#lee minho is probably living his best life

[moonjxsung]

Begged & Borrowed

Copyright Ⓒ 2023 by Moonjxsung

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner. Doing so will result in a legal takedown per the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and is subject to legal action.

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 30.2k

Warnings: infidelity, drinking, smoking, use of pet names, unprotected sex, breast/nipple play, dry humping, clitoral stimulation

Synopsis: A turn of events causes you and your longtime best friend Minho to confront your true feelings for each other- except you’re already getting married to somebody else.

[this work was based off a request from “🌷” anon - thank you for requesting!]

18+. Mdni!

•

For as long as Minho has remembered, he’s been in a constant state of grieving. But no one’s passed, nor is there any reason to believe something should happen. Nonetheless, the feeling remains, a cruel reminder of the phenomenon when it hits him suddenly, eating away at his thoughts and boring into his flesh.

Like a seed planted deep in his body, one that suddenly sprouted, and won’t stop growing, and growing. And in his mind, this grieving takes its form in viridian hues of ivy, thin stringy stems that wrap around his bones and constrict him to a life lived within the cage of his own body. Rubbery leaves of green with venules that mirror his own veins and seem to mock him as they replace what’s left of him. And Minho can do nothing except coexist with this heavy sense of grieving, let the ivy strangle him in its unsuspecting embrace and rob him of his last breaths. He’s still in there, trapped somewhere, breathing in labored breaths and stiff at the limbs. But he can’t breathe, and he fears one day this grieving is going to kill him.

*

Minho exhales deeply, balancing a small cardboard box which houses a white cylindrical cake in his hands, his eyes darting nervously over the crowd inside. There seem to be 20, maybe 30 people, already acquainted with the space, chatting amongst themselves with glasses of champagne in hand. He’s tried your cell phone twice, to no avail- of course he knows you’re probably making your rounds, chatting with guests and double checking the hors d’oeuvres are to your liking. But he tries one more time just in case, bringing the phone up to his ear and letting it ring once, twice, three times- voicemail.

There’s no way around this but to go inside and socialize for the next hour, Minho’s personal idea of hell on earth. He grips the box a little firmer with one hand, using the other to slip his cell phone back into his pocket and make sure he can access it easily, just in case he needs to look busy. And with one more deep sigh, he begins the journey inside, mentally preparing to pretend as though he cares about any of this.

The venue interior is spacious, and admittedly a breathtaking view at this proximity, much to Minho’s stubborn dismay. Round white tables line the wooden floors, wrapped in velvety cream tablecloths and glowing in the dim lightning of tea candles. Similar cream-colored lanterns line the ceilings in neat rows, parallel to the strings of bohemian bulb lights that serve more as decoration than to actually brighten the place. And by the marble wall fountain at the back of the open space, there’s you, all dressed up and chatting enthusiastically with a group of women. Minho pauses for a moment, not yet proceeding, as he takes in the sight of your elegant appearance. Your figure is hugged delicately by a slim-fitting dress, a pair of strappy heels complementing the loose curls and simple makeup you sport. And he sighs again, feeling as though this is all going to be in vain the second he approaches you.

Yet he doesn’t even have to- you spot him from across the room first, whispering something in another woman’s ear before making your way toward him, an enchanted smile on your face and such purpose in your step as you near him. Minho’s heart quickens in his chest the way it always does when he’s around you, though his demeanor seems to relax fully once you’re in front of him, your arms extending for a hug as he shoots you a saccharine smile and pulls you into his embrace.

“You made it!” You exclaim enthusiastically, your arms wrapping around the broad shoulders he flaunts under his white collared button-up. He smells familiar, a comforting mix between fabric softener and his musky cologne, and it brings you right back to your days spent alongside him in college, catching late-night movies together and hitting up all your favorite fast food joints.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” Minho replies sweetly. He chuckles a little as he speaks, lost in the striking glow of your eyes at this proximity, your long eyelashes fluttering as you smile in response and nod.

“Thank god you’re here,” you voice, glancing around the room inconspicuously. “I think Jung’s friends have had one too many shots. And I asked for pink flowers on the centerpieces- do these look pink to you?”

You gesture to the bouquets of very magenta floral arrangements, shaking your head as Minho laughs in response.

“Hey, remember this is just to celebrate everything being finalized. You can get nit-picky when the wedding rolls around- for now, let’s just enjoy the magenta flowers.”

You smile up at him, always endeared at the way Minho finds the good in everything. He has a special way of taking your fears or reservations and making them seem so insignificant in contrast to the world around you. And he’s been that way for as long as you can remember, quick to fix things and stay by your side through the hardships whenever they crept up on you.

Like the time your car got impounded and he walked nearly two hours with you to get it back because neither of you could afford a taxi. Or the time your holiday office party was all but sleep-inducing, and he didn’t hesitate to drop what he was doing to take you out for burgers, instead.

And of course, being by your side throughout this very burdening wedding process. Minho’s the first person who got the news of the engagement when it happened, nearly shattering the dish he washed during a session of old cartoon reruns and fast food while you were out at dinner with Jung. And it was the last thing he’d expected, too, remembering how the week prior was spent lending a kindly ear to you as you ranted about Jung’s stubbornness and his poor temperament.

“Married?” He’d spoken into the phone, like the proposition of getting an engagement ring implied literally anything else.

