pretending this city doesn’t hold someone you’re already going to miss far more than you’d like to admit. Across the car, Mingi steals another glance at you. Then another. He’s barely paying attention to the road anymore. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth every single time he catches your profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. She’s going to love it. He’d spent days arranging tonight. Calling people. Moving reservations. Making favors he fully intends to repay later. The restaurant is completely closed to the public tonight. No guests. No staff wandering through the dining room. No photographers hiding outside. No chance of someone recognizing either of you. Just the two of you. Exactly the way he wants it. Because tonight isn’t just dinner. Tonight, he’s finally going to tell you. He’s done pretending these feelings are casual. He’s completely, hopelessly in love with you. He has absolutely no clue how he’s supposed to explain that to KQ Entertainment. Or his manager. Or to literally anyone. But that’s tomorrow’s problem. Mingi has always been the kind of person who jumps first and worries about the landing later. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel as he turns onto a quieter street before finally pulling his black Porsche into a small parking lot tucked between two buildings. “There we are,” he says, switching off the engine. For a second, neither of you moves. The city hums around you. Then Mingi turns toward you with a grin that immediately tells you he’s already thinking three steps ahead. “We have to take the little alley over there.” He points toward a narrow side street disappearing between two brick buildings. “The main road’s way too busy.” You nod. “Makes sense.”
“Oh—and…” He reaches behind his seat before producing a black baseball cap.
“Here.”
“Thanks.” You reach out to take it. Instead of letting go, Mingi smoothly pulls it back. You blink. “…Seriously?”
“I got it.”
“Mingi.”
“This,” he declares with exaggerated confidence, “is my job.” Before you can protest, he leans closer. One hand gently brushes a strand of your long dark hair behind your ear while the other carefully settles the cap over your head. He adjusts the brim with surprising concentration.
A tiny tug to the left. Another to the right. Then he gently tilts it forward until it shadows your face just enough. “There.” He studies his work for a dramatic second before giving a satisfied nod. “Perfect.” You can’t help smiling. “You know I am perfectly capable of putting on my own cap.”
“I know.”
“So why didn’t you let me?” His grin grows wider. “Because then I wouldn’t get to do it for you.” He gives the brim one last playful tap before winking. Cocky. Completely shameless. And somehow… ridiculously charming. The moment you both step out of the car, the warm spring air wraps around you. The distant sounds of conversations, traffic, and music spill through the narrow streets. Instinctively, you pull the cap a little lower. Before you even have the chance to look around, Mingi reaches for your hand.
Your fingers intertwine naturally, like they’ve done this a hundred times before. He lifts your hand without a word. Then presses a slow, lingering kiss against your knuckles.
You raise an eyebrow. “Someone’s feeling very romantic tonight.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” he replies, his voice dripping with fake innocence. “Oh?”
“Must be another incredibly handsome guy.” You laugh. “So humble.”
“I try.” He flashes you that impossibly confident smile again before gently tugging your hand. “C’mon, sweetheart.” Keeping close together, caps low and shoulders brushing, the two of you disappear into Seoul’s buzzing nightlife, just another couple blending into the evening—at least for a little while.
The two of you weave through the narrow alleyway side by side, your fingers loosely intertwined while the lively sounds of Seoul fade into the background. You’ve barely walked another twenty meters before you glance up. Then stop. “…No way.” Mingi takes one more step before realizing you’ve frozen in place. He turns back, an amused smile already tugging at his lips. “What?” You simply point. Standing in front of you is a cozy little restaurant tucked between two brick buildings. Warm lights glow behind the windows, flower boxes decorate the entrance, and a wooden sign hangs above the door. Zum Alten Markt. Your eyes grow wide before you burst into laughter. “Mingi!” He chuckles, slipping an arm comfortably around your waist and pulling you against his side. “I know.” “No…” You shake your head, still laughing. “You brought me to a German restaurant?” “Well…” His grin grows impossibly smug. “It’s technically a Korean restaurant pretending very convincingly to be German.” You look back at the sign, unable to stop smiling. “This is adorable.” He watches your reaction carefully, relief washing over his face when he sees how brightly you’re smiling. “It’s your second time in Seoul,” he says softly. “And this time… you came all the way here because of me.” His thumb absentmindedly brushes small circles against your waist. “So I figured…” He shrugs almost shyly. “I’d bring a little bit of Germany to you.” For a second, all you can do is look at him. Then your expression softens completely.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“No…” you whisper, leaning closer. “I mean it as a compliment.” He smiles—smaller this time, warmer. You rise onto your toes just enough to wrap your arms around him for a brief hug. “Thank you.” His lips find your hairline, leaving the gentlest kiss there. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” When you pull back, his eyes drift over you. Very slowly. From your legs to the elegant black dress hugging your figure back up to your face. He lets out a quiet breath through his nose. “My God.”
