#fix on

You’re bundled up on your couch like a little blanket burrito, deep into an episode of Gachiakuta when you hear the familiar beep of the keypad on your door being unlocked. You don’t get up; you already know who it is given that only one other person has the code. The sound of him kicking off his shoes echoes down the short hallway, followed by the distinctive drag of his feet, that lazy shuffle he does when he’s exhausted.

“Fuck, baby, why’s it so cold in here?” Mingi’s voice carries from the hallway before he even rounds the corner. You hear him pause at the heating panel on the wall, and you can picture the exact expression on his face; that mix of concern and exasperation he gets when he thinks you’re not taking care of yourself properly. “Six degrees? Six? Are you trying to become a popsicle or something?”

“I have a heat pack and I’m comfy. Didn’t wanna get up,” you mumble from your cocoon, though the excuse sounds weak even to your own ears. The truth sits heavy between the words you don’t say; that you’d been watching the utility costs climb, doing the math in your head about what you could cut back on this month.

But Mingi knows better. He’s always known better.

You hear him drop his bag and outerwear near your bedroom door with a soft thud before his footsteps approach. Then he’s there, towering over your bundled form on the couch, his ashy silver-purple hair slightly mussed from the winter wind outside, cheeks still flushed from the cold. There’s something in his eyes—soft and a little sad—that tells you he understands exactly what you’re not saying.

“I’ll handle your utilities this month,” he says matter-of-factly, already reaching down to pull you up and closer. His long fingers work to unwrap your blanket burrito with practiced ease, and you want to protest but the words die in your throat when you see his expression. “And before you argue, I’m also ordering groceries this week.”

“Mingi, you don’t have to—” you start but his arms wrap around you, cutting off your protest.

“I want to.” He repositions you both on the couch, wrapping the blanket around your bodies together like a shared shelter, tucking it carefully around your shoulders. His warmth immediately starts to seep into your cold limbs, better than any heat pack. “You’re my girl. Let me take care of you, yeah? Now what episode are we on?”

The finality in his tone leaves no room for arguments but it’s the gentleness in how he holds you that really makes your resistance crumble. He settles back against the couch, adjusting you more comfortably against his chest and you feel the steady thump of his heartbeat through his hoodie.

He knew your scholarship didn’t cover much, the same way he knew rent wasn’t cheap in Seoul, especially not in a decent neighborhood close enough to campus. Even with your on-campus departmental assistant job, you deprived yourself of a lot of things simply to save money. You’d been so used to handling everything on your own, so accustomed to being self-sufficient since you’d moved here, that even after almost two years of dating, you still found it hard to let him do things for you. To let him in like this, past all those walls you’d built out of necessity and pride.

“I watched two without you, but I didn’t really pay attention,” you admit quietly, letting yourself relax against him, breathing in his familiar scent. “We can rewatch them.”

You don’t put up a fight because you knew how Mingi could get when it came to taking care of you, stubborn and immovable as a mountain. You knew that he knew exactly why you were sitting in the cold of your apartment rather than turning the heating on, counting every won and making sacrifices you thought he wouldn’t notice.

But he always noticed.

“Good,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

That conversation was an hour and those two rewatched episodes ago—episodes that neither of you pay attention to because you kept pausing to talk, to catch up on everything you’d missed in each other’s lives. He tells you about the comeback preparations, the choreography that was killing his back, the way Yunho and Seonghwa kept stealing his and San’s snacks. You tell him about the grades you received for the last semester, the remote job you were struggling with and wanted to quit, the way your neighbor’s cat had somehow ended up in your apartment last week.

But eventually the conversation had shifted, grew quieter, more intimate. The touches lingered longer. His hand on your thigh. Your fingers tracing patterns on his hand. The way he looked at you had changed too, darkened with want that had been building for weeks of separation.

Now the “Are you still watching?” screen on Netflix stares back at you both, forgotten and irrelevant.

You hadn’t seen your boyfriend since the end of December; nearly three weeks of your relationship sustained only through phone screens and late-night video calls that always ended too soon, interrupted by his impossible schedule or the need for sleep. You’d missed the solid warmth of him, the way he smelled like his cologne mixed with laundry detergent and something uniquely him. Missed the way his laugh sounded in person, richer and fuller than through phone speakers. Missed the weight of his gaze on you, the casual touches, the intimacy of just existing in the same space.

And as much as sitting cuddled up like this was great, as much as you wanted to savor this reunion, it was getting increasingly hard to keep things innocent.

Especially when his big hands started wandering from their safe position on your waist, rubbing slow circles on your stomach that gradually drifted lower. When his fingers started tracing the curve of your hip through your sweatpants, then growing bolder, gripping and kneading the soft flesh of your thighs with a possessiveness that made heat pool low in your belly, like he was reacquainting himself with the geography of your body.

“Mingi,” you breathed, half warning, half plea and you felt his lips curve into a smile against your neck.

“Mm?” The sound rumbled through his chest and into yours where you were pressed against him. “Just missed touching you, bonita. It’s been too long.”

“You’re distracting me from the show,” you murmur, though you make no move to stop him.

“What show?” His voice is already rougher, deeper than usual, vibrating against your back where you’re pressed against his chest. “It’s been asking if we’re still watching for like twenty minutes now. Just missed touching you, baby.”

And it had been. Too many weeks of aching for this, for the weight of his hands on you, for the heat of his breath against your skin. 

His face finds the curve of your neck, lips brushing against sensitive skin, and you can’t help the way you turn your body around to face him; a leg hooked over his hip as you tilt your head to give him better access. He takes immediate advantage, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point in a way that makes you gasp and arch into him. His hand finds your ass and when he squeezes, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a possessiveness that makes you shiver, you couldn’t help the small sound that escaped your throat.

“Missed you so fucking much,” he murmurs against your skin between kisses, and you can feel how much he means it in the way his arms tighten around you, in the way his breathing has already gone uneven. “Three weeks is too long. Way too long.”

“I know,” you breathe, fingers threading through his soft hair, tugging gently in the way you know he likes. “I missed you too.” You continue like you both haven’t gone longer without seeing each other.

“Yeah?” His voice dropped lower, rough around the edges in that way that always made heat pool low in your belly. “You missed this too?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and shifted against him; feeling exactly how much he’d missed you, hard and insistent against your hip.

“Fuck,” he groaned, low and drawn out, his other hand coming up to thread through your freshly pressed hair, tilting your head back so he could access more of your throat. “You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this. About you.”

His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear and you gasped, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “Baby, please—”

“Please what, mama? Tell me what you need.” His teeth grazed your pulse point and you could feel your heart hammering there, could feel how he paused to feel it racing under his tongue. “Use your words.”

“Need you,” you managed, breathless already and he’d barely touched you. “Need you so bad.”

The groan that pulled from his chest was pure satisfaction. “That’s my girl. Always so good for me when you remember to ask.”

One of his hands slides up under your sweater and shirt—his sweater and tshirt, actually, ones you’d stolen months ago—his palm hot against the small of your back, exploring skin he’s been denied access to for weeks. The other hand is still gripping your ass, pulling you harder against him and you can feel him hardening even more beneath you.

“Can I—” he starts, but you’re already shifting so you can straddle him properly as he sits up.

“Yeah,” you say, and then your mouths finally meet.

The kiss is immediately desperate, weeks of longing poured into it. His lips are soft but insistent, moving against yours like he’s trying to make up for lost time. Your hands cup his face, feeling the warmth of his flushed cheeks, while his grip your hips hard enough to bruise in the best way.

When his tongue traces your bottom lip, you open for him immediately, and the kiss deepens into something filthy and consuming. He tastes like coffee he must have had on the way over and underneath that, just him. One of your hands tangles in his hair, pulling harder now, and he groans into your mouth; a sound that goes straight through you, making you grind down against him.

“Fuck,” he gasps, breaking the kiss to look at you with hooded eyes, pupils blown wide. His hands slide under your shirt properly now, pushing it up, and you help him pull it over your head. The cold air hits your skin but you barely notice because he’s looking at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted.

“No bra?” His thumbs brush over your nipples that were already peaked and sensitive. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Missed these. Missed all of you. Missed seeing you like this.”

“You know I don’t like wearing any at home,” you admitted, gasping when he pinched lightly, rolling the hardened peak between his fingers. “plus, it’s winter. Who’s gonna know with all the layers?”

“I know,” he grins as his mouth finds your collarbone, kissing and sucking marks into your skin that you’ll definitely have to cover up later, but right now you don’t care. Your head falls back as his lips trail lower, hands now cupping your breasts as he continues to pinch your nipples in a way that makes you whimper.

“Mingi, please—”

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “Gonna take care of you.”

He moves one hand to your hip to pull you flush against him and then his mouth is on you, hot and wet, tongue circling one nipple while his fingers work the other. You’re grinding against him properly now, seeking friction, and he’s meeting your movements, hips rolling up to meet yours.

The layers between you are too much, too frustrating. You need more, need him closer, need—

“Off,” you manage, tugging at his hoodie, and he pulls back just long enough to yank it over his head along with the shirt underneath. Then his hands are on you again, pulling you back flush against his bare chest, skin to skin finally, and the contact feels so good you could cry.

You kiss him again, slower this time but no less intense, pouring everything you feel into it. Love and want and need and come home and I missed you and please don’t leave again. His hands map your body like he’s relearning every curve, every sensitive spot that makes you gasp or shiver.

“Mingi—” His name came out broken, desperate.

“God, I love the way you say my name like that. Like you need me. Do you need me, baby?”

“Need you,” you whisper against his lips, and you feel him shudder.

“Yeah, okay, fuck—” His hands move to the waistband of your sweatpants, fingers dipping inside, and you lift up enough for him to slide them down along with your underwear.

The blanket has long since fallen away, forgotten on the floor, but you don’t need it anymore. Not with the heat building between you, not with the way he’s touching you like he’s been starving for it.

His fingers find you already wet, and he groans at the discovery. “You’re soaked. All this for me?”

“Three weeks,” you remind him breathlessly, rocking into his touch. “Three weeks of just my hand and thinking about you.”

“Fuck, bonita,” he breathes, circling your clit in slow, deliberate strokes that have you trembling. “Tell me what you thought about.”

“This,” you manage. “Your hands, your mouth, how you—ah—how you feel inside me.”

He rewards you by sliding two fingers inside, and the stretch makes you moan loud enough that you briefly worry about your neighbors before you stopped caring entirely. He curled his fingers, finding that spot inside you that made your vision go hazy, and set a rhythm that had you clutching at his shoulders.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.” His thumb found your clit and you nearly sobbed. “Let me hear how good I make you feel. Missed these sounds so much. Used to replay the videos you sent me every night, you know that? Every night on tour, every night away from you, wishing it were my fingers inside you instead of yours.”

The image of him touching himself to videos of you made everything feel hotter, tighter. “Min, I’m—”

He works you open carefully, thoroughly, fingers curling to continuously hit that spot that makes your thighs shake, thumb still working your clit. You bury your face in his neck, breathing hard, hands gripping his broad shoulders for support as he builds you higher and higher.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs encouragingly. “Let me hear you. Missed those pretty sounds you make. It’s been too long since I’ve heard them in person.”

You’re close, embarrassingly close already but before you can tip over that edge, you pull back. “No, wait…want to come with you. Need you inside me.”

His eyes darken impossibly further and he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact. The sight of it, the hungry look in his eyes, nearly undoes you on the spot.

“Missed your taste too,” he says, voice absolutely wrecked. “Missed everything about you.”

You make quick work of his sweatpants, shoving them down just enough to free him, and then he’s there, hard and heavy in your hand. He’s already leaking and when you stroke him once, twice, his head falls back against the wall with a thud, and the sight made your mouth water.

“Next time,” you promise, twisting your hand around him and earning a sharp hiss of pleasure. “Next time I want you in my mouth.”

“Fuck, don’t…don’t say shit like that right now or this is gonna be over way too fast.” He catches your wrist gently, stilling your movement. “It’s been too long, baby. I need to be inside you. Need it so bad.”

“Now,” you say, positioning yourself over him. “Please, baby, now.”

His hands grip your hips, guiding you as you sink down onto him slowly, both of you groaning at the sensation. It’s been too long, and the stretch of him filling you is almost overwhelming.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Mingi’s head lifts off the wall slightly to look at you, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “So tight. So perfect. Fuck, you feel like heaven. Missed this,” he gasps, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips and ass. “Missed you. Missed being inside you.”

You took him fully, settling in his lap, and paused to adjust to the stretch, to the fullness of having him inside you again after so long. His hands roamed your back, your sides, pulling you close so your foreheads pressed together.

“Okay?” he murmured, and despite the strain in his voice, despite how you could feel him twitching inside you with the need to move, he waited for your signal.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Then move for me, baby. Show me how much you missed this cock. Wanna watch you ride me.”

You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, deep grinds that have both of you breathing hard. His hands guide you up and down, finding a rhythm together, relearning each other’s bodies. Every slide of him inside you feels incredible, hitting deep, the angle perfect from this position; it makes stars burst behind your eyelids, and when you cry out, he does it again, harder.

“There it is,” he praises, voice rough and breathless. “Right there, yeah? That’s the spot?”

“Yes, fuck, yes, right there—” 

“That’s my good girl. Taking me so well. Look at you.” One of his hands comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips. “Look at how beautiful you are when you’re riding my cock. Wish you could see yourself. Wish you could see what I see.”

He leans forward to capture your mouth in another searing kiss, swallowing your moans as you ride him faster, chasing the pleasure building in your core. One of his hands slides between your bodies to find your clit again, rubbing tight circles that make you clench around him.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” he breathes against your lips. “You feel so good, so perfect. Taking me so well.” His words make you clench around him and he groans, low and long. “Fuck, do that again. Love feeling you squeeze me like that.”

You did, deliberately this time, and his hips bucked up involuntarily, driving him deeper. The rhythm was getting faster now, more desperate, the slap of skin on skin mixing with your combined moans and the creak of the couch beneath you.

“More,” you whimpered and felt him smile against your skin.

“Greedy girl. I love it. Love you.” He nipped at your bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue. “Love how you get like this for me. So needy. So perfect.”

The praise sends heat coursing through you, spurring you on. You grip his hair tighter, pulling his head back so you can kiss down his throat, biting and sucking marks into his neck the way he did to you, not caring about his upcoming schedule,if he had any.His hips start thrusting up to meet you, driving deeper, and the change in intensity makes you cry out.

“That’s my girl,” he groans. “Let me hear you. Don’t hold back.”

“Min, baby, I’m close—”

“I know, baby, I can feel it. Can feel you getting tighter. But not yet, okay? Just a little longer. Want to make this last.” His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles that made your thighs shake. “Want to feel you for as long as possible.”

“Mingi…baby,”

“You can take it. You’re doing so good for me, mama. So fucking good.” His other hand tangles in your hair, pulling your mouth to his for another messy, desperate kiss. “Just a little more. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded but even as good as it feels, the angle isn’t quite enough. You need more, need him deeper, need—

He seems to read your mind, because suddenly he’s shifting, movements purposeful and hungry with need.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, and then in one smooth motion he’s lifting you, pulling out only long enough to flip you both. Your back hits the couch cushions and he’s above you, those broad shoulders blocking out the world, making everything narrow down to just this, just him. “Want to see your face. Need to see you when you come.”

He hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half, and when he pushes back inside you from this angle, you both moan at how impossibly deep he goes. The angle makes you cry out; he was so deep like this, hitting spots that made you see stars. “Need to fuck you properly. Need to hear you scream my name.”

Then he was moving, and God, he wasn’t holding back anymore. Each thrust was hard and deep and purposeful, driving into you with a force that had the couch protesting beneath you, had you clutching at his back, nails digging into his skin.

“God, fuck, Mingi—” 

“Fuck, yes, just like that—” He’s panting, each word punctuated by a thrust. “So good, baby. Taking me so fucking well. Love watching your face when I’m this deep. Love hearing those sounds you make—”

The sounds you were making were obscene, high-pitched whimpers and moans that you couldn’t control, couldn’t hold back even if you tried. And from the way Mingi was groaning in response, he didn’t want you to.

This is what you needed. This intensity, this closeness, him taking control and giving you exactly what you’ve been craving for three agonizing weeks. Each thrust hits that spot inside you that makes your vision white out, and you’re already so close, wound so tight you might break apart.

“Louder, bonita. Let the whole building know who’s making you feel this good. Let them hear who you belong to.”

“Mingi, fuckkk, Mingi—” His name was a chant, a prayer, the only word you could remember.

“Look at me,” he commands, and when your eyes meet his, the intimacy of it, the love and want you see reflected there, steals your breath. “That’s it, baby…that’s my girl. Want to see those pretty eyes when I make you come.”

He’s driving into you with a force that has the couch protesting beneath you, the frame creaking, and you swear you can feel it shifting across the floor. But you can’t focus on that, not when he’s hitting so deep, not when his fingers find your clit again and start rubbing in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty when you say my name like that. Say it again.”

“Mingi, please baby, I need…I need to—”

“I know, I can feel you,” he groans and he does look wrecked, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, lips swollen from kissing, eyes dark and desperate. His angle shifted slightly and you nearly screamed. “Right there? That what you need?”

“Yes! Oh god, yes, please don’t stop—”

“Not stopping. Never stopping. Gonna fuck you until you can’t remember your own name, until the only thing you can remember is mine.”

The couch was definitely moving now, you could feel it sliding with each powerful thrust, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when he was filling you so perfectly, not when every nerve ending was on fire, not when his fingers found your clit again and—

“Come for me, mama.” he commanded, voice strained with his own need. “Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel it. Let me feel you fall apart for me.”

It only takes a few more thrusts, a few more circles of his fingers, and then you’re shattering, back arching off the couch as pleasure crashes through you in waves. You cry out his name, clenching around him, and he fucks you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you’re shaking and oversensitive.

“Fuck yes, that’s it; fuck, you feel so good, so fucking good—” His rhythm falters, becoming erratic. “Gonna come, baby. Gonna…where?”

“Inside,” you managed, still riding the aftershocks. “Want to feel you. Want you to come inside me. Want all of you.”

That permission is all he needs. He buries himself deep with a groan that sounded like it was torn from his chest, and you feel him come, spilling hot inside you, face buried in your neck as his whole body shudders.

For a long moment, you both just stay like that, breathing hard, hearts racing, tangled together in the aftermath. His weight on top of you feels grounding, perfect, and you run your fingers through his sweaty hair, pressing kisses to his temple.

“Fuck,” he finally managed, voice hoarse. “Fuck, I love you.”

“Love you too,” you whispered, holding him close. “Missed you,” you whisper again because it’s all you can think to say, the truest thing you know.

“Missed you more,” he murmurs back, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. 

You stay like that for a moment longer, neither of you quite ready to move, to break the connection. When he finally did pull out, you both wince at the sensitivity, and he collapses beside you on the couch, immediately pulling you into his arms.

That’s when you become aware of something odd. The angle of the room looks different somehow. The TV seems farther away than it should be. You both turned your heads at the same time, taking in the couch’s new position; a solid three feet across the floor from where it started, leaving visible drag marks on your area rug.

There’s a beat of stunned silence as you both process this.

Then you both burst into laughter, the kind that shakes your whole body and makes your stomach hurt, the kind that’s contagious and impossible to stop. You bury your face in his chest, shoulders shaking, while his own laughter wheezes out in that high-pitched way that always makes you laugh even harder. The shift from intense intimacy to this moment of absurdity is so jarring that it makes it even funnier. 

“Oh my god, baby!” you gasped between giggles, smacking his chest weakly. “You literally moved my furniture! You fucked me so hard you rearranged my living room.”

He was laughing just as hard, that beautiful, uninhibited sound that you loved, his whole face scrunched up with it. “Hey, hey now,” he protested, though he could barely get the words out. “That’s not just on me! That’s a team effort right there. That’s what happens when we’re both…we’re both putting in the work. Y’know, teamwork makes the dream work, baby. We should get a medal or some shit.”

You dissolve into fresh giggles, smacking him again. “You’re the one who was going at it like you were trying to drill through my floor! Like you were on a mission.”

“And weren’t you pulling on my hair like you were trying to scalp me?” He catches your wrist, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles, eyes dancing with mirth. “Besides, I’d say the results speak for themselves. When’s the last time regular sex came with a free furniture rearrangement service? I’m basically doing you a favor. Helping you redecorate. Very boyfriend of me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say but you’re grinning so wide your cheeks hurt and he’s looking at you with such open affection that it made your chest feel warm and full.The apartment doesn’t feel cold anymore, hasn’t felt cold since he walked through the door. Not with him here, not with this warmth between you that has nothing to do with the heating he’d turned on earlier. 

“A little bit, but you love me anyway,” he says, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Even when I get too enthusiastic and redecorate your apartment mid-sex.”

“Especially then,” you admitted, snuggling into his chest. You trace idle patterns on his chest, feeling his heartbeat gradually slow under your palm. “Though I’m not sure ‘sex so good it moves furniture’ was on my list of relationship goals.”

“Well, it should’ve been.” He grins.

“We should probably move it back,” you say eventually, though neither of you make any move to get up. “And move to the bedroom before you’re ready for another round.”

“In a minute,” Mingi mumbles, his arms tightening around you as he settles his weight more comfortably against you, pulling the forgotten blanket from the floor to drape over your cooling bodies. “Not done holding you yet. Three weeks of missed cuddles to make up for. That’s a serious deficit, and besides, I kind of like it here. New perspective on your living room. Very feng shui.”

“That’s not what feng shui means.”

“Sounds like something someone with bad feng shui would say,” he teases, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling, fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “Next time maybe we should just use the bed like normal people.”

His laugh rumbles through his chest and into yours where you’re pressed together. “Where’s the fun in that, mama? Where’s the adventure? Besides, I’m pretty sure your bed can’t slide across the floor.” He pauses, then adds with theatrical seriousness, “Though I guess we could test that theory. You know. For science. Just think of all the other furniture we haven’t christened yet. The possibilities are endless.”

“Oh my god, stop,” you groan, but you’re laughing again, and yeah, you definitely missed this. Missed him. Missed this exact feeling of being completely comfortable and completely happy and completely yourself with someone who loved every part of you. Missed the way he takes care of you even when you don’t ask, the way he makes you feel safe enough to let go.

“Never,” he promised, kissing the top of your head. “Never stopping. You’re stuck with me forever.”

spring break for you and your sorority was a big deal.

for the last three years you’d traveled with the group of girls to new orleans, new york, las vegas, all places with incredible nightlife and a vast amount of things to do whether you’re of age or not. the older sisters always went to bars and clubs, leaving the underage sisters to their own devices in a new city, but someone always knew someone, there was never a shortage of something to do. 

this is your first year of being able to go out to places you could legally drink at and you were overflowing with excitement at where was chosen in the famous yearly salad bowl draw. every year you and your sisters would sit in the living room, your cutest and comfiest pajamas on and the entire sorority would get a partner and make a powerpoint presentation of where they wanted to travel to for spring break, including everything you could do in that city. at the end of all the presentations, you’d put all the cities in a bowl, and the president of the sorority would choose where you’d go.

this year the name that was drawn was nashville, tennessee. 

the bowl draw was smart, every year you had a complete guide already made up, the only work to be done was figuring out where to stay and getting tickets on the same flight. the vice president always figured out the rest, an unspoken job that was passed down year to year. 

this year you were staying in an adorable airbnb, decorated in pink, little sayings and picturesque opportunities covering the walls. it was massive, it had rooms for each of you, including a living space and a kitchen. if you needed to you didn’t have to leave, the place was enough for an instagram post — perfect for the underage sisters. 

it was your second night going out on the broadway strip and you were still hungover from the night before. you get ready with a redbull in hand, chasing your shots with it, using it to power through the stomachache and energize you for another night of too much alcohol. your sisters felt the same, despite the loud music flowing through the space of the home there was an underlying trudge between the sixteen of you. 

you did your makeup before you could feel the buzz that was flowing through your veins form into a flat out drunk, leaving you to only choose your outfit. you had packed very specifically for the short four days you’d spend in nashville, a leather mini skirt, leather top and of course, leather cowboy boots was already laid out for you as your night two outfit. 

your sisters were dressed the same, tassels and cowboy boots were on everybody in the house, that’s how you dressed for nashville, it was on every woman in the city between the ages of twenty and fifty. you’d all gotten ready in the middle of the day, most of you just waking up from a drunken sleep to shower and do it all over again. 

before you left the house you shoved a couple of crackers down your throat, something to soak up the alcohol so you didn’t throw up high noons all over the pink airbnb when you got home tonight. you’d walked up and down the strip a few times already the night before, checking out every bar on the sloped street that way you had a better idea of where you’d spend your night tonight. 

as you left the airbnb your first stop was kid rock’s honkey tonk, a building consisting of five stories that had a different band playing on each one. you’d made it through all five stories, stopping for a drink at each of the six bars, spending more than enough time in the crowd before the band. 

it was getting later, the sun had far past gone down, you and your sisters decided to go to where you’d spend most of your night tonight. luke bryan’s bar, 32 bridge, was connected to jason aldean’s rooftop bar, two places that you could slip back and forth from by just going to the top floor. the night before you’d loved it there, with country music playing earlier in the night shifting to more typical techno and rap music as you got closer to the nightlife crowd entering the bar. 

you were standing on the stage, the lights glowing a dim, cool blue, a massive crowd beyond the stage. you and three of your sisters were dancing along to a random country song, kicking your feet and swaying your arms in the air as if you were holding a lasso. you paid no mind to the crowd beyond you who was watching, eyeing you up from below. you were having fun with your sisters, all three of you giggling onstage, eyes half lidded in a drunken haze. 

the song ended and you realized your drink was empty, you motioned to the bar to let your sisters know you were going for a refill, leaving you to fight the dense crowd on your own. you stuck to the outskirts, weaving through random people and groups of girls just like you jumping and dancing to the music, trying your best to head straight to the bar. 

you sighed when you noticed the three layered crowd surrounding the entirety of the bar, knowing you’d be waiting here for a while to get close enough to even be noticed by the bartender. this was everywhere, every bar, nothing you hadn’t already experienced in the 36 hours you’d been here. 

“what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” your neck snapped to the corny pick up line coming from a raspy, poor accented voice, having to crane your head upward to see the face the voice was connected to. he was smiling, humor laced in his tone, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the attempt. 

“never heard that one before,” you laughed it off as he tipped his cowboy hat in your direction, obviously putting on a southern front when there was no way this man had ever stepped foot in the south.

“was it convincing?” he kept up with the fake accent and instead of cringing you giggled again, covering your mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding your drink. 

“somewhat,” you shrugged your shoulders, a blush creeping on your cheeks when you really looked at him. dark, black hair if it wasn’t the deepest brown hair you’d ever seen curling around the edges of his cowboy hat, a lean but muscular build, you could see his forearms flex under the folds on his western themed button up as he drank from his beer. deep, inviting dark eyes, full lips and a sloped nose. he was sturdy, definitely your type, tall and husky and strong. 

“i’ll take that as a win, doll,” he smirked, dropping the accent as the corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided smile, “who are you here with?” 

“my sorority,” you turned to point to the stage, the remaining two of your sisters dancing with one another for the crowd. that was one way to let you keep an eye on them. 

“no way, i’m here with my frat,” his eyes were wide in surprise, “did we all have the same idea for spring break?” 

“seems like it,” you used your hand to refer to the crowd surrounding you, it seemed like there was no one present that was above the age of twenty five. “have you ever been here before?” 

he shook his head, “nah, the president’s birthday was yesterday so we’re here to celebrate him and spring break.” 

you nodded then decided to introduce yourself, wanting so badly to learn the cowboy’s name, encouraging the conversation to keep flowing so he’d stick around for awhile. 

“mingi,” he tipped his hat again with that pitiful accent, “pleasure to meet you, doll.” 

the blush returned to your cheeks, a weak resolve when his pick up lines were not up to par. you finally got up to the bar, a space left open when the person in front of you had gotten their drink, and you waited with elbows on the gloss finished wood for the bartender to come around to you. 

“did you need another beer?” you asked mingi who stood behind you, grateful he hadn’t left. he shook the bottle of beer to feel how much of it was actually left, and gave you a nod. 

he reached into his pocket and passed you his card, “a drink for you and me.” 

“we just met, i can totally get my own drink, don’t worry about it,” you pushed his card back to his chest and his smile returned, showing his lopsided teeth that matched his endearing look. 

“let me show you a little southern hospitality, you can get the next one if you’d like,” he was giggling as he spoke, barely getting the words out because he knew he was keeping the act up for too long, it was too entertaining to stop, plus it seemed like it was actually working. 

the bartender came around quickly without giving you time to respond, you ordered drinks for the both of you while tapping the corner of his card on the bar. the bartender quickly returned with your drinks and you traded them for mingi’s card, waiting for their swift return so you could sign off on the transaction. 

“wanna dance?” he asked as you turned around, handing his beer to him. 

