♡

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There was something truly amusing about watching your boyfriend run off stage and almost immediately switch personas. On stage he was grinding, grabbing, biting, smirking, winking, acting like Aphrodite herself crafted him. Maybe she had crafted Ateez’s Mingi.

But off stage, the boy could barely get into a makeout session without suddenly blushing a deep crimson and hauling you off his lap. God forbid you realize you made the poor man hard.

The first time Mingi had pulled you into a real makeout session - not just a session where he kissed you a few times, maybe pulled you closer, and then inevitably let you go - you had thought maybe you were dreaming. He had pulled you closer, bodies flush to one another, his hands low on your back. You had your arms laced around his neck, lips moving together. His lips were warm, plump, slightly wet from the exchange of saliva between the two of you. He nearly moaned into your mouth when you tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his head to the side to angle the kiss. His hands had pulled you closer, one of his thighs unconsciously slipping between your legs. 

His tongue ran along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth for him, but he pulled back, all brazenness gone from his body. You weren’t going to let it go, too worked up to find yourself able to release him, and you pushed your tongue into his mouth roughly. He groaned, tilting you back and tangling his tongue with yours.

And just when you thought it would go further, maybe a little under-the-clothes action, he had pulled away, ears red, eyes not quite finding yours, and hands now respectfully placed higher on your waist. 

He had said something about being tired, lots of practice and everything, and you weren’t going to push it. 

That was common with Mingi, the heavy moments suddenly ending despite how he was obviously into it. You wondered, briefly, if he wasn’t sexually attracted to you, but with the way he got hard with even a little bit of kissing these days or a suggestive comment whispered in his ear, that couldn’t be it.

Which brought you to your current conclusion: Mingi was a virgin. 

Cute.

You watched from a backstage monitor as he got fans barking for him in the crowd, a shit eating grin plastered on his face as he egged them on. He looked sinful, sunglasses pushed down his nose, mouth caught between his sharp teeth lightly. His jacket had fallen off his shoulder and his shoulder muscles were shiny with sweat. His tanktop was leaving little to the imagination, chest heaving after a performance. 

You found yourself imagining what it would look like with his chest heaving as he laid over you, hips snapping forward, grown-out hair falling into his eyes. You could imagine his biceps flexing, the puffs of air.

You had to blink hard as the camera switched to Yeosang, looking around a little guiltily like maybe somebody could read your mind and had seen… all of that. Smoothing a hand over your hair, you focused back on the concert, grateful that the staff had even let you backstage to begin with. It was a privilege, the black shirt on your back that also said “Staff,” and you weren’t going to ruin it by being weird about your boyfriend in public instead of enjoying the concert he had worked hard to get you access to.

It was a good concert, always filled with incredible showmanship, and you felt pride swelling in your chest. They had worked hard. You remembered the nights Mingi had called you, voice slurring from fatigue, to tell you goodnight and that he loved you and he was sorry he had been busy all day. Tour stuff, baby, he’d always said.

It was late when you finally left the concert venue with some of the other staff members. You’d pitched in, rolling up cables and helping sweep up about a ton of confetti after the concert. A little known fact, you’d realized, was that confetti was hard as fuck to sweep up. It flew out of piles when pushed with too much effort, got heavy when it built up, and stuck to everything. You may not have spent hundreds of dollars on a seat, but you felt maybe this made up about a quarter of that price. Your body ached by the end of it.

You texted Mingi that you were on your way and he sent back a picture of him, freshly showered and hair still damp at the ends, lounging in - that little shit - your hotel room. You’d given him the extra keycard and it looked like he was taking full advantage of that, messing up your freshly-made bed before you could.

You saved the photo and sent him a classy picture of your middle finger back. All you got back was a winky-face.

Dick.

He was still waiting for you in his white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, watching a Myth Buster’s rerun on the T.V. when you keyed into your room. He slid off the bed and, yeah.

Dick.

The grey sweatpants were doing him favors. They hung low on his hips, the outline of his member pretty obvious in the thin material. The ties hanging down from his waistband were practically pointing for your eyes to look down, drawing them to the print. 

You swallowed hard, your mind focusing on the earlier fantasies from the concert. But Mingi looked just happy to see you, his smile wide and his eyes bright. 

He grabbed you around the waist and hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. He breathed in deeply and you hugged him back just as tightly, feeling the way his back muscles rippled as he adjusted his grip. You ran your hands over them lightly, then down his arms, pushing your hands under his t-shirt sleeves slightly to feel the warmth of his skin, how soft it was. You sighed, swaying lightly.

“Are you tired?” you whispered.

Mingi nodded into your neck, burying even more deeply into the crook. He rubbed his hands down your back then placed a kiss to your shoulder. You smiled, pulling your hands out of his shirt to pet his head lightly.

“Let me shower, then we can go to sleep, hmm?”

Reluctantly, he unwound his arms as you gathered up your pajamas and underwear to go shower. You saw Mingi peeking at the ensemble, his neck rosy as he saw the tiny panties you were wearing to bed.

You had packed them in the event that something happened, but figured you may need to give it a little push. They were going to be hell to sleep in, but maybe it was worth it by the way Mingi’s eyes got a little glassier by the second, his ears a little redder, and his dick… a little harder. You weren't going to ask him outright for sex after such a grueling performance on stage, but you wanted to let him know you were interested.

You let out a breathy laugh, leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. He swallowed hard, turning to catch your cheek with a kiss as you turned to disappear into the bathroom.

Hot shower burning your skin slightly, you really tried to get thoughts of fucking Mingi out of your mind. He was tired, and despite the fact that he was obviously turned on, maybe tonight wasn’t the night to push it.

He seemed to have other plans when you stepped out of the bathroom, throwing your clothes on your suitcase unceremoniously to pack away tomorrow. His hands were suddenly on you, slipping below the waist to cup your ass. His hands kneaded your ass roughly, his lips attached to yours and bit. You gasped into the kiss, his tongue slipping inside your mouth.

You adjusted to slip his leg between your thighs, your underwear soaked. You wondered, vaguely, if you would leave a wet spot on his sweatpants.

Then, he did something that had you moaning breathlessly, your neck and back arching. 

His lips trailed down the side of your neck, wet and open-mouthed. He reached up to pull your shirt to the side, his kisses trailing down to your shoulder, and then he bit down, hard, and sucked a deep purple hickie onto your shoulder. 

The sensation made your skin buzz, and you clawed at his back, your hips pushing forward to grind against Mingi’s thigh. Your thigh brushed his length, and he groaned deeply against your shoulder where he was leaving a smattering of hickies. 