“What?”
“You.” He shakes his head with a disbelieving smile. “Do you have any idea what you do to me when you look like this?” Heat immediately creeps into your cheeks. “Mingi…”
“I’m serious.” His eyes sparkle mischievously. “I spent the entire drive reminding myself to keep my eyes on the road.” You laugh. “And did it work?”
“…Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“I almost missed two turns.” You playfully roll your eyes. Before you can answer, his hand gives your hip a light squeeze. “…Although,” he says thoughtfully, “that dress should probably be illegal.”
“Mingi.”
“What?”
“It should.” He glances around dramatically before leaning in to whisper, “I’ve been trying to act like a gentleman for the last fifteen minutes.”
“And?”
“It’s exhausting.” You can’t help laughing. “Oh, poor you.”
“I know.” He sighs theatrically.
He pauses just long enough to let his eyes wander over you once more. You lightly nudge his shoulder.
“You’re such a flirt.” He offers you his arm with exaggerated elegance. His victorious grin could probably power the entire city. “I knew it.”
With one final playful pat against your ass, he guides you toward the entrance. From the outside, the restaurant almost looks closed. Only a handful of lights are on, the curtains are partially drawn, and there isn’t another guest in sight. Perfect. Exactly as promised. The moment you step inside, the cozy warmth immediately wraps around you. Wooden beams stretch across the ceiling, soft yellow lights illuminate the room, and quiet jazz plays somewhere in the background. It’s intimate. Peaceful. Safe.
A young couple greets you near the entrance. The man bows politely. The woman smiles the second she sees you. Then, much to your surprise, she says,
“Herzlich willkommen.” Your eyebrows lift. “…Sie sprechen Deutsch?” She laughs.
“Ich komme aus München.” Within seconds, the two of you are chatting effortlessly in German. She asks how long you’ve been in Seoul. You ask how she ended up here. Apparently she’d fallen in love with her husband during university, moved to Korea a few years later, and together they’d opened this little restaurant. You like her instantly. Beside you, Mingi simply watches the conversation with absolutely no clue what’s being said. His eyes bounce between the two of you. “…Am I being talked about?” You and the woman exchange amused glances. “…Maybe.”
“I knew it. She laughs before leading you both toward a secluded table tucked into the far corner of the restaurant. Far away from the windows. Far away from curious eyes. Exactly the kind of place Mingi loves finding. She places two menus in front of you. Every dish appears twice. Once in Korean. Once in German. Mingi studies the pages with complete concentration. “…Okay.” He looks up. “So.” He taps one of the unfamiliar words. “Can you actually recommend anything?” You smile. “These are mostly Bavarian dishes.” “Bavarian?”
“Southern Germany.”
“So…” He squints at the menu again.
“…Comfort food?”
“Very much.”
“Hearty?”
“Extremely.”
“I’m listening.”
You point at several dishes while explaining what each one is, laughing as Mingi listens with genuine curiosity, asking questions after nearly every sentence. By the time you’re finished, he’s nodding confidently. After placing your order, you add one final request. “And two wheat beers, please.” Mingi’s head immediately snaps toward you. “…Excuse me?” You smile innocently. “You have to try authentic German Weißbier.”
“I have to?”
“It’s basically the law.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“It absolutely is.” He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “…You’re making that up.”
“Maybe.” A few minutes later, the waitress returns carrying two enormous glasses. Mingi stares. Then stares some more. The beer is practically the size of his head.
“…Sweetheart.”
“…Yes?”
“…Why is Germany serving alcohol in flower vases?” You laugh so hard you almost spill your water. “They’re supposed to be that big.”
“That’s not a drink.” He carefully lifts the glass with both hands. “That’s a workout.” You grin. “Go on.” He studies the cloudy golden beer like it’s about to attack him. Then, remembering something, his face lights up. A cocky smile spreads across his lips. He lifts the giant glass toward yours.