“only if you promise to cut the accent.” he laughed at that and nodded, walking towards the crowd of people. 

he guided you slowly, inching towards the center of people, wanting to get to the more dense area of the crowd. he seemed to have found his friends, waving to three people who were shorter than him, all wearing cowboy hats and western attire themselves. they were all hot, you needed to find out where he went to school.

he turned back to you and started dancing, a sway to his hips matching that of the cowboy boots on his feet, swinging back and forth in front of you, encouraging you to match his rhythm. you agreed, your body naturally reacting to the flow of the music and the movement of his body, bodies quickly getting closer. it was like his hips were magnetic, the way they pulled you closer to him, closing the space between you. 

your chest came up to just before his pecs, your head tilted up to get a view of his face, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. the songs switched, the next one a hit that everyone in the building knew, a famous song across the entire country. 

well i walk into the room, passing out hundred dollar bills…

you squealed in excitement, jumping a little bit because you know this one. you immediately started singing along, taking control of the dance this time, making mingi move to a flow of your own. 

cause i saddle up my horse, and i ride into the city…

his empty hand reached for your hips, keeping you flush to himself, singing along with you as he stared down at you, between you. you sipped your drink as your legs moved between his own, somehow getting even closer, welcoming every huge inch of him pressed to you. 

riding up and down broadway, on my old stud leroy…

an idea popped into your foggy head, a clever one, one you were sure would get the man to finally close the distance. you reached up to his cowboy hat and quickly took it off his head, placing it on your own as the words save a horse, ride a cowboy pumped through the speakers of the club and out of your mouth. 

his sweet smile turned devilish before he moved his lips closer to your ear, “doll, do you even know what you just did?” 

you laughed, your head falling backwards in a drunken haze, eyes fluttering shut as you held his hat tight on your head with your hand. 

you were oblivious to the old saying, the unspoken rule that if you take off a cowboy’s hat, it’s an invitation to take off other things, too.  

his hand tightened around your hip, snapping you out of your giggles and swiftly moved his hand up to your chin, fingers pinching the skin to connect his lips to yours. you allowed it, you welcomed it, your too hot body immediately leaned into his touch. 

your free hand moved up to cup his cheek, moving your lips with his, biting the skin of his bottom lip. he gasped and you used the opportunity to slip your tongue in his mouth, tangling with his own. your bodies kept swaying, moving, dancing as your tongues tangled, bodies involuntarily moving to the music and to each other. 

your back arched into him, pulling away so you could switch your angle, connecting your lips to his again. it was deepening, too hot to be in the middle of a crowded bar. you heard cheers from behind him that you could only assume were his friends, making you smile into the kiss, inevitably breaking the trance the two of you had subconsciously entered. 

you giggled as you peered around his shoulder at the shorter guys who were cheering and clapping, rooting for their friend in the middle of the dance floor. there was a blush to mingi’s cheeks as he told his friends to shut up, then turned back to bring his lips to your own again in a short peck. 

“ignore them!” he yelled as he pulled back, getting into the groove of dancing along to the next song. 

“it was cute,” you replied, taking his hat off of your head and standing up on your tippy toes to put it back on his head. 

“gotta pee! i’ll be back,” you told him, the seal you had broken an hour ago was on overdrive, now your bathroom breaks were getting closer together. he pulled you flush to him in another of slew of open mouthed kisses before he let you go, sending you off with a quick tap to your ass. 

you maneuvered through the crowd again, much more dense this time before you finally made it to the sparse areas, head turning left and right in search for the bathroom. you spotted it and made it there quickly, resetting your bladder to another countdown before you were off for the crowd again. 

as you left the bathroom in a rush, eager to get back to mingi, you slammed face first into something similar to a brick wall. 

you jumped back a step, apologies flooding out of your lips, craning your neck to look up to the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen looking back down at you. 

“you’re good, don’t worry,” he waved his hand with a tight lipped smile, bringing the same hand up to adjust the hat that was atop his rich, chestnut hair. 

“did i spill your beer? i can get you another one,” you offer, hands wiping at the damp spots in his button down, strong abdomen underneath. it was similar to the one mingi wore, identical to the one his friends’ shirts, your drunk mind was too foggy to notice the correlation. 

he shook his bottle and his lips tightened with his eyebrows raised and a tilt to his head, “i could use another beer, actually.” 

you smiled, grateful he was allowing you to pay back the inconvenience you caused him, quickly guiding him over to the bar again. you got yourself another drink and another beer for him, the crowd around the bar was two layers less compared to your last stop here. 

“thank ya, little lady,” he smiled again, patting your head with his long fingers. you were weak in the knees, he was huge, taller than mingi but more lanky. his arms were thinner, thighs less full yet he also looked so strong… where have all of these men been hiding? 

“we’re even now…?” you asked for his name without asking for it, your sentence trailing along, soliciting the information from him. 

“yunho,” he finished for you, those kind eyes smiling down at you once more. you introduce yourself back with a smile, and he shook your hand much to your surprise. such a mature gesture from a seemingly college boy…it was somehow expected from his character that bled through his features. 

“i wouldn’t say we’re even yet, little lady,” yunho interrupted your train of thought, picking your hand up that was glued to your side, “you owe me a dance and then we’ll be even, scout’s honor.” 

he held up three fingers and you laughed, nodding so he’d put down his damn hand that wasn’t holding onto yours and he led you to the crowd. 

he kept towards the outskirts, only inching you in maybe five layers deep, nowhere near the center. his arm immediately slipped around your waist, knees bending a bit as he did, pulling you flush to him to the flow of music in the air. you giggled, swaying your hips along with his, less build up than you had with the other cowboy yet the destination was just as clear. 

you turned yourself around, pressing your back to him instead and he kept that same arm curled around your waist. you tilted your head, hair falling to one shoulder, leaving the other one bare for him. mingi had started something you were unable to finish, you’d hoped that yunho would pick up right where he left off. 

yunho took a breath, moving his hand to travel along the skin of the slope of your neck to your shoulder, pressing his fingers to the flesh made bare for him. your body’s temperature rose even higher than before, trapping the noise of enjoyment in your lungs. your hips moved in tandem, bodies moving as one to the beat, yunho’s small touches only encouraged the pit that was forming in your stomach. you were getting worked up, beginning to inch toward needing a release, not caring which cowboy you got it from. 

like he could read your mind, yunho bent down and pressed his lips to your shoulder, evoking a sound you couldn’t keep inside this time. your head sank back into his shoulder, your hips stuttering slightly against his, you couldn’t hide what yunho knew you needed right off the mark. 

his lips trailed along the skin of your shoulder, spending time where it met your neck, licking over the sensitive skin there, only encouraging your body to sink further into his own. his hand trailed around your hips, playing with the hem of your skirt, fingertips slipping inside the leather to rub against the skin of your thigh. 

you whipped your body around, overstimulated by the small touches, you needed more. you pressed your lips to his and he moved his hand from your skirt to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. his knee split your legs, slipping a muscled thigh between your own, pressing up against your center. 

once again you were in the crowded mob, doing something not meant for the public eye yet enjoying every second of it — damn near begging for more, for it to go further. you moaned at the contact, finally getting some kind of stimulation where you needed it. your lips moved quickly, rushed, your hand flying to his chest to grip onto the fabric of his shirt. yunho chuckled into the kiss and bounced his leg once, twice before you had to pull your lips off of his, eyes screwed shut. 

“yun!” a voice called from behind you and you wanted to scream in frustration, tell the other person to fuck off so you could keep going, finally finish what had been started. but as you whipped around and your other cowboy stared at you in the face, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly ajar, you knew you were caught red handed. 

a blush crept onto your cheeks, mingi clearly didn't realize it was you that yunho had attached himself to when he yelled his president’s name. you didn’t realize they knew each other. 

“damn, i was gonna ask if you were ready to move to another bar,” his lips pulled into a line but you didn’t see any anger in his big, innocent eyes, “i see that you’re busy.” 

your eyes trailed up and down his figure, thighs thick and full and inviting. you peered up to his lips through your eyelashes, missing their taste, wanting more of him. an idea popped into your head, another one that you didn’t consider the consequences of, thinking with everything but your head. 

you curled your index finger, motioning him towards you as your back sunk into yunho’s chest once more. as mingi came closer, your chin lifted to give mingi your best innocent look, “don’t go, we’re just getting started.” 

you swung your arms around mingi’s shoulders, locking your fingers around your cocktail, hips starting to move along to the song again. the boys followed your lead, neither of them saying a word, only falling into rhythm with you. 

with yunho pressed to your backside and mingi flushed against your front, you felt like you could let go, let your inhibitions run rampant between the two sturdy men who could easily take care of you. you pulled mingi down towards your face with the arms wrapped around his neck, you were met with no resistance as your lips connected once more. 

yunho drank from his beer as he kept his other hand secured on your hip, watching the scene unfold in front of him with darkened eyes. it was hot, watching a girl he just met make out with his best friend while her ass pressed against his cock so deliciously, grinding against him to the beat of the song. he was salivating, his beer washing down the desire he felt from head to toe, fingers gripping harder the longer you kissed. 

yours and mingi’s tongues danced again, fighting for dominance, neither of you unaware of the man that stood right behind you. the slight ache of yunho’s grip on your hip made you whimper into mingi’s mouth, mingi’s own hand lifting up to your waist. his thumb circled at the small space between your top and your skirt, feeling the softness of your skin, the heat that transferred from you to himself. 

you broke away from mingi and glanced behind you, noticing yunho’s lustful stare, his eyes low and clouded. you glanced to his lips and he agreed without a word, leaning forward to catch your awaiting lips with his own. 

mingi huffed at the contact between you and yunho, thumb slipping inside the hem of your top, wanting to keep his hands on you as you kissed his best friend. he pressed himself closer, keeping the growing tent in his jeans away from watchful eyes, suddenly very aware of what the three of you were doing in a packed club. 

“we should go,” mingi’s voice is hoarse as he speaks, “i mean, if you guys want to take this elsewhere.” 

you break away from yunho and nod, scared that the wetness between your legs will start dripping down your thighs if you don’t do something about it. you bring the rest of your drink to your lips, chugging three quarters of it down, the twin cowboys doing the same. you placed your glasses on the bar on your way out, the three of you nearly racing out of the club and back onto the street of broadway. 

“i’m staying at an airbnb a block away,” you decide, leading them in the direction of your place, not giving them the option of going anywhere else. 

as you walked off the busy street the two of them grabbed both of your hands on either side of you, their long legs making you have to walk twice as fast to keep up with them. you arrived quickly, messing up the door code not once but twice in anticipation, giving the code to yunho who punched in the numbers with a cool, calculated head. 

the living room had a few underage sisters still lingering, all who watched you with the two men with eyes that bulged out of their heads, but yet no one said a word. you gave them a small wave and a meek smile before you dragged the boys up the staircase, finally arriving at your bedroom which was a wreck after two days of getting ready. 

mingi hopped on the bed quickly, manspreading with his feet planted on the floor, an invitation for you to sit on his lap. 

“we should talk about this first,” yunho interrupted and both you and mingi simultaneously whined, you stopped in your tracks before hopping on mingi’s lap. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” yunho raised his hands in defense, “but we’ve all been drinking and i want this to be a good experience for all three of us.” 

“i want this,” you interjected with a finger, “i started it.” 

“i also want this,” mingi nodded in agreement, hands readjusting his jeans, “was hoping the night would end this way when i first laid eyes on you, doll.” 

you giggled, your body immediately moving to crawl onto his lap, making yourself comfortable on the spot he just readjusted. 

“hold on, little lady,” yunho came up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders, “you sure? what do you want from this?” 

your head craned upward to look at yunho who stood over you, the crown of your head touching his chest as he towered over your figure that was spread across mingi’s lap. “i’m sure yunho, i wanna be taken care of, want you, want both of you.” 

you glanced down to mingi with the last part and that lopsided smirk returned to his lips as he leaned forward to finally kiss you. yunho interrupted with fingers wrapped around your throat before mingi got the pleasure, tilting your head upward to look at him once again. he leaned down to kiss you, upside down from his position behind you, and you involuntarily ground your hips into mingi. mingi groaned, his head tipping back, watching you kiss yunho. 

“don’t be afraid to tell us to stop if it gets to be too much, okay? you know the color system?” he says as soon as he breaks away from the kiss, moving his head so you were looking into his eyes that have gotten impossibly darker. you nodded and he let go, letting you stretch your neck side to side before you nearly pounced on mingi. 

you attached your lips to the first cowboy, all teeth and spit and tongue, no time to waste as your hands snuck up to the short tufts of hair that were peeking out of his hat, tugging at it. mingi groaned, his hips bucking into you from beneath you, his hands roaming across your thighs. you ground your hips into him, the bulge in his jeans dragging against your clothed clit just right, working your hips into a rhythm. 

you felt the bed dip beside you, remembering yunho was here too, you reached for him with a weak arm. he ignored your hand completely as he pulled your hair over to one shoulder again, leaving the whole side of your neck open, indulging himself in licking up the faint saltiness of sweat on your skin. you moaned into mingi’s mouth from the contact, the stimulation from his cock grinding up into you and yunho’s hot tongue running along your shoulder. 

you broke away from mingi’s mouth, continuing your assault on his lap while yunho licked up the base of your neck, making your head fall to the side so he could suck on your jaw, left hand coming up behind you to unzip your top. you and mingi filled the room with sweet sounds of pleasure, working yourselves on each other, his hands coming up to guide your hips against him. 

“fuck, mingi,” you cursed, your eyes fluttering shut as your top fell to the sheets, missing the widening of the twins eyes, how mingi’s tongue lolled out of his mouth at the sight. 

you felt the pit in your stomach start to build and fast, but it was ripped away from you even faster as yunho scooped you off of mingi’s lap and threw you on the bed behind him. you whined at the loss of contact, your skirt slipping up to your waist at the movement, nothing but your chest and your lacy black thong visible to the cowboys. 

“my turn,” yunho’s declaration was nasty as he attached his lips to yours again, body completely enveloping yours on top of the sheets that you left in disarray. you moaned into him as his hands fled to your chest, thumbs circling over the hardened peaks, making you arch into his touch, legs wrapping around his torso. 

mingi stripped himself of his hat, shirt and boots before he crawled next to the two of you on the bed, an arm sliding between yours and yunho’s bodies, slipping his fingers into your panties. 

you cried out a fuck into yunho’s mouth, the rest of the house be damned as mingi used his ring finger and began circling your clit. you broke the kiss as your head fell back into the mattress, digging into it, your chest arching up into yunho’s as mingi dipped his finger further down, dragging your slick up and down your folds. 

“so fucking wet,” mingi said under his breath, eyes focused on his own fingertip that was slipping in and out of you, barely breaking the line of his first knuckle. you couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, the only word forming in your head was the continuous chant of more. 

“please put it inside, please don’t tease,” you whined, head turning to plead with mingi, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. yunho kissed down your neck and throat, licking the column, covering the area in his spit and all you could do was moan. 

mingi’s smile turned devilish, not a singular ounce of sympathy in his beautiful face. a rush of something fled through you as the dynamic changed in the room, mingi’s sweet, playful energy turned taunting, “you like it when i play with your pretty pussy, doll? hm?” 

your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his words and his finger that was slowly inching deeper, each stroke of the thick digit went further yet still not giving you its entire length, leaving you unsatisfied and impatient but utterly fucked out. 

yunho chuckled as he leaned backward, unhooking your legs from around his waist. your legs stayed spread around his hips as he sat on his haunches, taking one hand to move your panties to the side, watching as mingi’s finger that was covered in your slick barely moved in and out of your center. yunho had changed too, that cool, clear headed energy he filled the room with had turned dominant and powerful, it sent a shiver up your spine. 

he bit his lip as his eyes lowered in focus, “you were right ming, such a pretty fucking pussy.” 

your back arched again, hips bucking into mingi’s finger that still wasn’t giving you enough stimulation. mingi smiled at you through lowered eyes as you thrashed on the bed, bucking your hips even though it was doing nothing. 