The sensation seemed like it brought him back to your hotel room, and he was moving away swiftly, his eyes wide, his hair a mess, and his chest heaving. 

“What?” you breathed, your lips slightly tingling and swollen from kissing him so roughly. You were breathingly heavily, too, your clit was throbbing, and you wanted Mingi pressed back against you in the next few seconds.

“I, uh, I’m gonna brush my teeth so we can go to bed,” he said.

Then, he kissed your cheek lightly like he hadn’t just branded you as his, and he disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door with a soft click behind him. You groaned, sitting down hard on the edge of the bed, and gripped your hair tightly to bring yourself back.

For once, you really hated staying in the fancy hotel. It didn’t even have a detachable shower head.

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Mingi was about to do something really, really embarrassing and probably a little traumatic. He was going to ask someone to have the sex talk with him. Not the one parents have about condoms and abstinence, the one about how to actually have sex and pleasure someone. 

And he kind of wanted to bash his head into the wall.

The world tour was over, they finally had some time off to relax, and he still hadn’t mustered up the courage to have sex with you. He’d gotten close on tour, the adrenaline from the concert still fueling him as he kissed you, left marks on you, and then ditched you to cool down in the bathroom. He had stood there, the tile cool against his feet, and stared at himself in the mirror feeling a little pathetic.

The truth was, he was terrified that he would do something so egregious during sex that you would break up with him. He’d never had sex before, had only seen porn in passing when his friends had showed it to him when he was younger, and he really didn’t even know where to begin. 

He had tried to watch porn for ideas once he started dating you, but even with his headphones on and the brightness all the way down, it just felt wrong. He had gotten one whole minute into a video before he turned it off, stomach clenching not with arousal but with discomfort.  

He’d read, and this he wasn’t super proud of, fanfiction, too, but it just didn’t feel right. He wasn’t really some sex god in real life, throwing women’s legs over his shoulder and dragging their underwear off with his teeth. He wasn’t grabbing boobs from behind as he pounded his dick into dripping pussies.

He felt a little pathetic and even more scared after reading that, his own inexperience crowding into the forefront of his mind. His own sex-ed in school had been abysmal, mainly telling them that they shouldn’t really be in the same room as girls, and he had learned only recently about the world of different condoms. (He had closed the Coupang tab very quickly.)

So there he was, standing in front of Yunho’s closed bedroom door, wanting to strangle himself with his hoodie strings. His second choice had been Hongjoong, that man definitely knew how to fuck, but the thought of listening to Hongjoong talk about sex made him positive he could never look the man in the eye again. With Yunho, this probably wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he asked him, and it definitely wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’d experienced together.

He finally brought his closed fist up to knock, the knock timid. 

It took a minute, but Yunho answered, his hair smushed down on the side he’d been laying on. He had probably been watching videos when Mingi interrupted.

“Hey,” Yunho said slowly. “What’s up, man?”

Mingi blinked, the words he had carefully planned shrivelling up and dying in his throat. He scratched his arm awkwardly.

“Can I come in?” he asked instead, the thought of even asking Yunho to talk him through sex in the open so humiliating he wanted to throw up. 

Yunho seemed to sense something, his eyes filling with concern as he opened up the door wider for Mingi to slide by him to enter. 

Mingi sat down hard on Yunho’s desk chair, rolling back and forth absentmindedly as he tried to bring back the courage to ask his friend for advice. He didn’t need dirty details, just a rough outline. Yunho sat on his bed and stared at him, giving him space to think.

He was grateful to have Yunho in his life, to get to share the fame with him and the quiet moments, too. He knew Yunho would maybe - probably - rib him about the sex thing, but he would also try and help him earnestly. 

“How do you have sex?”

It came out with no finesse, his voice scratchy and deep. He stared anywhere but at Yunho’s shocked expression, his eyebrows furrowed as he willed his body to stay seated in the desk chair. 

Yunho, to his credit, tried to keep his face mostly blank after the initial shock wore off. He cleared his throat, shifted, cleared his throat again, said, “ah,” then shifted again. The rustling of his sheet was the only sound in the room, the only sound in the dorm, even. 

“Just basics,” Mingi clarified, looking down, voice coming out no louder than a mumble. 

“Well, the penis goes in the vagina, then it goes in and out, in and out-” Yunho started.

“Okay I’m leaving,” Mingi said quickly, standing up and sending the desk chair flying backwards into the wall as Yunho finally broke and began laughing, covering his mouth to muffle the sound. He reached out and grabbed Mingi’s wrist as he passed and pulled him back.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he said, gasping. “I’ll be serious now. I think it’s nice you trust me enough to ask me. I just had to, okay? Now I’ll be serious.”

Mingi glared down at Yunho’s hand, but he moved backward and slid back into the desk chair, swiveling side to side and Yunho sat up straight and leaned back against the wall, his eyes focused on Mingi. He waited a beat before speaking again.

“What do you want to know, exactly?”

Mingi shrugged. “I know, like, how it works I guess. I know about, um, foreplay and the… penetration.” He choked. His cheeks burned.

Yunho hummed. “What are you worried about then?”

“I know about them, but I have no fucking clue how to even do any of it. What if I hurt Y/N or it’s so bad she breaks up with me? I’m serious, Yunho, it’s scary.”

The room was quiet again, not even the sounds of rustling breaking the silence. Mingi picked at his cuticle then stopped, thinking about the hell he’d get from the stylists for doing that. Instead, he focused on the sound of his breathing. 

“Well, sex shouldn’t be scary. And I don’t think Y/N would break up with you if it’s bad. Have you told her you’ve never had sex before?”

Silence.

“Dude,” Yunho deadpanned. “Come on.”

“It’s embarrassing!” Mingi whined. “Especially because I’m pretty sure she’s had sex before, and that means I have to be the best at it!”

He was pouting now, staring up at the door to Yunho’s bedroom and willing it to explore inward, killing him instantly. 

“So you hate your girlfriend is what I’m hearing.”

Mingi’s head snapped toward Yunho at that comment, his eyes wide. 

“What the fuck, man. I love her. You know that.”

“And yet you’re not telling her these fears,” Yunho countered, sitting up and staring at Mingi harshly. “You don’t need me to tell you how to have sex with your girlfriend who obviously loves you. You need to suck it up and tell you girlfriend that you’ve never had sex, you’re not sure what you’re doing, but you’re willing to learn. Then, you fucking learn, you dumbass. That’s how you get to be the best.”

Yunho leaned back again, his face smoothing out to something contemplative.

“Actually,” he said, “you have the advantage here. She teaches you what she likes, you do that, you’re doing everything she likes, you’re the best. Then you keep having sex forever, congrats.”

