✩

Mingi’s fingers are knotted in your hair, pulling at the roots deliciously, causing you to moan shakily into his mouth. 

His mouth and tongue are oh so warm, pulling you into him and genuinely, you wish that he could swallow you whole. Pulling sharply at your hair, he forces your head back so he can mouth and kiss hotly at the column of your throat. 

You gasp at the intoxicating force he’s pulling the roots of your hair with, leaving your scalp stinging in a way you crave. 

When he reaches the neckline of your dress, his hand leaves your hair to undo the tie at the back of your neck. The second that is pulled free, the fabric leaves your chest, exposing you to Mingi. 

He whines deeply and needily, gaze heavy as he drinks up your appearance. If this were anyone else, you would have shied away already. But, with Mingi…with Mingi, you find yourself feeling safe. 

If you knew you were going to be saying that about Song Mingi, you would have laughed in your own face, but right here — in the quiet, intimate area of Mingi’s studio, you feel incredibly safe in his lap. 

His teeth gently nip at your skin, teasing you from the bottom of your throat to the top of your right breast. Your skin feels like it’s alight with fire, that bundle in between your thighs feeling like a spark, ready to ignite. 

When his lips catch on your nipple, you pant, arching your back into him as his hands grip you harder. 

His tongue laves at you, creating a hot seal on your nipple, causing a tingle to run down your spine and forces you to curl your toes. Gently, oh so gently, you feel a scrape of his teeth against your skin. 

“Mingi,” you exhale, your fingers coming to grip at the back of his neck, his hair tickling your fingertips. 

His other hand drifts up, caressing the side of your body before reaching your left nipple and running over it with the side of his nail, creating a euphoric feeling. 

He bucks his hips up torturously, the bulge of his cock meeting the inside of your thigh, making you crave more. 

You want more, you need more. 

You may not be that experienced, but with Mingi — you feel like all those nerves you would have got thrown out the window. 

Before you even have a chance to think, Mingi is gripping your thighs and ass, hoisting you up out of the chair and walking both of you over to the lounger he has tucked against the far wall of the studio. 

He lands on you, and you hiss as the cold chains wrapped around his neck hit your hot flesh. Your nipples are so hard and you’re so wet and your head is so incredibly fuzzy and all you want is Mingi. 

MingiMingiMingiMingi. 

You reach for his shirt, trying to undo the buttons, but your fingers are fumbling, shaky, and you start to get frustrated. 

Mingi’s been watching you with an amused, dark look on his face, tongue poking out to wet his lips and holy shit, he looks like the definition of a sex god. Pulling back, he takes his hands and places them in the opening of his shirt, ripping it open. 

You squeal as buttons go flying, the sound of them hitting hard surfaces echo around the room and Mingi pulls his shirt off of his torso. 

“Mingi, what the fuck?” You laugh. 

He shrugs snarkily, “it’s replaceable.” 

His hands go for your dress, grabbing the parts that are bunched up and pulling it down the expanse of your body, exposing every part of yourself to the man in front of you. 

You see Mingi’s eyes track every inch of you and the way he’s looking at you reminds you of a dog eyeing a mouthwatering piece of steak. He’ll fight anything that gets in his way. 

Leaning forward, Mingi kisses the underside of each of your breasts. His tongue dips out, dragging down your stomach and stopping when he reaches the top of your underwear. 

Looking at you with a fire in his eyes, mouth parted as hot puffs of breath graze your skin, he takes his thumbs and hooks them into the thin piece of fabric. 

Suddenly, your heart stutters and you reach down with lightning speed, grabbing at his hands. 

You don’t say anything when Mingi’s eyes flicker up to yours, but you feel dizzy with lust, your chest rising and falling rapidly. This feels a bit unreal. 

“Angel,” Mingi coos saccharine sweetly, like honey dripping off his tongue into your own mouth. “Will you let me play with this pretty pussy?”

You practically melt into the lounge as those words, body turning to nothing but an intoxicated puddle. 

When you don’t say anything, Mingi takes that as a yes, and slips your panties off, throwing them to the floor. 

As he looks at you, his palms circle the inside of your thighs, pushing them apart, so he can see better. You don’t even have time to think before his head swoops down, lips dragging across your slit. 

The action makes your hips jump and you whine, “oh fuck.” 

Fixing his position, Mingi pulls your pelvis down to his face, hands locked in tight to where your thighs bend at your hips. 

Your legs end up over his shoulders, the tips of your high heels, digging into the wide expanse of his shoulders. 

Mingi parts your lips with his fingers and dives in, nose nuzzling against your clit as his tongue laps at the inside of your entrance. 

Your chest stutters and your hands scramble to find purchase on something. One hand grips the side of the couch, the other, unconsciously goes down to thread itself into Mingi’s soft, black hair. 

He groans into your pussy, his hot breath hitting the underside of your clit, causing a shiver to drive throughout your body. 

Fingers digging into your thighs, face buried in your pussy, you feel like you’re absolutely delirious and you’ve never felt anything this good in so long. 

He moves his head slightly in order to wrap his lips around your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue against it in an agonizing motion, and your eyes roll back into your head at how amazing it feels. 

It sends sparks up your spine, eyes rolling back. 

You’re panting and moaning and whining as Mingi circles his tongue around that sensitive little nub, causing your thighs to shake. He reaches up as he eats you out, hands gripping both of your tits. 

The cool feeling of his rings bite into your skin, every sense of yours heightened. 

When you start feeling the tell-tale signs of a rubber band threatening to snap deep inside of you, you start saying Mingi’s name like a chant. 

He pulls away from you, mouth glistening with your wetness and you let out a dramatic exhale as the rubber band disappears. Chuckling, he kisses your clit gently, cooing when you shiver. 

Mingi stands, his own chest heaving and you watch as he takes off his belt, the clinking of the metal causing the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as excitement barrels through you. Sitting up on your elbows to get a better look, as he pulls his pants off, your eyes widen at the imprint of his cock in his boxer briefs. 

If the imprint makes you nervous, how’s the— 

He puts his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down too, and all the air leaves your lungs as his cock bounces when it’s freed from the fabric. 

Fuck, he is way bigger than you thought. Not that you were thinking about it, but— who are you kidding? Of course you’ve thought about it. 

There’s a dark, trimmed patch of hair that surrounds the base of his cock and almost highlights it as it bobs heavily with every movement. He walks over to his desk, reaching into a drawer and comes back to lean in between your legs. 

They spread without much thought, accommodating space for him. Mingi looks down at you in awe, taking a few fingers to run down your swollen clit and circles your entrance for a moment before sinking them into your wet heat. 

 His fingers are long and punch a groan out of you, feeling as he curls them into that spot right behind your clit. You moan, stomach tensing as a heavy feeling pools in your gut while he massages that spot with his fingers. 

The packet in his fingers shines momentarily, drawing your attention slightly. He brings it up to his teeth, biting the foil and tearing it open with a seamless motion. Your hips are moving in sync with his fingers, trying to keep that consistent pressure that feels so heavenly. 

He rolls the condom on so fluidly with one hand that you have to swallow down the thought that he’s done this so often, it’s basically second nature to him. Yep, nope, swallow that shit down. 

“Are you gonna open up for my cock so nicely, babydoll?” 

You nod, in a trance as his voice reaches a new deep tone you had no idea was possible. 

There’s a light right above Mingi’s head, shining through the strands of his hair, making him look ethereal above you. 

The tip of his cock is flushed a pretty rose color, and you would love to sit there and just suck at it for hours. 

He takes his fingers out, your body whining at how empty you feel, but it only lasts for a minute before the man in front of you leans forward. 

Mingi runs his cock up and down your slit, tapping the underside against your clit, making your hips jerk in surprise. 

“Fuuuuuck,” he drags out. “So nice and warm for me, yeah?” 

He pushes in slightly, and the pressure from just that alone, has your body going slack. As he continues to push his cock into you, you’re whining because holy fucking shit, the pressure is intense and overwhelming and your hands jut out to push against the bottom of his stomach. 

“Wait, wait,” you breathe, needing a second. 

“You’re okay, I got you,” Mingi leans over you, caging you in with his body. 

Your lips search for his and he kisses you deep, biting your bottom lip and pulling it with him when he pulls way from your face. 

He watches your face so closely, so intently as he pushes further in and when his hips become flush with yours, you feel so full that you want to cry. 

“Oh, look at you angel, look at the way you’re taking my cock like a good fucking girl. That’s all you needed to stop being such a brat, hm? You needed a thick cock and a good fuck?” 

When Mingi stops talking, he pumps his hips in and out of you, cock kissing your cervix every time he pushes in. Your breasts bounce with each thrust, and when Mingi’s pelvis meets yours in a slow grind, your clit gets caught between the two of you and you almost black out, seeing stars in your vision. 