“so antsy, what a needy girl,” mingi tsked, shaking his head as he watched you, fingers still not letting up from their unsatisfactory attempt of pleasuring you. 

“here, little lady,” yunho said as if he’d help while he brought his other hand to your center, thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit, using very little to no pressure. you were gonna lose your fucking mind. 

tears welled up in your eyes as the twin cowboys watched with amusement, enjoying your frustration before you brought your hand down to yunho’s wrist, opting to force more pressure from his hand if he wasn’t going to give it to you willingly. it was the only option left, they were getting a kick out of your misery, out of your begging — it was the wrong move, and it turned you on even more. 

yunho gasped as he pulled his hand away right before you could wrap your little fingers around his wrist, mingi following suit, leaving you empty and without any stimulation at all. you cried out, eyes squeezing shut, hips chasing their hands. 

“what was that?” yunho asked in disbelief while you stayed silent, eyes opening to small crescents, tears spilling from your mascara coated lashes. 

his head turned to mingi who responded, “i think that was the doll trying to fuck herself. seems she doesn’t need us at all.” 

mingi’s tightened lips pulled to the side, a disappointed look on his face when yunho responded, “i think you might be right again, ming. you don’t need us, little lady? you wanna fuck yourself? thought you wanted us to take care of you.” 

his words were taunting, mocking, the inflection of his voice did nothing but make the tears flow faster. they had definitely done this before, there were already too many moments where they read each other, knowing what the other was going to do next for this to be their first threesome, you were the naïve one here. you nodded, bobbing your head with fervor, a silent plea for them to just give in, give you what you needed.

“beg for it,” his words were vile, venom as he spat them off his tongue. a wicked smile followed yunho’s order, his hands sliding to your thighs to your hips to take control of your lower half. 

“need you to take care of me, please,” you were immediate in your plea, looking between the two men who wore sardonic faces, their smiles twisted. “need both of you so bad, want you inside me.” 

mingi leaned forward and wiped your tears from your cheeks, the sympathetic glint in his eye did not match the evil smile planted on his lips, “what’s that you sang to me earlier? save a horse and what?” 

“i think it’s save a horse and ride a cowboy,” yunho finished for mingi, pretending he had to rack his brain for the answer, just stalling for more time to look at your naked body spread out in front of him. 

mingi nodded in remembrance, the scene of you grabbing his hat and placing it on your own head playing out in his mind. he flipped over on the bed to his back, knees bent up as he looked over to you, “well? what are you waiting for?” 

you jumped. you scrambled over to lap, kneeling over him as you unbuckled his belt and he laughed, “so eager, doll. can’t wait, can you? no patience at all?” 

you shook your head, eyes completely glazed over as you unzipped his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles. he kicked them off with ease as you took in the size of him, eyes widening and a gasp leaving your lips at the sheer length he’d somehow kept hidden in his jeans. 

mingi chuckled before he turned his attention to yunho, “wait til she sees you.” yunho immediately smiled with a short nod, zeroed in on you spitting onto mingi’s length, spreading it with a manicured hand. 

you couldn’t hear him, too focused on the voice in your head screaming how the hell you were gonna fit him inside of you? you ignored your worry and kept your focus on him, figuring that you could at least try and take him in your mouth before you fit him inside. 

“there you go,” mingi cooed as you bent down to pepper kitten licks across his leaking tip, spreading the saliva that was pooling in your mouth down his length. you finally took what you could in your mouth, tongue massaging against the underside, hands pumping what your mouth couldn’t fit. mingi immediately groaned, his hand flying to tangle in your hair, not pushing your head but leaving the weight of his palm as a reminder that he could. 

yunho undressed himself off to the side, sitting back to watch, hand wrapped around his length as he pumped himself at the scene playing out in front of him. he always lets mingi go first, get the initial stretch out of the way so he could have an easier time slipping inside you. they had a method, the twin cowboys, a routine they’d used every time they found themselves sharing the same bed with a partner. you might have started this, but they fell into pattern the moment they realized where tonight was headed. 

you took mingi down in your throat, gagging around him, eyes filled with tears once more as you took him impossibly further. mingi’s eyes were screwed shut, moans falling from his lips, hips involuntarily bucking up into your throat with his fingers tangled in your hair. 

“so fucking good, doll, keep going,” his words slurred, voice low and hoarse as he tried to open his eyes to steal a peek at you. he failed, the view made the feeling overwhelming, you’re too good, too pretty, he felt a pit in his stomach forming and he could not allow that to happen just yet. his fingers pulled at the roots of your hair and lifted you off of him with a pop, his own mouth hanging open at the sight of your fucked out face. 

he pulled you up to his lips by your hair, kissing you roughly, once again all teeth and tongue. you whimpered into his mouth, reaching for his cock again and he bucked his hips into your grip on him. 

“ride me, need you,” he said into your lips between kisses, that raspy voice sending another wave of heat through your body.

“color?” a voice called from the side of the bed and you called green to the air, not even bothering to look over to the taller cowboy who asked the question, too engrossed in mingi’s slick, angry cock laying across his pelvis.

you swung your leg over his lap, spit onto your palm and gave mingi one last pump of lubrication before you lined yourself up over his length. you caught the taller cowboy in the corner of your eye, his hand was still, squeezing the base of his cock and your mouth went dry from what you saw out of your peripherals. 

“fuck yunho,” your eyebrows furrowed together as you finally looked over at him, another worry slithering up your spine, making you pause in your ministrations, locking up your joints. he was leaned back, chiseled abdomen clenched as he edged himself, head tipped back and knuckles white from the pressure of the squeeze around the base of his cock. he looked so fucking sexy you almost moaned from the view, but the fear remained, mingi was big but yunho was bigger, massive even as his cock curved toward him past his belly button. 

mingi gave you a light slap to your pussy making you gasp before you turned to face him. “eyes on me doll, i’m the one fucking you, not him.”

you nodded and tried to refresh your focus, regain your train of thought, lining him up with your center but you couldn’t relax as you tried to split yourself open on him. muscles locked, joints stiff, even mingi’s delicious length had you a little nervous despite every nerve begging you to sit the fuck down. 

yunho picked up on it, sliding from his spot beside you to slip behind you, planting kisses along on your shoulder and both hands on your hips. you relaxed in his touch, head leaning back on his shoulder, your own shoulders slumping.

“you can do it, little lady,” he encouraged, guiding your hips down onto mingi, “there you go, baby, relax for me, hm?”

you moaned at the stretch and yunho’s words, trying to relax your core, letting your head get a little fuzzy so you didn’t tighten around him and just sank. mingi moaned, a strained, languid noise as he felt you wrap around him, a delicious squeeze as you took him further. 

his hands sat on top of yunho’s as his eyes screwed shut, moaning his words in pleasure as much as he was encouraging, “yes, doll, take this dick.” 

the two men pulled you down further, guiding you, encouraging you to let go. a guttural moan broke out of you as you bottomed out, sitting flush against mingi. he let out a sigh of relief. 

“really thought you panicked after seeing yun,” mingi said with a laugh as you sat for a moment, enduring the stretch, embracing it. 

“i did,” you admitted and you heard a breath of amusement leave yunho's lips behind you. “you guys should’ve warned me!” 

“how were we supposed to warn you? hey i know you want to fuck us but just so you know we have massive cocks? that’s insane, we’d never get laid,” mingi replied and you laughed at that, almost as if he weren’t buried inside of you.

“valid,” you replied and you could feel yunho’s grip on your hips pulling your body upward, telling you to move without actually saying anything. you and mingi both moaned at the friction, you could feel every inch of him inside of you, every vein rubbing against your walls. 

“color?” yunho asked from behind you, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips as he guided you downwards again, keeping a slowed pace.

“green,” your voice was breathless and your eyes screwed shut, brain going fuzzy again knowing that yunho was fucking you onto his best friend’s cock. it made you feel like a doll, a plaything, and it was so fucking hot. 

“yes,” mingi whispered as you picked up speed, bouncing on him now, gaining enough strength of your own instead of relying on yunho’s. you lurched forward and your hands pressed against mingi’s sculpted abdomen, using it as leverage to bounce your hips, to gain a rhythm. 

yunho leaned back, hand wrapping around himself again as he watched you fuck mingi, a beautiful view of the back of you bouncing along his length. 

“so fucking sexy,” yunho’s voice was low and sultry, music to your ears and you moaned in response, eyebrows furrowing, that pit in your stomach growing again. yunho noticed your thighs twitch and your rhythm stagger, he was quick to sit on his knees again, wrapping an arm around your hips to attach his fingers to your clit. 

“yes! yes keep going,” you chanted, using the strength of your thighs instead of learning forward against mingi’s abdomen, giving yunho easier access to rub quick circles on your clit. 

“so fucking good doll, taking me so well,” mingi’s hands ran up your thighs as you bounced, his eyebrows fixed together, jaw dropped in pleasure. 

he was hitting every spot so deep, close to touching your cervix from how far he was inside of you. his hands leaned up and kneaded your tits, massaging your nipples between his fingers, pushing your boobs together, slack jawed from the sight in front of him.

“yes, cum on this cock,” the rasp to his voice was so hot, he felt his own orgasm approaching quickly, he needed you to cum first.

yunho circled your clit impossibly quicker and brought his lips to your neck again and you lost it, creaming around mingi, your bounces becoming erratic as you finished on him with a loud cry. mingi quickly brought his hands back to your hips, fucking you onto him through your orgasm, keeping you at a pace to get him past the finish line. 

“inside,” you mumbled through heavy breaths, “cum inside me baby, please mingi, wanna feel it, wanna be full of you.” 

mingi lost it at that, hips bucking up into you until he lost it, too. he finished inside you with a loud groan, his hips slowing, overstimulating himself until he came to a stop. 

like they had a routine, mingi gave himself a moment to catch his breath as yunho lifted you off his length, mingi pulling his body up the bed until his back was against the headboard. you gasped at their quick movements, you were hoping for at least a minute to recover.

“my turn,” he repeated the same words from earlier as he flipped you, laying you down against mingi’s broad chest, kissing you sweetly as his hands raked over your body. 

“say red if you need to stop, okay?” he looked up to you, eyes staring deep into your own so you knew he was being serious. you nodded and he smiled, kissing you again, taking a minute to get lost in your mouth as his hand traveled to your center that had just been pumped full moments prior. 

he let his fingers slip up and down your folds and you gasped, hips immediately bucking at the contact. 

“too sensitive,” you whined, grabbing mingi’s hands that were laid at your sides. 

“gonna take care of you little lady, don’t worry,” yunho didn’t even look up as he spoke, eyes glazed over as he watched his fingers slip through the flood, the mixture of yours and mingi’s release coating his long digits. 

yunho laid down on the mattress, face centimeters from your center and you panicked. is he doing… what you think he’s about to do? he planted a quick kiss to your clit and your head shot back against mingi’s shoulder, a whine leaving your lips from the quick contact, only getting louder as yunho’s tongue dragged from your overstimulated clit to your full hole. 

he spit on it, getting his own liquids in the mix, a concoction of the three of you that was messily spread onto your pussy. it was hot as much as it was embarrassing, you couldn’t live in the discomfort for any longer than a second as the pleasure overtook it.

“shit,” your moan was dragged out as yunho ate mingi’s cum out of you, you watched him lick, you watched him swallow, you watched as he dug his face farther into you when your hips involuntarily bucked into him. 

he took one of his hands that was pressing your thighs to the side and brought it to your center, circling his middle finger around your entrance, slipping the tip of it inside. 

“not this again,” you whined and yunho chuckled against you, sending vibrations through your entire body before he slipped the entire finger inside. 

you cried out, back arching, nails digging into mingi’s hands as you chanted thankyouthankyouthankyou into the air. he added another finger, scissoring them inside of you, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars. 

the pit grew again, that tight band that threatened to snap dangerously quick. yunho kept the pace of his tongue against your clit, a brutal rhythm, one begging you to cum all over his face. 

“go ahead doll, cum,” mingi said in your ear, voice still low and hoarse and strung, it was music to your ears. you let the band snap, hips jerking against yunho’s face but he let you ride it out, let you come down before he came up for air. 

“no one’s ever done that before,” you admitted the second yunho was in earshot, still shocked and slightly embarrassed by what he had just done you began babbling. “well, i’ve never had a threesome before so no one’s really had the opportunity to.” 

both yunho and mingi’s heads snapped to look at one another before they looked back at you. yunho’s eyes were wide as he spoke, “this- we are your first threesome? why didn’t you say that?!” 

“why would i tell you that?” you asked in the same shocked tone, chest still heaving from your orgasm. 

“it’s the same reason we didn’t tell you we were packing,” mingi replied from behind you, chest vibrating into your back, “you were scared we’d say no.” 

“we wouldn’t of said no,” yunho interjected as he sat back up on his haunches, throwing your legs around his hips again as he lined himself up, “we just would’ve been nicer, more gentle.” 

“too late for that, put it in,” you were quick in your response, eyes flying to yunho’s cock, making mingi chuckle beneath you. 

yunho lined himself up before he paused again, making you whine and answer him before he had the chance to speak, “i’m green and impatient, i’ll tell you if it hurts. put it in.” 

he smiled before he pushed himself in, face contorting as he was greeted with resistance, but not enough to make him concerned. your eyebrows twisted, eyes closing at the stretch, still a discomfort after coming twice so far.

mingi let go of your hands and brought one finger to your clit, the other hand tweaking at your nipple, trying to make the pleasure outweigh the discomfort. you moaned, a strangled but sweet noise, the stretch was intoxicating. 

yunho sheathed himself inside of you and groaned, his head falling forward, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“still so fucking tight little lady, gotta open up for me or i’m gonna cum,” his voice was low, his breath labored as you tried your best to relax again. 

“yeah, just like that, there we go,” he noticed the release of your core and began rocking himself into you, small grunts turning into louder moans the faster his thrusts became. 

mingi kept up the pace of his fingers with yunho’s thrusts making the pleasure almost blinding, so overstimulating you felt your head go fuzzy again, tongue lolling out of your mouth, your senses leaving you. 

“perfect little pussy taking me so good,” yunho praised, only sending you further into whatever headspace you’d entered. you didn’t even know what sounds were leaving you as yunho’s thrusts became relentless, fucking into you at a speed that had you seeing stars again, your head falling lifelessly onto mingi’s shoulder. the pit in your stomach returned and you wondered how it was possible for the two of them to make you cum nearly three times in one night. 

“yunho, so fucking big,” you tried to muster but your babbles had become incoherent as you grabbed onto mingi’s forearms, nails clawing at the soft skin, stuck between wanting him to stop and wanting him to rub your clit faster, your orgasm right on the brink of crashing over you again. 

your hips started fucking back onto him and your prayers were answered, your cries ascending to almost screams as your stomach snapped again, so loud the twin cowboys were hoping those girls in the living room had left. 

“fuck yes, cum on this cock. give me another,” yunho ordered, hands wrapping around your hips again, pulling you into him harshly. his brain seemed to have gone elsewhere also, the dominance returning, the powerful energy he’d surrounded the space with earlier. 