Mingi cleared his throat as the words hit his brain. Yunho was right, sarcasm aside. This could only really be positive for him, learning what you liked and putting it into play so you never had a bad sexual experience with him - or anyone else ever again because he wanted to be your last and final boyfriend. He bit his lip at the thought, fighting a grin.

“You do know you need condoms though, right?” Yunho said, shattering the moment. “STDs and babies are no joke man.”

Mingi flipped him off as he stood up, but he was smiling. 

“I’m built different, I’ll be fine,” he joked, face impassive as he walked out of Yunho’s room.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not!” Yunho cried after him, and Mingi finally let out a laugh as he closed the bedroom door behind him. 

He had a plan now, one that became fully formulated after he finally bought condoms online - ribbed for her pleasure - and he felt good. He was going to have sex with you and it was going to be the best sex of your life. Obviously it would also be the best of his life, but that was besides the point. 

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Step One: spend the night at your house and begin the “wine” portion of “wining and dining”.

He had picked up dinner from your favorite place on his way over, the food still hot as he knocked on your door.

You answered and he couldn’t help but bully his way in and kick the door closed to engulf you in a hug. You were warm in his arms, fitting into his chest perfectly. Your laugh rumbled against his chest and he breathed in your scent. 

“Delivery,” he said, pulling back to smile at you and wave the food in front of your face teasingly.

“I hope the delivery man stays. He’s pretty cute,” you joked, swiftly kissing his lips before stepping back to let him fully inside the apartment. 

He slid off his shoes and stepped in, setting the food on the counter and shooing you to go sit so he could serve dinner. He pulled out the wine he’d gotten - something fruity he knew you’d like - and brought over the wine glasses and food, balancing it all carefully on his forearm. 

“Date night,” he said softly, sliding to sit beside you and holding up his glass for a toast. You giggled at his silliness before clinking your glass with his. The bright sound lit up the room a little bit more, and you smiled after taking the first sip. Paired with the food, that man had an agenda, you just couldn’t figure it out yet.

Dinner was perfect, it usually was with Mingi unless he was trying to cook something. One time he had tried to help you make dinner by chopping the vegetables and he massacred the carrots so badly you’d quietly thrown away the mushy mess and said you had just needed him to prep them for a different meal. 

It was when the two of you were doing dishes that Mingi finally brought sex up.

Step Two: spill the beans.

“It’s not that I don’t find you sexy, I obviously do,” he mumbled to your wine glasses suddenly. “I just… haven’t had sex before. And it’s a little embarrassing. But I want to, have sex that is. With you. Obviously.”

You had stilled where you were drying a plate, your eyes glued to your boyfriend’s sharp side profile. He kept washing the same glass over and over, like he was trying to wash the glass clean away. He kept scrubbing diligently, his eyes never leaving the suds. 

“Okay,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. You cleared your throat. “Okay.” It came out stronger that time. 

You grabbed your boyfriend’s forearm to stop him. He tensed, finally stopped washing the glass, and glanced at you. You smiled at him, drawing lazy circles on his arm with your thumb. His skin was soft. His cheeks were pink.

“You’ll teach me?” he asked quietly, his eyes meeting yours. They were dark, deep, flickering with something you had seen before. It was more intense this time, the desire. 

“Of course,” you whispered.

His wet, soapy hands were on your waist in an instant, grabbing you so tightly you knew you’d have bruises in the shape of his fingerprints. You didn’t care about your clothes getting wet, just that your lips were on his, bruising and wet. Mingi groaned into your mouth and his hands were on your ass, reminding you of your hotel stay. Your spine tingled at the thought, and you pulled yourself closer to Mingi’s body by grabbing his hair and yanking. He groaned.

“Fuck, baby. You’re going to kill me before we can do anything.”

Unknown to you, Step Three of Mingi’s plan was to not come right away. 

You raked your fingers through his hair and started moving back, heading toward the bedroom. Mingi let you lead him blindly, panting against your mouth as he kissed you, his hands sliding up and off your ass and under your shirt. His fingers grazed your skin lightly and somehow that was sexier than his grip on your ass had been. Your skin burned where he touched you and you unlatched your lips from his to kiss down his neck.

“I won’t mark you,” you whispered by his ear, biting his earlobe lightly. He whimpered slightly, tilting his head to let you have better access to his neck.

“You can,” he said, panting. “Just has to be below the shirt, okay? I want you to mark me. Please, baby.”

You clenched your thighs at the demand, your pussy so wet it was making your underwear stick to you. It was uncomfortable but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, kissing your boyfriend’s neck while his hands wandered to your stomach lightly, then up. 

He stopped just shy of your breasts, his hands stilling against your ribs. They were so broad they took up most of the space on your torso, rough and warm. You leaned into his hands, but he remained still. 

He wasn’t really sure where to go from there. He wanted to touch your breasts, obviously, wanted to slip his hands underneath your bra and feel the soft skin, the warm nipples, make them harden under his fingers. Maybe even leave marks on the swell of your breasts to admire later, right over your heart. 

But he was nervous now. It was further than he’d ever been with you and his mind had come back online and stopped his body. Well, it had stopped his hands from moving and his mouth from forming any words, but it didn’t stop his length from hardening further. Trapped against your bodies, he knew you could feel it, especially when you pushed yourself closer to him, ground down hard against him.

At his sudden stillness, you pulled back and removed your hands. He looked wide eyed, his mouth starting to form what was probably “sorry” before you grabbed his hands and placed them squarely on your boobs. He let out an undignified squeak, but his hands began kneading the soft flesh. You let go of his hands and reached around to unhook your bra, letting it go loose. You wanted to take your shirt off, the feeling of your bra and his hands stretching it out making it uncomfortable, but you worried it would send Mingi into a panic. So you let him knead your breasts, his fingers swiping over your nipples before he began kissing down your neck. 

You’d had sex before with men who had done similar things, but with Mingi it was different. Maybe it was because you loved him or maybe it was because he was so earnest and eager to please. But he was also lost in his own pleasure, his nerves falling away to be replaced by lust. When he pulled back and looked at you, his eyes were dark, hooded, his mouth swollen and even plumper. He looked sinful, his hair falling into his eyes as he pulled his hands back, reached around to the back of his own shirt, and pulled it off in one swift movement.

You couldn’t help yourself, your eyes roaming over his torso. You’d seen him shirtless before, but in this context you looked at him with reverence. He was beautiful, toned, skin golden. You ran your hand down his chest, his stomach, stopping at his pants to dip a finger just below his waistband. He bucked his hips unconsciously into the touch. You were pleased to see that even his chest turned pink when he was embarrassed. 