“Prost!” His pronunciation is surprisingly good. You smile so brightly your cheeks almost hurt. The food isn’t exactly what you’d get in Germany. There are obvious Korean influences in almost every dish—the seasoning is lighter, the sauces have a subtle sweetness, and even the schnitzel has a slightly different texture than the ones you grew up with. But somehow… It works. “It’s actually really good,” you admit after another spoonful of your soup. “I told you,” Mingi says proudly, pointing his fork at you as if he’d personally cooked everything in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Mingi has completely abandoned any attempt at eating like a civilized human being. He’s enthusiastically working his way through his meal as though someone might take it away from him at any second.“This is delicious.” Another bite. “Oh, wow.” Another bite. “This is really good.” He points at his plate. “You have to try this.”
“I already did.”
“No, another bite.”
“Mingi—”
“It’s important.” You laugh as he practically holds out his fork in front of you.“I swear, this might be the best thing I’ve eaten this month.”
“You’ve said that about four different dishes tonight.”
“Because they all deserve it.” You can’t help smiling as you watch him. For someone who’s six-foot-one with broad shoulders and enough muscle to look intimidating from across a room he’s unbelievably adorable. Suddenly, the tiny chick mascot the fans always associate with him makes perfect sense. You can absolutely see it now. Cocky? Definitely. Ridiculous? Constantly. But underneath all of that he’s just… sweet. Painfully sweet. The comfortable conversation eventually fades into a quieter silence. Not an awkward one. Just thoughtful. Outside, rain begins tapping softly against the windows. Inside, candlelight flickers gently between you. And yet… There it is again. That question. The one that’s been hovering over both of you for days now, like a dark thundercloud refusing to move on. What happens after tomorrow? When do we see each other again? And… What exactly are we? You slowly stir your soup, watching the spoon trace lazy circles through the broth. “I could come back in two or three weeks,” you say quietly, breaking the silence. “Like I said, my summer’s actually pretty open, thankfully.” Mingi looks up immediately. “You can?” You nod. “I have an audition in New York in a few days for a new role.” You shrug lightly. “After that… my schedule is surprisingly empty. A photoshoot here and there, but nothing big.“ He chews thoughtfully before swallowing.
“I’d really love to come to Germany for you.” His voice softens. “I hope you know that.”
“I do.”
“It’s just…” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “With the tour coming up and the new album…” He gives you an apologetic smile. “The next few weeks are basically twenty-four seven work.”
“Hey.” You reach across the table, gently brushing your fingers against his hand. “You don’t have to apologize.” He looks at you. “I mean it.”
“First of all, I completely understand.” You smile reassuringly. “And second…” You give him a playful wink. “My summer is much more flexible than yours.”
“So I’ll just keep going wherever you are.” His expression softens almost instantly. “You’d really do that?”
“Of course.”
“You’d keep flying halfway across the world?”
“For a pretty cute Korean rapper?” He smirks. “Pretty cute?”
“Yeah, pretty cute.“ You laugh, and for a moment, the heavy cloud hanging over the evening feels just a little farther away. Then Mingi’s eyes drift toward your plate. Or rather what’s left of it. Which is almost everything. His smile disappears. “Sweetheart.”
“Hm?”
“You should really eat more.” You glance down at the barely touched soup before giving a small shrug.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.” You sigh quietly. “Believe me… I’d love to.” You absentmindedly dip your spoon back into the soup. “But I have to fit into the Shego costume in a few months.” The words leave your mouth so casually that they almost don’t register. Mingi frowns. “I don’t like that.” You nod slowly. “Neither do I.” A small smile tugs at your lips anyway. “But…” You take another sip. “…for twelve million dollars…” You shrug. “…I’ll survive.” Silence. You look up. Mingi is staring at you. Fork frozen halfway to his mouth. His eyes blink once. Twice. “…Twelve million?” You nod. He keeps staring. “…Dollars?” Another nod. “That’s…” He coughs into his fist. “…that’s your salary?” “Mhm.” For several long seconds, he simply processes the information. Then he slowly leans back in his chair. “Wow.” You raise an eyebrow. “What?” He studies you with exaggerated seriousness. “Hm.”
“What?”
“I don’t think I’ve complimented you enough today.” You laugh. “Mingi—”
“No, no.” He waves a hand dramatically. “This is clearly my mistake.” He leans forward across the table, resting his chin on his hand as though he’s admiring a masterpiece. “Have I mentioned how unbelievably gorgeous you look tonight?” You immediately burst into laughter. „Mingi!“
„What?“
“I’m investing.” You laugh even harder. “Investing?” He nods solemnly. “I suddenly find myself dating a woman worth twelve million dollars per movie.”