And when you saw him again an entire week later, the marquis diamond hugged by delicate prongs and a sterling silver band around your fourth finger confirmed the words, as if your excitement over the phone hadn’t done so already. At first Minho was angry, declining invitations to hang out and forcing himself to stay asleep so as not to feel the sheer pain and regret that came with the news. What does she even see in him? He’d asked himself a dozen times a minute, mapping out the factors you complained about to him and weighing them against the likelihood that you’d actually follow through with this wedding.

He’s messy. He doesn’t like spending money on fancy dinners, so sometimes we’ll only do sides. My parents think he’s a little arrogant and when he’s with his friends, it’s like I don’t exist.

All signs point to negative. There’s no way you’d actually follow through with marrying Jung- at least not if it’s up to you. Maybe you had stars in your eyes, couldn’t say no to the sparkly ring and had thought back to the first date when he first got down on one knee. That has to be why you said yes.

The prospect of marrying him contractually is a headache when Minho thinks about it- and that’s not even inclusive of the idea that comes with spending the rest of your life cooped up in a house with him, with children and in-laws. It would mean years of him talking back to you, undermining you and rubbing his superiority complex in your face. Minho isn’t sure he could stick around for a lifetime of that.

At least he wasn’t sure before- and now, with just two months out till the wedding, Minho is panicking. It feels like some race against time to knock an ounce of sense into you, but the stars in your eyes are still there when he catches you glancing at your ring, or moved by Jung’s actions that scream the bare minimum.

“Did you see the champagne glasses? They’re iridescent! Jung got them just for tonight.”

Maybe that’s what you see in him. His noble trait of picking iridescent champagne glasses over clear ones.

“Cool,” Minho responds, giving you a small nod.

“What’s in the box?” You ask, gesturing to the small white box in Minho’s hands still.

“Oh, just a little something,” Minho replies a little softly, watching as you slowly lift the thin cardboard lid and peer inside. And the smile that grows on your face makes everything worth it again.

“From our favorite bakery? Minho! That place is so expensive, you shouldn’t have!”

“It’s a special evening,” Minho replies with a smile, watching as you admire the intricate icing display for a moment. White fondant ribbons and candy pearls line the frosted surface which enreathes decadent layers of chocolate- all your favorites. As Minho begins to close the box, he’s rudely interrupted by a finger prodding itself into the dessert, swiping across the frosting and moving the carefully placed cake toppers into complete disarray.

“Is this chocolate?” A voice asks from behind Minho, coming forward to sprawl an arm over your shoulders and lick the frosting off his finger. “Damn, that’s good!”

And Minho can practically feel every ounce of hope in his body dissipate as he watches you giggle enthusiastically.

“Hi, Jung,” Minho says flatly, observing your destroyed cake briefly before shutting the box again.

“What’s up, man? Thanks for the cake. Hey, wedding’s in two months- I hope you have your tux ready!”

Minho responds with a thin-lipped smile, not saying anything as Jung laughs loud enough to fill the awkward silence amongst the three of you.

“What do you say we go cut some real cake?” Jung asks, turning to face you as his grip around your shoulders tightens.

You smile back at him, turning to Minho and cocking your head toward the table by the wall fountain.

“You wanna join? We got a variety of pastries, too. There’s those little cream puffs you like, and macarons from the French bakery.”

Minho extends his arms, passing the box of cake to you and giving you both a small bow.

“I actually just stopped by to gift you the cake. I have a work thing really early tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving?” You question, a small pout on your face as Jung scans the room around you, desperate to ditch the two of you, but also stubborn about maintaining his dominance in front of Minho.

“We’ll catch up soon,” Minho replies, trying his best to convey a smile that will make it seem like nothing’s bothersome.

“Okay, okay,” you respond, separating from Jung’s hold on you and pulling Minho in for another hug.

“Thanks for the cake, anyway. I’m still glad you stopped by.”

“Of course,” Minho says, averting his gaze from Jung. “And congrats on finally getting all the wedding plans finalized. That’s a really big deal.”

“She’ll be hitched in two months!” Jung chimes in loudly from behind you. “And then we’ll be on an island celebrating married life!”

Minho just nods at him, shooting him the same thin-lipped smile and bowing to both of you.

“Catch you later,” he says, finally pivoting to exit the way he entered. And he can still hear Jung’s obnoxious laughter from halfway across the room.

*

Fridays were always your designated days with Minho. In college, they meant movie nights and greasy takeout food. Post-graduation, they involved bars and gossiping about your entry level positions and your bosses. And after Jung came into the picture, they quickly became every other Friday, which soon turned to Sunday brunch on a monthly basis, which then transitioned to catching up over the phone or in brief passing. Jung made sure you were always busy doing something with him, his arm slung possessively around your shoulders and speaking far too loudly about your relationship for the whole world to hear.

Minho began to ditch the Friday group dates when Jung started inquiring about his own relationship status, getting drunk off one-too-many jägermeisters and slurring questions and demands about when he’d finally bring a girl to the function. And Minho never had the heart to tell you why he stopped showing- he simply conjured intricate excuses for every instance you invited him out.

I have a headache. I have an early day tomorrow. The cats are lonely these days.