Your skin is sweaty and no doubt sticking to the leather of the lounge you’re both on, but when you look at Mingi, pounding his cock inside of you over and over again, you think there’s no place you’d rather be. 

“Fuck, this pussy was made for me. Such a needy cunt my dollface has.” 

Those words make static begin to ring in your ears, the world blurring and only thinking about the delicious burn of your clit against Mingi’s pelvis and the sweet deep pull in your gut every time he pushes into your pussy. 

Clenching hard around him, he groans, falling over you and pressing his sweaty face into the crook of your neck, kissing the juncture of your shoulder. 

“Mingi…” you cry out. “‘M gonna cum, ‘m gonna cum.” You whisper breathily into the shell of his ear. 

Your fingers dig into his back, feeling his muscles tense under your touch with every thrust. Your ankles are hooked over his thighs, the heels of your shoes digging into the bottom of his ass. 

That rubber band feeling has come back, heat pooling so incredibly dangerously and deep within you. 

“You gonna cum on my cock? I want to feel you squeeze me while you cum, yeah?” 

Your toes curl, thighs shaking as the burning inferno gets bigger and bigger until it finally shatters the windows, causing you to cry out and cling to Mingi. 

Your body is shaking, wave after wave crashing down on you as Mingi continues to fuck you through your orgasm. 

Tears spring to your eyes as Mingi pounds into you, not letting up. Your throat is tightening at how sensitive you are and how hard he’s driving his hips into you. 

“Mingi,” you whine, helplessly. 

“Yeah,” he nuzzles into the side of your throat, teeth scraping as he gently bites at the skin there, hips slowing down slightly. “Your fucking pussy is gonna make me cum, I’m gonna cum so fucking hard inside you.” 

All you can do is cling to him and cry from the overstimulation you’re being sent into. 

Mingi breathes hotly against you, reaching for your wrists and circling his fingers around them, securing them to the lounge. 

“Ha,” he cries out. His hips jerk violently and he lets out a long, shaky groan as he cums, biting down onto your shoulder. 

You shiver, the feeling of him pulsating inside of you completely indescribable. 

He groans deeply, hips stilling as he empties himself inside of you, the lounge creaking under your weight all of a sudden. Mingi cages you under his body weight completely, your sticky skin fusing with his, your chests rising rapidly together. 

The room is hot, thick with the energy you’ve created between each other. Lazily, you throw your arms around his neck, holding Mingi close to you. 

Just being in his presence like this after how he made you feel, feels like you’re drifting. 

Mingi groans above you, lifting his body up as he slips out of you, but not before he leans down to kiss between your breasts. 

You body is slumped against the lounger, nothing in your body wanting you to move from your spot. Mingi fucked you into oblivion and you need some time to recover, your heartbeat can be heard in your own ears, chest rising rapidly, nerves on fire. 

You watch as Mingi gets up and pulls the condom off with a gross, wet sound, discarding it into the trash can. 

Turning around to face you, he leans against his desk, a lazy smile on his lips. 

He looks insane right now — in the best way possible. His hair is mussed up from where you ran your hands through it, his lips are bright red and swollen, abs glistening with a light sheen of sweat…he looks incredible and it’s because of you. 

Mingi pushes himself off his desk and reaches into a drawer for something. When he walks closer to you, you recognize it as a wet wipe and his hands are so gentle as he pushes your thighs apart. 

When the wet wipe hits your skin, goosebumps rise to the surface at the chill the wipes bring but the simple act of him wiping your skin down after sex has your heart swelling in a way that you push out of your head. For now. 

“What time is it?” You ask, voice huskier than usual. 

Mingi hums as he takes a look at the lock screen of his phone. “It’s three fifty-two.” 

You shoot up from the lounge. “Oh my god, Mingi! It’s almost four in the morning!” 

He shrugs, not seeing the big deal. 

How were you going to explain this to the girls? Standing up and reaching for your dress that you are surprised is not in shreds, you pull it back up over your hips and fasten the straps around your neck. 

Mingi walks towards you, gripping your waist gently to turn you into him. 

“You’re an adult, right?” 

You quirk an eyebrow at him, unamused. “Yes?” 

“Then what’s the big deal?” 

“The big deal is I don’t love lying to my members about my whereabouts.” 

Mingi is naked and holding you and you’re having a hard time thinking straight with his body pressed up against yours like this. 

He dips his head down to your neck, kissing the side of it in an array, nibbling your skin on the last kiss he leaves before he pulls away. 

“I think your members would be okay with you getting laid,” he whispers. 

Your throat seizes up, feeling tight. Was that all this was to him? Just getting laid? 

Well, probably yes, and that’s all it should be to you too. 

Clearing your throat, you pull away from him, picking up your bag and making sure you have everything. Walking to the door, you turn around to look at Mingi. 

You aren’t sure what to say, so you kind of just awkwardly stay there and track his body with your gaze. 

Mingi walks towards you and his fingers come underneath your chin to tilt it upwards. He presses his mouth to yours, licking gently between your lips. You both pull away and the sound of your lips disconnecting, echo in the quiet studio. 

“Mingi?” You whisper against his lips. 

He hums. 

“Will you show me more music of yours?” 

Something sits in the air between the two of you, something so painfully, so incredibly intimate. 

Even more so now, than when Mingi had been inside of you. 

That thought consumes your mind and scares the ever-loving fuck out of you. 

Mingi bites his lip and fights something akin to a blush and you furiously blink to make sure you’re seeing right. Song Mingi blushing? Over you wanting to see more of his music? 

You can’t even wrap your brain around that. 

Wordlessly, he walks over to a small linen closet in the corner of the studio and pulls out a pair of sweats. You turn away as he puts them on, fighting down the fact that he has definitely done this with other people in his studio enough to have spare clothes. 

You’re fine Y/N, get over it. It was just sex. 

Just sex that was started from you two creating a song together and now it’s just sex that is creating this scene in front of you: Mingi shirtless with sweatpants slung low on his hips, going to sit in his chair and pull up more song files. 

You feel like the contract that started all of this between the two of you has long disappeared and you almost feel like it’s not needed anymore for you to be out in public and look like you’re enjoying each others presence to the point where it looks like you’re a couple. 

Keheum draws your attention back to Mingi and you sit in the chair next to him that you had occupied previously in the night. 

He pulls up file after file and you’re taken aback at just how many song files there are, knowing how hard it must be to not be able to release them and share them with the people who want to hear what you’ve created. 

The first song Mingi plays for you is labeled Tunnel. 

Listening to it, the first thing you think it sounds like is pure pain. It hurts to listen to the lyrics and the melody and when it hits the pre-chorus, something strikes you in the chest. 

“I gotta get outta fucking love Everything I said was a lie Everything right at this moment”

The beat revs up as the chorus comes and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Will I be able to delete all these memories? I think of it as a habit once in a while From sunrise to sunset, this moment Why is my heart so void?”

The rest of the song has you stunned into silence and reaching verse two makes you want to throw up. 

“Tried forgetting and losing it The void that waits at the end Days soaked in alcohol Fighting against blurred memories That’s enough, goodbye I let you go like nothing happened But then, at the end of it all A piece of you still lingers It’ll be empty, hopefully Then it will be filled again, even if it hurts I’ll eventually have to face reality I’m sure that it was just a dream deep inside my heart”

With this song, Mingi has torn his heart apart and openly bled on the track, almost sending you into a fit of tears. 

It’s so vulnerable, so unlike any other song you’ve heard from him. It makes you wonder what led up to this song being written. The song fades out and with it goes your breath and your words and anything that could possibly describe how you feel has been scraped out and left echoing. 

“Mingi…” you begin, not knowing how to continue. “That…” 

You don’t have any words to keep going. Mingi doesn’t look at you and instead, looks at the waveforms of the song on his monitor. His jaw is tight, threatening to jump out of his skin and you notice how his fingers hover over his mouse. 

One critique about it and it seems like he’s willing to lose the track altogether. 

“It’s not finished.” He says, voice deep and wavering. 

It sounds like a lie. 

“I mean…it is—” he starts again. “I just…I never anticipated anyone listening to it.” 

You clear your throat, “why did you show me, then? Also, you created this, you didn’t have any intention of releasing it?” 

“I didn’t think it would find the light of day, honestly.” He whispers, pursing his lips. 

His gaze has stayed averted the whole time you’ve been talking, like he’s worried. 

Finally he turns to you and the intensity in his eyes has you a little breathless. 

“I showed you because you asked to hear more of my music.” He shrugs nonchalantly, trying to brush off the sincerity behind his words. 

Swallowing thickly, you don’t say anything to that. What can you say? 

Well, maybe, “thank you,” you end up with — “for showing me.” 

