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astrannie · 2 months ago

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bed chem ═ chapter two

[ J. Yunho + S. Mingi ]

chapter two: say his name

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summary: yunho is trying to make a name for himself as a new up and coming photographer, he has no room for distractions, but model couple, y/n and mingi, seemed to want to tempt him

warnings: dom yunho, switch mingi, switch reader, possessive mingi, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasm, unprotected sex, creampie, eventual throuple, threesome, more to be added

genre: romance, drama, smut

pairings: photographer yunho x model afab reader x model mingi

word count: 8.5k

chapter one

chapter three coming soon

masterlist

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The floor of their apartment was covered in half zipped suitcases, piles of black and denim, sunglasses, boots, garment bags, and an unopened bottle of wine Mingi had thrown in “just in case.” Y/N sat cross legged on the bed, folding a Balmain blazer with military precision, while Mingi rummaged through the bathroom looking for his cologne.

“Did you pack the chargers?” Y/N called out.

“Do I look like someone who packs chargers?” Mingi replied, voice muffled.

“No,” Seonghwa said as he stepped inside, tablet in hand, unbothered as usual by the chaos. “That’s why I brought extras.”

Y/N grinned up at him. “Our favorite control freak.”

Seonghwa didn’t even blink. “If I weren’t a control freak, you two would’ve missed your Vogue shoot entirely because you were too busy dripping coconut oil on each other.”

“That was artistic preparation,” Mingi argued, stepping into the room in a half buttoned silk shirt. “Mood setting.”

“For each other?” Seonghwa said dryly.

Y/N snorted.

“Alright,” he continued, ignoring them both as he pulled up their updated schedule. “You land in Paris Monday morning. Mingi, your Diesel fitting is at four. Y/N, Balmain has you booked all Tuesday. You’re walking in their closing show, so expect chaos, cameras, and Champagne.”

Mingi dropped down next to Y/N, glancing at the tablet. “Diesel’s letting me close too. Double trouble.”

“Fitting,” Seonghwa muttered. “You two are the embodiment of it.”

Y/N leaned back on her hands, twisting a silver ring around her finger. “You know what’s not fitting?”

“What?”

“We haven’t seen Yunho since the Vogue shoot,” she said, voice deceptively light. “Feels wrong, doesn’t it, baby?”

Mingi hummed, thoughtful. “Very wrong.”

Seonghwa sighed, not looking up. “Don’t even start.”

“We’re not starting anything,” Mingi said innocently.

Y/N tilted her head. “We just miss his photographic direction.”

Seonghwa shot them a look over the top of his tablet. “I’ve already spoken to his agency.”

Both heads snapped toward him.

“You what?” Mingi asked.

Seonghwa didn’t flinch. “There’s a chance he’ll be shooting some of the backstage portraits at Paris Fashion Week. Unconfirmed. So behave.”

Y/N lips curled. “Oh, we always behave.”

Seonghwa looked her dead in the eye. “You’ve never behaved a day in your life.”

She blew him a kiss.

Mingi stretched, draping an arm around her shoulders. “Paris is going to be fun.”

Seonghwa groaned. “Paris is going to be a migraine.”

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The sun was golden as it dipped over the rooftops, casting the streets of the Marais in that cinematic kind of glow that made everything feel like a movie. A breeze rolled in off the Seine, warm but sharp, lifting the edge of Y/N delicate silk and lace dress as she stepped onto the sidewalk, heels tapping a lazy rhythm.

She didn’t bother fixing the hem. She liked the way it felt.

Beside her, Mingi was all smooth shadows in head to toe black, loose trousers, fitted jacket, a sleek silver chain hanging from his neck, catching the light every time he moved. His sunglasses were perched low on his nose as he scanned the street, his arm casually slung around her waist.

They were fresh off the plane, checked into their suite not even an hour ago, and already too glamorous for the locals.

Y/N spotted the cafe first. A quiet one tucked away on the corner, its sidewalk tables half filled with beautiful people pretending not to care that they were being watched. She reached for Mingi’s hand. “Let’s grab something before the fitting.”

“I want coffee and something disgustingly French,” Mingi said, steering them toward the patio.

They barely got a few steps before she froze.

“Wait,” she murmured, fingers tightening slightly around his.

Mingi followed her gaze.

And there he was.

Yunho.

Sitting alone at a small round table near the edge of the cafe, camera resting on the table beside his drink, flipping through photos on his iPad with the same calm focus he always had. He was wearing a slate gray turtleneck under a structured coat, hair slightly tousled from the breeze, lips parted just enough to make it look unintentional.

He hadn’t seen them yet.

Y/N leaned in close to Mingi, her voice a soft murmur behind a teasing smile. “Fate has such impeccable timing.”

Mingi chuckled low, dark and amused. “Or Seonghwa lied about him being unconfirmed.”

Y/N didn’t wait, she stepped forward, hips swaying with purpose, her dress catching the light just right as she moved into his line of sight. Yunho looked up. Froze. Blinked.

Then sat back a little too quickly, like his spine had just remembered how to hold tension.

“Bonjour,” Y/N purred, reaching his table.

Yunho straightened. “Oh, hey. I didn’t know you two…”

“Were in Paris?” Mingi finished, sliding his sunglasses up onto his head, smiling like he already knew every thought Yunho was trying to push away. “Neither did you, apparently.”

Y/N leaned over the table slightly, lace neckline dipping in a way that made Yunho glance away for a second too long. “We missed your face, Yunho.”

His ears turned pink.

“I didn’t know I’d be seeing you again,” Yunho said, voice low, careful. “Not this soon.”

“We’re walking,” Mingi said easily. “Diesel for me. Balmain for her. Seonghwa’s working us to death.”