“Mingi!”
“What?”
“You make it sound like I’m a business acquisition.” He grins, completely shameless. “I’m just saying…” He reaches across the table, gently taking your hand. “…I’d still choose you if you were making twelve dollars.” Your smile softens immediately. He lifts your hand and presses another lingering kiss against your knuckles. “…The twelve million are just a very impressive bonus.” You roll your eyes, unable to stop smiling. He squeezes your hand gently, his cocky grin slowly giving way to something quieter. Something more sincere. For a few seconds, neither of you speaks. The warmth between you is undeniable. The evening passes far too quickly. By the time the last plates have been cleared and the conversation has drifted from movies to music to childhood memories and everything in between, neither of you is quite ready for it to end. The young couple returns to your table with warm smiles. “We hope you enjoyed everything,” the German owner says. “It was amazing,” you reply sincerely. “Thank you so much.”
“It really was,” Mingi agrees, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. “I think you may have converted me to German food.” She laughs. “We’ll take that as a compliment.”
As you both stand, Mingi subtly reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket. You know exactly what he’s doing. He discreetly slides an envelope toward the couple. “A small thank-you,” he says politely. “For tonight.” The husband immediately notices it and gently pushes it back across the table.
“No.” Mingi blinks. “…No?” The owner smiles and shakes her head. “We’re happy you trusted us.”
“It’s the least we can do,” her wife adds warmly. “You don’t have to worry.”
“We won’t tell anyone you were here. Ever.” Mingi hesitates. “In Korea…” he begins, almost apologetically, “it’s common to compensate people in situations like this.” The husband smiles. “We know but we don’t want your money.” His wife nods enthusiastically. “Just promise you’ll come back someday.” You exchange a glance with Mingi before smiling. “We’d love to.”
“Definitely,” Mingi says, slipping the envelope back into his jacket with a grateful bow. “Thank you. A few minutes later, you’re outside again. The gentle spring rain hasn’t stopped. It falls in a soft drizzle now, the streets shimmering beneath the reflections of neon signs. Before leaving the shelter of the entrance, you both instinctively pull your caps lower. Masks go on next. By now, the routine is effortless. Cap. Mask. Quick glance around. Then Mingi opens the umbrella above both of you. “Ready?” You nod. He reaches for your hand without thinking. Your fingers lace together beneath the umbrella as naturally as breathing. You start walking through the narrow streets, blending into the evening crowd. Despite the people surrounding you, nobody pays the two of you any attention. Just another couple. Just another rainy night in Seoul. You know your manager would have an actual heart attack if she could see this. Her voice practically echoes inside your head.
Nobody can see you with Mingi. Do you understand? Nobody! For a long moment, you let yourself think about it. Then you squeeze Mingi’s hand a little tighter. Tonight you simply don’t care. You just want to be here. With him. Nothing else matters. “So…” Mingi says after a while, glancing sideways at you. “If you come back in two weeks…” He points ahead dramatically. “You should already start thinking about two new places you want to visit.” You raise an eyebrow. “I thought you said you were going to be working basically twenty-four seven.”
“I am.”
“So?”
He shrugs. “I don’t mind watching you while you work.” He laughs. “That’s your idea of a vacation?”
“I’m serious.” You smile softly. “I honestly don’t care what we do.” You look at him.
“As long as I get to spend time with you.” For a brief second, his confident grin falters. Not because he doesn’t know what to say. Because the sincerity behind your words catches him completely off guard. He quickly recovers. “Leave that to me.”
“What?”