He preened slightly under your touch before pulling back, shoulders drawing in slightly. You took it as a sign to strip with him, make him more comfortable.

Grabbing your shirt by the hem, you pulled it over your head swiftly, your bra catching and lifting to show under your breast. Mingi sucked in a breath, his hips stuttering as he looked at you. His eyes mapped the expanse of your torso, and as you slid your bra off your shoulders slowly you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed roughly. His eyes were hooded, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

You didn’t have to grab his hands this time. He leaned in, massaging one breast lightly while sucking dark marks into the other. You moaned at the sensation, pushing forward into his mouth. You tested the waters, your hand sliding down the front of his pants to cup his hard length, and he bucked into your hand.

He switched to your other breast, marking a trail across your chest that would last for the days to come. It went straight south, making you throb, your thighs rubbing. Your hand rubbed up the front of his length, his breath hitching, before he pulled your hand to the button on his pants. You thumbed it, undid it quickly, and then let Mingi take the lead to take his pants off. 

He slid them off without fanfare, gripping yours and pulling them off quickly. Too quickly. Your panties slid down with them, leaving you bare. Mingi sucked in a breath.

“Oh shit, sorry. Sorry. Wait let me-” Then he was pulling his own underwear off, stepping out of it. 

Left bare in the warm light coming from a small lamp on your bedside table, you stared at your boyfriend unabashedly. He was strong, lean, and so, so handsome. His cheekbones stood out in the lighting, and you couldn’t help but reach up and graze them tenderly with your fingertips. He leaned into your touch, grabbing your wrist before you could fully pull away to kiss your fingertips.

“You’re stunning,” he whispered. 

“You’re one to talk,” you whispered back, drawing closer to press your body against his. He shivered. His hands held your waist tightly. “You are so perfect.”

“I was hoping for sexy,” he whispered, then bent down to nip at your neck lightly.

“Don’t push it,” you joked back, leaning down to leave a love bite on his peck, right by where his heart was nearly beating out of his chest. He hissed at the sensation.

“Co-condom,” he murmured, and you nodded. You had a stash in your bedside table for just this moment, and you moved to get them before he stopped you lightly, gripping your arm. He bent down and dug around to find his wallet. 

Then, he pulled out the purple wrapped condom. Ribbed for her pleasure. Ah, he’d done some research.

You pushed him in the chest lightly and he sat down hard on the bed, scooting back slightly to allow you to climb onto his lap. He handed you the condom, letting you roll it down his length. You pumped it a few times to make sure it was on. 

Satisfied, you straddled him. His eyes dropped to your breasts then further down, hands coming up to grip your hips. Fully naked, your pussy wet and dripping, you ground hard against his cock. Mingi groaned, his hands gripping and guiding your hips. You held onto his shoulders and let him pick the pace. 

Just to tease him, you let his tip slip inside of you as you drug your hips back down. The stuttering breath it pulled from him was enough to make you grin, and you buried your face in his neck as you did it again, the slow drag of your hips, the quick catch of his tip, all making him groan into your ear.

“You have to tell me what you want, okay?” you whispered. 

You had had ample time in this relationship to consider what you wanted to do the first time the two of you had sex. You wanted to blow him, to feel him try and refrain from bucking his hips up, to try and stop himself from choking you. You wanted him to guide your head lightly, sinful words about how well you were taking him in your mouth falling from his lips.

You had a strong suspicion that if you blew him tonight he would cum in a matter of seconds and you really wanted him inside of you.

Thankfully, Mingi seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“I want to be inside of you, baby, to stretch, ah, to stretch you out.”

And he would. He was thick, just the tip making you feel a light stretch. 

The next time you ground your hips down, you let more of his length dip into your pussy. Slowly, you lowered yourself down, legs shaking slightly, bobbing lightly to let yourself adjust before sinking to completely engulf his length. He let out a strangled moan, diving forward to kiss you hard and wet. 

You lifted up and dropped down on him, the curve of his length hitting just the right spot inside of you that you were both moaning at the sensation. 

Riding Mingi was something else you had imagined, but the real thing was so much better. The heat of his dick, the slight squelch of your wetness encompassing him, the way he groaned underneath you and his abs tensed at every movement, the way he dropped his head to leave more marks across your breasts, the sensation of his dick hitting your G-spot constantly. It was all so delicious. You leaned back, letting his dick repeatedly hit that perfect spot, your head falling back. His hips snapped up into you each time, the sensation jolting you.

Suddenly, Mingi was pushing your hips down hard, stilling your movements. You clenched your pussy around him, and he whimpered.

“Fuck, fuck, stop. I don’t want to cum yet,” he mumbled into your neck. 

You nodded, running a hand through his hair and pushing his bangs off his face. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. 

“I want,” he started, then stopped. His eyes were dark, hooded again, and his entire body was flushed. 

“You can say it,” you murmured.

“I want to fuck you from behind.”

He said it resolutely. Then, the second he saw you nod okay, he was pulling you off and flipping you over. You let out an undignified yelp at the movement. You knew Mingi was strong but holy fuck. 

Barely getting your hands underneath you, you arched your back as he pushed into you from behind. His hips snapped forward and, oh, fuck. 

“Fuck, Mingi,” you whined.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby,” he groaned from behind you, his hips picking up the pace and finding a steady rhythm. “I might… I might not…”

“It’s okay.”

His grip on your hips was bruising, a hand gripping your ass leaving red marks across the cheek. Your legs and arms were shaking, your pussy clenching around his length. He pulled your hips up, angled down, and you were seeing stars. You could feel the beginnings of an orgasm pooling low in your stomach, the way your pussy dripped more, the heat that spread. You wanted to cum, the ribs of the condom stimulating you. 

Mingi came first, his hips stuttering and a string of expletives leaving his plump lips. He stilled inside of you, falling over to rest his chest on your back. He was panting, his damp hair tickling your shoulder blades.

“How do I make you cum, baby? Tell me how to do that?” he grunted, pulling out of you. You whined at the loss of contact. It really felt like he was edging you, and you were impatient. 

“Get between my legs and make me cum with your mouth,” you commanded, your brain fuzzy with the need to cum. You rolled onto your back and gave him a pointed look.

He shivered, pulling the condom off and tying it. He looked around frantically before spotting your trash can, throwing it away before pushing you onto your back and practically diving between your legs. 

Soft kisses on your thighs had your legs spreading, and the sharp nips that came after them had your legs clenching around his head. He grinned up at you from his spot between your legs, but he looked nervous.

You ran a hand through his hair softly before gripping the hair at his crown. 