Y/N ran a finger around the rim of Yunho’s coffee cup. “Are you shooting backstage?”

Yunho hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Balmain and Diesel both, actually. Editorials. Portraits.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, eyes bright. “So we’ll be seeing a lot of you.”

Mingi pulled out a chair and sat down like he owned the whole sidewalk. “Might as well join you now. You know how the three of us always make the best pictures.”

Yunho swallowed, looking at the two of them like they were heat waves on pavement. Impossible not to stare at, impossible not to want.

“Yeah,” he said, slowly. “I remember.”

Yunho sat back in his chair, absently stirring his coffee, but his attention was fully on Y/N and Mingi.

They were laughing. Really laughing. There was something completely different about them now, something behind the smiles that wasn’t for the cameras. It was in the way Mingi’s hand rested on Y/N knee under the table, fingers lazily tracing circles on her skin. It was the quiet way she leaned in to whisper something in his ear, making Mingi’s whole face light up, the rare, real smile that was always so hard to catch on film.

Yunho’s gaze lingered on them, drawn to the unspoken intimacy between them.

They weren’t just models. They were… them. Y/N hand brushed against Mingi’s, his fingers wrapping around hers as they sat there, still as if the world around them didn’t exist. They weren’t putting on a show, this wasn’t for the photographers or anyone else. This was just… them.

Yunho had seen them on the runway, posing in front of cameras, every movement calculated and flawless. But now, in this quiet moment, he saw them as something else, two people who had built something real out of the glimmering world they existed in. The chemistry wasn’t just a facade. It was natural, like they’d been a couple for years.

The way Mingi looked at her.

The way she smiled softly at him, as if she couldn’t stop herself.

Yunho leaned back, unsure if he should look away. He felt almost like an intruder, like he was trespassing in a world he wasn’t supposed to see.

When Mingi caught his eye across the table, he didn’t even try to hide the smug grin that pulled at his lips. He was aware, aware of the way Yunho had been observing them, aware that he and Y/N had a kind of connection no one else could touch. Yunho felt his face flush, but Mingi didn’t break his gaze. Instead, he leaned in, dropping his voice low.

“You’ve been staring at us for a while, Yunho,” he teased, his tone smooth, like the kind of dangerous casualness that made Yunho’s heart skip.

Y/N, who had been absorbed in their little private world, glanced over at Yunho with a tilt of her head. “He’s just trying to figure out if he wants to take us home or if he’s already planning his next shoot,” she said, eyes dancing with mischief.

Yunho could feel his chest tighten, a heat crawling up his neck. “I…. uh…”

Mingi chuckled, rubbing his thumb across Y/N hand, squeezing it like he was marking territory. “It’s okay. We’re used to being admired.”

Y/N smiled, but there was something soft about it now. No longer playful, just… honest. She leaned in closer to Mingi, her lips brushing against his ear, and whispered something too quiet for Yunho to hear.

Whatever it was, Mingi’s smile grew wider, and it felt like the world shrank around them, making Yunho feel like an outsider in the moment they shared.

He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to stare.”

Y/N gaze softened, and she reached out, her hand brushing Yunho’s shoulder. “Don’t apologize. It’s just…” She met Mingi’s eyes, and for a moment, Yunho saw something deeper in her expression. Something almost… vulnerable. “Sometimes, we forget how to be ourselves when we’re always in the spotlight. You saw something real just now.”

Mingi’s gaze softened too, and he dropped a gentle kiss to her temple, the kind of kiss only someone who truly cared could give. “It’s easy to forget we’re more than just models.”

Yunho nodded, but his mind was racing. He hadn’t just seen two models today. He’d seen a couple, deeply in sync, aware of each other in a way that made Yunho feel like the third wheel just by being in the same room.

His stomach twisted, but he pushed the feeling aside. He had no place in their world. Not yet, at least.

“Well,” Yunho finally said, trying to lighten the mood, “I guess I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll let you two enjoy your Paris coffee.”

Y/N gave him a smile, and this time, it was softer, more sincere. “Thanks for understanding. It’s just… sometimes we need a reminder of what we have when the cameras aren’t watching.”

Mingi slid his arm around her, pulling her a little closer, and winked at Yunho. “But don’t get any ideas. She’s taken.”

Yunho chuckled awkwardly, feeling a little too exposed. “Got it. No competition here.”

As they all sat back into a comfortable silence, Yunho couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just witnessed something precious, something far more than just what he’d expected from the pair of them.

He’d always seen the polished exterior of Y/N and Mingi. But this… this was the heart of who they were.

And he was starting to wonder if he was becoming too interested in it.

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The city buzzed with that effortless Parisian elegance, lights flickering across cobblestone streets as Yunho followed Seonghwa and Hoshi Kwan into a dimly lit bar tucked off the beaten path. A cozy booth in the corner was waiting for them, and Yunho sank into the seat across from Hoshi, his mind still lingering on the earlier run in with Y/N and Mingi at the cafe.

He couldn’t lie to himself, seeing them again had messed with his head more than it should’ve. Not as models this time. Not styled for the camera. Just them. Y/N in that lace silk dress, Mingi all in black, his hand at the small of her back, their shared glances so intimate it made Yunho feel like an intruder.

“So, Yunho,” Hoshi was grinning as he leaned in, already sipping on a cocktail. “Seonghwa’s told me about you. Heard you worked with Y/N and Mingi.”

Yunho gave a slow nod, lips twitching into a modest smile. “Yeah, a couple of shoots now. The Vogue one was the most recent.”

Hoshi’s eyebrows rose. “Lucky you. Those two are something else.”

Seonghwa gave Yunho a look over the rim of his glass, one that said, see? I told you so.