“The planning.” He flashes you that familiar cocky smile. “I’ll worry about making time.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” He slips his arm comfortably around your shoulders, pulling you closer beneath the umbrella before pressing a gentle kiss against your cheek. “I want to.” Your heart does an embarrassingly dramatic little flip. How does he keep doing that? How does one man manage to be so ridiculously confident…and so effortlessly sweet at exactly the same time? Somewhere along the way, without you even realizing it…He’s completely wrapped you around his finger. And the worst part? You don’t mind in the slightest. The streets gradually become quieter as the two of you wander farther from the busy nightlife. Eventually, you reach a small overlook. Below you, the Han River stretches across the city like liquid silver. Rain dances across its surface. The skyline glows softly in the distance, blurred slightly by the drizzle. Without saying a word, you both stop. The umbrella shields you from most of the rain, leaving the world around you wrapped in a peaceful hush. Mingi steps closer until your shoulders brush. Then closer still. Soon there’s barely any space between you at all. His arm remains comfortably around your waist. Your head naturally settles against his shoulder. Neither of you speaks for a while. Neither of you needs to. “I think…” Mingi finally says quietly. “…when you come back…” He looks out across the river. “I’m going to tell my management about us.” You slowly lift your head. He smiles to himself. “I think it’s about time they know…” His eyes drift toward you. “…that I’m dating the prettiest girl in the world. I don’t want to keep hiding behind caps, masks, and umbrellas anymore.“ Your heart almost forgets how to beat. Heat instantly rushes into your cheeks. "But what will your management say?" you ask him uncertainly. "They'll tear my head off," he laughs, amused. You have to smile too, because Lola won't just tear your head off—she'll tear you to shreds. And really, neither of you should be laughing about the fact that you aren't allowed to see or date each other. But like everything else, even this feels lighter and more carefree with Mingi. You lower your gaze toward the pavement, suddenly fascinated by absolutely anything that isn’t him. A nervous smile tugs at your lips as you gently bite the inside of your cheek. You still can’t bring yourself to look at him. He notices immediately. A smile spreads across his face. “So shy all of a sudden?”
“I’m not shy.”
“No?” He gently hooks a finger beneath your chin. “So why won’t you look at me?” Slowly almost reluctantly…He lifts your chin until your eyes meet his. For a second, the entire city seems to disappear. It’s just him. The rain. And the quiet space beneath the umbrella. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek. Then he reaches up with his free hand and slowly pulls his own mask down beneath his chin. You watch him, your pulse beginning to race. Without taking his eyes off you, he gently hooks a finger beneath your mask too. “May I?” You nod almost imperceptibly. He lowers it just enough to reveal your smile. Then he leans in. His lips find yours with quiet certainty. Soft. Warm. Unhurried. A kiss that says more than words have managed to all evening. When he finally pulls back, he’s still close enough that your foreheads almost touch. With one hand, he holds the umbrella over you, protecting you from the light drizzle and—hopefully—the rest of the world. His eyes search yours. There’s something different in them now. The playful confidence is still there… But underneath it lies unmistakable vulnerability. “I still have something I need to tell you,” he says softly. Your heartbeat pounds so loudly you’re convinced he can hear it. Is this it? Is he finally going to say it? He takes a slow breath.
“I…”
Before another word can leave his lips— A voice suddenly cuts through the quiet evening. Loud. Surprised. And far too close.
“저 사람… 에이티즈 민기 아니야?“ /Wait… isn’t that Mingi from ATEEZ? Abruptly, both of you snap your heads toward the sound. About twenty feet away, a small group is standing beneath the streetlights. Three girls. A couple of young guys. One of them is staring directly in your direction. Your stomach drops. Without thinking, you quickly pull your own mask back over your face before reaching up and tugging Mingi’s back into place too. “…Okay,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low. “Let’s get out of here.” You glance over his shoulder. The group is already moving. Toward you. One of the girls points again. Your heart skips. “Oh no…” Mingi doesn’t hesitate. He immediately catches your hand.“C’mon.” Within seconds, the two of you are hurrying down the riverside path before disappearing into another narrow side street. You can’t help feeling grateful for one very specific decision you made earlier. Thank God you wore comfortable shoes. If you’d chosen heels with this dress… You’d probably still be standing back at the overlook. Mingi leads confidently through the maze of alleys, obviously familiar with this part of Seoul. “This way.” You don’t even question him. You simply let him pull you along. Behind you, the voices gradually grow quieter. The footsteps fade. For a brief moment, it almost feels like you’ve lost them. Almost. Mingi glances over his shoulder again.
“I don’t like this.”
“I think we’re okay.”
“I’d rather be certain.” Before you can ask what he means, he suddenly spots a lit storefront just ahead. Without slowing down, he reaches for the door. “In here.” The bell above the entrance jingles loudly as the two of you step inside. Mingi immediately positions himself near the doorway, carefully peeking back through the glass toward the street. You take a slow breath, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. “…I think we lost them.”