“It’s all about the licking and sucking. Your fingers… I want them inside of me too.”

Mingi nodded, drinking in your words. Then his tongue was put to good use, licking a stripe up your pussy before teasing at your entrance. The slick heat made you moan and tug his hair, and he dipped his tongue inside of you, curling up and flicking it.

The sounds you made egged him on. He really didn’t know what he was doing, but he figured if you weren’t saying “ow” or “stop that’s awful” he was doing okay. He kept his eyes on you, on the way your head was thrown back and your breasts heaved as he ate you out like a man starving. 

He replaced his tongue with two fingers, lightly twisting them to see your reaction. There seemed to be a spot he should hit, and he wiggled his fingers forward until he found it. God, his fingers were perfect, thick yet graceful as they pumped inside of you. His mouth attached to your clit and sucked, lightly at first then harshly. Your back arched off the bed.

“Fuck, who taught you that? I thought you said-” you were cut off by him humming against your clit, the vibrations going straight to your core. “Don’t stop.”

He looked beautiful between your legs, strong back visible, muscles shifting as he fingered you. His eyes never left yours, sharp and watchful. He was going to make this good, he was making this good, you wanted more of him always. You couldn’t imagine not jumping his bones the next time you saw him with how good it felt, but you would find a way to restrain.

The warmth in your stomach grew, your pussy throbbed, and then everything was warm. You tensed around his fingers, bucking forward into his mouth as you came. You could barely even let out a moan with how intense the sensation was. Stars danced in front of your eyes and your entire body coiled then uncoiled. You pulled Mingi off of you and he looked at you, triumphant and smirking.

“Fuck, come here,” you whispered, and he climbed up to kiss you, wiping his mouth on the way up. It was a soft kiss, full of reassurance and love.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said once you parted. 

“I love you, too, Mingi. So much.”

He grinned, then the crook of his transformed into a shit-eating smirk. “So… how was it?”

He already knew the answer. You huffed, turning away slightly.

“It was fine,” you lied, and he knew you were lying. “Would be better if we showered together now.”

You side-eyed him.

Not even a minute later he was with you in the shower, begging you to wash his back with your nice loofah and soap. 

────────────────────────

“So…” Yunho said it casually, like he was about to ask about the weather or Mingi’s thoughts on having lunch together. “You did okay?”

Yeosang looked between the two of them, his eyes following the flush on Mingi’s neck and the way Yunho was covering his smile with his glass of water. 

Mingi cleared his throat and looked away.

“Yeah, it was good. Great. Went well.”

Yeosang eyed him as Yunho snorted, eyebrow raising. The lightbulb clicked suddenly, Yeosang’s eyes widening as he looked between the two of them.

“A threesome? Really?” he gasped, shaking his head. “Didn’t think you’d be one to share.”

Mingi let out a strangled sound while Yunho choked on his water, pounding his chest as he coughed violently. 

“NO!” Mingi spluttered. “No, oh my- how?”

“He’s not a virgin anymore,” Yunho croaked, rubbing his chest like he could massage the rest of the water out of his lungs.

Yeosang nodded knowingly, his mouth curling up at the corner. “I know. Just wanted to hear you admit you were a virgin. Wooyoung owes me.”

Mingi’s mouth dropped open and Yuho stared at him, gaze piercing. 

“There was a bet?”

“Why wasn’t I let it on this?”

Both boys started speaking at the same time.

“No way, you knew he was a virgin already,” Yeosang said dryly. “And yeah, I had 20,000 won on the table.”

“Sellout,” Yunho mumbled, turning to head back to the couch and finish the movie the group had all been watching together. 

“20,000… that’s all my sex life is worth to you?” Mingi mumbled, turning to follow Yeosang into the room. The other boy just shrugged. “What can that even buy?”

“Post-sex chicken,” Yeosang whispered, settling back into his spot.

Mingi stood, dumbfounded, until Seonghwa gently tugged his arm to make him sit back down. He barely even watched the movie. His mind was too focused on ways he could make himself spontaneously combust.

Virgin.

You remembered Sunghoon before he was a famous idol. You knew the young Sunghoon, the rising skater Sunghoon, the incredible skater Sunghoon possibly destined for the Olympics, and, now, idol Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon had shocked everyone at the ice rink when he announced he was pursuing life as an idol. Everyone but you. 

“Do you think… do you think it would be okay if I stopped skating?” He’d whispered it so quietly over the phone one night that the static almost drowned his soft voice out. You held the phone close to your ear, rolling onto your side in your bed to get closer to his voice. His call had woken you up around two in the morning and yet you had never felt so awake. Your heart was pounding and your hands felt clammy as you gripped your phone, staring at your wall in the dark.

“I think…” you paused, unsure. “I think you should do what makes you feel happy. What makes you excited when you wake up in the morning. If that’s not skating now, if it’s not skating ever again, that’s fine. That’s what I think.”

You heard Sunghoon’s steady breathing over the phone and you thought about the first time you’d met him at the rink. You’d both been young, steady on your skates but unsteady in nearly every other aspect of your young lives. You had gravitated toward each other due to your work ethic and dry humor. He’d been the first person you’d call when a new movie came out because you wanted to see it with him. You were the first person he’d call when he wanted to try a new restaurant because he wanted your honest opinion on the food. The two of you studied together when you could, skated together when you could, and trained together whenever possible. Everyone thought the two of you were dating, but the thought never crossed your minds. You simply loved Sunghoon and he loved you, a found family as a result of your passion for skating. 

Which is why he had called you to talk about one of the biggest decisions of his life.

“What do you want to do, like, instead? If anything, I guess,” you whispered in the early morning and cringed. You went for supportive but landed somewhere around awkward. 

Sunghoon laughed humorlessly. “I want to audition to be an idol.” 

You smiled. If anyone could make it as an idol…

“When you become an idol can I get a ticket to your concerts?”

Sunghoon laughed for real this time, and you rolled over onto your back as you felt Sunghoon relax over the phone. 

“No way, loser. I’ll ask them to charge you more.” 

He didn’t. When he had his first concert as an idol with his group after winning a grueling competition, he gave one ticket to you and the other to his mom. He even took a photo with you. “Anything for my fans,” he’d said, winking at you. You gagged and flipped him off behind his mom’s back, blushing slightly when you caught one of his group member’s eye mid-gag. The other boy had just smiled and shook his head as Sunghoon made a face at you, turning sweet when his mother turned around to hug him tightly again, proud of her son. He’d flipped you off back behind his mom’s back. 

Now, for the first time in all the years you’d known Sunghoon, you felt uncomfortable in front of him, sitting across from one another in the private dining room of an overly expensive restaurant. 