Yunho chuckled, settling in. “You could say I was warned.”

Hoshi blinked, intrigued. “Oh?”

Seonghwa smirked. “I gave him the rundown. After the Calvin Klein shoot, I figured I should. Told him that whatever they were doing… it wasn’t just harmless teasing.”

“And?” Hoshi’s eyes twinkled. “Did you believe him?”

“I didn’t want to,” Yunho admitted, a little sheepish. “But I learned quick. Y/N not subtle when she wants something, and Mingi lets her have it, no hesitation. They move like they’ve been in sync their whole lives.”

Hoshi gave a low whistle. “You’re not wrong.”

There was a beat of silence before Hoshi leaned forward again, elbows on the table, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Since we’re talking about it… You know Kim Mingyu, right?”

Yunho tilted his head. “The Calvin Klein guy?”

“The very one,” Hoshi nodded, swirling his drink. “Used to be their third.”

Yunho’s eyebrows shot up.

“Not their last one,” Seonghwa added, “but definitely the one that did the most damage.”

“What happened?” Yunho asked, now fully engaged.

“Mingyu had too much chemistry with Y/N,” Hoshi said with a shrug. “Real heat between them. It pushed Mingi past his breaking point.”

“Thing is,” Seonghwa added, “Mingi tried to act like it didn’t bother him. But it did. He can be possessive. Mingyu didn’t back off either, he thought he had just as much of a claim.”

Hoshi nodded. “And when that line blurred, it got ugly. Shoot schedules fell apart, brands had to rework deals. Mingi pulled strings to make sure they wouldn’t work together again.”

“So now Mingyu’s off limits,” Seonghwa said. “And after that… they’ve been more careful. They’ve messed around, sure, but no one’s lasted long.”

“And definitely no one’s gotten close to what Mingyu had,” Hoshi finished, watching Yunho closely. “Just a friendly heads up.”

Yunho exhaled slowly, the weight of their words settling in his chest. He appreciated the warning, but he already knew he was in deeper than he should be.

And yet… that didn’t make him want to back off.

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The venue was a vision, gleaming marble floors, gold accented walls, soft lighting casting everyone in a champagne glow. A listers mingled with designers and models, laughter and clinking glasses floating over bass heavy lounge music. Photographers flanked the sides of the main entrance, flashes popping in rapid fire as the biggest names in fashion made their entrances.

Yunho stood near the far edge of the room, camera slung around his neck despite the open bar and glittering crowd. He was here officially for press content, just a few photos for the Vogue recap piece, but his eyes kept straying toward the entrance, anticipation brewing low in his chest.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The room shifted.

Heads turned. Conversations paused.

Y/N walked in wearing a crimson Balmain dress, sculpted and dangerous, with sharp shoulders, a dipped neckline, and a hem that stopped mid thigh to show off legs that made photographers practically stumble over each other. Her lips were painted to match, deep red and unapologetically bold. Her hair was pinned up with a few loose strands framing her face, effortlessly sultry.

Next to her, Mingi looked like sin wrapped in Diesel black, fitted jacket, mesh shirt beneath it just sheer enough to tease, matching pants, and his signature cool expression that made people stop and stare.

They were a vision together. Magnetic. Electric.

Yunho lifted his camera on instinct and took a shot. And another.

But the real moment, the one that landed deep in his gut, wasn’t the outfit or the pose. It was the way Y/N leaned into Mingi as they walked, the casual possessiveness of his hand resting just above her hip, the way she looked up at him and laughed at something he said, eyes soft, mouth easy.

Not for show. Not for the camera.

That was just them.

Yunho lowered the camera slowly. His pulse picked up, something sharp curling behind his ribs.

They were always beautiful in front of his lens.

But this? This was real.

And it was starting to feel dangerous.

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The party was a living, breathing thing, opulent and thrumming with curated decadence. Everywhere Yunho looked, there were flashes of wealth and beauty, Paris Fashion Week at its peak. But despite the chaos, his thoughts were unusually quiet, narrowing in on a single point that lingered like static behind his ribs.

He kept thinking about what Seonghwa and Hoshi said.

Kim Mingyu.

Not their last third, but the one who left a mark. The one who crossed a line.

And yet, here he was. Standing alone near the floor to ceiling windows of the pre gala party, drink untouched in his hand, camera slung against his hip, when the air shifted again.

Mingi.

Head to toe black Diesel, cutting through the room like he owned it. He didn’t say anything right away, just came to stand beside Yunho, gaze casually sweeping the crowd before glancing sideways at him.

“She wants you,” Mingi said simply. Voice low, like he was stating a weather report. “Y/N. She’s been talking about you since we met.”

Yunho’s stomach tightened, but he kept his expression even. “You’re really okay with that?”

Mingi’s lips curved slightly. “It’s not about me. It’s about her. And I don’t let her go without what she wants.”

Yunho studied him, pulse quickening. Mingi didn’t seem nervous. Didn’t seem threatened. But Yunho wasn’t stupid. He remembered Hoshi’s tone. The weight in Seonghwa’s voice when they’d said, Mingyu didn’t back off. And Mingi doesn’t forget.

So Yunho asked, quiet, honest, almost like he needed to hear it aloud.

“And you won’t get jealous?”

Mingi’s eyes met his, darker now, the curve of his mouth not quite a smile. “I didn’t say that.”

There was something loaded in the way he said it. A warning, maybe. Or a dare?

He clapped Yunho on the shoulder once, firm but friendly, then slipped back into the crowd, back to the woman in the red Balmain dress, who was already looking at Yunho like she’d been waiting for him all night.

Yunho didn’t have time to recover before she was there.

Y/N.