His expression turns into something unguarded, bare, dangerously honest. He looks just like Mingi. He doesn’t look like this volatile, hot-shot rapper, he looks like a boy, standing in the wreckage of his emotions that appears he’s not allowed to feel. 

“I wrote this song at a time where I felt like I was screaming underwater.” He whispers, voice cracking at the end and you stay painfully still and quiet, just watching as he unravels himself. “Loud, desperate, but no one hears you…so you just give up.” 

Your eyes burn. 

“It’s one of those things that you have to write and put into motion, otherwise…it eats you alive.” 

Mingi’s shoulders are sloped inward, trying to curl in on himself and it shows you just how exhausted he is. He’s exhausted being this angry, being this sad, being this hidden. 

You had no idea a few months ago that when you signed this fake relationship contract, it would lead you here. However, you’re having a hard time trying to figure out if that’s a bad thing or not. 

His armor is cracking and he’s letting you look inside, handing you his vulnerability without asking for anything in return. 

Before you can silently talk yourself out of it, you lean over and grab Mingi’s hand from the mouse and pull it into your lap, threading your fingers together. 

His hand is so big it practically swallows yours, but you’re really growing to like the difference. 

“I think when people hear this song, not if, but when, you’ll understand that you weren’t screaming into a void, the right people just weren’t around to hear you yet.” You finally say, bringing your hands up to your mouth and placing a tender kiss to the back of his knuckles. 

“Are you just being nice to me, dollface?” 

“I don’t take art lightly,” you shrug, trying to convey that you wouldn’t say anything that you didn’t mean. “Why did you write this?” 

You want to get down to the nitty gritty — you want to understand him, understand what turned him into this angry, unapologetic person. 

He doesn’t answer you immediately, face turning stony as he pulls his hand away from you and for the first time since you’ve known him, you fear that you’ve gone too far. 

He leans back in his chair, running his hand over his face as if to try and scrub the emotion off somehow. 

“This was written after everything fell apart.” 

And like that, your heart skips a beat against your ribcage. 

“I was totally lost in my sexuality for a long time. I had finally figured out who I am meant to be and I told my girlfriend at the time, thinking she was going to be more than supportive, understanding even.” Mingi’s voice is flat in a way that scares you and he looks as if he’s reliving that entire moment everything went down. 

“She said she supported who I was…but it was like I had just handed her a piece of myself that she never asked for.” Mingi’s expression comes off as bitter, eyes glistening wetly as he looks at the monitor. He laughs for a second, sharp and sour. “A few days later she blew up at me, asked if I had been lying to her the whole time about who I was. I got so…so angry. I ended up punching a wall near her when she kept pushing this narrative that I had lied to her as if she felt entitled to who I am as a person.” 

Your chest aches badly, hurts so much that it almost feels like you’re having a panic attack. Your eyes haven’t left Mingi’s face, but he hasn’t looked at you once. 

A singular tear runs down his cheek briefly before he wipes it away quicker than it came out of his eye. 

“She told the company after that.” His voice cracks like a hairline fracture. “They called me for a meeting and they weren’t outwardly disapproving about it. But they started talking about it. My image. My marketability. My appeal. They said it wasn’t wise to come out. 

“Told me to hide it from my fans, my team, myself and it just about fucking killed me from the inside out. The higher ups told me if I came out, they’d drop me. They’d drop me and keep the rights to all the songs I’ve ever produced and written. I felt so hopeless.

“I left that meeting and stumbled into a club, stayed there for hours. Took so many bumps I can’t even count, took so many shots it felt like I was drinking water. I got three different blowjobs in the bathroom, I just…” he squeezes his eyes shut tightly before opening them again. “I just wanted to feel something.”

Turning to you, you can see tears freely running down Mingi’s face and you’re frozen in place, shocked to your core. 

“I loved her so much too,” Mingi scoffs wetly, “I thought love was supposed to save you, but for me, it just taught me how to be reckless and explosive and hide specific parts of yourself.”

You feel sick. Sick to your stomach, sick systemically. 

The amount of pain Mingi has been in makes you feel bad that all you ever saw him as at one point, was the biggest asshole to walk this earth. 

What do you say? How do you remedy something like this? The truth is, you can’t and you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to on your own. 

You crawl into his lap, worried this might be the wrong move but you commit to it anyway and decide it was the right move when Mingi completely wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him entirely. 

You can feel his hot tears run down your shoulder and it just makes you squeeze him tighter. 

“Tunnel sounds like someone trying to survive, even when the walls are spiked and closing in on them. It sounds like someone trying to get breath even with punctured lungs.” 

Mingi lets out a choked up sob and promptly bursts into tears, forcing his face into the crook of your neck. 

“I wanted to die so badly. I kept wishing…something would happen and I wouldn’t wake up the next day.” Mingi is choking out words between his cries and you try to regulate your breathing, your heart racing. 

You sit there for god knows how long, holding him tightly as he cries. 

They begin to even out and he pulls away, face blotchy with red and cheeks tear stained. 

“It was so much worse when I was a teenager,” he croaks out. “Without the pressure, the cameras. But I didn’t have the words back then and when this whole thing imploded with the company and Soohyun—” 

Soohyun. The bitch. 

“Music was the only thing that got me through. It was the only place where I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone and my fans understood. Funny how that’s what they decided to take away, huh?” He chuckles so bitterly. 

Your eyes burn with your own tears, trying to understand how a company can do this to their artist — put them inside of a box, tell them to lie about who they are when they finally had the courage to want to live truthfully outwardly. 

“When I realized I wasn’t going to be able to be myself, it was maybe a few months after? I became louder, sharper in my actions. If they were going to call me unstable, then I was going to lean into it, because unstable was the only way I felt like I could get through life without wanting to end everything.”

He pauses and takes a deep breath and looks up at you. “That’s who people know. They know the volatile Song Mingi.” 

Everything that was a blur to you before becomes crystal clear. The scandals. The girls. The drugs. The fights. That wasn’t who he truly was as a person. That was who he was projecting himself as just to feel real. 

There’s an alarm bell ringing in your head, pleading at you to do something and your eyes are searching his face desperately for something, something you can glob onto so you can fix this for him. 

That’s in your contract, to help fix his image. So, you’re going to try to, but teaching him how to be himself. 

It’s not going to be easy though. And it’s going to have to start with the company. 

Fuck. Are you really going to do this? Well, you signed up for it, technically. 

Mingi leans in, hands coming up to push gently at the back of your neck. 

Your lips meet, melding together as you kiss. His lips are salty with tears but you don’t dare to pull away. This is what he needs and you know what? You need this too. 

His tongue pokes into your mouth, meeting your own tongue, moving against it tastefully. Both of you lips are swollen when you pull away, bitten red and raw. 

“I don’t want to be that guy anymore.” Mingi whispers into the air between your mouths. 

Mingi doesn’t want to be the person who lights himself on fire just to be seen anymore. 

“Then don’t,” you tell him softly. 

He lets out a breath that sounds dangerously close to a sob and you’re worried that he’s going to start up again. But he takes a deep breath, and looks at you in the eyes. “It’s not that simple.” 

“I know. But, it’s possible.” 

He looks at you like you’ve handed him something fragile and breakable. 

“Let me help you, please.” You plead into the silence. 

His bottom lip wobbles and he lets out a shaky exhale, pulling you back into his chest. 

A knife is stabbed through the center of your heart, twisting slowly to cause the most damage to the muscle. The song file continues to play softly behind the both of you, listening to the lyrics yet again and you sit in his lap, cradling him to your chest as you realize something. 

His image of chaos that he portrayed to the world was never the issue, the issue was the boy who learned that being himself came with consequences and prevented him from doing something he loved. 

Something comes very apparently clear to you; Mingi deserves to be free and you are going to help him achieve that.

You stay together like that for a while longer before Mingi eventually lets you go and tells you that it’s probably time for you to head home. 

He walks you to the door and kisses you there, unashamed and pulls away with your bottom lip gently tucked between his teeth. 

Taking a deep breath and fighting a blush, you leave the studio and call a taxi to head home. 

You must look like the ultimate mess, getting into a taxi at six in the morning — makeup is probably a mess and your dress is not fitting like it did earlier tonight before it was practically ripped off of your body. 

You try to tiptoe into your apartment, slowly taking off your heels in the hall so that no one would hear you. You quietly walk through the hall and think you’ve made it when you hit the bottom of the stairs, but freeze when you see the living room lights turn on out of the corner of your eye. 

Harin is on the couch, bright pink hair tousled messily, a large t-shirt that falls off her shoulder adorning her body. Your eyes catch the dark ring of a stain on her chest and try and focus on that, rather than the scrutinizing look she has on her face. 

“Hi unnie,” she smiles sarcastically. “Where have you been?” 

Caught red handed. 