“again?” you cried, hands coming up to claw at yunho’s forearms instead, “i can’t!” 

“yes you can, baby, cum again. give me another, wanna feel you cum around me,” he was as mindless as you are, eyes empty as he fucked into you at a dangerous pace. 

mingi’s hand slid up your torso and his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly but just enough, the loss of air causing that pit of pleasure to grow again. yunho smiled, a devilish one while his hand came to circle your clit, tipping you over the edge. 

“yes baby, fuck yes, so good for me,” yunho praised as you came around him, the clench of your pussy only aiding his own release. 

“such a good girl,” mingi cooed, grabbing your hands again, kissing your cheek to soothe your now twitching body. yunho only got out three, four, five more pumps inside you before he was emptying himself, coming down to stilling his movements. 

you caught your breath for a second, pussy still pulsing around him, feeling so utterly spent. yunho pulled out and collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, hands dangling atop his chest. 

“color?” yunho asked, that kind smile on his face as he turned to you. 

“green,” you responded, your voice raspy, “but you can’t fuck me again. i won’t be able to handle cumming again for another, like, three days.” 

the twins both laughed at that, mingi pecking small kisses to your cheek before he asked, “should we shower?” 

the three of you showered, all of you resembling something like zombies as you all shared the same vanilla coconut body wash. you went back downstairs after that for food and water, all dressed in white robes the airbnb provided, and the girls that were in the living room earlier were all still there, faces bright red. 

The gas station sat stubbornly at the edge of the highway—a sun-baked patch of asphalt crowded with trucks, dented SUVs, and the occasional family car humming under the summer heat. A line trailed from the pay window, people shifting impatiently, kids whining, a stroller squeaking across cracked concrete.

The air smelled of gasoline and fried snacks, thick with dust that clung to everything. The pumps shimmered under the relentless sun, paint chipped and signs flickering like no one had bothered to fix them in years.

Inside, the convenience store was sweltering. Fans rattled weakly in the corners, the linoleum sticky under flip-flops, littered with candy wrappers and crumbs of stale chips. People shuffled between coolers, muttering, juggling cash and kids—all caught in that slow rhythm of summer impatience.

Outside, in the polished red of a 1968 Ford Mustang Mingi’s grandfather had gifted him before he passed, y/n leaned into the passenger seat. The leather was hot against her thighs, the open windows letting in a syrupy breeze that curled across her arms.

She had her legs tucked underneath her, boots on the worn floor, denim shorts sticking to her skin. Big sunglasses hid her eyes, but the faint smile tugging at her lips gave her away.

Her fingers moved with lazy precision, rolling a cigarette while the Mustang idled, its engine a steady purr that seemed to narrow the world to just her, the car, and the hum of the highway.

The trip had started as an easy idea: two college friends escaping finals, driving out to Yunho’s family cabin by the lake. A weekend to breathe, forget deadlines, and let the city fall behind. Cold water, sunlight on ripples, trees whispering in the wind—enough promise to get them moving.

It felt like the kind of plan that could fix things. Just friends, an old Mustang that still purred like a dream, and a stretch of highway that could last forever if they wanted.

Mingi finally pushed through the gas station door, the small bell chiming above him. Sweat gleamed at his collarbone, the white tank top clinging to his chest, silver chains catching the light every time he moved. His sunglasses hung low on his nose, hair pushed back messily by the heat.

From where she waited in the car, y/n huffed under her breath. They were matching. Both in white tanks, both looking like they’d just stepped out of some denim commercial shot on the side of Route 66. It was almost annoying—almost—but she couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at her lips.

They looked good together. Too good, really.

In his hands, a messy armful of snacks—a bag of chips, her favorite energy drink, a slightly crushed chocolate bar. The kind of haul that said he paid attention, even when he pretended not to.

She glanced up over her glasses, that half-smile deepening.

Yeah—maybe this trip wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

y/n watched him from the car, sunglasses reflecting the late afternoon glare. She crossed her arms, a hint of mock disinterest in her posture, but her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her rolled cigarette.

"Don’t tell me you remembered all this just for me," she called out, voice flat but with the faintest trace of amusement.

Mingi grinned, shrugging as if it had been nothing, though his eyes sparkled. "I mean… maybe," he said, sliding open the driver door with ease. The heat hit him in waves, hair sticking slightly to his forehead. He set the snacks on the seat between them, letting his hand brush her leg accidentally—deliberate, maybe, maybe not.

She pretended not to notice, exhaling a stream of smoke and rolling her eyes. But the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

The Mustang hummed along the sun-baked highway, tires kicking up faint ribbons of dust, windows down so the heat could mix with the wind. Rock music rattled through the speakers, a playlist they’d thrown together at a café two days ago.

y/n leaned back, feet on the dashboard, sunglasses sliding just slightly down her nose. A cherry lollipop rested between her lips, the red glint catching the light every time she turned her head. She grabbed a chip from the crumpled snack bag and held it up to Mingi’s mouth, letting him chew without taking his eyes off the road.

“Here,” she said casually around the candy stick, voice low, teasing. “Can’t have you starving.”

Mingi grinned, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You’re spoiling me,” he said—no edge, just warmth and something heavier simmering underneath.

She offered another chip, letting it linger near his lips for a beat longer than necessary. His eyes flicked to hers, and the brush of her hand against his cheek felt electric in the quiet stretches between songs, catching the slow pull of her lips around the cherry lolly—and it threw him off, made his hands tighten briefly on the wheel.

"You always get this quiet when I drive?" he asked, masking his nervousness.

"You always talk too much?" she shot back, teasing, but the smile on her lips softened the words.

For a few minutes, the only sounds were the car tires humming over asphalt and the faint crackle of the radio.

Mingi’s hand twitched on the wheel. "Wait… maybe we should have taken the left back there," he muttered, squinting down the sun-drenched road.

y/n leaned slightly forward, resting one elbow on the door frame, feeling the heat radiate from the dashboard. "You didn’t need GPS?" she asked, tone laced with amusement.

"I didn’t think—" he began, then the car lurched again, a wobble through the wheel. His grip tightened, knuckles whitening.

y/n’s pulse picked up, not from fear, but from that familiar undercurrent—the closeness, the sudden awareness of him moving with precision, yet vulnerable. "Whoa." She exhaled.

Mingi eased the Mustang to the shoulder, engine growling softly under the strain. He hopped out, fingers brushing over the hood as if grounding himself. "Flat," he muttered, voice low.

She stepped around the car, the heat from the asphalt curling around her legs. "I can change it," she said, tugging at the trunk latch, boots scraping against the gravel in rhythm with her heartbeat.

The trunk lifted with a protest. Empty. No spare tire, just the jack nestled in the corner like a forgotten relic.

Mingi’s shoulders stiffened. He scratched the back of his neck, gaze dropping, searching for words that wouldn’t come. He opened his mouth, then shut it, a small tight humourless laugh escaping that didn’t reach his eyes.

y/n raised an eyebrow, leaning against the fender with her arms crossed, tone sharp but playful. "Wow. Man of the year."

He exhaled, running a hand down his face, pressing briefly to his forehead. The tension in his jaw eased just slightly as he looked at her, eyes catching the dying sunlight in a way that made him look almost smaller, more exposed. "I… forgot to—"

Her hand brushed his arm lightly, warm and grounding. "It’s fine, Mingi," she said softly, letting her voice drop just enough that it was hers alone. "I’m not mad. It’s just a tire."

For a long moment, he just looked at her, chest rising and falling in a rhythm she recognized—the rhythm of someone trying not to fall apart but also needing to be held. His shoulders slumped fractionally, the tight line of worry softening.

The sky behind them burned orange, stretching long shadows across the cracked asphalt, and y/n noticed, as she always did, the way light hit him—the way it lingered on the line of his jaw, the tilt of his shoulder, the small crease between his brows. She exhaled again, slower this time.

Mingi leaned against the Mustang, hands tugging nervously at the pockets of his jeans, the crumpled sunlight catching the sweat beads on his forehead. The flat tire sat mocking him, a silent witness to his failed attempt at being competent.

y/n crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised. "So… we’re just… waiting here for someone to show up?" she asked, scanning the empty stretch of highway.

Mingi scratched the back of his neck. "Well… yeah, I guess we could call a tow. But there’s no signal." His voice faltered, low, like he hated that she might be frustrated with him.

"Or," she said, smirking, "we could walk. I’m sure civilization isn’t that far. Probably a motel or something."

He blinked, then nodded slowly, running a hand through his damp hair. "Yeah… yeah, that works. We’ll walk. It’s… fine. I can carry the bags."

y/n tilted her head, grinning. "You sure? Don’t want you to exhaust yourself already."

"I’m fine," he said, voice clipped but softening at her teasing tone. "I promise."

Mingi slung their bags over his shoulders, the weight lightened by exhaustion, and started down the cracked asphalt of the highway. The sun had dipped lower, painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold, and the air smelled faintly of dust and gasoline.

They shared a pair of earbuds, the faint thrum of a summer playlist buzzing between them, and a single bottle of water, passing it back and forth in rhythm.

She jabbed at him with her elbow as a particularly off-key song came on. "Seriously, Mingi, this playlist is criminal."

Mingi grinned, not looking back. "Please," he shot back, grinning, "I’m broadening your horizons."

She snorted. "I’ll make sure to write a thank-you note, then."

The conversation softened as the sun disappeared. The laughter thinned, replaced by a comfortable quiet that wasn’t awkward, just… weighty. Shadows stretched across the asphalt, painting patterns that flickered under their feet as they walked.

A little hill loomed ahead. y/n misjudged her step on a loose patch of gravel and slipped. Mingi was there before she could hit the ground, catching her around the waist and steadying her. Her heart skipped, not just from the stumble.

"Shit," she murmured, laughing nervously, brushing a hand against his chest.

Mingi hummed softly, a sound that seemed to vibrate into her bones, the corners of his mouth twitching at the edges of a smile. "Careful," he said, though his hands lingered a moment longer than strictly necessary, steadying her as she navigated the uneven gravel of the shoulder.

They kept moving, feet crunching over loose stones, the car shrinking behind them in the distance. The sun had just gone down, leaving the sky darkening into purples and deep blues, with a hint of gold still clinging to the horizon. The road ahead twisted in ways neither of them remembered, and the world felt quiet, caught between day and night.

y/n glanced around, frowning. "I think we might have… gone the wrong way."

Mingi squinted toward the horizon. "Yeah… maybe a little." He shrugged, hands still brushing against her shoulder every so often when the ground wobbled beneath her.

"Perfect," y/n muttered, letting out a laugh. "Totally lost on the highway in the middle of nowhere. Couldn’t have picked a better day."

Mingi’s feet hovered uncertainly over the shoulder of the road, trying to judge the uneven gravel, when y/n stepped ahead, boot crunching on stones. "Wait, no—this way," she said, tugging lightly at his arm and guiding him down a narrower stretch of asphalt.

He let her lead, the last light fading behind them, leaving the road bathed in soft, uneven darkness. Shadows were few and fleeting, melting into the asphalt across the highway. Every so often, their shoulders brushed, accidental but lingering just long enough to make Mingi’s chest tighten.

Then, at the edge of that quiet, a flicker of light. A faint buzzing in the distance.

y/n squinted first. "Tell me that’s not a mirage," she said, breathless, a laugh woven into her words.

Mingi exhaled, a laugh escaping him that was half relief, half disbelief. 

She elbowed him lightly, a teasing grin tugging at her lips. "You’d be lost without me."

"Yeah," he said, voice low, eyes fixed on the horizon, not meeting hers. "I probably would."

She let the comment sit, teasing, and then smirked. "Wow, confident. I didn’t know I had such an important role in your survival."

He shot her a side glance, smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. "Important? Maybe. But you’re also completely expendable if you trip on a loose rock again," he joked, though the faint tremor in his voice betrayed the truth.

He’d catch her, every single time.

y/n laughed, light and airy, and it made something in him tense and melt at the same time. They fell into a rhythm—quiet stretches broken by jokes, teasing shoves, and accidental brushes while adjusting straps or stepping over rocks, each touch lingering just a fraction too long. The world around them—the dark sky, the faint smell of grass and asphalt, the distant hum of cars—felt like it existed only for them.

Finally, sheltered by a pine wood forest, stood a small roadside motel—the kind time seemed to have forgotten. The neon sign out front blinked unevenly, sputtering between Vacancy and a ghostly half-glow. The walls were washed-out yellow, the paint peeling at the edges. A couple of old pickup trucks sat out front, their hoods gathering dust.

"Wow," y/n murmured, stretching her arms and letting out a long, dramatic sigh. "Peak horror movie setting. I’ve dreamed of dying somewhere exactly like this."

Mingi snorted, slinging his bag higher on his shoulder. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

She glanced at him, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You love me."

He froze mid-step, just for a second, feeling something tighten in his chest. He did—so much—but he wasn’t ready to say it aloud. Instead, he let out a short, almost nervous chuckle and headed toward the motel door, pretending the sound had nothing to do with her. 

"Come on," he murmured, letting her fall into step beside him, the air between them electric but unspoken.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of stale coffee and cleaning spray. The front desk clerk looked like he hadn’t slept in a week—wiry, half-bored, half-suspicious.

"Room?" he asked, barely glancing up from his magazine.

"Two, please," Mingi replied automatically.

The clerk blinked, typing something sluggishly into the ancient computer. A long pause. Then monotone, empty of any emotion: "Only one left."

y/n exhaled, dragging a hand through her hair. "Of course there’s only one left."

Mingi turned to her, trying to read her expression. "We could… I mean, I’ll sleep on the floor."

She gave him a look—tired, amused, but not unkind. "Relax, Mingi. It’s fine. One room is fine."

He nodded, a little too quickly, the tips of his ears pink. "Yeah, sure, yeah." He cleared his throat, fishing for his wallet. "I’ll get it."

The card reader beeped once. Then again. Declined.

y/n blinked. "You’re kidding."

Mingi tried again, tapping the card as if sheer determination could make it work. Another beep. Declined.

For a heartbeat, neither of them said anything. Then she started laughing—soft at first, then uncontrollable, the kind of laugh that comes from pure exhaustion and disbelief.

Mingi groaned, hiding his face in one hand, but a sheepish grin tugged at his mouth. "I swear, this never happens—"

"Sure," she said, still laughing, rummaging through her bag. "You definitely didn’t plan this, right? Classic move."

"Please," he said, eyes wide with mock innocence, though his smile betrayed him.

They ended up pooling their crumpled bills together on the counter, still giggling like two people running on fumes. The clerk sighed, sliding them a plastic key fob that definitely needed an upgrade.

"Last room," he muttered, barely looking up.

y/n took the key, glancing back at Mingi with a tired grin. "One room, no spare tire, no signal. We’re really killing this adulting thing."

Mingi rubbed the back of his neck, trying to fight a smile. "Well, this will definitely spice up our group chat later."

Her laugh came out low and breathy, the sound curling around the small space between them. "That’s one way to see it."

The sky had fully given in to night by the time they found their room. The motel’s exterior lights buzzed weakly, attracting tired moths that fluttered in circles. The air smelled faintly of hot asphalt cooling down, of rust, and the faint sweetness of distant pine.