“I hope so.” His eyes remain fixed outside. You, meanwhile, finally take a proper look around. At first, all you notice are shelves. Bright lighting. Neatly organized products. Your eyes drift a little farther. Your brain slowly catches up with what you’re actually seeing. A display filled with lace lingerie. Another lined with handcuffs covered in pink faux fur. An entire wall of products you definitely weren’t expecting. Sex toys. Your eyes go wide. “…Mingi.”
“Hm?” He’s still watching the street. “They’re gone, I think…”
“Mingi.” You gently tug on his sleeve. Nothing. His attention doesn’t move from the window. “I just want to make sure nobody followed us.” This time you tug a little harder. “…What?” he asks, finally turning toward you. He looks at your face first. Then follows your gaze. Slowly… His eyes travel around the shop. The lingerie. The shelves. The unmistakably adult merchandise. The neon sign near the counter. Adults Only.
For a solid three seconds, neither of you says a word. Then Mingi lets out a quiet, “…Oh, fuck.” You press your lips together, desperately trying not to laugh. He blinks once. “Seriously?” You whisper back, already shaking with suppressed laughter. “Why does this kind of thing always happen to us?”
“I don’t know!”
“I was aiming for a café!”
“You literally didn’t look!”
“I was busy trying to protect us!” Before either of you can decide whether to laugh or flee, a older employee walks over with a warm, professional smile. “좋은 저녁이에요,“ /Good evening/ she says politely. The two of you stand completely frozen. Still wearing caps. Still wearing masks. Still looking suspiciously like two people who absolutely did not mean to end up here. The employee glances between the two of you. “You don’t have to worry,” she says kindly in korean. “Feel free to look around.” Mingi nods a little too quickly. She smiles once more before politely giving you some space. The moment she’s out of earshot, he leans closer. “Our romantic evening is going incredibly well.” He looks at you with complete seriousness. “I had a private German restaurant.”
“Mhm.”
“A heartfelt confession planned.”
“Mhm.”
“And somehow…” He gestures helplessly around the brightly lit adult shop. “…we’ve ended up hiding from my fans in a sex shop.” You lose the battle against your laughter entirely.
“Mingi…”
“What?”
“I don’t think anyone could’ve predicted this.” He lets out an exaggerated sigh. As you both stand there, still trying to decide whether staying or leaving would look more suspicious, you notice movement out of the corner of your eye. Another elderly woman is making her way toward you. Instinctively, both you and Mingi take a step back. Without even thinking about it, you slip behind him, almost using his broad frame as a shield. The last thing you want right now is for anyone to recognize you. The woman smiles brightly as she approaches, holding a bundle of dried herbs in one hand and several small boxes in the other. A strong, earthy smell reaches you before she does. You wrinkle your nose. She begins speaking rapidly in Korean, gesturing enthusiastically with the bundle in her hand. You don’t understand a single word. And honestly…You don’t particularly care. Your only thought is: Please let us leave. Mingi instinctively backs up with you at first. But then his expression changes. His eyebrows knit together. He blinks once. Then stares at the woman in complete disbelief. The woman keeps talking. She enthusiastically holds one of the little boxes toward him. Mingi lets out an offended scoff. You glance between them in complete confusion. “…Mingi?” He answers the woman in Korean, his voice noticeably sharper than before. You don’t understand the words… But you absolutely understand the tone. He’s arguing with her. The elderly woman fires something back. Mingi immediately responds. Even more dramatically. His hands are moving now. His voice gets louder. The woman looks completely unimpressed. “…Mingi,” you hiss, grabbing his arm. He doesn’t budge. Still glaring at the poor woman, he says something else in Korean. You blink. What on earth is happening? “Mingi,” you whisper more urgently, tugging harder on his sleeve. “Come on!” He stubbornly plants his feet. Apparently determined to win whatever bizarre argument he’s currently having. “Mingi!” You pull again. This time with both hands. Considering he’s over six feet tall and built like a professional athlete… Dragging him anywhere is significantly harder than you’d imagined. He barely moves an inch. “Mingi!” you wheeze between suppressed laughs. “Can we please go?” He lets out one last indignant sentence in Korean before finally allowing you to pull him toward the exit. The bell above the door jingles loudly as the two of you practically stumble back outside. The cool evening air immediately hits your faces. Neither of you slows down. You head straight toward the parking lot, laughing breathlessly from the sheer absurdity of the situation. Once you’re safely beside the Porsche, you finally look over at him. “Do you think she recognized us?” you ask, suddenly a little worried again. Mingi dismisses the idea with an easy wave of his hand.