Your members are mad at you. Rightfully so, but it feels very weird to have their negative energy turned towards you. Harin interrogated you like in her previous life she was a detective and when she didn’t get much out of you, she sent you to bed like she was your mother instead of the youngest member. 

You slept for a couple hours before heading down into the living room and being met with three sets of disapproving eyes. 

“No call, no text, no nothing.” Jihyo says, putting her iced coffee down. 

You bite your lip. Yeah, you’re in trouble. Heejin hasn’t even looked at you directly and that’s how you know that she’s upset. 

“You could’ve been dead for all we know.” 

“Except we know that you were with Mingi-ssi,” Harin says, her tone full of judgement. 

You take a seat in the big, fluffy chair that has followed you guys since debut. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

Your fingers are gripping at the edge of the chair, feeling like a child who is sitting in front of their parents after receiving detention. 

“Is there something going on with you and Mingi?” Jihyo asks, accusatory. 

You clear your throat, swallowing down the bile that you feel rising up. You don’t feel that it’s right for you to tell them everything you and Mingi had talked about because it’s not your story, but you do think they would completely understand if he green-lit you telling them. 

You don’t want to feel like you’re lying to them, so you don’t, you just choose to leave details out. 

It’s silent for a second before you look up into Jihyo’s eyes. “We had sex last night.” 

It feels like a balloon has been popped at a party that startles everyone into silence. You’re waiting for someone to say something, anything, but no one does. 

Heejin finally looks at you. “I just don’t want you getting hurt, unnie. Mingi is dangerous in a lot of different ways. He’s catastrophic.” 

Something zings through your heart at the statement when the Mingi you saw last night was anything but catastrophic. He was open with you, he was someone you’ve been desperately trying to reach out to.

He was someone you’re willing to go to bat for since he cracked open his chest and allowed you to see his flaws and why he acts the way he does. 

“He and I talked about everything recently and he’s really wanting to clean up his image and become the artist that he’s longing to be — that he was before all of this!” 

“You mean before he fucked everything up?” Harin snaps. 

Your heart stops in your chest. Harin very rarely swears and when she does, it’s because she’s finally reached a boiling point that she can no longer ignore. As someone who helped raise her, you’ve been able to notice right before she gets to that point, and somehow, you were so focused on the mess you’ve been in, that you’ve barely noticed your members. 

It makes you feel so incredibly awful and guilty. You are supposed to be their safe space and instead, you’re causing them grief. 

But, Harin is wrong. Mingi wasn’t the cause of the image that made him become the infamous fuckboy he’s currently seen as. 

It feels like all the progress you made with him is crumbling in the palms of your hands with your members. 

“Was anyone else there or was it just you two?” 

You bite your lip, hard. It occurs to you that you didn’t pay that much attention when you walked into that building last night, just focused on Mingi and how good he looked and how intoxicating the air felt around you while you were with him. 

“It seemed like just us,” you say quietly. 

“But you don’t know?” Jihyo pushes, rolling her eyes. 

“Unnie — we just don’t want pictures that upset you to get out if someone not trustworthy had access to the building, too.” Heejin says. 

They’re trying to be careful with their words, you can see it clearly on their faces, but you’re making it hard for them. 

“Do you think you’re the first person he’s done this with?” 

You take a sharp inhale when Harin asks you that because you know the answer. So, instead of answering, you stay silent, which tells them all they need to know. 

“Did he say anything to you after?” 

You shrug your shoulders, shrinking in on yourself, feeling small under all this scrutiny. 

“Did he make sure you got home okay?” 

“Did he talk about it happening again?” 

All these questions get hurled at you like they’re stones and you’re standing in the middle of a town square. 

“It was just supposed to be fun, okay?” You explode. “Am I not allowed to have fun? Can I not feel like a girl in her twenties?” 

Jihyo stands up, big eyes narrowed icily. “Do you trust him when it stops being fun?” 

You body sets alight with the fierceness of the question and the room is silent as Jihyo walks out, leaving what feels like a crater in her wake. You exhale harshly, leaning back in the fuzzy chair and rubbing your face with both of your hands. 

You’re exhausted and this interrogation you got was just the cherry on top. 

Heejin and Harin are left looking at you as you stand up. 

“I am going to sleep for the next seven hours. Do not wake me unless the apartment is on fire.” You mumble and head for the stairs, needing to disappear under your blankets for the foreseeable future. 

As you bury yourself in your bed, your thoughts slam against your brain, making it hard to focus on anything else. You know the girls have very valid points, and you know things are just going to get even more messy now that you’ve involved sex. 

But, one thing rings true that scares you to your core: you felt safe with Mingi, but you may not actually be safe because of him. Hopefully, that answer will be different soon. 

You spent the last day in your room, avoiding your members and watching repeat seasons of Love is Blind just because you can. Your phone had been nonstop buzzing since you turned it back on this morning. 

Texts from Wooyoung, San, and your members littered your KakaoTalk. One thing you did notice though — nothing from Mingi. 

Did he regret telling you everything? Did he regret having sex with you? Did he just regret…? 

A new schedule was sent out with your upcoming appearances, interviews, etc. all of them you’re doing as a couple. Mingi didn’t even reach out to you in lieu of that dropping. 

You can’t help but feel like that night you spent together snapped something inside of him, something unfixable. 

It’s not your job to worry about that or at least, it shouldn’t be — you’re in a contractual relationship — even if lines have been blurred significantly. 

Something pinches you though, an annoying thought where Mingi was just trying to blow off some steam and it’s the one thing he had control in because he doesn’t have control over anything else. 

Biting your lip, you open KakaoTalk, fingers hovering over his contact. 

you: proof of life would be cool 

You hesitate to send it. God, everything is such a fucking mess. You almost wish he would go back to being a fucking asshole to you. You send it and put your phone away, ready to hurl. You had things to do. 

Your drive over to KQ has you feeling so incredibly sober and wondering what you’re even doing. It’s not in your nature though, to just ignore those who are hurting so badly, so visibly. 

You aren’t sure if the feeling deep in your chest is disappointment or something worse, so you shove it down. Besides, you’re on a mission today and nothing will get in your way — even Mingi’s lack of communication. 

Taking a deep breath in the cold air hurts your lungs, but it’s needed before you head into the building. 

You didn’t really look around when you came in with Mingi the other night, but it was also late and mostly dark in the building. 

Now — the building is bustling at eleven in the morning, employees answering phones and pointing tourist K-Pop fans in different directions. 

The building feels cold, not in temperature, but in atmosphere. It’s lots of glass and pale wood and defined lighting that brings a curated calm. In this kind of environment, it’s easy to understand that someone might be walking in thinking they’re about to be listened to, when really…they’re just getting managed. 

You speak to the woman at the front desk; a cold, sterile smile plastered on her face that makes you feel like she’s already placed you in a specific category in her mind. 

Mingi has shown you who he is as an artist and how important it is for him as an artist, to be heard. That’s all artists want to be — heard. With Mingi in the dark the way he is, sure, most of it was probably his fault by acting up, but the toll you physically saw it take on him was breathtaking in a bad way. 

He was so incredibly excited to show you what he was working on, what things he has up his sleeve creatively, how he wanted you to be on the track to bring a different vocal dimension to it. 

Song Mingi is a true producer and visionary and no matter what he does or who he ends up being — you think he deserves to release his music. 

They don’t make you wait long, which feels like some kind of purposeful tactic that you note in the back of your mind. 

You’re not showing up irate, you’re not showing up angry. You’re showing up like South Korea’s Sweetheart — polished, tailored, thoughts carefully crafted. 

“Y/N-ssi?” Your name is called and you turn around, facing what looks like a teenage girl in a pant-suit and following her through the halls. 

The aircon is on, sending a shiver down your spine, making you think that everything is a tactic — it’s to make you uncomfortable. 

On your way to the conference room, you catch a glimpse of Hongjoong. He’s dyed his hair black since the last time you saw him and he looks up for a second as you walk past, but then his head snaps up as he recognizes you. 

Something akin to panic and confusion crosses his face as he watches you disappear into the conference room made of frosted, insulated glass. 

The room is cold, sterile. Three executives sit next to each other at the edge of a long conference table. There’s a cup of coffee at the seat that you’re guided to and your senses tingle as you feel like everything has been staged to have this conversation with you. 

Seemingly, they’ve already had this conversation and now they’re just looping you in. 

There’s a woman sitting in the middle of two older men, her hair a deep, blue black under the harsh lighting. Her skin looks like porcelain, doll-like. 

It freaks you the fuck out. 

The room goes still as your presence is noticed and they all eye you as you take a seat. The steam coming off in waves of the coffee in front of you has you unsettled. 

The woman folds her hands together over a black, leather folder. Her posture is relaxed but her face is pinched up just slightly. Just you being here is bothering her, good. 

“Well, miss Sweetheart of South Korea,” she says as if she’s mocking you. “What do we owe this pleasure?” 