Of course, perhaps Jung could see right through him into the green leaves of ivy that enwreathed his bones and swallowed him whole with this grieving. Grieving for you, grieving for himself, grieving for this life he knew was bound to come to a close the minute Jung made his move. Which Jung did, practically setting the relationship in stone so that Minho would now be subject to a lifetime of his offensive slurred speeches and unsettling presence. And although the grieving grew heavier after the engagement, it’s always been there, perhaps even longer than Jung’s even been in the picture.

“Jung said no male strippers at the bachelorette party, which is a bummer if you ask me. But we are having an open bar, so I’ll be too drunk to care about naked men anyway.”

Minho chuckles softly, bringing the straw in his iced coffee up to his lips and taking a sip from the corner of his mouth.

“But he’s having strippers at his bachelor party, isn’t he?”

You shrug casually, brushing off the question as you take a sip of your coffee, too.

“I don’t really care, either way. I mean we’ll be getting married regardless, so he can look at whoever he wants. I just need him to show up in a tux on the day of, and stand at the end of the aisle crying when I come to meet him.”

Minho doesn’t reply, a string of questions circling his mind, which he chooses not to ask in order to maintain the peaceful silence that now falls over you both. It’s one of the only days this month you two have been able to get some time alone, although it did require Minho taking off work early and you lying to Jung about your whereabouts. You find yourselves at the coffee shop you’ve been meeting at since your college days, an iced americano in Minho’s grasp and a latte in yours.

As Minho takes in his surroundings, everything feels vastly different than it used to- the distance between you two feels much greater, like there are miles separating the beverages you consume at this proximity to each other. The baristas don’t shoot you curious looks like they used to when they were certain you two were an item. And the shiny ring on your finger makes an appearance every sip you take, glistening under the beams of sun that dance through the windows and fall over your enthusiastic figure.

“What are you up to this weekend?” You ask finally, meeting his shy gaze as he taps his fingers on the wooden surface of the table.

Minho shrugs, toying with the lobe of his ear as he thinks of a random commitment to voice back to you.

“Oh, you know,” he stutters. “Moving stuff.”

And he’s completely unsure, himself, of what the words imply as they escape his lips.

“Moving stuff? To where? Where are you moving?”

“I’m not moving,” he emphasizes. “Just… moving stuff. Things. I want to rearrange some picture frames. And maybe reorganize my bookshelf.”

You sigh in response, a small smile tugging at your lips as Minho does his best to maintain the bogus narrative.

“Minho, you never leave the house anymore. Why don’t you go out with Jung or something? He’s doing a golf thing with some of-”

“No, thank you,” he interrupts quickly. “I’m not a golfer.”

And you sigh again, cocking your head at him.

“Okay, mister ‘moving stuff.’ Will you at least call me when you’re done moving your stuff and your things?”

“I’ll call you,” Minho reaffirms.

“I mean it. I’m gonna call you when I get home from the party and you better not be asleep on the couch again.”

“I promise to answer,” he echoes.

You smile at him again, and Minho mirrors the action with a small smile of his own, his skewed teeth exposing from behind his plump lips as he grins sheepishly.

“Moving stuff,” you repeat, mocking his excuse.

“Moving stuff and things,” he emphasizes, chuckling lightly across from you.

*

Bachelorette parties are supposed to be one of two things: freeing, and cathartic. Luckily for you, yours checks both boxes, the two-day retreat to a luxury hotel in the city providing ample time to relax, and the shots you down at the open bar in your venue fulfilling the cathartic part of it. Your girlfriends shower you in presents, ranging from expensive dining sets and clothes, to humorous sex toys for you and Jung to try on your honeymoon. Even the bartenders join in on your two nights of dancing, parading your event with handmade signs and getting everyone in the bar to sing to you. And for the first time since the stress-inducing year of planning has begun, you feel excited, ready for your new life as a bride alongside Jung.

Husband and wife have a nice ring to it, you think to yourself, as you kick off your shoes and lie back on the thick white duvet of the hotel bed. And though you’re still a little tipsy, you keep your promise, selecting Minho’s contact in your phone and giving him a ring. The phone rings once, twice and then three times, before you conclude he’s definitely fallen asleep on the couch again, probably while moving around his stuff and his things. But you’re proven wrong on the fourth ring, a gentle click echoing in your ears as you hear him press the phone to his ear and speak in a tired voice.

“Hello?”

“You’re asleep on the couch, aren’t you?”

“…no,” he responds, after a short pause.

“You’re so predictable,” you chuckle back at him, shaking your head as you sigh into the phone.

“How was the bachelorette party?” He inquires, sitting up on the couch he definitely wasn’t asleep on, to speak a little clearer into the receiver.

“It was amazing,” you reply with a dreamy sigh. “We did karaoke, and danced and even the bartenders were wishing me good luck. It was like something from college.”

“I’m glad,” Minho responds, nervously picking at the hem of his ratty old t-shirt.

“I’m a little drunk,” you say with a gentle laugh. “But I couldn’t help but wish you were there. The girls are great, of course, but I feel like bars were our thing.”

Minho blinks nervously a few times, pondering your words and keeping his gaze locked on the array of neatly-placed picture frames on the wall across him.

“Yeah,” he settles on replying, his breath hitching in the back of his throat.

“Do you miss me?” You query, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. And Minho can’t comprehend what’s got you acting like this, flirting with him in the phone line while Jung isn’t around.

“I do,” he responds after a brief pause.

“I’m serious, Minho. As your best friend, I’d hope that you miss me sometimes.”

There it is- the clarification is enough for him to exhale the deep breath he’s been holding in all this time.