They walked side by side along the uneven walkway, counting faded numbers on each door until y/n stopped in front of theirs. "Thirteen," she said, glancing at the key tag. "Fitting."

Mingi snorted. "You’re such an optimist."

She fit the key into the lock, twisting until the door gave with a reluctant groan.

The room was exactly what she’d expected—maybe worse. 

A double bed that looked smaller up close, a buzzing air conditioner rattling by the window, and curtains patterned with something that might’ve been flowers once, before decades of cigarette smoke turned them the color of weak coffee. A single lamp sat crooked on a wooden table, casting the room in a halfhearted amber glow.

"Charming," she muttered, tossing her bag on the chair.

"Five stars," Mingi replied, trying to lighten the mood, but his voice cracked halfway through from exhaustion.

y/n shot him a look that softened into a small, tired grin. "I’m taking the first shower," she said, already heading for the bathroom.

"Go ahead," he said, collapsing onto the edge of the bed.

The bathroom door clicked shut. A few seconds later, the sound of running water filled the space—a steady hum that drowned out the rattle of the AC. Mingi hunched forward, elbows on his knees, fingers twisting together. He couldn’t stop picturing her—naked, hair plastered to her neck, eyes closed, steam curling around her like smoke.

His chest tightened, pulse stuttering, a mix of awe and something raw he didn’t know the name of. He shook his head, trying to push it away, but the thought lingered—the nearness of her, the way she made him feel exposed, raw, like he was holding on by a thread. 

He shouldn’t be thinking like this. Shouldn’t feel this… caught. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to.

The water stopped. Silence. Then the door opened with a creak.

y/n stepped out, damp hair sticking to her neck, wearing one of her oversized shirts and a pair of shorts. She looked human again—soft, clean, the kind of tired that made her beautiful without trying.

"Your turn," she said, brushing past him to sit on the bed.

"Right." He stood a little too fast, muttered something under his breath, and disappeared into the bathroom.

While the shower ran again, y/n removed the duvet and stretched across the mattress, limbs sprawled carelessly. She let out a long, theatrical sigh, half mockery, half bliss. The bed was awful—the springs jabbed her spine, and the pillows smelled faintly of bleach—but it was horizontal and soft enough to trick her body into gratitude.

When Mingi came out, hair damp and t-shirt clinging to his shoulders, he froze for half a second at the sight of her already sprawled out.

"I’ll take the floor," he said quickly, grabbing a pillow.

y/n lifted her head, deadpan. "It’s tile, Mingi."

He crouched down anyway, pressed a hand to the floor, and winced immediately. "…It’s tile."

She rolled her eyes and tossed him a pillow. "We’re not in a movie. Just get up here. I’m not letting you sleep on the floor."

He hesitated—just long enough for her to smirk—before crawling onto the bed’s far side, careful to keep a safe, polite distance.

Y/N lay on her side, back turned to him, curling slightly into the too-small mattress. Mingi stretched out on his back, one hand resting on his side, the other tucked under his head, eyes tracing the patterns on the ceiling. 

The AC sputtered and groaned, the thin mattress creaking under the weight of two restless bodies. Every tiny shift sounded like thunder in the quiet room, and though they faced away from each other, the space between them felt familiar and safe, yet sharp with unspoken things. 

A few minutes passed before Mingi’s voice broke the silence, low and a little sheepish.

"Do you think ghosts get bored haunting motels?"

y/n snorted into her pillow. "Go to sleep, Mingi."

"Can’t," he said softly. "You’re too close."

A beat of silence.

"I mean—not in a bad way."

Her lips twitched into a faint, hidden smile. The air between them felt charged, fragile—the kind of quiet that could tip either into laughter or something else entirely.

"Goodnight, Mingi," she murmured.

"Night, y/n."

The AC rattled on, a monotonous counterpoint to the soft creaks of the old motel bed. Outside, the neon sign blinked once, then steadied, throwing the room in fleeting pulses of red and blue.

They laid there, pretending not to notice the warmth lingering between them, the brush of an arm, the shift of a leg, the subtle familiarity of shared space.

For a long while, there was only silence—not heavy, just aware. The kind of quiet where you notice everything: the hum of the fan, the soft scrape of the curtains in the occasional breeze, the tiny, comforting rhythm of the other breathing nearby.

Then came a faint hiss outside, almost lost in the quiet, easy to mistake for wind or a distant car. The hush stretched between them a heartbeat longer, the kind that makes you realize how much you’ve been holding your own breath.

And then, as if the sky had been waiting for permission, a low rumble rolled across the distance, long and slow, like the heavens clearing their throat.

y/n blinked her eyes open. The room had gone dimmer, lit only by the flicker of the neon sign outside. The rain came fast after that, fat drops hitting the window with uneven rhythm, leaving streaks on the glass. The air shifted—cooler now, smelling faintly of wet asphalt and ozone, sneaking through the half-open window.

Mingi stirred beside her, a soft exhale catching in his throat. When the thunder cracked closer this time, the light in the room fluttered, and he tensed—just barely, but enough for her to notice.

"You okay?" she murmured, turning her head toward him.

He hesitated before answering, voice low, almost embarrassed. "Yeah. Just—storms."

The word hung there, fragile. Not fear, exactly, but unease. She could hear it in the way he swallowed after he said it.

y/n shifted, rolling halfway onto her side, the sheet tugging with her. The space between them shrank. "Didn’t peg you for the nervous type," she said, but her tone was soft, teasing in the gentlest way.

"Yeah, well," Mingi exhaled, forcing a shaky laugh. "I’m full of surprises."

Another crack of thunder rolled through the air, sharp and heavy. He flinched almost imperceptibly.

Without thinking, y/n reached out—a quiet instinct, like a muscle remembering something before her mind caught up. Her hand found his, fingers brushing his knuckles.

He didn’t move at first, just stared at the point where their hands met, the slow thud of rain filling the silence. Then, as the next rumble echoed, he laced his fingers with hers, gripping a little tighter than necessary.

y/n let out a quiet laugh, not mocking—more like warmth breaking through. "It’s just a storm, Mingi."

"I know," he said, voice rough around the edges. "I just—" He paused, searching for something that wasn’t there. His thumb brushed her hand once, a silent apology, a plea. "I didn’t mean to mess this up today. I just wanted it to be good. For you."

The confession landed between them with the weight of the rain outside. Her chest ached a little, unexpected.

"It was," she whispered.

He turned toward her, close enough that she could see the reflection of the lightning in his eyes, faint and flickering. For a second, the storm outside seemed to quiet, like the world had paused to listen.

Their foreheads brushed—a tentative, searching touch, neither of them breathing too deeply, afraid it might break whatever spell hung there.

"y/n," he murmured, her name trembling on his lips like a question.

Another thunderclap rolled through the sky. Mingi’s hand tightened around hers. She didn’t pull away.

Her breath caught somewhere in her chest. His hand was still tangled with hers, thumb brushing slow, uneven circles over her skin. The air felt heavier now, close, like the whole room was holding its breath with them.

"What?" she whispered, though the word came out softer than she meant it to.

He hesitated—she could feel it in the way his chest lifted, how his throat worked around a thought he couldn’t quite shape.

"I just—" He stopped, a small, helpless sound leaving his throat. "Sometimes I don’t know what to say around you. Or how to… stop saying too much."

Her lips quirked faintly, but her heart wasn’t steady.

"You’re doing fine," she murmured.

"I don’t think I am," he said with a shaky laugh, eyes flicking between hers and the corner of her mouth like he was afraid to settle anywhere too long. "I keep wanting to—"

She didn’t let him finish.

The kiss wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t even fully a kiss at first—just the ghost of her mouth brushing against his. A light, careful press, soft enough that it could’ve been mistaken for a slip in the dark. But it wasn’t.

His breath hitched—a sharp inhale that sounded louder than the rain. For a second, neither of them moved. Their foreheads still rested together, the storm outside flickering through the thin curtains, painting them in flashes of blue and silver.

y/n pulled back just enough to look at him. "You talk too much," she said, but her voice trembled, betraying her.

Mingi’s chest rose and fell once, deep and uneven, before he smiled—small, disbelieving, something raw flickering behind it.

"Yeah," he whispered, eyes searching hers like he was afraid to blink. "I do."

Then Mingi closed the distance again, his lips crashing into hers with a quiet urgency that had him grinning already—fuck, finally. This kiss was deeper, deliberate—a slow pour of everything he'd been holding back, all that pent-up road-trip tension spilling out.

His hand cupped her jaw first, thumb tracing her cheekbone with a tenderness that made his own pulse thunder, but he couldn't help the shaky laugh bubbling up. "God, your skin's so soft—been dying to touch you since that gas station lolly," he murmured against her lips, voice rough, boyish nerves cracking through.

y/n met him halfway, lips parting soft and inviting, her hand sliding up his arm to curl around his bicep—gripping just enough to make him flex playful. She deepened it back, tongue brushing his in a lazy, teasing stroke that had him groaning low. "Took you long enough, slowpoke," she whispered, nipping his lip light, eyes gleaming cheeky as thunder cracked overhead. "Thought I'd have to draw you a map."

He barked a breathless laugh into the kiss, heat pooling low in his gut. "Hey—I'm great at maps. Just... distracted by you." His fingers drifted from her jaw, threading lightly into her hair—not pulling, just tangling there, anchoring as the world narrowed to their slick mouths, that faint cherry taste mixing with motel air.

Breaths came ragged between kisses, but god, she was unraveling him. "Shit" he murmured, voice wrecked above the fan's whir. "I've—fuck, I've wanted you for so long..."

She hummed low, approving, her free hand slipping under his shirt to trace his ribs—calm, confident fingers drawing him out. "Then have me," she whispered back, nipping harder, her eyes half-lidded and teasing. The mini cooler's buzz masked their quickening hearts, thunder rolling like applause.

Mingi's resolve cracked wide—he shifted closer, bodies aligning on the thin sheet, hand on her lower back pulling her flush as her leg draped over his, yanking him in. Heat seeped through his sweats, and he grinned boyish against her jaw. "Feel that? All your fault." He trailed soft, exploratory kisses down her jaw, breathing her in—wet asphalt outside mixing with motel mustiness.

His breath hitched as he shifted, rolling them gentle till he was above her, settling between her thighs like he belonged there. The sheet twisted beneath them, bedframe groaning soft, and he rested his forehead to hers, eyes squeezed shut, breathing her in—ragged, matching the storm. The window rattled, neon blurring red-blue over her skin. 

His hand stayed tangled in her hair, fingers threading deeper, cradling the back of her head like she was something fragile and irreplaceable. The other hand traced the hem of her shirt, fingertips ghosting over the warm dip of her hip bone—hesitant, trembling just enough to betray how long he’d dreamed of this, how terrified he was to let it slip away. 

"y/n," he whispered, voice cracking raw with awe. She's real. Here. Mine.

Her hands slipped fully under his shirt, palms gliding up his sides—exploring taut muscles still warm from their shower, motel soap lingering. She felt him tense, then melt, thumbs brushing his abs' edges, pulling a shiver. "Ticklish?" she murmured cheeky, humming as thunder rolled low. Her eagerness was quiet fire—no rush, just pulling him in.

"Oh, stop it," he grinned, kissing her wild then—passionate, deep, lips crashing with romantic fervor that shattered him. Soft at first, savoring her plush mouth, then hungrier, tongue tangling in heated strokes. A breathless laugh bubbled mid-kiss when her nails grazed just right, sparks down his spine. "You're—fuck, you're killing me," he pulled back to nip her lower lip, diving slower, romantic, memorizing her. "That cherry taste? Addictive."

She arched up, legs parting wider to cradle him, hands roaming—one to his shoulder, the other tracing his spine. Heat built lazy, fan masking his wrecked sighs, her hums. "Good—addicted is my goal," she shot back, pulling him deeper, unhurried like this storm was theirs.

His fingers dipped under her shirt fully now, tracing bare skin reverent, inching up but pausing—eyes checking hers, always soft, always worried about her. "Tell me if you want me to stop." She shook her head, smiling into the kiss, tugging him closer—eager, calm. No stopping now.

Mingi’s hand ventured higher, fingertips brushing her breast's swell like it might vanish. He cupped gentle at first, kneading sweet—palm warm, hesitant, molding to her. A quiet grunt escaped against her mouth, raw in humid air; AC hummed harder, syncing his pulse, thunder murmuring secret.

y/n whined soft, needy—shattering him. His thumb traced her nipple in slow circles, teasing till it hardened, then bolder—pinching light, twisting just enough for her to let out some breathy sounds. Eyes flicked to hers, searching; she arched into it, fire pulling him deeper.

"Like that, huh?" he teased, grinning shaky. "Knew you'd be sensitive—cute."

"Shut—ah—up," she gasped, half-laugh, half-moan, but smirking still.

At the same time, his lips started trailing hot-messy kisses to her jaw and neck. He grunted low—primal, sweet—biting below her ear, not marking but enough, then easing the sting with a slow, flat drag of his tongue. Sucking soft after, blooming warmth as he grinds his hips forward—deliberate, deep between her thighs. Sweats and shorts hid nothing; his hard length nudged her clit perfect with every roll—friction curling her toes into the air.

She felt all him—throbbing, insistent, heat seeping like promise. Legs gripped his hips tight, thighs locking, heels digging his back to yank closer. Space vanished as she shifted, hands owning his back. 

The bedframe groaned, and he laughed soft against her pulse, breathless and playful. "Hear that? Bed is noisy too."

"Noisy? Good—make it squeak louder," she teased, nails scraping playful, pulling a wrecked groan from him.

"Fuck—challenge accepted," he laughed, rolling harder, neon painting their tangle of limbs—boyish energy sparking wild, teasing breaths tangling as thunder faded, leaving them the storm. Her fingers traced the curve of his muscles, nails teasing lightly, and he let out a soft, caught-in-his-throat chuckle. "Hey—careful," he murmured, half-protesting, half-grinning, and she just smirked, leaning into him more.

Her fingers hooked the hem of his t-shirt, tugging gently but insistently. Mingi broke the kiss with a soft groan, lifting his arms to let her pull it off, and the air hitting his skin made him shiver. He hovered there, shirtless and flushed, neon reds and blues from the motel sign flickering across his collarbones. 

A bead of sweat caught the light at his temple, and he let out a half-laugh, half-breathless sound, caught somewhere between wanting her closer and pretending he wasn’t melting under her touch.

His breath came ragged, eyes wide as he kneaded her breast under her shirt like it was the only thing keeping him steady. He leaned down, capturing her lips again—wild but softer now, trembling a little as he kissed her, the fan's steady whir covering up how bad she'd gotten to him.

Mingi's hand slid down her side, still shaky, dipping under her shorts' waistband to brush her panties. He traced her folds over the damp fabric, slow and careful, like he was figuring her out, like he was scared to fuck it up. But shit, she was soaked already, the cotton sticking warm and slick, and a deep groan ripped from him—the kiss breaking awkward as he stuttered, cheeks burning.