All crimson silk and impossible curves, her Balmain dress hugging her like it was made for seduction. Her walk was slow, deliberate, heels clicking softly against the floor, eyes locked on Yunho like he was her next indulgence.

“Photographer,” She purred when she reached him, fingers lightly trailing up his forearm. “You clean up well.”

Yunho swallowed hard. “So do you.”

She smiled, sultry and knowing. “I know.”

Her hand didn’t leave him. Instead, it slid up to his shoulder, thumb brushing along the lapel of his jacket as she leaned in, breath warm against his neck. “Been thinking about you,” She whispered. “About your hands. About how focused you look when you’re shooting.” Her mouth hovered just at his ear. “Bet you’d look even better focused on me without a camera.”

Yunho exhaled slowly, fighting the heat crawling up his spine. “Y/N…”

She pulled back only slightly, enough for their eyes to meet. Her gaze was playful, challenging, but there was something real simmering under it. Something that dared him to lean in.

Across the room, Mingi watched.

One hand in his pocket, jaw sharp, his expression unreadable, except for the fire behind his eyes. He wasn’t moving. He didn’t have to. He was watching his girl flirt with another man, and instead of stepping in… he let it happen.

Not jealous.

Not yet.

But the tension in his shoulders said he was waiting. Watching. Measuring Yunho.

Seonghwa stepped up beside him, casually sipping from a slim glass of champagne. His eyes followed Mingi’s, landing on the way Y/N fingers were now dragging lightly down Yunho’s chest, her lips parted as she laughed at something only the two of them could hear.

“She’s being bold tonight,” Seonghwa murmured.

Mingi didn’t say anything.

Seonghwa’s gaze narrowed, just slightly. “You okay?”

Mingi’s jaw ticked, but his voice was steady. “She wants him.”

“And you’re not jealous?”

“I haven’t been given a reason to be yet.”

Seonghwa’s lips twitched like he almost smiled, but there was no humor in it. Just quiet warning. “You remember the last person she wanted this bad didn’t end well.”

The name didn’t need to be said.

Mingyu.

Mingi’s eyes flicked sideways for a moment, sharp and thoughtful, but he didn’t respond. Just kept his gaze locked on Yunho.

And still, he didn’t stop her.

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Later in the night, the party was louder, looser. Glasses clinked, music pulsed, and laughter echoed through the vaulted ceilings. But Mingi wasn’t laughing. Not anymore.

Seonghwa’s words lingered like smoke in the back of his mind.

The last person she wanted this bad didn’t end well

Mingyu.

That name still left a sour taste in his mouth.

Mingi had never been jealous of many things, never needed to be. But Mingyu had been different. Too confident. Too casual with Y/N. Too bold in the way he made her laugh and groan in the same breath. The way he started crossing lines Mingi hadn’t given him permission to cross.

And now Yunho was in the picture. Different, yes. Calmer. Smarter. But maybe that made him more dangerous.

Because Y/N wanted him just as bad.

And Mingi could see the way Yunho was fighting it.

So when she slipped away to get another drink, Mingi followed.

He caught her in the hallway outside the private lounge, quiet, dimly lit, walls lined with vintage photographs. She didn’t even get a chance to ask where he’d been before he was pressing her back against the wall, large hands on her waist, mouth brushing over her jaw.

“Mingi” She gasped, but she was already pulling him closer, dress sliding against his chest like a challenge.

“I needed to touch you.” He murmured into her neck. “Right now. After the way you looked at him.”

Her lips parted, her pulse quick under his mouth. “You weren’t jealous.”

“I wasn’t.” He kissed her. Slow and deep. “Then Seonghwa brought up Mingyu.”

Y/N laughed softly, wickedly. “Baby,” she whispered, biting his lower lip between her teeth. “Yunho’s not Mingyu.”

“I know.” His hands slipped under the hem of her dress, warm and firm. “But I still need you.”

She didn’t stop him. She never did.

His mouth found hers again, hungrier this time. She moaned into the kiss as he pressed her harder against the wall, his thigh slotting between hers, her dress riding higher…..

The door creaked open.

Yunho froze in the doorway.

Eyes wide. Breath caught.

He hadn’t meant to find them. He’d been looking for Seonghwa, or maybe a place to breathe, to shake off the feel of her touch still lingering on his skin.

But now he couldn’t look away.

Mingi’s mouth was on her throat. Her leg wrapped around his hip. Her lipstick smudged and her eyes half lidded, until they snapped open and met Yunho’s.

She didn’t look embarrassed.

She looked amused.

And worse… inviting.

Yunho blinked once, hard, like it might reset what he was seeing.

It didn’t.

Mingi’s hands were still gripping Y/N thighs, her leg still hooked around him, the two of them caught in a moment that felt too intimate, too raw, too private.

Yunho’s breath hitched, and he immediately stepped back, gaze darting to the floor. “Shit… I didn’t mean to… I was just looking for… sorry.” His voice was low, rushed, like he was fumbling for the doorknob with his words.

He turned.

But before he could make it two steps, her voice stopped him.

“Yunho.”

He froze.

Her tone wasn’t surprised or shy, it was laced with heat, curiosity. A tease, dressed up in velvet. He turned slightly, unsure if he was imagining the smirk in her voice or the glint in her eyes.

Y/N had gently slipped out of Mingi’s grasp, straightening her dress like it hadn’t just been bunched around her waist, smoothing her hair with a flick of her fingers. Mingi stayed where he was, watching her, his breathing slow and controlled, like he was waiting to see what she’d do.

She stepped toward Yunho, heels quiet on the dark wood floor.

“You’re not intruding.” She said, soft and coaxing, brushing an invisible wrinkle off his chest. “We were just… killing time.”

Yunho’s eyes met hers. “Y/N…”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then dragged up again. “You can stay. If you want.”