“Yeah,” he says again. “I miss you, as a friend. And I’m glad the night was enjoyable.”

“You hate bars,” you say to him. “But you used to let me drag you out to them. I miss you.”

And he nods on the other end, repressing the real emotions that eat away at him like, you might see them over the phone if he feels too deeply.

“I miss you, too. Get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say sarcastically. “Goodnight. Thanks for answering.”

“Sure thing,” Minho replies before ending the call. And the room is eerily quiet now that he’s awake, the clock on the living room wall ticking with the passing seconds, as the ivy in his chest constricts a little tighter now.

*

Jung’s bachelor party is nothing short of insufferable. It’s loud, it’s rowdy, and it’s neither relaxing nor cathartic. Unless you define the two as getting lap dances in a smoke-filled limousine driving down the freeway a million miles a minute.

Minho sits quietly on one side, refusing every advance from the female strippers as they flaunt their beautifully-sculpted breasts in his face and dance to the loud rap music. He pretends to use his phone, having no service in this part of town, and yet still resorting to switching frantically between the compass feature and the weather app. And then he tips each stripper a generous amount, apologizing to them profusely as he gets off at the first stop and orders a cab. Where exactly the limousine is taking them, he doesn’t even care to know. Jung questions no part of it, not even having wanted to invite Minho in the first place. And while Minho waits for his taxi, he calls you, frantically wishing he could remind you Jung’s possibly the worst person you could have chosen to marry.

“Hi Minho,” you speak into the phone, shuffling about on your end as you tend to some household work. “I thought you didn’t get reception wherever you were going?”

“I found a way,” he responds, lying through his teeth.

You narrow your eyes, pausing your work to listen in to the phone call a little more closely.

“Minho, did you… leave?” You question, taking note of the way there’s not a sound in the background of the call- not Jung’s booming laughter, nor any music of any kind.

“No,” he says quickly, and you let out a deep sigh.

“Now you’re lying,” you remark.

“I’m not-”

“You’re talking in short responses, and I can’t see you but I know you’re doing that blinking thing. Why would you leave?”

Unfortunately for Minho, you know him like the back of your hand, always quick to clock when he’s lying to you through his nervous habits. The same habits you’ve studied since your days together in college, and ones he’s never been able to stop doing no matter how hard he tries. Minho lets out a deep sigh and runs a hand through his hair.

“Look, it’s just not my scene, okay? I’m still going to the wedding, it’s not like ditching a bachelor party is going to ruin your marriage.”

You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

“What am I going to do with you? Why are you so opposed to just bonding with him?”

“I’m not!” Minho exclaims. “He wanted to go swimming. I can’t swim.”

Another lie.

“Look,” you begin. Would you just come over if you’re not going? We can talk about it here.”

Minho nods eagerly, the idea of spending time by your side sounding much more appealing than a weekend with Jung.

“I’m just waiting on a taxi,” he says. “I’ll be there soon.”

And when he hangs up, you stare briefly at the contact phone of you two, running your fingertips over the dimly lit screen. It’s an older photo, of you guys in college out at a bar, Minho smiling enthusiastically and giving you a piggy-back ride. And although it’s still Minho, it doesn’t feel anything like the version of him you know now.

*

“I don’t want this to set the precedent for the rest of our relationship.”

“Don’t want what to set a precedent?” Minho questions back.

“This! You running away from Jung every chance you get so that we’re only able to bond when he’s not around! You’re my best friend, Min. Why can’t you guys just make it work so that I don’t have to divide my time between the two of you like this?”

“You had no problem learning to divide it when we were in college,” Minho says frustratedly. “Now that you’re engaged it’s like I’m engaged to him, too. I don’t like the guy, okay? Whatever we make of that as friends isn’t in my hands, but it also doesn’t mean I’m gonna jump at the chance to go golfing with him every weekend.”

You’re quiet for a moment, his frustrated speech circling your mind as he remains sprawled out on your couch. He’s right, to some degree- you know very well that the two of them never got along well. And try as you might, they’re just incompatible in every way possible. Jung’s loud, he’s stubborn, he’ll never say no to a social outing and he’ll only make an effort to get along with someone for a finite amount of time before he’s disregarding their existence, much like he does Minho’s. And Minho is quiet, soft-spoken, only social when it comes to you and takes his stance on a person just minutes after meeting them. They’ve already reached the stubborn conclusion that they despise each other, and at this point in your life, there’s little you can do to change it.

“I just want to know things are okay between us,” you remark.

“Things are okay between us.”

“We haven’t had a proper hangout in months, Minho. I get married in a few weeks and then I’m afraid we just won’t see each other.”

Minho seems to understand the seriousness in your tone, sitting up from the couch to finally meet your gaze. You look disheartened, an expression Minho is used to seeing when you try to set him up with a date or when he can’t make it out to an event. But this time it seems like it has more weight to it, the way you sag your shoulders as you slouch over one of the barstools in the kitchen, completely terrified at the prospect of losing your best friend.

“I’ll tell you what,” Minho breaks the silence. “How about we plan something, just us? It’ll be like old times, and we don’t have to worry about Jung or your friends or anyone. Just for a weekend.”

You meet his gaze, too, promptly glancing at the ceiling as you think over his proposal.