You clear your throat, nails tapping on the heavy wood table in front of you. 

“I would like to talk about Song Mingi and his inability to release music.” 

One of the men in front of you, chuckles evilly, humming in amusement. “That statement is not entirely true.” 

“Which part?” You raise an eyebrow. “That Song Mingi is not allowed to release music? According to what I can see publicly, he hasn’t been able to release music since mid twenty twenty-three, is that incorrect? Am I mistaken?” 

Let the games begin, you think. 

The man to your left, the woman’s right, is on a tablet, scrolling on something and then coming to a stop, turning it ever so slightly so that he can show the woman in the middle. She nods curtly. 

“Miss Y/L/N-ssi, you are well aware that your involvement with Song Mingi is governed by a professional conduct clause, yes?” 

You swallow. Your heartbeat can be heard in your ears, felt in your throat, but you’re not backing down. 

“Yes, I’ve read every single page of that contract and the fine print.” 

“Then you must know that there is nowhere in your contract that states advocating for his behalf is required. We could technically view it as a breach in professionalism.” 

Confusion takes over your entire body because what the fuck does that mean? 

“The entire purpose of the contract is for me to advocate for his image?”

All three pairs of eyes shoot up to stare daggers into you. If looks could kill…

“My job was outlined as someone to shape his image, stabilize him publicly. You wanted credibility and that’s where I came in.” You quirk your head to the right, trying to feign innocence. 

“We just wanted help with the image,” one of the men chimes in. 

“Music is part of his image, is it not? Am I mistaken? If you suffocate that part of him, you are going to get a greater implosion.” 

You’re trying so damn hard to remain professional, but they’re making it so incredibly hard for you. You just want to start yelling at them because how dare they?

The woman exhales, seemingly trying to amuse you. “I’m afraid you are confused in your role.” 

“I’m not confused in my role. You are actively rewriting it as I’m sitting here. I would like for you to point out to me anywhere in the contract that mentions that I cannot interfere with his music. His livelihood.”

The man with the tablet sets it down and crosses his arms across his button up, looking at you very directly. “Do you realize how hostile it looks for someone aka you, in a fake relationship contract to overstep professional boundaries in order to influence creative output?”

Oh, they are absolutely registered snakes if you’ve ever seen one or three. 

“…Hostile?” You repeat, dumbfounded. 

You’re suddenly aware of how outnumbered you are. You should’ve at least told Wooyoung what you were doing, he would’ve had your back. Well, would he have? Or would he have prevented you from doing anything about it? 

No, he would’ve had your back. It’s clear to you that Wooyoung had wanted Mingi to be free too when you both had that conversation a while ago. 

“Yes,” he says, trying to fake pleasantry. “Emotional attachment can create quite a conundrum, especially in an ungenuine relationship.” 

The word ungenuine lands like a sharp slap to your cheek. You don’t like that word, because it’s simply not true. Whatever your relationship is that you’ve created may be — it’s not ungenuine. 

“You hired me to make the relationship believable. Am I supposed to be punished for making it more believable than you can handle?”

“Believable does not mean involved.” 

Oh, you hate this woman. 

Your fingers curl against the table. “So what exactly do you want from him?”

They exchange glances and something like a silent conversation is had between all three of them. You don’t like this at all. 

The man on the right speaks, so casually it makes you furious. “Patience.”

“And suffering,” you say quietly.

No one says anything that refutes that statement. Mingi needs to leave KQ, that’s a given. But how? You’re sure that he will want all of his songs that he’s produced and written and that will be a legal battle in itself. 

You definitely should not have come on your own. 

The woman finally speaks again. “Artists like Song Mingi are most valuable at their breaking point. Turbulence creates narrative. Narrative creates engagement.”

Your stomach drops.

“You don’t want him to be better,” you realize. “You want him to be combustible.”

The worst part about all of this, is that no one denies what you’re saying. 

“We want to diversify focus,” the man with the tablet says. “Other assets require space. Momentum. Mingi was taking a lot of time up.”

“So he was in the way and you let him stew to create buzz around KQ in order to introduce other artists,” you finish.

The woman smiles. “You’re very perceptive.”

Rage burns hot in your chest. “You’re going to let him crash and burn.”

“We’re going to observe,” she corrects. “Carefully.”

You stand abruptly. “Then let him release something.”

They all look at each other and the woman looks back at you, nodding in agreement. Relief mixes with fury, Mingi is getting to release music, but at what cost?

“And you,” the woman adds, “will remember that your contract exists to serve the company. Not the artist.” She leans forward. “If you continue confusing those priorities, we’ll reconsider your position entirely and come up with some breakup story.” 

You swallow hard. “Understood, but you need to realize that making me an enemy reflects very poorly on you and your entire company. Plus, you don’t control me, I am not your artist.”

As you leave, the man with the tablet says softly, “Attachment makes you replaceable regardless of whose artist you are.”

You head for the door and don’t look back. You need a drink. Or seven. 

Leaving the room, you catch Hongjoong’s eye and there’s something that crosses his face you can’t quite recognize. You have a feeling you’ll be hearing from him. 

Your driver takes you to a nearby cafe. It’s not a bar, but you think that going to a bar and getting drunk sounds like a very bad, unwise decision. Instead of soju shots, you are two iced lattes with extra espresso shots deep. Your laptop is on, researching different legal ways to go about buying the rights to tracks and you have already emailed three different very high end lawyers about it. 

Next to you, your phone buzzes with an anticipated phone call. Which one? You glance at the lock screen and sigh. You’d rather talk to Hongjoong as he is not your manager. 

For a moment, you consider just letting it ring and then decide that would not be a good idea. 

“What were you thinking?” He asks, no greeting, just furious. 

“Hi to you too, Youngie.” 

“This isn’t funny, Y/N. You went right over my head?” He snaps, breathing down the line. 

They definitely reached out to him and probably told him you needed to be put on a leash or some other misogynistic bullshit. 

When you don’t answer, he sighs in frustration. 

“You’re unbelievable!” He yells sharply. “You went to the executives of KQ who we have been avoiding by the way — for a specific reason. You just made things infinitely harder for him and you’re calling it help.” 

“I didn’t make things harder, I got him to be able to release a song,” you mumble, somehow knowing that isn’t going to fix things right now. 

“You just put a hit out on his head, you really don’t understand, do you? You should’ve come to me.”

There it is. That’s what you were waiting for. 

“I’m your manager, Y/N.” His voice sounds tight, struggling through his throat. “Not just in title, my whole purpose is to protect you. If you went to go blow the building up, I should’ve been right there with you.”

You bite your lip hard, realistically, you know he’s right and it was so incredibly reckless to not have him by your side.

“I thought it was better to do it on my own.” You say quietly, already knowing what he’s going to say. 

“Do you know why artists have managers, Y/N? Because why am I even here if you’re not going to let me take the fall? You’re not being noble, you’re being reckless with your reputation and your career.”

“I know that!” You say firmly, feeling like you’re talking to your mother all over again. 

“Do you understand why we did everything through Hongjoong and Jongho?” 

“Because they’re his closest team members?”

“They’re the only ones who still believe in him,” he corrects. “They’re the only ones willing to go to bat for him when everyone else would rather sit on the bench and watch him take hit after hit. The executives are waiting for Mingi to turn into a burning inferno and collapse to the ground. They want to be able to point at a spectacle while they push their shiny, new assets to the foreground.” 

“So,” you begin, rubbing at your temples. “What the fuck am I supposed to do? Wooyoung-ah, he was bleeding out in front of me.” 

“So you jumped in front of the sword too? That’s not bravery.” 

It’s quiet between you two, you’re beyond frustrated and wishing that you opted to just go home instead of a cafe so you can scream into a pillow. 

“You’ve crossed a line and they know that you’re willing to do it again. You should’ve let me be there so I could help you. Please, let me help you, you’re my artist.”

You shut your laptop and begin packing up. You’re not too far from home and honestly could probably just walk and you’ll be fine. 

Leaving the cafe, you put your sunglasses on, and barely register that Wooyoung was still talking to you. 

“You think I don’t care about him? I’ve been fighting this battle longer than he’s been on your radar, Y/N.” 

“I know,” you say quietly. He mentioned it in a conversation a while ago, you vaguely remember him saying that stuff has been going on behind the scenes for a long time. 

“Don’t shut me out. Let me in on your plans.”

You nod and then realize he can’t see you and hum in agreement. 

You talk briefly as you walk home and when you enter your building, you finally say, “I got him a release for music. Doesn’t that count for anything?” 

Wooyoung sighs. “You got him put on a chain. A very short one, but trust me, they’re not doing it because they believe in him, they’re doing it to see if he’ll hang himself with it so they don’t have to be the ones to tie the noose.” 

Those words haunt you for the rest of the day. 