He swallowed hard. “Mingi?”

“I said,” She whispered, inching closer, “whatever I want, Mingi gives me.”

And behind her, Mingi hadn’t moved, but the look in his eyes said he heard her. That he meant it.

That if Yunho said yes, he wouldn’t stop it.

Yunho’s resolve was slipping.

Every breath he took was filled with her perfume, jasmine and heat and something else that only belonged to her. Y/N fingers danced along the edge of his collar, slow and deliberate, and her lips were so close he could feel the warmth of them. Her body fit perfectly in the space between him and the wall. And behind her, Mingi’s silence was more dangerous than any words, like he was waiting for Yunho to make a move. Giving permission without ever speaking it aloud.

Yunho’s hand lifted, fingers hovering just shy of her waist.

Almost.

Just as he was about to fall….

“Y/N!”

Seonghwa’s voice rang through the corridor, sharp and familiar.

Y/N froze, her eyes flicking toward the hallway entrance just as Seonghwa came into view, phone in hand and a slight roll to his step like he’d been hurrying.

He stopped short when he saw the three of them. His brows lifted, but otherwise, he didn’t react. He’d seen too much over the years to be easily surprised.

Still, his eyes settled squarely on her.

“Olivier Rousteing is looking for you,” he said calmly. “Something about last minute fittings. He wants you backstage ten minutes ago.”

Y/N blinked, almost pouting. “Now?”

“Yes. Now. You’re closing his show, remember?”

She let out a long, theatrical sigh, then turned back to Yunho, her fingers sliding down his chest as she stepped away. “Guess I’ll have to make you fall for me another time.”

Yunho exhaled like he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath.

She winked as she passed Seonghwa, swaying like sin in that red Balmain dress, and disappeared around the corner.

Mingi followed with a lingering glance at Yunho, one that held no malice… just a warning.

And then Yunho was alone with Seonghwa, pulse still racing, lips slightly parted.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “So… how close were you to making a mistake?”

Yunho didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The Diesel show was a fever dream of black leather, chains, and unapologetic confidence. The bass of the music thrummed through the venue like a pulse, strobes flashing over sharp silhouettes as model after model claimed the runway like a battlefield.

Yunho stood just behind the press line, his camera practically an extension of him. But he wasn’t looking through the lens as much as he should’ve been. His eyes kept drifting.

First to Mingi, storming down the runway in head to toe Diesel, tailored black pants hanging low on his hips, skin visible beneath a half unbuttoned shirt, gaze sharp and locked dead ahead. A commanding presence. A walking brand fantasy.

Then to Y/N, front row with Seonghwa, legs crossed beneath her sleek coat, blood red lips slightly parted as she watched Mingi walk like he owned the world.

And Yunho? He couldn’t help but watch her.

Even in a room full of flashing lights and impossibly beautiful people, she was the one that made time slow. As if the air bent a little differently around her.

Once Mingi’s set was done and he disappeared behind the curtains, the rest of the show continued, but Y/N didn’t stay seated. She leaned over to whisper something to Seonghwa, then rose from her seat with effortless grace.

Yunho barely caught her slipping through the side of the stage, and suddenly, she was there again.

Just the two of them.

Backstage, tucked away from the chaos, the sounds of the show muffled behind the heavy curtains. The lighting here was softer, less performance, more intimacy.

“You looked distracted,” her tone was light, teasing, amused. “Didn’t even raise your camera for half of Mingi’s walk.”

Yunho swallowed, shifting slightly. “I was… watching.”

She stepped closer, eyes scanning his face like she could see every thought he hadn’t said out loud. Her fingertips brushed the strap of his camera, a lazy drag that made him still.

“You always watch like that?” she asked, eyes flicking to his lips. “Or just when it’s me?”

He hesitated.

That was enough.

Y/N took the space between them with a slow, confident step forward, fingers rising to gently fix the collar of his jacket, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. Her hand lingered. So did her eyes.

“You could’ve kissed me the other night,” she said, voice soft. “You wanted to.”

His breath hitched.

“I still want to.” He admitted.

She smiled like she already knew.

But just as he started to lean into her warmth, the scent of her skin clouding his head, he cleared his throat, his conscience slipping in like a shadow.

“I heard… about Mingyu.” He said carefully.

That name. It hung between them like a curtain abruptly pulled shut.

Y/N fingers stopped. She didn’t step back, but the temperature shifted.

“And?”

“I just..” Yunho held her gaze. “If that ended badly… maybe I’m not the smartest choice.”

A pause.

Then her hand slid up his chest, slow and deliberate, resting over his heart.

“You’re not him,” she remarked simply. “Don’t bring him up around Mingi.”

Yunho nodded once.

And when she stepped back this time, there was still heat in her gaze, but also a warning.

One he’d do well to remember.

She walked away from Yunho like nothing had happened.

Back straight, head high, heels sharp against the polished concrete floor. Her blood red lips stayed untouched, but her heart was pounding. Not because she’d crossed a line, but because he hadn’t stepped back.

Not really.

Mingi found her just behind the dressing area, his shirt still unbuttoned from the runway, his skin warm and flushed from the lights and adrenaline. He looked at her the way he always did, like she was his, and always would be.

“Where’d you sneak off to?” He asked, voice low, gaze sweeping her like he already knew the answer.

She tilted her head and smiled. “Had to find the photographer.”

His jaw flexed. Not in anger, but in anticipation.

“Did he say yes?”

“I think,” she started brushing her fingers down his bare chest, “he’s thinking about it.”

Mingi let out a low chuckle, but there was something darker behind it.

“Good,” he murmured, catching her wrist and tugging her just a little closer, “because I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho stayed where she’d left him.