“I don’t know, Jung probably wouldn’t like it-”

“This is exactly what I mean!” Minho interjects. “Everything you do is based on what Jung likes or doesn’t like. We used to go out together all the time- if you only want to hang out when he’s around then yeah, things might be a little different from here on out.”

And the words pierce through you like a dagger, yet again filling your mind with all the regrets that will come with shutting him out for the purposes of pleasing Jung. Minho is right- he’s been your best friend for years. Jung might be your future spouse, but that doesn’t mean your relationship with him has to be any more important than the lifelong commitment you’ve made to your best friend, too.

“Where would we go?” You ask reluctantly.

Minho shrugs casually, lying back down on the couch with his hands behind his head.

“Anything,” he responds. “Your pick.”

And you think over his offer again, mentally mapping out your schedule at work and what you guys might be able to do on a quick weekend together.

“Camping,” you say suddenly, straightening your posture.

“You hate camping,” Minho retorts, chuckling lightly.

“Yeah, but you love camping. I’m just doing this to spend time with you, Min. I already spent my weekend in the city. Let’s do something you like and we can have an old friend trip like we used to.”

Minho can’t help the grin that tugs at his lips, endeared by the way you always let him drag you to his favorite places just like you used to drag him. And he knows you’re a city girl through and through- you’ve always been very vocally opposed to accompanying him on his camping excursions. But maybe going together, you’ll have some change of heart if it means you won’t have to listen to Jung share all of his unwarranted opinions.

“Let’s do it,” Minho says confidently. “You’re gonna love it.”

“I’m only doing this for you,” you reply with a smile. “I still maintain that I’m going to hate it.”

*

A yoga retreat.

Jung is made to believe you’re at a yoga retreat, three hours out from your shared apartment, with a close girlfriend you haven’t seen in months.

And maybe it’s because he genuinely believes you, or he simply doesn’t care, but he doesn’t press you for any information about the event, sending you off with a chaste kiss and turning his attention back to the sports he watches on television. He doesn’t even inquire about why you fail to bring your yoga mat, leaving it folded neatly in the closet of your bedroom alongside all your workout clothes.

You do pack warm clothes, blankets and even a matching set of flashlights for when it gets pitch dark like you know the mountains do at night. And as you make your way to Minho’s house with your backpack slung over your shoulders, you’re actually a little excited, the idea of getting some fresh air sounding like a well-deserved treat after the week you’ve had in the city.

“Well aren’t you all ready to go camping,” you say to Minho in an amused tone, admiring the outfit he’s put together for the occasion. He sports a simple white t-shirt and a loose-fitting pair of jeans, coupled with a black cap he wears backwards over his brown hair. He looks a lot simpler than usual- in fact, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen Minho in a cap before today.

“You look nice,” you voice to Minho, as he loads his duffel bag in the trunk of the car.

“Me?” He questions, furrowing his brows in genuine confusion. “I’m just dressed for comfort.”

“Yes, you. That cap looks good on you. God forbid I compliment my best friend.”

He chuckles lightly, helping you load your backpack into his car and closing the trunk when he’s finished.

“Ready?” Minho asks, turning to you with a small smile.

“Ready,” you echo, climbing into the passenger seat beside him.

The drive to the campsite is just over an hour long, taking Minho’s vehicle through narrow paths of dirt roads surrounded by trees. The treacherous drive doesn’t seem to faze him at all, as he keeps just one hand on the wheel, while the other rests casually on the car console. You can tell he’s done this drive a number of times before, judging by the way he needs no form of navigation and doesn’t stop to read the directional signs at any point.

“Do we need to pitch a tent when we get there?” You ask, and Minho laughs in response.

“That’s how I can tell you’ve never come here before.”

“What?” You reply with a chuckle of your own. “It’s a totally valid question.”

“Yeah, maybe if we were on Survivor. There’s tents all over the campsite. And picnic tables, and bathrooms and I think there’s a gift shop somewhere.”

You nod at his response, a little more intrigued now that you know it’s not going to be as hands-on as you thought. And when he pulls into the parking lot, he’s right- there are cabins that span the perimeter of the parking lot, presumably bathrooms and information centers about the place.

Minho puts the car into park as he helps you gather your bags, and then you both enter the cabin closest to you, being greeted by an older woman who sits at an information booth.

“Welcome!” She exclaims in a cheerful tone. “Are you folks staying overnight?”

“Yes,” Minho answers, hoisting his duffel bag further up his shoulder. “We’ll be here for two nights.”

“Wonderful!” she replies, gathering a thin stack of pamphlets. She uncaps a red pen, circling a little graphic that indicates a tent, and then slides it over to Minho along the counter.

“You two will occupy this location here- it’s just a few minutes up the hill there. The bathroom is attached to the unit, and there are a few clean towels in the drawers there.”

She slides him two more pamphlets, gesturing to their titles and keeping her gaze on the infographics.

“There’s a guide on plants to avoid, and some wildlife you might run into. Any questions?”

Minho shakes his head, stuffing the pamphlet into his pocket and giving her a small nod.

“No, thank you,” he says, looking over at you.

And the woman shoots you a smile now, gesturing to your hand.

“That is a beautiful ring,” she states, clasping a hand over her heart emotionally.

“Thank you,” you reply with a smile. “I’m getting married.”

She laughs lightly, shooting Minho a thumbs up.

“Enjoy it while you can!”

You’re quick to shake your head at her, taking a step away from Minho.