It’s around dinner time when you get the next notification that you’ve been waiting for. 

Mingi still hasn’t reached out and you’re starting to get worried. 

Kim Hongjoong KQ: Can we talk? Not officially. 

That scares you. 

You: when?

Kim Hongjoong KQ: Now. Before this blows up in all of our faces.

Your phone starts buzzing and you look around. The girls are all in their rooms, but you’re still so incredibly paranoid, so you step out onto the balcony and make sure the door is shut all the way behind you before answering. 

“What you did today was very risky, Y/N.”

You groan. You don’t feel like having another conversation like the one you had with Wooyoung earlier.

“I’m not going to scold you,” Hongjoong says. “That’s not my job.” His voice is calm, collected, like he’s already mapped out this conversation in his head. “Look, Jongho-yah and I have been working on a plan the last year. We’re creating a company for him as the CEO so he can be free from KQ and he can be himself unabashedly. It’s a very delicate process though, especially since we’re in the middle of trying to buy every track he has his name on in any capacity.” 

You sigh, but there’s something that’s been lifted off of your shoulders slightly. Of course Hongjoong has been trying to get him out of KQ, you’ve seen the way Hongjoong treats Mingi — like a genuine brother. 

No way Hongjoong or Jongho would let him crash and burn in the hellhole that is KQ. 

“You just have to continue doing what you’re doing and let us handle the rest, okay? You need to trust us.” 

“Hongjoong…” you say, scared about his reaction to the next thing. “I care about him a lot.” 

“I know.” 

And then he hangs up. 

Song Mingi: come to the studio?

After radio silence for days, you’re finally hearing from him and you want to be furiously angry with him. However, you’re just pleased to know that he’s okay and that he’s asking for you. 

Rushing to his studio, you put a mask on, not needing anyone to see the way you look so frazzled right now. Thankfully, Mingi showed you a different way to get in to the building besides the front entrance and you take that, not wanting to run into any of the people you had the displeasure of speaking with the other day. 

His studio smells like whiskey and vanilla when you step in. He has headphones on with his back facing you, looking at the monitor in front of him. It’s like he can sense your presence though and he pulls his headset off to turn around and face you. 

You smile gently, the door shutting behind you with a soft schnick. 

“Hi,” you greet, almost unsure of what to do. Do you hug him? Do you kiss him? Fist bump? What the hell is the appropriate thing to do? 

Mingi looks so good, but that’s not surprising. He’s wearing baggy sweatpants and a large, oversized t-shirt. He’s wearing a pair of glasses and his hair is messy in a way that’s sexy, but you also know that he’s realistically been running his hands through his hair. 

He pushes the tip of his tongue into the side of his cheek as he looks at you. 

You take your mask off your face and take a deep breath. 

“You went to KQ?” He asks, tone disapproving in a way that tenses you muscles up. 

You just look at him, unsure of what to say because he definitely does not look happy with you. 

“Angel,” he coos, beckoning you to come and sit in his lap. 

The way he looks at you makes you feel emotional. It hit you right then and there how much you really do care about Mingi and now that you’ve gotten to see pieces of the real him, he definitely has his claws deep in you. 

“Is this a new thing where you enjoy risking your career or am I a special occasion?” 

You sigh, “please — I don’t want to—” 

He puts his index finger to your lips and it effectively shuts you up. Your heart jumps in your throat at the way he looks like he wants to absolutely devour you. 

Slowly, his finger parts your lips and slips in to the heat of your mouth. Your tongue curls around it in a way that makes his eyelids heavy with lust. 

Mingi leans in, tracing the underside of your jaw with his nose…his perfect, perfect nose. His mouth is hot as it leaves open mouthed kisses against your skin. 

“Do I need to teach you a lesson on not trying to be the hero? Hm?” He taunts deliciously, the words soaking into the skin on your neck as you feel his tongue lick up the side. 

Your finger curl into the fabric of his shirt, your body already on fire and head feeling buzzed. 

“Please,” you whisper, head rolling to land on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. 

“Mm, I like hearing naughty girls beg.” He says huskily. 

“Yeah, you’ve probably heard a lot of naughty girls beg in here, right?” 

He pauses, fire lighting in his eyes. 

“Is that what you think?” 

You pull away, not meeting his eyes, but his fingers catch your chin and force you to look up at him. 

The intensity in his eyes makes you want to cower, but you hold his gaze. 

“Get on your knees, babydoll.” 

You slip off his lap and onto the ground, already taking note of how hard Mingi was in his sweats. Your fingers reach up and grab onto the waistband, freeing his cock that bounces up from its confines. 

Mingi hisses as it hits the cooler air in the studio but he reaches down and pushes his fingers into your hair, pulling gently at it. His tongue comes out to wet his bottom lip as he looks at you, on your knees in his studio, looking so incredibly cock hungry. 

Leaning forward, you purse your lips and place a soft kiss on the underside of the head. Your mouth begins to suck on the tip gently, causing Mingi’s hips to jut up a little bit. 

“Oh fuck,” he whispers, pushing his tongue into the side of his cheek as his chest begins to rise. 

Going all the way down, your nose nestled against his pelvis before you pulled back, sucking whole heartedly with every motion.

He pulls you off quickly though, pulling you up to kiss you hard on the mouth. Standing up, he pulls you to your feet, pulling off your own sweatshirt. 

“Come on baby girl, let me see that beautiful body of yours.” 

You push your leggings down, throwing them somewhere far across the studio as Mingi also took his clothes off. 

His body never ceases to amaze you, seriously. Like Adonis himself, that’s what Mingi looked like. 

You are pushed onto the same lounger that Mingi fucked you on just last week and the thrill has come back, ruminating through your bones. 

Just him looking the way he does, has you soaked to your toes. Mingi leans over you, his body tucked up against yours, in between your legs as he kisses every square inch he can reach. His fingers trail down your stomach and reach your clit, hips jumping at the contact. 

The way he rubs the tip of your clit with light, gentle circles has you going insane. It’s just enough pressure to drive you crazy, but not enough to satisfy you, causing you to whine. 

“Mingi,” you breathe. “Please.” 

“Please what, dollface?” He’s smirking at you. 

Asshole. 

“I need…” 

“Tell me what you need, baby.” 

“You.” 

And that’s all he needs to push inside of you until you’re seeing stars. 

He fills you up so good, every push inside of you brushes that spongy spot, just behind your clit. 

“Oh god,” you moan, hands pushing at his shoulders, but not enough to make him feel like you’re trying to push him away. He wraps his hand around your throat, just firm enough to make you dizzy in the most delicious way possible. It’s big enough to cover the entire front of your throat, your ears are ringing with only the sounds of Mingi’s moans elevated. 

Mingi is pounding into you, causing you to lose your breath every single time he bottoms out. He’s moaning and whining in your ear and when he reaches down to rub at your clit, you feel like you’re going to explode. 

You legs begin to shake as he unravels you and he’s biting at your collarbones and your chest as he shudders out your name, cumming inside you. He bites down hard on your shoulder and you cry out in surprise. 

He topples over, staying inside you while he rides his aftershocks out, lips finding the shell of your ear. 

You stay like that for a few minutes, allowing both of you to catch your breath. Pulling away from you he looks at you with stars in his eyes and kisses your lips. 

“You bit me.” 

“You were totally into it.” He chuckles breathlessly. 

You laugh, shaking your head. 

“Thank you for fighting for me.” He says, licking softly at the bite mark he left that will totally bruise. 

Tears burn at the corner of your eyes. 

“I will always fight for you.” 

And in that moment, you truly, truly meant it. 

Unbeknownst to you, AUTOBAHN is published under Mingi’s name with you as a feature to the whole world later that night, shedding a new narrative for Mingi. 

You tell the girls about what happened between you and Mingi after the charity event (with Mingi’s permission) when you get home in its entirety. 

They feel sad that he was forced to be untruthful to himself and with the world, causing him to implode internally and they apologize for how they came at you afterwards, but you knew they were looking out for you and you said it wasn’t necessary. 

You admit to them quietly that you’ve developed feelings for Mingi over a takeout dinner in your living room. 

“You guys owe me fifty won!” Heejin squeals while Harin and Jihyo groan. 

“What? You guys bet on me, seriously?” 

You all dissolve into laughter at the ridiculousness of everything that’s happened over the last few months. Everything feels so incredibly bizarre. 

Your phone buzzes against the coffee table and you flip it over, noticing a message from Wooyoung. 

manager youngie: check socials :)

You frown, but know it’s not anything bad considering he sent a smiley face along with the message. 

AUTOBAHN ft ROYALS Y/N and TUNNEL is trending all over social media. There’s over two million tweets about it, almost a million posts on TikTok, Instagram, etc. 