He pulled back just enough, forehead to hers, staring in awe. "Doll... you're—fuck," he whispered, voice cracking like thunder outside, flushing hard as the window rattled. The mattress slats creaked when he shifted, and he laughed soft, all nervous. "Too many clothes. Can't... can't wait anymore."

"Aw, can’t handle it already?" she teased, smirking up at him, her voice low and playful even as her thighs squeezed his hips a little.

He huffed a shaky laugh, cheeks burning hotter. "Shut up," hands fumbling quick now—yanking her t-shirt up and over her head in one tug, then hooking her shorts and panties, sliding them down her legs together. They hit the motel floor with a soft thud, forgotten in the AC's hum and storm's quiet.

She lay there bare, skin flushed under the shifting red-blue glow, curves lit up perfect. Mingi sat back on his heels between her thighs, eyes dragging over her slow, lips parted in a wrecked breath. "Beautiful," he said, simple and real. "You're so fucking beautiful, doll." His fingers traced her thigh, trembling but sure, like he still couldn't believe it.

"Getting all sappy on me?" she murmured, biting her lip to hide a grin, shifting her hips just enough to make him swallow hard.

"Fuck—yeah, maybe," he admitted with a breathless chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re just... shit." He couldn’t stop there. Leaned down and started kissing her body—soft and messy, lips hitting her collarbone, the dip between her breasts, her navel, each one with a quiet grunt or sigh like he was starving. The mini cooler buzzed louder, covering the bedframe's creak as he slid lower, dropping off the bed to his knees on the cold tiles.

His hands grabbed her ankles gently, tugging her to the edge—back pressed to the sheets, legs dangling over his shoulders like they fit perfectly there. Thunder rumbled low as he settled, face inches from her core, breath hot on her skin.

She turned shy all of a sudden—too much, way too exposed under his stare, the storm's raw edge making it all feel heavier. Her cheeks burned hot, thighs twitching like she wanted to squeeze them shut, one hand fluttering up nervous to cover her stomach. Mingi caught it right away, that little flash of shy, and fuck, he thought it was the cutest thing—his chest twisting with how bad he had it for her, specially now.

"Hey," he murmured, voice soft and easy, grabbing her hand quickly and lacing their fingers tight. His other palm spread warm on her hip, thumb rubbing slow circles right where thigh met hip, keeping her steady. "I've got you. Just... breathe with me, yeah?" He squeezed once, eyes locked on hers—nervous too, but holding it together for her—then leaned in with a small, playful grin. "Promise I won't bite. Much."

She let out a quiet huff, half-laugh, half-nervous—calm still, even as her free hand hovered unsure over her stomach. "You're staring," she whispered, voice soft but teasing faint, cheeks still pink. "It's... a lot."

"Can't help it," he admitted, chuckling low, all shaky nerves. "You're fucking gorgeous. But okay—eyes closed?" He winked, easing her with that teasing smile, before his tongue slid slow, deliberate—a flat lick up through her folds, tasting her warm and slick for the first time. Perfect.

A low groan rumbled from him, muffled right against her, as he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. Her moan slipped out—breathless, real—lids fluttering shut, head tipping back into the pillow as her spine arched a little. Her free hand drifted hesitant over her abdomen, fingers climbing slow till they cupped her breast shy-like, thumb circling the nipple in soft, unsure swirls.

Mingi watched every bit, awe splitting his face wide, grip tightening on her hand like she was his anchor. "That's it," he whispered against her thigh, voice wrecked but sweet, diving back in—slower licks now, unhurried and tender, the fan's whir mixing with her soft whimpers and the bed's faint shift.

His tongue worked steady, knowing—soft at first, broad laps through her folds, easing her in gentle like he meant it. He peeked up when he could, catching how the shy lines smoothed from her brows, her breaths going deep and even, matching the window's light rattle.

The cold tiles bit his knees as he scooted closer, free hand stroking lazy on her thigh—comfort first, always, shoving his own jitters aside. "There you go," he murmured against her skin, voice rough and low, warm breath hitting her as thunder rolled soft overhead. She eased then, body sinking heavy into the sheets, that calm vibe blooming back quiet.

"So good," she breathed, shy still but teasing soft, fingers squeezing his hand. "Don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he grinned, heart pounding, picking up the pace when her legs loosened around his shoulders, whimpers turning smooth. Lips sealed on her clit, sucking gentle to build it slow, tongue tracing perfect eights over the peak—wet loops that had her gasping quiet.

He dipped low, tongue pointed to push inside—shallow thrusts, testing—then curled up to graze her clit again, tip flicking precise and steady. Her sounds got louder, raw and free—no holding back now, voice cutting through the AC's hum, moans climbing with the storm. "Mingi—oh my god," she breathed, head lolling back, neon blues catching her flushed cheeks.

He smirked against her—lips curving all wicked and sweet, that hum buzzing straight through her core—but he didn’t let up, not even for a second, totally lost in her taste, her sounds driving him wild. Letting go of her hand, he grabbed both her hips, fingers sinking into her soft skin, yanking her closer to his mouth like he was starving. The mattress creaked with the tug, and a little laugh slipped out mid-lick when her thighs shook hard against his ears.

"Getting shaky already?" he teased, voice rough between licks, pulling back just a peek with that playful grin. "Thought you were gonna make me work for it."

She huffed a breathy laugh, shy still but her calm kicking in, fingers flexing in his hair. "Keep talking and I might," she shot back softly, voice teasing faint through the heat, even as her hips rolled up slowly to meet him.

y/n’s free hand dove into his hair right then, threading desperate through the messy strands—gripping tight, holding him right there as she ground up to match his rhythm. Slow at first, testing, then bolder, chasing that building rush, her clit dragging perfect against his nose. She was close—he felt it, the way she pulsed hot and slick around his tongue, her breaths turning to ragged little pants that lined up with his own. "Fuck, yes—just like that," he groaned, pulling back a beat to watch her face twist pretty, eyes dark with awe, before diving back in deeper, hungrier.

"Like this?" she murmured, cheeky now despite the shy flush, grinding a little harder just to mess with him—calm energy making it playful, not pushy.

He chuckled low against her, the vibration hitting her perfect. "Yeah, exactly like that, baby." That’s when he slipped one finger in—long, steady, easing slow so her walls could stretch around it. She fluttered, then relaxed with a louder moan, so he added a second, curling them just right against that spot that made her gasp sharp, stars popping behind her eyes. They pumped even, scissoring gentle, his mouth locked on her clit—sucking, licking, pushing her higher.

"Cum for me, pretty," he encouraged, voice cracking soft and sweet between tongue flicks, forehead slick with sweat and that wet asphalt smell clinging everywhere. "Wanna taste all of you—please, baby, let go." Fingers curled harder now, thrusting insistent, his thumb brushing her hip in lazy, soothing strokes.

"God, Mingi—you're cheating with those fingers," she whined, half-tease, half-desperate, her grip tightening in his hair as she rocked faster, calm but needy now, shy edges melting into the heat.

Until she shattered—hard, like the thunder cracking sharp overhead. y/n came with a cry that bounced off the motel walls, raw and free, walls clenching tight around his fingers in pulsing waves. She gushed all over his face—warm, slick mess coating his lips, chin, dripping down his jaw as he groaned deep, lapping every drop like it was everything, not pulling away once.

His eyes squeezed shut in pure bliss, smirking through the mess, holding her hips steady as she rode it out—trembling, grinding sloppy against his mouth till the shakes faded to soft whimpers. The fan hummed quieter now, a gentle hush, as he kissed her inner thigh once, twice—soft, real, a quiet laugh bubbling up when she tugged weak at his hair.

"Still with me?" he murmured, playful but wrecked, nuzzling her thigh. "Or did I break you?"

She let out a shaky laugh, post-bliss haze hitting her calm and loose, body glowing as she caught her breath. "Broke me good," she admitted, voice sleepy-teasing, eyes half-lidded but sharpening quick on him—hungry already. "God, baby... you’re—fuck, perfect," he whispered back, voice wrecked with awe, pressing one last tender lick before lifting his head, face glistening in the neon glow, eyes locked on hers like she’d flipped his whole world.

Mingi wiped his face quick with the back of his hand, smearing her slick across his jaw—still warm, still her—but he didn’t break contact, easing her legs down from his shoulders with shaky care, fingertips lingering on her calves like letting go hurt. The bedframe creaked soft as he rose, wiping the rest from his chin, breath heaving in the thick air.

The window tapped lazy against the glass now, post-storm quiet wrapping them up, thunder a far-off murmur. His eyes stayed on hers—dark, wrecked, arousal cracking his voice. "You okay, baby? Fuck, that was..." He trailed off, swallowing hard, a breathless laugh slipping out, all nervous and sweet.

y/n floated in that hazy afterglow, body loose and buzzing, breaths slow like the fan's lullaby—but her gaze snapped clear and hungry on him. She took it all in: the massive tent straining his sweats, his thick outline throbbing insistent; chest heaving fast, sweat beading on his wrecked torso where red neon cut sharp shadows over every muscle ridge. God, she needed him—all of him, raw, no barriers. 

"Look at you," she teased, voice low and cheeky, shy glow making it flirty. "All hard and desperate from eating me out. Cute." Her hand twitched toward him, eager but calm, a quiet hum slipping out as thunder rumbled soft like it approved.

He flushed deeper, grinning shaky. "Can't help it—you're taste too fucking good." But Mingi was faster—quicker than his nerves let on, her undone look snapping his last thread. Hands hooked his waistband, yanking sweats and boxers down together—his dick springing free, hot and heavy, flushed dark in the blue-red glow.

He kicked them aside clumsy, thudding to the floor pile, breathless chuckle rumbling out—"Shit, almost tripped"—before scrambling onto the bed, mattress dipping as he slotted between her legs again, skin-to-skin now, electric heat sparking everywhere.

"Tripping over your own pants?" she laughed soft, teasing as she pulled him down, calm hands roaming his chest. "Smooth, Mingi."

"Shut up," he grinned, all playful nerves, kissing her raw and passionate—lips crashing messy, tongue diving deep to share her taste, low grunt vibrating as he poured every bit of pent-up want into it. No holding back now, just that romantic fire, free hand grabbing her breast full and impatient, thumb rolling the nipple he wasn’t sucking into his mouth.

He dipped lower, sucking the other nipple between his lips—soft at first, tongue swirling sweet and testing, then harder, teeth grazing just enough to pull a whine from her. His fingers twisted the twin gently between them, pinching with that practiced pull, drawing her arch up into him. 

The AC groaned somewhere in the room, punctuating her gasp, and he laughed soft against her skin—muffled, human, breaking the suck for a beat to murmur, "Love how you sound," voice cracking halfway, awe flooding his dark eyes. "Keep making those noises and I'm done for," he added, playful nerves in his grin, nipping lighter just to hear her again.

y/n let out a breathy laugh, shy edges still there but calm fire sparking. "Good—your turn to squirm." She felt him pressing heavy against her thigh—hot, throbbing length dragging slick along her skin with every grind, the weight of him real, insistent, leaking just a little from the tip. 

Her hand slid down instinctively, fingers wrapping around him lazy at first—stroking slow, exploratory, thumb brushing the head to spread the bead of pre-cum.

He bucked into her grip with a wrecked groan, forehead dropping to her collarbone, breaths hitching ragged against her pulse. "Wait—fuck, your hand," he whispered, hips rolling shallow to match her rhythm, composure breaking wider with every lazy pump. She squeezed just right, calm and eager, pulling a trembling whine from him mid-suck on her nipple—softness bleeding through the heat, his free hand threading into her hair again, cradling like she was everything.

"You like that?" she teased low, voice cheeky despite the flush, stroking a little firmer just to watch him unravel. "You're leaking all over my thigh already."

"Fuck—yes," he whined back, laughing shaky, all boyish nerves. "You're evil. Hot, but evil." The mini cooler buzzed gently outside, neon flickering soft across his flushed back as she worked him, their breaths tangling—unrushed, genuine, the storm’s quiet aftermath holding them close.

Mingi’s control snapped like a frayed thread—his hips stuttering into her lazy strokes, breaths turning to ragged pleas against her skin. "Wait—fuck, I don’t wanna cum like this," he groaned, voice wrecked and cracking, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes—dark, desperate, that romantic awe warring with raw need. 

The rain whispered soft against the glass now, a gentle hush in the neon glow, thunder a distant memory as his hand trembled over hers on his dick, thumb brushing her knuckles like an anchor. "Need to be inside you. Please."

"Needy much?" she teased, smirking calm but eyes hungry, not letting go. "Beg a little prettier."

He huffed a desperate laugh, cheeks burning. "Please, doll—I need you. Can't wait anymore." y/n didn’t hesitate—calm fire in her gaze, dick still warm and throbbing in her hand as she guided him steady, sliding the flushed tip through her slick folds slow and teasing. She coated him deliberately, dragging him up-down her heat, the wet sounds mixing with their shared hitch of breath—patient at first, then running thin, her own impatience flickering in the way her thighs tensed around him. 

"Teasing me now?" he groaned, playful but wrecked, hips twitching forward. "You're killing me."

"I’m ready," she murmured, voice low and eager, positioning him right at her entrance—the tip nudging in just a fraction, warm and insistent, neon reds painting the scene intimate and raw.

Mingi pushed slow then, so careful it bordered on reverence—making the stretch comfortable, watching her face for every flicker, every breath. "Relax for me, yeah? I’ve got you," he whispered, voice soft and sweet despite the tremor in it, inching forward with practiced ease—long, pretty length filling her bit by bit, walls fluttering around him as she adjusted.

"So... big," she breathed, half-shy, half-tease, calm hands gripping his shoulders. "Go slow—make it good."

"Always," he promised, grinning nervous. But when he was buried to the hilt—hot, heavy, perfect—he stopped there, frozen for a long moment, breathing hard against her shoulder, concentrating on not unraveling right then. Sweat beaded at his temples, red-blue lights carving the tense lines of his jaw. 

But she clenched around him instinctively, getting used to his size, and a deep groan ripped from his throat—head falling heavy to her neck, lips brushing her pulse in a wrecked nuzzle. "Fuck, baby—you’re so tight. So good."

"Like what you feel?" she murmured, cheeky whisper, clenching again just to mess with him.

"Fuck—stop that or I'll lose it," he laughed ragged, starting to move then—slow, shallow rolls at first, giving her time to adjust, hips circling gentle to ease the fullness, every thrust punctuated by a soft grunt and her approving hum. His hand splayed warm on her hip, thumb stroking lazy, holding her like she might slip away. The fan whirred a soothing lullaby, masking the quiet creak of the mattress as he savored it—romantic, unhurried, eyes locked on hers with that trembling awe.

Until y/n’s hands traveled from his arms—nails grazing his biceps lightly—to grip his ass firm, fingers digging into the flexing muscle, pushing him deeper with insistent tugs. A faint, moaning "Faster, please Min," slipped from her lips—raw, needy, her calm cracking into eager want—and Mingi swore he could’ve cum right then, the sound of her voice alone nearly undoing him.