“Oh god, no, he’s not my fiancé. He’s just a friend.”

And Minho takes a step away, too, giving her a nod.

“We’re just longtime friends,” he echoes your words.

“My apologies,” the woman is quick to say. “Enjoy your stay regardless.”

*

“It never ends,” you say to Minho as you exit. “I can’t believe people still think we’re a couple when we go out.”

“It’s just a common equation,” Minho responds. “Two people. Engagement ring. Camping trip.”

“I know,” you emphasize. “It’s just so weird being so close to my own marriage and still having to tell people we’re not a couple.”

Minho swallows nervously, not entertaining the discussion any further as he takes your aversion to the idea of it as answer enough.

“It’s just up here,” Minho says, gesturing to the narrow dirt path that leads up to your tent.

The tent is a long, rectangular space, the beige tarp even accompanied by clear vinyl windows that zip up for added privacy. The inside houses a small birch wood table pushed against the side, two white folding chairs, and a single bed, just larger than a twin-sized one.

“One bed?” You say as you scan the room, dropping your bags and looking nervously back at Minho.

“All the units have one bed,” he explains casually. “I’ll take the floor.”

“You’re not taking the floor, Minho. It’s freezing.”

“I’ve done it before,” he says, unzipping his bag and pulling out a smaller pouch. “I’ll be fine.”

“But it’s so awkward to have you on the floor while I get a whole bed to myself.”

He disregards your concerns, tossing the pouch to you, which you catch in two hands and examine.

“Bait,” he says with a small smile.

“Bait?” You echo. “You mean like…”

“Fishing,” he says confidently. “We’re catching our dinner tonight.”

*

It’s a fair assumption to say you hadn’t taken Minho’s liking to camping very seriously. Sure, you knew he was partial to the great outdoors and to catching his own dinners. Of course he knows how to pitch a tent and gut a fish. But seeing him do it in action, string a spinnerbait onto his fishing rod and cast his line, watching meticulously as the bobber pulls underwater and he checks if he’s caught a bass yet, you’re admittedly pretty impressed. He looks completely in his element like this, uttering remarks about his “monofilament fishing line” that you don’t understand in the slightest, but you listen to regardless. For a brief moment, you can’t help but feel bad, seeing how much this interests him, when all you’ve ever done in the span of your friendship is drag him to clubs and get takeout together. Maybe you should’ve taken this whole thing more seriously. Maybe you should have accompanied Minho on one of his offers for a fishing trip when you still had the chance to do it without being under Jung’s watchful eye.

“We may need a smaller hook,” Minho says, as he adjusts his rod and stares out at the lake. The atmosphere is lazy and restful, the gentle lull of the lake’s deep blue water sloshing against the rocks that line the shore and swaying with the breeze. There’s a distant buzz of cicadas at this hour, and the swallows circle the vast green trees overhead that rustle in syncopation with the water. You and Minho remain seated on the flat rocks that line the shore, a cooler of ice and a small pouch of bait between the two of you.

Minho’s gaze remains set on the lake, attentively watching the bobber and praying for a bass to latch onto it so that he can instruct you on the de-gutting and cleaning process. But there seems to be no sign of fish anywhere, the only movement being the little ripples that vibrate with the sporadic activity of water bugs.

“When was the first time you went fishing?” You ask Minho suddenly, catching his gaze as he turns to you.

“First time?” He echoes. “I don’t know, maybe age seven? My dad taught me.”

You nod in response, picturing a little Minho alongside his dad, learning the ropes of monofilament fishing lines and all that jazz. You can’t help but smile at the thought of it, knowing Minho was probably so quiet, yet full of curiosity, the same way he is now.

“I wish I would’ve come,” you say finally, letting out a small sigh as you speak. “I wish I came with you on one of these trips.”

Minho shakes his head and waves you off. “Solo camping is one of my favorite things in the world. I didn’t need it to be ruined by all your city girl antics.”

“Hey!” You exclaim with a small laugh, hitting him lightly, and Minho hits you back.

For a moment, the two of you say nothing, admiring the way the sunlight glares overhead and sets the water aglow with glints of light that make it almost hard to look at. Minho takes notice of the more casual look you sport, too, void of any makeup and your hair tied back loosely. Similarly, the little imperfections that mark his skin remind you of the Minho you met in college, back when you were both riddled with zits and drank cans of soda for breakfast. And now across from you, acne scars and a handsome face he’s grown into so well, you can’t help but feel your heart swell at the fact that he’s still here, this many years later, regardless of the roadblocks your relationship has taken you through. It’s a miraculous thing to have someone stick by your side knowing you’re getting wed to a person he despises. And you refuse to part ways with him, too, despite the amount of outings he declines in the name of nothing important. What a fascinating prospect, to be reminded that your most unconditional form of love comes in the form of a best friend more than even your fiancé on most days.

You open your mouth to say something, being promptly interrupted by the reel of the fishing line being pulled back, the rhythmic buzzing of the handle startling you both as it’s pulled in circular motions to indicate a catch.

“Oh my god, what do we do?” You exclaim to Minho, a sense of urgency present in your voice as you await his instruction.

“I’ll teach you,” Minho says, as he rises from his spot and gestures to the fishing rod. “Grab the handle, like- yeah, just like that.”