Shoulders against the wall, head tilted back, eyes closed for a beat too long. Her perfume clung to his skin like heat. His heart wouldn’t slow down, and his hands, steady as hell behind a camera, were slightly trembling.

She’d touched him again.

She wanted him again.

And she’d told him not to talk about Mingyu, her voice soft, but her eyes sharp enough to slice through every rational thought he was trying to cling to.

He’d thought Seonghwa and Hoshi were being dramatic, warning him off like he was some clueless rookie about to get eaten alive.

But now?

He could see it.

He could see how someone could get attached. Obsessed. Lost.

And that someone… could easily be him.

He pushed off the wall with a heavy sigh, trying to blink the heat from his vision, trying to remember that he was here for work. That this was fashion week. That he was already in too deep.

But then he thought of her lips, just inches from his, and how Mingi hadn’t even needed to be in the room for Yunho to feel owned.

He was already in it.

The real question was… how long before he stopped trying to climb out?

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The hotel suite was dimly lit, drenched in the soft amber glow of Paris night. Floor to ceiling windows framed the city skyline like a painting, but neither Y/N nor Mingi were looking outside.

Their focus was each other.

Y/N coat hit the floor first, the red silk of her Balmain dress clinging to her curves like it had been made just for her. Mingi’s fingers found the zipper immediately, dragging it down slowly, reverently, like every inch of her skin was something sacred he’d worshipped a thousand times and still couldn’t get enough of.

“You shouldn’t have gone after him like that,” he muttered, lips grazing her throat as the dress slipped from her shoulders.

Y/N smirked, fingers toying with the waistband of his black slacks. “Jealous?”

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

He kissed her like it was punishment and worship all at once, pressing her back into the plush bedding, hands everywhere, touch demanding but never cruel. Possessive, yes. But not insecure. He knew she was his.

Still, he had to remind her.

And in the room next door, through the wall, Yunho couldn’t breathe.

His camera bag was still on the floor where he dropped it. His shirt half buttoned from changing when he heard it, soft laughter, the dull thud of something hitting the wall. Then Y/N voice. Low, breathless. Intimate.

Then Mingi’s.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He told himself to get up, turn on the TV, distract himself. But he didn’t.

He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, jaw clenched tight as the sounds filtered through the wall, quiet at first, then sharper. Moans swallowed by kisses. The creak of the bed. A laugh from her that made his stomach twist.

You could’ve kissed me the other night

He wanted to tell himself this was fine. That they were a couple. That he knew what he was getting into.

But knowing it and hearing it, feeling it, were two entirely different things.

When her voice hit just the right pitch, a soft, broken whisper of Mingi’s name that could’ve been his if he wasn’t so goddamn careful… Yunho had to get up. Had to put distance between himself and that wall or he was going to go insane.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Mingi was already deep inside her. Sweat slicked down his back, muscles flexing as his hips snapped forward again and again, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing off the walls in the hotel room, them having no idea that Yunho was right next door, hearing every dirty sound, their moans like a rhythm only they knew.

Y/N hands were clenched in the sheets, her back arching as he drove into her harder, deeper, rougher than he had all night.

But it still wasn’t enough.

“More,” She gasped, voice wrecked and eyes wild, the word falling from her lips like a dare. “Mingi… fuck… give me more.”

He stilled for one agonizing beat.

Then he growled.

Not a word. A growl. A sound torn from his chest that rumbled through her spine and made her clench around him in anticipation. His hands grabbed her hips, tight, possessive, fingers digging in like he was marking her from the inside and out.

“You think I’m not giving you enough?” He muttered, voice low, dangerous, hot against her ear. “You wanna tell me how to fuck you now?”

She whimpered, but didn’t back down. “I can take it.”

He laughed, dark, amused, breathless.

“Oh, baby,” he hissed, dragging out slow, brutal thrusts now that made her legs tremble. “I know you can.”

And he started pounding into her like he meant to ruin her. Like he meant to leave her so full and sore that no one would ever forget who she belonged to, not even her.

Her cries turned into moans, broken, needy things as he hit a spot that made her legs lock around his waist. Her nails raked down his back, and it only made him go harder, one hand shifting up to wrap lightly around her throat as he looked down at her, sweaty, flushed, completely wrecked under him.

“Look at you,” he growled, thumb stroking over her chin possessively. “Fucking mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped, eyes rolling back as he angled his hips just right again. “Mingi…I’m yours”

“Damn right you are.” His grip on her tightened just a little, just enough to make her breath hitch. “No one else has ever fucked you this good. No one else makes you beg like this.”

Her back arched, body trembling on the edge, and he could feel it, the way her walls pulsed around him, the way her legs quivered.

“Come,” he ordered, voice sharp, raw. “Now.”

And she did. Clenching around him so hard he swore, burying his face against her neck as she shattered beneath him.

Y/N was still trembling beneath him, her body twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm when he pulled out with a hiss, not giving her even a second to breathe.

“Up.” He growled.

Before she could even process it, Mingi had flipped her over onto her stomach, hauling her hips up and sliding right back inside her with a brutal thrust that knocked the air out of her lungs. She cried out, legs spreading wider for him instinctively, back arching as he gripped her waist tight.

But then, oh, then, he leaned down, his chest flush against her back, and dragged her upright. One strong arm wrapped across her belly, the other snaked up, hand sliding around her throat again, not to squeeze, not yet. Just to hold her still. To own her.

He pressed his lips to the shell of her ear, his voice low, cruel, intoxicating.

“Say it.”

She gasped, head falling back against his shoulder, body pinned perfectly against his.

“Say what?”

His grip tightened just enough to make her pulse stutter beneath his fingers.