“I didn’t know.” Again with the whisper, like he was scared of what you would think. It was the same whisper he’d had when he had called you about becoming an idol.

“It’s okay. We can figure something out,” you reassured him, feeling anything but sure yourself.

“Of course they would do this, God,” Sunghoon breathed out, running his hands through his hair and hanging his head. “I am so sorry, Y/N. So, so sorry.” 

You sighed, standing to go behind Sunghoon. Rubbing his shoulders through his dress shirt, you sucked in a deep breath. 

“We both knew they wanted something from you when you switched, ah, career paths. If this is it, then this is it. We can figure it out later, but if we try to change their minds now it’ll just get ugly.”

Arranged dating. That’s what they’d proposed when they sat the two of you down for dinner. When Sunghoon had given up figure skating his parents had been supportive but displeased. He’d given up a shot at the Olympics after all. His parents had made him promise he wouldn’t worry them with idol life. The long hours, harsh environments, and dating scandals rocking the industry had made them worry, though. They’d met with the company and scrambled to find anything to make Sunghoon’s life more… stable. And they had landed on you. You had been a staple in his life for years. Those pre-idol obligations had come crashing down on the two of you on a Saturday evening, a rare Saturday Sunghoon had off. Arranged dating with the intent to marry, it seemed. They didn’t want to worry about all of Sunghoon’s future, the volatile nature of idol life making them nervous. 

You were the perfect candidate. 

“I feel like I’m in one of those, ‘My mom sold me to One Direction” Wattpad fics.’”

“Wattpad?” Sunghoon frowned, turning to look at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Nevermind, loser.”

“Wait, am I One Direction right now?” 

“Yeah, all four members.”

“There’s five of them, stupidhead,” Sunghoon replied, smug.

“Yeah, but you’re no Zayn. I’d gladly be dating him,” you joked, flicking the back of Sunghoon’s head. He stood up to face you, indignant. 

“Hey! I’m pretty good looking, too.”

You crinkled your nose at him, looking him up and down.

“That is no way to look at your boyfriend,” he joked, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing was. You couldn’t believe your own parents agreed to this, you couldn’t believe Sunghoon’s parents even dreamt this up, and you couldn’t believe you were in a terrible fanfiction trope. You wanted to cry or maybe laugh or maybe just sleep for a few years until your problems became less glaring. 

“Hey,” Sunghoon said, his hand sliding down your arm to hold your hand softly. “I’m not asking you to fall in love with me like that. They’ll feel better when my career becomes more secure.”

You sighed, looking down. “I just don’t know what the rules are for this.”

He scoffed. “What do your One Direction fanfictions say?”

You raised your head and stared at him, unamused. “First of all, I never read those. Second of all, if I had, say, read them, I guess the rules would say we could act as we always have. You’re not a good actor -” you held up a hand to stop him as he opened his mouth to say something snarky, no doubt “- so we won’t try and act any differently around your parents.”

Sunghoon nodded, still annoyed. “What about actually dating…”

He didn’t finish. You knew what he meant though. Actually dating someone you were attracted to romantically. It didn’t hurt when he said it, it just made you feel a deep, aching sadness in your stomach. If you dated someone you actually liked, you’d be labeled a cheater and ostracized if it was ever found out. If Sunghoon dated someone he actually liked… it would be the same but worse. There were no winners at this particular junction, no way to find a new route home in your hometown. 

You shrugged at him. “It doesn’t look good. Why? You have a crush on someone?” 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes at your sing-songy voice. He pushed you away gently. “No, but I would like to find true love.”

You batted your eyes at him and he gagged, smiling as he turned to hug you. A hug from Sunghoon was pretty rare, and you held on tight. 

“We’ll be fine,” you mumbled into his shoulder. “You can’t scare me off that easily. I remember when you had food poisoning and still insisted on skating and-”

He pushed you away. “Oh my, God, would you shut the fuck up.”

You laughed, throwing your head back as you turned to bump your shoulder into his. The two of you walked toward the exit of the restaurant, him to his car and you, in the next few minutes, to the subway station to take a late train home. 

Sunghoon stopped by the door, turning to face you quickly. “Want to come over next Friday and meet the others? I’ll tell them about what’s going on and then you can meet them. Okay?” You nodded. It felt slightly embarrassing, but it felt right that his bandmates knew what was going on between the two of you. After years of telling them nothing was going on with you and Sunghoon it would seem odd you were suddenly dating the man without the context surrounding the arrangement. Embarrassing to say out loud, maybe. But telling them kept some part of your pride intact. 

“I’ll see you next Friday, then. Around eight?” you asked, checking your phone calendar to make sure you weren’t scheduled for work.

Sunghoon nodded, punching you lightly on the arm as he headed out. You plopped down in a plush chair at the front and waited for ten minutes before leaving after, taking your sweet time to get to the subway station. 

It was a nice night, slightly chilly but clear. The rush of traffic wasn’t slowing down in the city, yet the sidewalks weren’t crowded. Your pace was leisurely as your mind mulled over the events of the night. You wondered how your parents had agreed to it, but you figured they always thought you and Sunghoon were an item and felt it was natural. It stung a bit to think about, and your eyes got wet at the thought. You blinked back the emotions and trudged on, reaching the subway and taking the late train home. Miraculously, the train wasn’t crowded yet for a Saturday night and you found a seat. The swaying of the car felt relaxing on your suddenly weary body and you slumped back into the seat. You were almost dreading next Friday, but a small part of you was looking forward to meeting Sunghoon’s bandmates. You hadn’t met them, truly met them, except in passing at concerts. Now that his past and his present were merging you would finally have the chance to meet them.

All week you amped yourself up to meet Sunghoon’s bandmates. You finally felt ready as you got out of the cab behind their dorm on Friday and a staff member ushered you inside.

But when you finally met the members there was only one way to describe it: A Shitshow. And it was all because of one man in particular.

Seonghwa: Seonghwa likes to pretend he's above playing truth or dare, but he's four shots in and sitting in the circle almost giddy as he watches the bottle spin to land on the next person. Wooyoung had just gone, daring San to drink a tablespoon of hot sauce and San was spinning the bottle.

"Y/N!" San yelled, words slurring together ever so slightly. The glazed look in his eyes was enough to know he was truly drunk. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth." Your last dare had been to dunk your sock in the toilet so you stood to loose a lot. Like your other sock.

"Okay, um. Have you ever... hooked up with Seonghwa. Be honest. You two are friends so..."