And you do as you’re told, approaching the rod to steady the handle in your grasp. He guides you through the careful motions, steadying your hands a comfortable distance away from the reel seat, pulling back the handle with slow, yet purposeful movements and raising the fishing line away from the gentle current of the water.

“There’s a lot of resistance,” you comment, as you pull even harder.

“Really?” Minho remarks, his hands on his hips as he looks out upon the water. “I wonder if it’s going to be a big one. Keep pulling.”

And you do, heaving the rod desperately away from the water to pull in your catch. There’s heavy resistance at first, and then a generous amount of give to the force, as the line finally glides across the water and begins to pull up toward you.

“Get ready,” Minho says excitedly. “It’s probably going to be a little skittish, just hold tightly and don’t let go.”

As he watches you pull, he takes note of the way the line struggles to move past a barrier in the water, sending ripples down the shore as you continue to pull, to no avail.

“I need help,” you voice frantically. “Minho, take the rod-”

“Just relax,” Minho echoes, coming around behind you and placing two hands over yours. He stands close behind you as he helps steady the rod, gripping tightly and helping you reel it in.

The two of you watch with bated breath as the line finally begins to move again, erratic ripples of water vibrating in the otherwise still lake as you reel in the catch.

“Here it comes!” Minho exclaims, as he continues to reel over your hands with his, his veins protruding with every slight motion as his slender fingers work around yours.

And then the fishing line is promptly pulled out of the water, swinging in front of your view and slowing its swaying motions as you take a gander.

It’s a large, juicy, vibrant hunk of moss.

No fish in sight, no catch of the day, unless for a bottom feeder. Minho says nothing for a moment, placing his hands on his hips again as he takes in the sight of the forest green mass. And then you break the silence with laughter, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laugh at the ridiculous view.

“What’s so funny?” Minho inquires with a breathy chuckle, transitioning into his own fit of giggles.

“It’s fucking moss,” you exclaim, gesturing to the fishing rod and laughing again. “We’ve been here for hours and we haven’t caught anything besides a fucking byrophyte.”

Minho laughs, too, setting the rod down to clutch his own stomach.

“It’s not funny,” he says between laughter. “We don’t have dinner tonight.”

“Yeah we do,” you say breathlessly. “We have moss.”

And the two of you almost collapse on the gravel, holding your stomachs as you laugh endlessly at the ridiculousness of the situation. The fishing rod remains propped up against the rocks, the slab of moss dangling and dripping murky water back onto the gravel.

When your laughter dies down, Minho sprawls out onto one of the big rocks, the palms of his feet flat against the warm stone as he meets your gaze again. You occupy the spot beside him, your knees bent too, keeping your gaze locked on his as you smile.

“I missed this,” you say after a moment of silence. “I missed hanging out with you.”

Minho responds in a breathy chuckle, running his hands through his hair and rolling his eyes in a joking manner.

“You should’ve come camping with me ages ago,” he says. “We could’ve been eating moss for dinner instead of fast food.”

You chuckle too, and the sunlight beams over your listless bodies sprawled out on the rocks, glints of light hitting Minho’s golden-brown hair and his sparkling eyes. He looks so angelic in this atmosphere, so at peace with the nature around him and in tune with his emotions. For the first time in a long while, there’s nothing present between you and Minho that hinders the relationship you have to each other. He’s just as important to you in this moment as you are to him. And not even the knowledge that you’ve lied to your fiancé to be here with him can come between that.

*

Lucky for you, Minho always comes prepared. Of course he’s dealt with the situation of catching nothing while fishing and needing a plan to fall back on for dinner. So it’s no surprise to you that his backpack contains cups of instant ramen and bags of chips.

“Shrimp or chicken?” Minho asks, as water boils on his portable kettle.

“Surprise me,” you shoot back, getting comfortable in one of the two camping chairs across the bed. You feel a wave of tiredness wash over your body instantly, but you also feel fulfilled, having bonded with Minho more in the last few hours than any of your double dates with Jung and one of Minho’s picks from a dating app.

Minho shuts off the kettle, tearing open packets of vegetables and mixing them with your noodles as he pours hot water in both cups.

“Careful, it’s hot,” Minho remarks, handing you a cup and sliding a pair of chopsticks across the table to you.

“Today was fun,” you say to him, as you blow on a generous serving of noodles and guide them into your mouth with the wooden chopsticks.

“You’re not half bad at fishing,” Minho states. “I think it’s just emptier this season. But your technique’s good.”

“Really?” You query. “I feel like you did most of the work.”

Minho shakes his head, slurping a portion of his noodles before speaking.

“Maybe if you ditched your lame golf nights with Jung and came camping with me more, you could get some practice.”

“Ha ha,” you muse sarcastically. “His golf nights aren’t lame, they’re actually pretty fun. You’d know if you came out to one.”

“Please,” Minho retorts, gathering more noodles with his chopsticks. “Artificial grass and polo shirts aren’t really my thing. Of course they’d be Jung’s, though.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means even his favorite sport is as fake as he is.”

“Minho!”

“What?” He says in a breathy chuckle. “You asked what I meant.”

You shake your head, stirring broth around in your cup with your chopsticks. You normally don't entertain Minho when he insults Jung like this, knowing he’s just going to get mad and list everything he despises about him. But tonight, being so far away from Jung, it somehow feels permissible. It’s not like Jung is going to materialize out of thin air and find out about his little remarks. You don’t get cell reception out here, and it’s possibly one of your last few intimate moments with Minho to just let loose and joke with him. So you don't say anything, allowing him free reign as he cracks jokes about Jung at his expense. And you don’t feel bad about it, either, knowing Jung wouldn’t hesitate to do the same back at Minho.