You’re scrolling through posts, trying to read what fans are saying. The response is honestly explosive. People are surprised they aren’t hearing the volatility they’re used to, they’re hearing pain, honesty, survival, they’re hearing someone trying to live. 

Song Mingi: I think we did good baby girl

You let out a relieved breath, wanting to burst into tears at how happy this moment feels right here. 

You meet him the next day in the privacy of his penthouse, just wanting to be alone with him. 

The second he opens the door, he grabs you and pulls you in suddenly, peppering your face in kisses. You laugh, trying to push him away. 

But, he continues and it’s super hard for you to not love the way this feels, being in his presence when he’s not a flaming asshole, enjoying how happy he is. 

“I say, we order takeout, hop on a live, talk to fans about the song and then end the night in my bed.” 

“Oh? Who says I’m going to be in your bed? That’s a little ambitious, don’t you think?” You say, leaning out of his embrace. 

“Oh please, you love it.” 

You heart stutters in your chest. You can’t say for sure that you love Mingi, but it’s easy to say that nothing about how you feel about him is fake and you’re worried after all of this fixing, your heart could end up broken at the end of this journey. 

You two order jjajangmyeon and get on live. You have almost a million viewers within ten minutes; comments are flooding the comment section, telling you both how much they love the song, it’s an iconic collab, etc. 

It validates the work you put into it (which wasn’t much) but definitely validates all the hard work that Mingi put into both songs. 

you guys are so in love it’s so cute!!!! You read and clear your throat.

iconic couple and collab frfr

YESSSSSSS GOATED OMG

we need it on the stage YESTERDAY

You smile at all the comments, responding to some verbally. Mingi is pressed up against you the whole live, a part of his body always touching yours and you have to ignore the fact that it does something to you. 

The following week brings his first Music Bank stage in almost two years. He performs both AUTOBAHN and Tunnel; you join him for AUTOBAHN, something electric in the air when you’re both on stage and performing together. 

When you watch him perform Tunnel, you stand at the side of the stage, tucked away so no one can see you in the cameras. Fans are performing their chants for the song, they’re cheering after every take and the way he eats it up is unlike anything you’ve seen from him. 

He’s steady and grounded and it literally looks like the applause is oxygen, allowing him to breathe and be himself, finally. 

You join him and perform AUTOBAHN for the next week on different music shows and on his very last day of performing for these few songs, a heavy feeling settles in your gut. 

You are so in love with him that it terrifies you. You just hope that loving him doesn’t destroy you when your contract ends and you two go your separate ways. 

Mingi leaves KQ with Hongjoong and Jongho by his side on a Tuesday morning. He calls you crying, feeling freer than he’s ever felt and your heart aches in a good way for him. 

FIX ON Entertainment is created and announced to the public the following Friday morning. 

Mingi has ownership of all the tracks he has his name on and that Friday night, you sob into your pillow because of how happy Mingi is now that he’s in charge of his own future. 

Mingi and you have continued your fake relationship, going to events together, posting things, causing fans to continue to call you couple of the year. You don’t speak about how none of this is fake anymore, you’re not sure when to bring it up. 

But of course, there’s always a down when there’s an up. 

You’re deep in the throes of prepping for you own comeback with the girls, the dance practice room hot after a vigorous three hour practice. 

You’re lying on the floor, allowing the coolness of the hardwood to penetrate your shirt and hit your skin. 

“Holy shit,” you hear Heejin say. 

Your eyes are closed, so you just hum in interest. 

“Unnie, have you texted Mingi-oppa recently?” 

Mm…you talked to him the other day. He was really busy trying to finish setting up FIX ON, so you had a brief phone call before he told you he had to go and you could vaguely hear Hongjoong in the background scolding him for something. 

You hum negatively in answer. 

“This is not good.” 

You shoot up from the floor the second you hear that. Heejin and Harin are staring at Heejin’s phone like it’s a lifeline and you rip it from her grasp. 

It’s a clip. A grainy clip from someone’s phone in the dark, it’s very dark but you know the figure outside the club like the back of your hand. Mingi is outside a club he shouldn’t be at, voice raised at some asshole trying to pick a fight, body loose in that familiar, reckless way he gets when he’s about to get into a fist fight. 

You can already see the headlines. 

That video was posted an hour ago and you know exactly where he is right now if he’s not in a jail cell. 

The energy is sharp and uncontained at Mingi’s studio in the FIX ON building. He’s pacing like a caged animal, there’s an empty bottle of whiskey on the mixing board and he’s blasting a song you know he’s been working on recently. Vaguely, you remember it being called ROAR. 

You think he’s trying to drown himself out. Drown out his fears and emotions. 

He’s drunk, that much you can see and when you come in, he looks up. His gaze is ragged and unfocused. 

“Came here to tell me that I fucked up?” He laughs humorlessly. 

You scoff, unbelieving. “No, I’m here because I care about you and you’re clearly spooked.” 

“Spooked? Don’t fucking psychoanalyze me.” He snaps, rage building up visibly in his body. 

“This is how you get when you’re scared Mingi, you get loud and try to be untouchable and you become combustible.” 

“Isn’t that my brand?” He looks helpless. 

“No baby,” you coo and his shoulders sag at the nickname. “That’s just the armor you’ve built up, remember?” 

He turns away from you and you can see a shudder in his shoulders. 

“Everything is going so well, I just…I feel like I’m slipping, like I’m about to be exposed.” 

“You’re fine,” you say, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso. “This is how life is supposed to be, Mingi. You deserve this.” 

You can’t even list the amount of times recently that Mingi had called you at horrible hour of the morning and told you how terribly scared he was, but he didn’t let the phone call last long and ended it before you could really say anything. 

“I don’t want to be alone again.” He whispers. 

“As long as you have me in your life, you will never be alone again, okay?” And you mean that so fiercely. 

Mingi collapses into you and you settle together, cuddling on the large sofa in his studio. 

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to stay.” 

“There’s no place I would rather be, baby. And I mean it when I say that I’m not going anywhere.” 

“I feel like you’re going to get hurt.” 

You shrug. “Maybe, but not by loving you.” 

You freeze and so does Mingi. 

“So, how’s that whole ‘don’t catch feelings for me’ thing working out for you?” Mingi teases you. 

You shove at his shoulder. 

“I’ll take it back.” 

“No,” he whines playfully, rolling over into you. “I love you, Y/N.” 

You look at him, smile wide as ever. 

“Fuck the contract, right?” Mingi asks. 

“Fuck the contract,” you nod and lean in to kiss him. 

“And the award for best girl group daesang goes to…” 

The presenter opens the envelope and smiles seeing the winner. 

“ROYALS!” 

The crowd goes wild and you and the girls stand up, hugging each other with smiles so incredibly wide. 

A sly hand finds its way to yours, brushing affectionately before pulling away and you turn to send a gentle wink in a certain direction of Song Mingi who was sat next to you and the girls. 

You hold hands with the girls as you make your way up the stage to accept the award. 

The girls make sure you grab the award and push you towards the microphone. 

“Dul, set…Carrying the crown! Hello, we are ROYALS!” You announce, the girls joining you in the chant. 

“Um,” you begin, looking out into the arena full of smiling faces of fans. “Thank you for the opportunity from our REBELS who allowed us to win this award for a third year in a row. We love you and could not be here on this stage without you!” 

Jihyo steps up to say a few words and so does Heejin, but Harin stays in her spot and just smiles as you all walk off after accepting the award. 

This is going to be a great night. There’s another award right after this and you’re on stage in thirty minutes for a twenty minute performance. 

When you go to sit down, the next presenters are already at the mic and you glance towards Mingi who looks so delicious you could just climb him. 

He’s dressed head to toe in silver chains, black tight fighting clothes that accentuate his waist and wide shoulders. 

He looks so incredibly good that it’s a crime you can’t be in his lap all night long. 

You’re so certain that those clothes and chains will look so attractive on the floor of your Tokyo hotel room tonight after the award ceremony. 

“And the award for best male soloist daesang is….Mingi!” 

You cheer, turning to your right as Mingi stands, sending a wink your way before he walks down to the stage. 

He accepts the award and turns to the microphone. 

“Thank you to my fans, my Fixxers for continuing to believe in me since day one. It’s been a wild ride the last few years and I…” he takes a deep breath. “I lost myself and had no idea how to get back to the person I actually am. It wasn’t until I met a certain someone, aka Y/N,” the crowd goes crazy as your face shows up on the screen and you smile, so unbelievably proud of who Song Mingi has become. “Y/N, I love you, thank you for showing me that I wasn’t truly lost. Thank you for this award. Thank you.” 

Later that night, Mingi is sweetly buried deep inside you in your hotel room and he whispers in your ear, “thanks for putting up with me and being my fake girlfriend.” 

“You’re lucky I said yes, huh?” You laugh breathily. 

“So lucky.”