Seonghwa nearly choked on air. He coughed dryly, eyes going wide as he tried to signal San to shut the fuck up before he told everyone Seonghwa was one smile away from falling in love with you.

"No, we've never hooked up. But Hongjoong and I have when we were friends with benefits." Okay, maybe you were drunk, too.

Hongjoong giggled and Seonghwa felt like he was going to throw up, and the liquor couldn't even be blamed for it.

"But! I like someone else," you whispered, leaning closer to Seonghwa. The image of the two of you have sex, you riding him, replaced the horrific image of you having sex with Hongjoong in his head.

Needless to say your second time having sex with Seonghwa was when he was your boyfriend and you were both sober.

Hongjoong: Hongjoong like to pride himself as the perfect gentleman and someone who knew how to woo the person he liked. He bought little trinkets or treats he found on his way home from schedules in convenience stores or subways stations because he kept finding things that made him think of you. He remembered special events and days, always asking how things went after a presentation at school or a tough day at work. He would have done this simply because he was your best friend, but he also did it because he loved you as something more.

So when Yunho called him, frantic, at 2am one morning to tell him the two of you had hooked up and he maybe sort of probably liked you, Hongjoong felt first happy that you were getting some and then something like terrified and frustrated - terristrated? - that he wasn't the one to give you everything.

"Yunho, call down, my God. It's okay. Did Y/N say anything?"

"No, no. Called a taxi. Work tomorrow or something." Hongjoong knew. He had your schedule memorized after accidentally calling you during a work meeting once. "But I think Y/N likes someone else."

"Oh?" Hongjoong tried, and failed, to sound neutral. Yunho didn't offer more and Hongjoong simply told him to sleep it off and think about it tomorrow after he was rested.

After the phone call from Hell, he texted you.

hongjoongie joong: yunho? woof

you: rude as hell

you: but no, not yunho anymore

hongjoongie joong: you don't have to tell me

you: damn and here i was going to confess to you in the most romantic moment after i fucked your best friend and band mate

hongjoongie joong: you have me blushing and giggling and kicking my feet fr

you: take me out on a date and i'll really have you giggling and blushing and kicking your feet

hongjoongie joong: seriously?

you: yes

you: unless you don't want to

you: but when I was thinking of you the whole time i was with Yunho it was a sign from the universe or whatever

you: i'm off at 5:30

hongjoongie joong: i know. i'll be there to pick you up for our date!

Your first date with Hongjoong was like every other time you went out with your best friend, but this time you could kiss him. He would still be your best friend first but now, he would be your boyfriend second. He also never stopped giving you shit for it taking having sex with Yunho to realize you liked him, forever destined to be "cliché loser" in his phone.

Yunho: Yunho had picked you up from your apartment for your monthly "terrible cooking show remake" where you would try and make the recipe as seen on a cooking show. No rewinding, no saving the recipe, no looking it up. The food was pretty hit or miss, but watching you frustrated, chewing on your lip with furrowed brows was worth eating even the worst recreations.

Currently he was trying to goad you into doing karaoke in the car with him. His favorite pastime was teasing you and trying to get you to roll your eyes at him. God, you were cute.

You were distracted, though, your phone buzzing incessantly in your lap. You had been ignoring it until now.

"Fuckboy is an outdated term now, isn't it?" you asked Yunho, locking your phone after turning off the ringer.

"Yeah it totally is, you old hag," he joked, reaching over to squeeze your arm to show he really was only joking. "Why?"

"I hook up with Wooyoung once, drunk, and he keeps trying to hook up again now that he knows I'm coming over today."

Yunho nearly crashed the damn car. His hand jerked involuntarily before he gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. He lifted his arm from the center console where it had been resting to grab the wheel with both hands. You may be his best friend but he also desperately loved you.

"Didn't know you were that good at sex," he mumbled, going for joking and sounding much more hurt.

You furrowed your brows at his comment. "Why? You asking for a demonstration?" Part of you was joking but the other part seriously meant it. You may have hooked up with Wooyoung but it was purely sex. With Yunho you felt nervous that any move to show that you liked him as more than a friend would harm your friendship. But you swore that he was... jealous. Jealous that you'd slept with Wooyoung.

Yunho's grip had tightened impossibly more on the steering wheel after your comment. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I meant it. Mean it."

Your monthly cooking was put off. You also found out just how well Yunho could fuck you. Best friend-turned boyfriend Yunho knew exactly which buttons to push to make you moan.

Yeosang: Yeosang was one step away from buying noise cancelling headphones, and if he had to listen to San's bed frame smack against the wall one more time he was going to use San's credit card to buy the headphones. He wasn't expecting the others to be celibate but he was asking for a little respect.

yeo yeo: guess who is fucking again!!!

you: not you based on the fact that you're texting me!!!

yeo yeo: i'm blocking u :)

you: do it :)

yeo yeo: he can't seriously be that good

you: he's okay

Yeosang shot upright in bed as he read your message. There was no way you, his best friend and the light of his life (and his crush but whatever), had had sex with his friend and bandmate AND HADN'T TOLD HIM.

yeo yeo: you're so fake

yeo yeo: when?

you: few months ago

you: we were fwb for a while but it was nothing to write home about so I didn't tell you

Yeosang called you, paying no mind to the slamming on the wall.

"He's got a good rhythm," was all you said when you picked up.

"Y/N..."

"Yeah it was for about and month and that was all it needed to be. I dunno... It was kinda weird because he's your friend and I didn't have any feelings for him. I'm not sure he and I are even friends so it wasn't truly "friends with benefits". And I learned I don't do casual hookups."

"Oh, so not a waste, then," Yeosang teased. He felt mildly ill at the thought of you having sex with San, his stomach clenching uncomfortably. He tried to push the feeling down knowing he had no right to be upset.

"But," oh, God, why was he still talking, "I could do better."

Your heart jumped to your throat. "I'm not sure why you're not at my place right now."

Yeosang was totally better than San ever was. No offense to San...

Mingi: Mingi had watched for a whole year as you pined after Yeosang. It was hard, especially when Mingi was pretty sure he was in love with you. But he was your best friend, and you were his, so he listened to you whine and complain that Yeosang didn't like you back even when Mingi assured you he did. He had also had the duty of getting the two of you together for a first date.

You and Yeosang had gone on a grand total of three dates before the dates stopped and you and Yeosang just hung out at the dorm or with the others. The pining and crushing had seemed to end, but you never told Mingi why. You just said that it hadn't worked out but that you found you liked Yeosang as a friend. Not a best friend, of course. Nobody could replace Mingi.

Mingi never pried, but he wondered. He wondered when he saw Yeosang and you together, as the two of you laughed, and he wondered when he was overly tired and lacking a filter. Which is probably why he finally asked Yeosang.