“Say his name.”

Her entire body went still. Mingi grinned against her cheek, hips rolling into her slow and deep, every thrust angled to destroy her from the inside out.

“Yunho,” He murmured darkly. “Your favorite photographer. You’ve been giving him more attention than me.”

Her breath caught.

“Mingi…”

“I’m not mad,” he whispered. “Not even jealous. But I like the way his name sounds coming from you.”

He slammed into her again, rough and possessive, and her cry echoed through the room.

Her eyes fluttered, the mixture of desire for the photographer and lust driving her closer to the edge than she thought possible.

“Yu… yu…”

“Say it,” he growled, hand tightening, not enough to hurt, but just enough to command.

“YUNHO” His name left her in a gasped scream.

And Mingi snapped.

He fucked her harder, deeper, chasing the image of it, her moaning Yunho’s name while completely owned by him. The power of it, the sheer filth of it had him groaning against her shoulder, lost in the madness of it.

“You think he could fuck you like this?” He snarled, thrusts merciless. “You think Yunho could ruin you like I do?”

She couldn’t speak. She was gone, wrecked.

“I’ll make sure he knows,” Mingi growled, possessive to the bone. “I’ll leave you dripping with me… so when he finally breaks and finally fucks you, he’ll feel every last drop of me still inside you.”

She came again, hard. So hard it nearly blacked her out, his name sobbed into the sheets even as hers echoed off the walls.

And Mingi wasn’t far behind.

He could feel the tension building in his spine, the tight coil of pleasure wound so sharp it hurt. But just before he tipped over the edge, he pulled out, hissing through his teeth like it physically pained him not to finish.

“Turn around,” he panted, voice rough with restraint. “Ride me. Now.”

But Y/N didn’t move.

She twisted in his grasp, still breathless, still flushed, but her eyes, oh, her eyes were gleaming. Defiant. Dominant.

“No,” she said, slow and sultry, pushing him back onto the mattress instead. “You lay down.”

Mingi blinked once and then grinned, doing exactly what she said.

He dropped back, chest rising and falling as she crawled over him, straddling his hips with that wicked look in her eyes, her thighs still trembling and slick as she lined herself up and sank down on him all at once.

They both moaned, loud, raw, desperate.

“Shit,” he gasped, hands flying to her hips but she slapped them away.

“No touching,” she whispered, grinding down into his lap. “You wanted a show? Then watch.”

And fuck, he did.

He watched as she rode him slow, rolling her hips in tight circles, milking every inch of him like it was her right. Her hands dragged up his chest, nails scraping, back arched as she bounced, sweat dripping between her breasts. Mingi’s jaw clenched, veins in his neck straining.

She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest.

“You like that?” she purred, breath hot against his mouth. “You like me using you like this?” He groaned, nodding frantically. “Yes…. fuck, yes. You feel so good… don’t stop, don’t…. fuck”

She slammed her hips down harder, riding him fast now, chasing her own release as much as his. Her head tilted back, mouth parting in a broken moan. “Say it.”

Mingi was almost complete mess. “Say what?” He was so close. Y/N reached up, hand wrapping around his throat just like he did her own. “Say… his name.”

Fuck! Mingi said his name in a broken growl as she pulled all the way off him, his tip just poking at her entrance. “Yunho…” Then she slammed back down on him.

“I’m gonna…. Mingi…. fuck… come with me,” she gasped, riding him rougher, faster. “Come inside me, come with me….now….”

He couldn’t hold back.

With a choked cry of her name, Mingi bucked up into her, his hands finally grabbing her hips as he thrust into her from beneath, coming hard, hot, and deep inside her just as she shattered around him. Her whole body trembled above him, legs locking tight, head dropping forward as she pulsed around him, dragging him through the kind of orgasm that left him wrecked.

They were still catching their breath, bodies slick and tangled, when Y/N slowly pulled off him, making Mingi groan from the sudden emptiness.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, one arm flung over his eyes. “You’re gonna kill me.”

But she wasn’t done.

She slid down the bed between his legs, her fingers wrapping around his still sensitive length, already hardening again, because his body knew hers like an addiction.

Mingi’s breath hitched.

“Baby, what’re you….”

“Shhh,” she cooed, stroking him slow. “You can take it.”

His hips twitched, muscles already taut again. She moved her hand with teasing purpose, slick, warm, her thumb swiping over the head as she watched him unravel with every stroke.

“Y/N… fuck, I’m….” he gasped, thighs tensing.

“Come for me,” she whispered, hot breath ghosting over him. “Come just from this.”

And he did. With a broken moan, Mingi’s back arched, his body jerking as thick ropes spilled over her hand. He was still groaning when her other hand pushed against his chest, and she was crawling over him again.

“Wait…wait….” But she didn’t wait. She lined herself up with him, still twitching, still throbbing in her grip, and sank down on him with a breathless sigh.

Mingi shouted.

“Holy fuck… baby… I just came!”

“I know,” she purred, riding him slow and deep, her hands on his chest as she started to roll her hips again. “You can still take it.”

He was wide, eyed, panting, a little delirious as she used him again, his dick still oversensitive, her body squeezing around him like she owned him.

“Too much?” she asked sweetly, biting her bottom lip as she bounced just a little harder.

His fingers curled into the sheets.

“Yes… no… fuck, I don’t know”

She leaned down, lips brushing his ear. “You said you wanted Yunho to fill you still dripping inside me.” She wqs still grinding on him slowly, her breath catching every time his dick twitched inside her. Her body was greedy, hungry, rolling her hips with teasing, rhythmic control that had Mingi’s thighs trembling again.

But she should’ve known better.

Because he warned her.