On stage is where you were born to be; performing takes your breath away (in a good way) in a manner that you’re not sure anything else can. 

You’re promoting your new mini album, performing the title track WE GO UP. You and the girls are dressed in colorful streetwear-esque tops 

“Know I pop better get back, hand in my pocket Watch the rocket blow

우리 걱정은 딱히 넣어둬 빨리 look at me on a roll Let bygones be bygones, I ain’t never had no problems That high road we gon’ walk over ‘Cause icons be icons”

Heejin raps and you, Jihyo and Harin wait in the back for her to join you so the choreography can continue. 

You pop through the middle when the chorus comes through, you singing your part. 

“We go up like, whoa 우린 killas, killas We go up like, whoa 우린 villains, villains Up high for me baby, high for me baby, whoa Up like, whoa, can you feel us, feel us?”

The choreography continues with the rest of the song and at the end of your Music Bank stage, you think of a cute ending fairy at the very end while fans scream in excitement. 

The lights go down and you and your members rush off the stage, desperate for some water. That was your third take in a row of that particular song and you think they finally got the take they wanted. 

You guys have a break for the next hour before you move onto solo stages. This mini album consists of two group songs and then solo songs for each member, you’re getting to film stages for all the songs and you feel so excited and renewed for this comeback. 

Someone sneaks up behind you in the dressing room and you almost shriek, but you catch a whiff of a very familiar cologne and a smile reaches your face as arms wrap around you. 

“Your stage is super cool,” Mingi says, nose nudging at your jawline as he kisses at your neck. 

“Thank you,” you smile. 

“Y/N — fuck, are you kidding me?” Comes Wooyoung’s voice booming through the dressing room. 

You and Mingi share a glance in the vanity mirror, smirking at each other. 

“It’s PG!” You yell back. 

Wooyoung comes in with a less than thrilled expression on his face; that expression comes with the experience of him coming into your dressing room unannounced while you and Mingi were in a very…compromising position. 

You have for sure traumatized him. 

“Hi Wooyoung-ah,” Mingi greets, almost evilly. 

“Fuck off Mingi,” Wooyoung mumbles. “At least your dick isn’t out this time.” 

Mingi shrugs, “it’s a nice dick though, no?” 

Wooyoung sighs and gives an unamused look. 

You laugh, moving away from Mingi’s embrace and closer to Wooyoung. “What’s up?” 

“Um,” Wooyoung looks around. “I’m not sure where Hongjoong is, he was supposed to join me…but anyway, I just got word that Netflix wants you two to be the singers in their upcoming movie ‘K-Pop Demon Hunters.’ Is that something you two would be interested in?” 

You glance at Mingi who shrugs in interest. Wooyoung looks between the two of you. 

“I’m down.” You say. 

“Perfect, you two will need to be in the studio tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” You ask, incredulously. “Young-ah, we’re in the middle of our comeback.” 

“I know that,” he deadpans. “I created this schedule you’re currently on.” 

You frown in annoyance. 

Mingi wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into the side of his body. 

“We will be there, yeah?” Mingi answers. 

You just sigh and nod. 

You glance at the clock and notice you have ten minutes to change your outfit and get ready to film your solo stage for your solo ATM. 

On stage, you sing, allowing all other cramped problems to disappear.

“24/7, I’m up after midnight I go crazy, don’t be lazy, I’m your nine-to-five I ain’t basic, I’ma ace it while I’m lookin’ like a dime Got ‘em goin’ crazy, ah, ah, I do it like it’s a hobby, yeah Lovin’ so golden, yeah (mm), diamond devotion, yeah (mm) You’re on your knees ‘cause you’re wantin’ more You’re wantin’ more of this sass Put down haters, put ‘em on blast, bring that drama blowin’ up chats No cap, all facts (no)” 

This song came about in a playful way one day when Mingi had shown up at your doorstep at four in the morning, saying he was obsessed with you and missed you. 

“Obsessed, huh?” You teased him sleepily and pulled him into your place with a kiss.

"More like addicted to you."

When you played this song for Mingi, he had laughed wholeheartedly, and then fucked you so good you walked funny for the following day. 

After leaving the stage, crowd roaring your name, Mingi corners you, hoisting you up into his arms. 

“Mingi…” you scold quietly. 

“I’m always coming back for more babydoll, I can’t help it.” 

You roll your eyes as he pays homage to the chorus of your song. 

“Who knew I would have you wrapped around my finger so tight that I would be losing circulation?” You ask. 

“Not me, but I was a fucking asshole, so…” 

You don’t argue with that fact because Mingi had been a fucking asshole. 

“Are you done for the day?” 

You nod. 

“Good, because I am taking you to dinner and then we can talk about this Demon Hunters thing.” 

Mingi had recently dyed his hair silver and under the stage lights, he looks ethereal, entrancing you. 

“And I’ve lost you to my hair, haven’t I?” He laughs, taking your hand in his. “Come on pretty girl, let’s go eat. 

Mingi and you reach a flow state in the studio the next day, holed away and locked in, working on a song called Free.

“You’re more singing than you are rapping,” you comment when Mingi runs through the lyrics he wrote for the last song. 

“Does it sound bad?” He asks, insecurely. 

You shake your head adamantly. “Not at all, it’s just an observation I noticed — I’ve never heard you like this, it sounds good.” 

He sends you a playful eye roll and sticks his tongue out at you. 

When he records his parts, you’re left speechless. 

“Oh, time goes by, and I lose perspective Yeah, hope only hurts, so I just forget it But you’re breaking through all the dark in me When I thought that nobody could And you’re waking up all these parts of me That I thought were buried for good

Between imposter and this monster, I’ve been lost inside my head Ain’t no choice when all these voices keep me pointing towards no end It’s just easy when I’m with you No one sees me the way you do”

He cuts himself off in the booth. Your fingers stop the recording of the track and wait for him to say something. 

“What if we both sang together on the next few lines and then intertwined our lyrics together like…we switched off.” 

You nod, reading through the lyrics that you’ve written, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. 

“Okay, yeah, let’s do that.” 

He pulls his headset off and places it on the recording microphone, stepping out of the booth. Mingi has you record your parts next and then decides that you’ll record together after that. 

When he plays the track for you, you close your eyes, getting lost in the music and the lyrics. 

“I tried to hide, but something broke I tried to sing, couldn’t hit the notes The words kept catching in my throat I tried to smile, I was suffocating though

But here with you, I can finally breathe You say you’re no good, but you’re good for me I’ve been hoping to change, now I know we can change But I won’t if you’re not by my side

Why does it feel right every time I let you in? Why does it feel like I can tell you anything? All the secrets that keep me in chains, and All the damage that might make me dangerous

You got a dark side, guess you’re not the only one What if we both tried fighting what we’re running from? We can’t fix it if we never face it What if we find a way to escape it?

We could be free, free We can’t fix it if we never face it Let the past be the past ‘til it’s weightless” 

Mingi stops the track and leans forward to press the button for the intercom. 

“You need to extend the E’s at the end of free more, really elongated it.” 

You nod, giving him a thumbs up and record it again, earning a smile and a thumbs up from Mingi. 

He joins you in the booth, track running as the both of you look at the lyrics in front of you. 

“Why does it feel right every time I let you in? Why does it feel like I can tell you anything? We can’t fix it if we never face it What if we find a way to escape it?

We could be free, free We can’t fix it if we never face it Let the past be the past ‘til it’s weightless

Oh-oh, so take my hand, it’s open (free, free) What if we heal what’s broken? (Free, free)

I tried to hide, but something broke I couldn’t sing, but you give me hope We can’t fix it if we never face it Let the past be the past ‘til it’s weightless”

You two switch off seamlessly, the track ending and you both scurry out of the booth to listen to the song in earnest. 

It brings tears to your eyes, hearing everything come together. This song, inherently is actually so incredibly beautiful and with creative freedom, you guys were given the green light to come up with just about anything. 

So, Mingi had said, “why don’t we make a song that sounds like us?” 

You had nodded, kissing him gently. 

Thus, Free was born. 

You drag the mouse around, fixing some things with the beat, but not daring to touch the vocals you just recorded. You can feel the side of your face burning and slyly, you glance to the side. 

Mingi is staring at you, a gentle expression resting on his handsome features. 

“What?” You ask. 

He shrugs, biting his lip. 

“Thank you for making me free.” 

You stare at him, watching as his eyes turn glassy. Climbing into his lap, you hold him tightly. 

“I love you.” You whispered into the side of his face. “Together, we are free.” 

The movie and the music is an insane hit and on the night of the premiere, Mingi and you had ordered takeout and watched the movie together, reveling in everything you’ve created together. 

Finally, Mingi could say he was living. 

FIN — 

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and rapid fire is now complete, thank you for all the love on this series. it has genuinely blown me away. more to come in the new year!