“I don’t think so. She was too old to know us.“ He unlocks the car with a press of his key. “And she had something much more important on her mind.” You raise an eyebrow. “Oh?” He opens your door before walking around to the driver’s side. Once you’re both seated, he finally mutters, still sounding deeply offended, “That old lady was trying to sell me herbal potency medicine.” You stare at him. “…What?”
He starts the engine. “Potency medicine.” Your lips twitch. “For…” He shoots you an exasperated look. “You know exactly what I mean.”
“Oh…” You bite your lip. “…Oh.” He shakes his head dramatically. “As if I need that shit.“ The moment the words leave his mouth, you completely lose it. Laughter bursts out of you before you can stop it. You double over in your seat, clutching your stomach. “Mingi—” He crosses his arms, pouting at the windshield. “Very funny.” You can’t even finish your sentence. Tears begin gathering in the corners of your eyes.
“She looked at you and thought—”
“I know what she thought!”
“Apparently she was concerned!”
“I was insulted. And for someone I fucked and satisfied three times last night, you're laughing pretty loudly.“ That only makes you laugh harder. He grumbles something under his breath in Korean. Still pouting. Still adorably offended. You finally manage to catch your breath enough to look over at him. His cheeks are slightly puffed out. His jaw is set in the most dramatic sulk imaginable. It’s one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen. A quiet giggle escapes you. You lean across the center console until you’re close enough that your shoulder brushes his. “Come on,” you whisper affectionately. “Don’t be grumpy.”
He stubbornly keeps his eyes on the windshield.
“I am not grumpy.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I’m offended.”
“Those are the same thing.”
“They’re not.”
“They really are.”
He finally turns his head just enough to look at you. “I’m just saying…” he mutters. “Of all the men in Seoul…she picks me.” You can’t help smiling. Reaching up, you gently smooth a strand of hair back from his forehead before lightly poking his cheek. “For what it’s worth…I don't think you need potency-enhancing drugs, my ridiculously dramatic rapper.” He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “…You are never going to let me forget this, are you?” You grin innocently. “Oh, sweetheart…” You reach for his hand and lace your fingers with his. “…absolutely not.”
The golden evening light spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the apartment, painting everything in warm shades of orange and gold. Tomorrow, you’re leaving Seoul. Again. The thought has been sitting heavily in your chest all day. You curl your legs beneath you on the couch, absentmindedly playing with the sleeve of your sweater as you stare out at the city. Mingi notices immediately. He always does. “What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” You glance over at him. He’s stretched out comfortably beside you, one arm draped across the back of the couch, looking far too relaxed for someone who’s about to say goodbye for the next couple of weeks. “Nothing.” A smirk appears on his face. “You’re a terrible liar.” You roll your eyes. “I’m serious.”
“Mmhm.” He doesn’t believe you for a second. Your gaze drops to your hands.
“I was just thinking about tomorrow.”
The smirk softens. “Oh.” The silence that follows feels heavier than before. You pick at a loose thread on your sleeve. “It’s weird and annoying.“
“What is?” You shrug. „That we always have to plan ahead just to see each other, coordinate our schedules, and hope it all works out.“ For a moment, Mingi simply watches you. Then a grin slowly spreads across his face. A dangerous grin. One that instantly makes you suspicious. Your eyes narrow.
“What?”
“Book a flight to Bali instead of Seoul in two weeks.“
You blink.
“…What?”
“Bali.”
You stare at him.
“Mingi.”
“Yeah?”
“Why would I book a flight to Bali? I thought you working non-stop.“
His grin widens. Because of course it does.
“I already took care of everything. We were given four days off before the work marathon really starts, and I was able to convince Hongjoong to use those four days to see each other again.“
You sit up straighter.
“You what?”
“I booked us a resort.” Your mouth falls open. “A resort?”
“A really nice one.“
“Mingi.”
“A really, really nice one.” He winks. You cover your face with both hands. “Oh my God.” His laugh fills the room. “It’s private.”
You peek at him through your fingers.
“How private?”
“Private enough that nobody’s going to bother us…. Totally private, just the two of us and a lot of kissing.“ He leans forward slightly and kisses you soft. Your heart skips. “No schedules. No work. No hiding. Just you and me and a lot of dirty Sex.“ Heat immediately rushes to your cheeks. Your eyes drop to the floor. Because what else are you supposed to do when he says things like that?