"Calling me Min now? Dangerous," he choked out, voice cracking halfway, a breathless laugh bubbling up as he obliged. His rhythm picked up—steady snaps now, deeper, hips meeting hers with romantic fervor, skin slapping soft and real in the neon hush. He peppered kisses to her collarbone—messy, open-mouthed—then her neck, jaw, licking a hot stripe up her pulse before sucking lightly, teeth grazing just enough to pull her gasp. "Love this—love you like this," he murmured between licks, sweet and wrecked, composure fracturing with every plunge.

"Harder—please," she gasped back, teasing edge gone, just pure want now.

y/n scratched his back then—nails raking red trails down his spine, fierce—before leaning up to bite just right above his pec, teeth sinking soft into the muscle with a needy hum that vibrated through him. Her nails dug deeper into his bicep, gripping like a lifeline as she arched into his pace, moans spilling unrestricted.

"Ow—fuck, yes," he groaned loud against her jaw, hips faltering for a beat at the sting—perfect pain sparking heat down his spine—before thrusting harder, passionate still in the way he cradled her face, thumb brushing her cheek mid-kiss. A tiny, shared laugh slipped through when the bedframe groaned louder against the wall, protesting the rhythm, his free hand threading into her hair again—softness bleeding through the building frenzy, the AC's gentle hum the only witness to how completely they fit.

"Bed's complaining," she panted, cheeky mid-moan. "Think we're too much?"

"Never," he grinned wrecked, thrusting deeper. Thrusts deep and fervent, bodies slick with sweat in the neon haze—and Mingi felt it building, that tight coil snapping too soon in his gut. "Fuck—y/n, I’m—" he gasped, voice cracking raw against her jaw, pulling out quick with a shuddering groan, his dick slipping free from her warmth.

He sat back on his calves, chest heaving hard, hands shaking as he gripped her thighs to breathe through it—forehead slick, red lights cutting wrecked awe across his flushed face. The window pattered soft on the glass, a gentle hush mocking his racing pulse. "Wanna make it last for you," he murmured, eyes locked on her with desperate sweetness.

y/n whined at the loss—sharp, needy, her walls clenching empty, body arching instinctive for that fullness. "Mingi—" she breathed, half-protest, half-plea, hand reaching back shy, fingers brushing his thigh like she couldn’t stand the ache. Thunder murmured distant outside, the storm’s lullaby weaving through her soft whimper, neon flickering across her flushed skin.

"Miss me already?" he teased, voice wrecked but playful, grinning shaky as he scooted closer. "Patience, pretty—gonna make it even better. C’mere, baby," he whispered, voice rough but steady, hands gentle on her hips as he turned her around—easing her onto her stomach with that devoted care, like she was glass and fire all at once. 

The sheet twisted under her, cool against her cheek as she settled, ass up just a little, legs parting instinctive. He straddled her thighs then, ankles bracketing her knees, lining himself up again—tip nudging her entrance, still slick and warm from before. "Ready?" he checked, thumb stroking the curve of her ass soft, waiting for her hum—always checking, always caring.

"Mm—yeah," she hummed, calm but teasing faint, glancing back with a shy smirk. 

He entered slow at first, pushing in with a shared moan—low and unison, vibrating through them both as he filled her inch by inch, stretching her perfectly again. "God, yes," he groaned, buried deep, pausing to breathe, head falling back, composure cracking at how she gripped him already.

"Oh my god...  I’m fuller like this," she murmured, voice breathy-cheeky, pushing back a little to test. 

"Good, right?" he laughed ragged, picking up the pace—steady snaps building quick, hips meeting the soft give of her ass with hard thrusts, hands kneading the flesh warm and reverent, fingers digging into curves like he was memorizing her. A couple slaps landed—first one light, playful, testing her with a soft smack that left a faint red imprint blooming on her skin. y/n jolted with a surprised moan, raw and needy, pushing back into him instinctive, her walls fluttering tight around his dick.

Mingi’s breath hitched, eyes widening at her reaction—fuck, she liked it—so he slapped her ass harder the next time, palm connecting firmer, the sharp sound cutting through the fan’s whir. y/n moaned louder now, unrestricted need spilling out as she gripped the pillow beneath her—fingers twisting the thin fabric, face pressed into it, sounds muffled sweet and desperate against the cotton.

"Like that, huh?" he teased, voice cracking with awe, grinning teasingly. "Knew you were into it."

"Mingi—more," she gasped, hips pushing back to meet him, the mattress creaking rhythmic under their shared frenzy, neon blues dancing over the red handprints on her skin. He laughed soft at it all, breathless and boyish, palm soothing the fresh sting right after in slow circles. "Fuck, you take me so good," he murmured, voice cracking halfway, awe flooding every word.

Mingi lowered then, chest blanketing her back—warm, sweat-slick skin to skin—as he peppered kisses along her spine, messy and soft. His tongue traced a slow, deliberate line down the dip of it, tasting salt and cheap gel clinging to her, a quiet grunt escaping when she clenched around him mid-lick, goosebumps rose along her skin, making it prickle.

"Tickles," she whined playful between moans, a calm laugh muffled into the pillow, clenching again just to mess with him.

"Fuck—stop, or I'll—" he groaned, half-laughing. One hand slid around her shoulders, pulling her up just a little—a gentle arch, hand gripping her jaw hard enough to turn her head—and he captured her lips in a deep, twisting kiss, raw and passionate despite the angle. Tongues tangled slow, romantic even now, his thrusts never faltering—deeper, steadier, his free hand holding his weight beside her head.

A tiny, breathless whine slipped from him into her mouth when thunder rumbled low, her muffled moan vibrating against his lips—raw, real, softness bleeding through the heat as he chased their rhythm together, the storm’s hush wrapping them tight.

"Thunder's jealous," she teased mid-kiss, calm eyes glinting shy.

Mingi took advantage of that grip around her shoulder—his arm flexing warm and steady—easing her up with him in one fluid shift, bringing her to her knees without breaking rhythm. "Up, doll—like this," he murmured against her ear, voice wrecked and sweet, breath hot on her neck as the window tapped a lazy lullaby on the glass.

The change in angle hit deep—his dick dragging right against that perfect spot inside her, making y/n see stars, a sharp gasp ripping from her throat as white-hot pleasure exploded behind her eyes. The mattress creaked under their new balance, neon reds flickering across her arched spine, thunder murmuring distant like it knew exactly what was up.

His hand slid to her breasts immediately, holding her steady—cupping full and reverent, fingers kneading soft at first, thumb rolling her nipple in teasing swirls that pulled a whine from her. The other hand traveled feather-light down her front—tracing the valley between her breasts with trembling fingertips, ghosting over her abdomen in lazy sweeps, until it found her clit, circling slow and deliberate.

"Fuck, you’re soaked," he groaned, voice cracking halfway, awe flooding the words as he felt her pulse under his touch—human and real, his own sweat dripping onto her back in the humid air.

y/n’s hands clamped harsh on his forearm—the one at her breast—nails digging crescents into his skin, not wanting him to detach, not even for a second. Her back arched sharp, favoring his strokes, pushing her ass flush against his hips to take him deeper, every upward thrust sending her reeling. Big moans spilled out now—unrestricted, echoing off the motel walls—her head falling back to his shoulder, hair tickling his jaw as she panted wordless, "Mngh—ah," mind already blanking from the pound.

"Already going quiet on me?" he teased, voice wrecked but playful, grinning against her ear. "Thought you'd have more smart comebacks."

She just moaned louder—raw, broken—"Hah—Min—" too lost to quip back, body trembling as his thrusts quickened—sharp, insistent snaps from below, hips snapping with romantic fervor, burying himself to the hilt each time. He bit her shoulder to stave off his own edge—teeth sinking soft into the muscle, not marking but grounding, a low grunt muffled against her skin as the coil tightened in his gut.

"Not yet—shit, not yet," he whispered, voice trembling with that lover-boy need, before his fingers sped up on her clit—circling fast, tight loops that matched his pace, thumb pressing just right to build her higher.

"Feel that? All for you," he teased soft, nipping her ear. "Gonna make you scream my name proper."

"Ah—fuck," she gasped, wordless now, moans frantic and high—"Mngh—yes—" clenching hard around him, nails biting deeper as her mind went white. He laughed soft—nervous, sweet—against her shoulder, chasing her release with everything he had, the storm’s hush wrapping their shared unraveling tight.

Mingi’s dick—thick, relentless, dragging perfectly against her walls with every upward thrust—and his fingers, circling fast and unyielding on her clit, pushed her right to the edge, climax crashing over her like the storm outside had never truly ended. Her second orgasm hit like a truck—white-hot sparks bursting behind her eyes, breath seizing in her chest—but she didn’t faint.

Instead, she squeezed him tight, walls pulsing in rhythmic waves around his length, a raw moan tearing from her throat—big, broken, echoing off the neon-lit walls. Her back arched sharper against him, body spasming wild and unrestrained, thighs trembling as she ground back sloppy, chasing every last shudder. "Mingi—fuck, yes, fill me up, please," she gasped, head lolling heavy on his shoulder, nails biting deeper into his forearm, a breathless whine slipping out mid-spasm when thunder rumbled low, syncing with her pulse.

"Fuck, y/n—yes, that's it—beg so pretty when you're brain-dead, huh?" Mingi groaned back, voice wrecked and raw, those words slamming into him like a gut punch—she was so fucking hot, begging for his cum like that, her tight heat clenching him desperate, unraveling every last shred of control. It was exactly what he needed, cock throbbing thick and urgent inside her, hips snapping frantic as he chased his end, pre-cum already leaking hot to mark her his. 

Just as he felt her orgasm—those tight, fluttering clenches milking him, her slick heat gushing around him—Mingi came right along with her, a wrecked groan ripping from his chest as he spilled deep inside, hot cum filling her up in thick pulses. "y/n—shit, baby," he choked, voice cracking raw with awe, thrusts turning erratic—sharp, desperate snaps to extend her high, hips grinding messy to draw out every spasm, every moan.

His fingers kept circling her clit, softer now but stubborn, drawing out every last shiver even as he unraveled inside her. Sweat dripped from his brow onto her shoulder, mixing with that wet pine scent clinging everywhere, a tiny grunt ripping from him when she clenched again—his, all his.

"Still squeezing me? Greedy," he teased, voice wrecked and playful, lost in the haze.

y/n huffed a breathy laugh, mind foggy with bliss. "Your fault... Min."

He stilled there, buried deep, not wanting a drop to spill—territorial as hell, breath heaving against her neck, arm banded tight around her waist. "Stay—fuck, just stay," he murmured, wrecked and sweet, lips brushing her pulse in lazy kisses, thumb stroking her hip. Neon blues flickered across his flushed back, motel hush wrapping them up, rusty fan humming over their pants.

Breaths synced slow like the fan's fading whir before he pulled out gentle, muffling her quiet whine with a tender chuckle. "Easy, I've got you," he whispered, easing her down with shaky hands—curling protective around her, brushing sweat-damp hair from her face. He kissed her cheek slow, lingering, eyes wide with that lovesick glow. 

"You're... everything," he breathed, voice cracking, stealing a peck to her temple before dragging himself up.

"Stay put—be right back," he grinned, padding quick to the bathroom, bare feet whispering over cold tiles, sweats forgotten. Faucet dripped as he soaked a cloth warm, back in seconds, kneeling between her legs again. He cleaned her gentle—wiping thighs, folds, every trace of them with careful strokes, eyes locked on hers.

"Like my service?" he teased low, thumb brushing her knee when she hummed yes, shy smile tugging his lips.

"Good," he murmured, tossing the cloth, sliding into bed to pull her flush against his chest—warm, raw, lost in afterglow as the fan hummed them into it. 

The rain had settled into a softer rhythm now, like the storm had finally run out of things to say. The air was still thick with warmth—that hazy, summer-rain kind of quiet where everything feels too intimate to name.

Mingi laid back, hair a mess against the pillow, one arm tucked behind his head, the other wrapped around her. She’d half-sprawled over him, one leg hooked over his, her hand resting on his stomach like she was staking a quiet claim. Her skin was warm against his side, her cheek pressed just under his collarbone.

He stared up at the ceiling for a while, listening to her breathe—that slow, steady rhythm that had somehow synced with the rain. Everything smelled like storm air and sex and that cheap motel soap they’d both complained about earlier. 

"You’re quiet," he said eventually, voice rough but playful.

"Mmm," she hummed, already halfway to sleep. "You wore me out."

He laughed softly. "That’s fair. I think I wore myself out too."

For a moment, there was just the hum of the air conditioner and the faint squeak of the sign outside. Then, out of nowhere, she murmured it—cheeky, teasing, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his abs. "You know, for a guy who can’t find a road on a map... you sure know how to find the right spots."

Mingi froze, a grin splitting his face as heat crept up his neck—flirty, caught off guard. "Oh yeah? That a compliment?"

She lifted her head slightly, brow arched, smirking like she’d won. "Don’t let it go to your head. But yeah... you made me feel so good back there. Like, damn good."

He chuckled, low and pleased, pulling her closer. "Shit, baby. Keep talking like that, and I might not let you sleep."

She smiled against his chest, her words slurred with exhaustion but soft as a secret. “You already didn’t.”

The rain had quieted to a murmur, more a background heartbeat than a storm now. The motel light flickered in uneven waves, painting them in warm flashes of red and blue.

"I think this is the best road trip I’ve ever ruined," he added after a comfortable silence, unable to keep his mouth shut. 

y/n snorted into his chest, trying to hide her laugh. "You mean the only road trip you’ve ruined."

"Hey," he said, mock wounded, "I didn’t ruin it. I just… made it memorable."

She lifted her head slightly, brow arched. "You lost the road, got us stranded, and maxed your card."

"Details," he said, a grin spreading across his face.

She gave him a long, sleepy look—then smirked. "You’re lucky you’re cute."

That one landed. Mingi froze, eyes wide for a beat before the corners of his mouth twitched up again. "You think I’m cute?"

y/n sighed dramatically, settling her head back onto his shoulder. "Don’t push it, Mingi."

He chuckled, running a slow hand through her hair, fingertips brushing at her scalp until her body melted a little more against him. "Too late. I’m taking it as a yes."

"Take it however you want," she murmured, her words slurring softly with sleep.

He watched her for a long moment, eyes tracing the curve of her cheek, the way her lashes fluttered. His chest ached in that good, unfamiliar way—too full, too warm.

"Hey," he whispered, thumb stroking a loose strand of hair away from her face, "you still awake?"

Nothing. Just the slow, even rise and fall of her breathing.

He smiled, small and quiet. "Figures."

He leaned down, pressed a kiss into her hair—soft, barely there. "Night, doll."

Another low rumble of thunder rolled through the distance, almost peaceful now. Mingi let his head fall back, eyes half-closed, the sound of rain and her warmth pulling him under.

Outside, the sign flickered once more—VACANCY blinking faintly in red as the storm finally moved on.

masterlist

a/n: needed a lil’ light writting after dropping chapter 11 of the San fic 😅 mingi is a total sweetheart, like disgustingly sweet… but don’t sleep on him, he’s dangerous 😏 hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!! 🫶

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