"We didn't really have romantic feelings. And we weren't sexually compatible."

Sexually compatible... Mingi probably should have left it at that but he'd texted you instead, despite it being three in the morning. It woke you up.

light of my life: you and yeosang hooked up?

you: it's not hooking up if you were dating at the time right?

light of my life: but it didn't work?

you: obviously not

you: why?

light of my life: why didn't it work?

you: idk mingi probably because your name in my phone is light of my life and i thought about you the entire time

you: goodnight

Not even thirty minutes later the doorbell to your apartment rang incessantly. You pulled yourself out of bed and opened the door to find Mingi, eyes slightly drooping with sleep but otherwise alert.

"You're mad at me?"

"It's not how I wanted to confess, Mingi. Yeosang was helping me plan how to confess to you."

"He knew?" Mingi sounded slightly pained at the idea.

"Yes, Mingi. We went on a few dates but the romance wasn't there. We had sex but were on completely different rhythms. He called it before I did. We're lucky he's our friend, Mingi. He deserves so much."

"We'll send him a thank you card, then."

And then he was kissing you, warm lips pressed against yours and tongue swiping at your lips.

"Can I come in?"

San: San knew what made his friends tick. He knew what foods everyone liked, their favorite colors, he had birthdays written down, and he knew their fears. He knew their partners and he knew their crushes. Except yours, he didn't know who exactly you liked but he took you telling him as a good sign for his own chances with you. He may be your best friend but he also hoped to be your boyfriend eventually.

What he didn't know was that you and Jongho had hooked up once. Jongho wasn't planning on telling anyone but when the boys were teasing him about being a virgin (they knew he wasn't) and San joined in (to be a little shit) Jongho couldn't help but tease San back.

"Ask Y/N. Y/N knows for sure I'm not a virgin."

San stopped immediately as the other boys "ooh"-ed and giggled like prepubescent boys. No way. No fucking way. Did you have a crush on Jongho and that's why you didn't tell him.

The thought stuck in the back of his head, but he couldn't figure out when to bring it up. It's hard to casually say "Hey, Y/N is the reason you haven't told me who you like is because you like Jongho and you're afraid I'll tell him and it's not that you secretly like me and want me to be your boyfriend, right?" Best friend or not, it's a little off-putting to say all of that, bordering on deranged.

But it did come up when the two of you were tipsy and watching reality TV. And it wasn't classy at all.

"Why didn't you tell me you hooked up with Jongho," San practically whined as he draped himself across your lap.

You laughed and carded a hand through his hair. "It didn't mean anything."

"It's because you know I like you."

Your hand nearly stilled, your nails scratching his scalp distractedly as you took in what your best friend and the one you loved most said. You hadn't known he liked you before, instead harboring your own romantic feelings for him to yourself.

"Tell me you like me in the morning and we'll go from there," you replied, turning your attention back to the TV.

Exchanging confessions sober was much more exhilarating. So was the sex that came after.

Wooyoung: Wooyoung often cooks while you prep veggies or sit and watch him and catch him up on all the gossip from your workplace. He never has any idea who any of these people are but he's always enthusiastically listening as you describe the ridiculous email someone sent you or the time your boss let everyone go home early because he was hungover and wanted to go home.

It's a weekly tradition. You've only missed it once when you had a date, which he tried not to feel jealous about. He liked you, as more than a friend, and he always felt the cooking nights were dates in their own right. Your date the one time must not have gone well because you never went on a second or, now that he thinks about it, any other date ever.

The thought occurs to him as you recount the horrifying first date details your coworker had shared with you - including a terrible drunk-induced serenade on the sidewalk - when he blurts it out.

"What happened to that guy you went on a date with that one time? What was his name?"

You clicked your tongue and sighed. "Seonghwa."

"Seonghwa. As in the Seonghwa I know and live with?"

"Do you know another Seonghwa?"

Wooyoung shook his head and put aside the spoon he was stirring the broth with. He lowered the temperature on the stovetop and stared at you, wiggling his eyebrows. "Details please."

"You want me to give you details about... sex with Seonghwa?"

"No way he put out on the first date!" Wooyoung shouted as you shushed him laughing.

"He did! I'm just that hot! It was good sex, but it wasn't what either of us wanted."

Wooyoung tried to catch on to your words but he was trying not to imagine you having sex period because then he would think about he and you having sex and then he would probably pop a boner and damn that would border on embarrassing probably.

"Oh my, God," you totally clocked him, "you're thinking about me having sex right now aren't you!"

Wooyoung didn't blush, but maybe he turned a little pink. "What, my best friend's hot..."

"You've already wined and dined me... just ask me out," you said lowly, not at all teasing.

Wooyoung saw it in your eyes, the way they turned soft and slightly hooded.

"Y/N, will you go out with me? As in a romantic date?"

You and Wooyounng were much more compatible.

Jongho: Twenty questions was for losers according to Jongho. Thank god you and Jongho were losers.

It had started out with you jokingly asking him to play, rattling off three questions before Jongho finally jumped in to make you stop asking him what his credit card number was, what the expiration date on his card was, and if he could tell you the CVV on the back. He made sure to tell you you were a loser for playing, but he asked questions back, too. He would do anything for you as your best friend. Oh, and also because he was in love with you.

"What's your date of birth?" he asked, sighing over the phone loudly.

"You going to ask for my social security number next?" you joked. "Come on! Ask good questions. Ask juicy ones."

You could practically hear Jongho rolling his eyes over the phone. "Who was the last person you kissed?"

"Juicy!"

"You're avoiding the question."

"Mingi."

"What! When?" Jongho yelled.

"It's my turn. Who is the last person you kissed?"

"My mother on the cheek. When?"

"When we may or may not have hooked up last month."

"Oh my, God. You told me you were helping film Mingi's dance practice before you came to see me!" Jongho pushed down the jealousy in his chest. "Are you telling me not to touch the couch in the dance practice room now?"

"Yes and also it's my turn. Are you mad?"

"No." The answer was immediate.

"You sound upset."

"I'm not upset."

"You sound it," you replied softly.

"I'm just a little hurt you didn't tell me. You don't have to tell me everything but you're my best friend and he's also my friend."

"That's the only reason?"

Jongho stayed silent for a whole minute. "No. I like you Y/N. You know that."

"I didn't know. I just hoped you did."

"You can't say that over the phone. I'm taking you on a date tomorrow."

Mingi, when he found out you and Jongho were dating, begged Jongho to get him a gift for getting the two of you together. Jongho offered only a foot up his ass.