“Mingi…”
“What?”
“You can’t just say stuff like that.”
“Sure I can.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Why not?” You let out a helpless laugh. You bite your lip. Instantly, his eyes flick downward. And the smug expression that appears on his face makes your blush even worse. You lower your hands. He is watching you with an expression you’ve only seen a handful of times before. Not playful. Not teasing. Just honest.
“The tour starts soon.” You nod. “I know.”
“And after that, everything gets even more busy.” You know that too. ATEEZ’s schedule is insane even on a normal day. The U.S tour only makes it worse and afterwards your filming begins. “So these are probably the last few days I get that are actually mine.” His eyes never leave yours. “And I want to spend them with you.” The room suddenly feels much warmer. You look down again, unable to hold his gaze for long. Your fingers twist together in your lap. A small smile pulls at your lips. “I’d really like that.” His smile appears instantly. “Yeah?” You nod. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out quieter than intended.
“I’ll miss you.” The words slip out before you can stop them. Mingi’s expression softens immediately. You feel your cheeks burn. “Which is ridiculous because it’s only two weeks.”
“It’s not ridiculous.”
His answer comes without hesitation. Your eyes meet his again. “It’s not?”
“No.”
His voice is low. “Because I’m going to miss you too.” For a second, neither of you says anything. The feeling settles between you, warm and delicate and terrifying all at once. Neither of you has said the words yet. You had the feeling Mingi wanted to tell you something at the Han River, but he doesn't have to yet. Because sometimes the things left unsaid are the loudest. Mingi reaches over and intertwines his fingers with yours. “So.” A familiar grin returns to his face. You immediately know he’s about to ruin the moment. “What?”
“I’m still looking forward to seeing you in a bikini again.” Your jaw drops. “Mingi!” His laughter echoes through the apartment as you bury your burning face in your hands once again. And somehow, despite tomorrow’s goodbye, all you can think about now is Bali.
TEASER (18+!!!) for: Mingi gets the fucking chuck chair C:
I might have failed my Chemistry exam because I focused too hard on this
This was supposed to be smut with no plot but there's a little plot now
All you wanted was a girls' trip, an all-inclusive hotel, and the Ateez tour finale. Instead, you awkwardly run into Mingi at the hotel elevators, discover that Ateez is apparently staying at the same hotel as you, Yunho somehow finds you on a fetish app, cause thats obv where he spends his free time, and then well-
Yeah. It only gets worse from there, but Mingi subs so yay.
Mostly he sits, right here:
I'm warning you NOW and then probably again later:
Don't be a homophobe
Yunho is Bi before everything happened; Mingi is bi? Or just into Yunho.
3some, AFAB Reader, no Y/N- I think, dry humping, Yungi, first time Yungi, lovers?, technically everybody switches, but heavily implied
Dom!Yunho X Dom! Reader X Sub!Mingi,
Tags: I might add more later-
Dry humping, cuck mingi, Reader and Yunho are kinda mean, Insults and curse words like Slut
Oral male and female receiving, improvised bondage, spanking, choking, edging, fingering,
hairpulling, crying, spanking, mingi is a munch, overstimulation, nipple play, manhandling, Body Worship, size difference,
Anal, dp female recieving, sloppy seconds, multiple o's, cum Play, cum swallowing, raw (wrap it before you tap it? No, not with idols go get that check💵), Mingi has no pull out game, unspoken confessions, San nd Wooyoung are right next door- or not?,
If you want actual spoilers:
You reached down, your fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of Mingi's neck. You tightened your grip, just enough to make him gasp, and used it as a handle to push his head down, dragging his tongue through the mess on Yunho's abs.
Mingi moaned, a muffled, desperate sound vibrating against Yunho's skin. He lost all pretense of hesitation, his tongue lapping eagerly, cleaning every drop. He could feel Yunho's cock, which had never fully gone down, begin to stir again against his neck, thickening and bobbing with renewed interest as he licked his best friend's release from his body. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of submission, intimacy, and a raw, primal arousal that made his own cock ache in response.
When he was done, he drew back, his face glistening, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He looked utterly wrecked. You leaned down and, to his complete shock, pressed a soft, satisfied kiss to his flushed cheek. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Mingi was reeling. The taste of Yunho was still on his tongue, a salty, bitter proof that he had crossed a line he never even knew was there. He was frozen on his knees between Yunho's legs