He growled low in his chest, hands tightening around her hips, and before she could blink, he snatched her wrists, yanking them behind her back in one quick, dominating motion.

She gasped, body jolting forward, but he was already sitting up, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other holding her wrists tight behind her. He pulled her flush against his chest, caging her in with raw, unrelenting strength.

“You think you get to fuck me like that,” he snarled into her ear, “tease me with him and walk away on your own two legs?”

Her body arched helplessly, back bowing into him, her nails digging into her own palms. “Mingi..”

“No. You wanted to ride me? You wanted to tease me? Now you take it.”

And he started pounding into her, deep, hard, merciless thrusts that had her moaning uncontrollably, her legs locked around his waist as he used her exactly how he needed. Her arms were still pinned, her body fully his to manipulate, and the angle he was hitting now was criminal.

“Look at you,” he growled, biting down against her shoulder. “So fucking drunk on my dick. You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think. Her head dropped against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent scream as he drove her straight to the edge again.

“Come on,” he panted against her neck. “Come with me. I wanna feel you squeeze the fuck out of me. You’re gonna come so hard it’ll push me out.”

And that was it.

Y/N shattered in his arms, her walls clenching tight, her whole body convulsing around him as she cried out his name. Mingi’s grip turned bruising, thrusts erratic, deeper than before, until he let out a ragged, desperate moan and buried himself inside her, his entire body locking up as he came hard, spilling into her in deep, pulsing waves.

They froze there, tangled together, breathless and wrecked, his chest heaving against her back, his dick twitching inside her, her legs still trembling as they both came down from the high.

He finally let go of her wrists, his hands smoothing over her hips and stomach as he kissed the side of her neck.

“That’s what you get,” he murmured, voice ragged and smug.

Y/N slumped against him, completely spent.

“I think I broke you,” he added, a little too proud.

She didn’t answer.

She just groaned.

But he felt the way her hips moved again. Just a little.

And it was his turn to groan.

“You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Insatiable.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The grand hall glittered like something out of a fever dream, crystal chandeliers above, gold accented pillars framing the sleek runway that cut through the room like a line of fire. A sea of editors, celebrities, influencers, and photographers filled the space with buzzing conversation and designer perfumes.

Yunho stood near the media pit, camera raised, body tense.

He hadn’t seen Y/N or Mingi all day.

But he’d heard them last night.

He hadn’t meant to. Had barely meant to listen. But it had happened, and now, the sound of her voice, the gasps, the laughter, the raw edge of Mingi’s groan, hearing Y/N scream his name not Mingi’s, it all haunted him.

And now he was here, waiting to capture Y/N in Balmain’s latest masterpiece like he hadn’t spent the previous night with her name tangled in his throat and his hand clenched into the sheets.

He shifted, focusing the lens.

“Hey, lover boy.”

A low voice behind him made his pulse jump.

Yunho didn’t even have to turn around.

Mingi.

He wasn’t in the front row with Seonghwa or the brand executives, no, he was lingering behind Yunho, clearly avoiding the spotlight, eyes scanning the crowd like he was there for something more dangerous than fashion.

Or someone.

“Didn’t expect to see you up and moving so early,” Mingi murmured, stepping in a little closer. His voice was casual, but his tone wasn’t. “You look tired.”

Yunho kept his camera up. “Didn’t sleep much.”

“Shame. We slept great.”

Yunho clenched his jaw, said nothing. Did they know his room was next to theirs?

His attention was pulled back to the runway when the music shifted and the light lit it up.

And Y/N stepped out.

Yunho’s breath caught. The crowd murmured with admiration.

She was a vision, clad in a structured, deep cut red Balmain mini dress with long sleeves and sharp shoulders, cinched at the waist. Her hair was sleek, parted down the middle. Lips bold and crimson. Legs endless beneath the fabric, heels deadly.

She walked like she knew the world would stop for her. Because it always did.

She didn’t even look at Yunho.

But he saw the hint of a smirk when she passed.

“Stunning, huh?” Mingi murmured behind him, watching the exact moment Yunho’s fingers twitched on the camera again.

“She’s… something,” Yunho muttered, barely able to focus through the viewfinder.

Mingi leaned in just slightly, voice low and laced with amusement. “You always shoot with your jaw that tight? Or is that a Y/N problem?”

Yunho didn’t answer.

But the heat in his chest said more than words ever could.

Yunho’s camera clicked again, shutter sharp, crisp, too many shots taken too fast. His pulse was hammering, eyes following the smooth arc of Y/N stride like gravity itself had shifted to center on her.

From behind, a breath touched his neck.

Warm. Deliberate.

Mingi stepped forward, closer. Closer than necessary. Close enough Yunho could feel the brush of his chest against his back, could count the beats in the silence.

“You watch her like I do,” Mingi murmured, voice silk and smoke in his ear.

Yunho froze.

His hands didn’t move, but the breath left him in a shallow rush.

Because it was true.

And Mingi knew it.

That same hushed worship in Yunho’s gaze, the magnetic pull he tried to deny every time she passed him, Mingi had seen it. Felt it. The way Yunho’s eyes always, always, found her first. The way his jaw clenched like every inch of her was a temptation he wasn’t allowed to touch.

Yunho swallowed hard, lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t remember how.

Mingi’s smile, barely there, grew against the edge of Yunho’s jawline. Not cocky. Not mocking. Just quiet understanding.

“I don’t blame you,” he added softly. “But if you want her…” His hand ghosted just beside Yunho’s hip, never touching, but near enough to feel the warning behind the heat. “You better be ready.”

Then he stepped back, vanishing into the shadows of the stage wings just as Y/N reached the end of the runway, pausing in a perfect pose, her red dress catching the light like flame.

Yunho took the shot.

But his hands were shaking.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

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