The tent falls quiet for a moment as both of you finish your meals, the only noises present between the two of you being slurping the remainder of your noodles and setting the cups aside. Minho runs his hands through his hair and spreads his legs out in front of him as he slouches back in his camper chair.

“I can’t believe you’re getting fucking married,” he says with a breathy chuckle. “That’s still so weird to me.”

“Imagine how I feel,” you emphasize. “The word ‘wife’ still kinda grosses me out.”

“Well you have about a month to get used to it,” Minho replies. And then he gets quiet, averting his gaze from yours as he blinks. “Or a whole lifetime, I guess.”

You stay quiet, too, pulling up your legs to cross them in your chair and nodding reluctantly.

“Yeah. ‘lifetime’ kinda sounds like a scary word, too.”

Minho purses his lips, and then he turns to meet your gaze again, a solemn smile on his face.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he voices. “It can also imply a lifetime of happiness. And of love. Permanence isn’t a bad thing.”

You smile at him, comforted by the optimism he brings to the atmosphere, despite his dislike for Jung, and especially the prospect of you getting married to him. He doesn’t change- he’s still the Minho you know very well, the one who takes your problems and makes them seem so small, so unimportant, until you can’t, in good conscience, worry about them anymore.

“You’re right,” you say back at him. “I’ll remember that when I say my vows.”

You think over his words momentarily, and then you meet his gaze with a knowing smile.

“Do you remember when we had to write an essay about where we’d want to travel if we won the lottery? In our literary analysis course?”

Minho’s eyes roll to the ceiling as he thinks for a moment, and then he nods.

“Yeah. You wrote about Europe or something.”

“I did,” you recall. “And you wrote about that one historical town. What was it called again?”

“Shirakawa,” Minho responds. “Small mountain village in Japan where it snows a ton and there are little farmhouses everywhere.”

You chuckle lightly, remembering the countless images Minho had shown you when he was producing his paper on the subject. You can still picture the little brown houses and the vibrant green hills in the summertime. And the winter photos looked like something out of a Christmas movie, fresh snow blanketing the village and painting the town with bright hues of white.

You think over his essay for a moment, remembering just how many times you’d peer edited each other’s papers, and Minho wound up getting the best grade in the class for how poetically he spoke of Shirakawa. He talked about it for several months after the assignment, too, always voicing his desire to visit one day and see all the farmhouses for himself.

“I wish we still had time to go,” you say finally. “I always pictured we’d go one day.”

Minho purses his lips in a thin line, your statement echoing in his ears and the words stinging. It’s moments like these he’s especially regretful you’re getting married to Jung- all the stupid, likely intangible plans you made together and promised you’d fulfill sometime down the line. And now with Jung’s obnoxious presence indicating that of permanence, Minho knows there’s zero possibility you’ll be able to fulfill any of the plans you made together.

“You have a whole honeymoon planned on a tropical island,” Minho says somberly. “That’s far better than little old Shirakawa.”

You say nothing in reply, nodding at his words and thinking back to the plans you and Jung have already booked for your honeymoon.

Honeymoon. Even that word sounds foreign.

“Maybe we’ll plan for when I get back,” you tell Minho. “Little camping excursion in the farmhouses. We can get shitfaced and pet all the little goats.”

He laughs lightly, giving you a smile.

“Sure,” Minho affirms. “We can do that.”

And then his gaze darts to his backpack which sits on the floor, his eyes widening as he sits up.

“Speaking of shitfaced,” Minho says. “I think I brought boxed wine.”

“Boxed wine?” You repeat with a chuckle. “Jesus, we really might as well be back in college.”

He rises from the camper chair to make his way over to his backpack, unzipping the larger pouch and pulling out two small black cartons of wine, giving them a small shake before scanning the room as though he’s looking for something else.

“What?” You query, waiting for him to say something.

Minho says nothing, standing up again and taking long strides to where his fishing rod is, grasping it in one hand and fiddling with the hook.

“What are you doing?” You ask, watching as Minho’s expression turns serious again. His slender fingers toy with the small hook, the two cartons of wine balanced in his other hand.

You watch as he unfolds one tab on the box of wine, and then brings down the fishing hook to pierce it through the thin cardboard and string it through securely. When he’s finished, he gives it a little tug, and then raises the box of wine as he lifts the fishing rod once more, reeling the handle in the counter direction to move it out toward you.

“What the hell are you doing?” You ask again, chuckling softly as you watch Minho struggle to balance the carton of wine.

He reels the carton out further, and then slows as he drops it into your lap, moving the rod around in erratic motions and pretending to stabilize the line.

“Get it!” Minho exclaims. “It’s getting away, you have to get it!”

You play along, grasping the carton of wine in your two hands and pretending to steady its slippery grip as it flaps around helplessly.

“It’s slippery!” You exclaim back, holding it up with two hands and angling it toward Minho.

Minho gasps, and then sets his rod down to applaud you generously.

“Congratulations,” he says in a proud voice. “Your first catch. You caught your own dinner.”

And the dark night around you seems to be set aglow as laughter fills the entirety of the tent.

*

Two hours later, it’s half past midnight, empty cartons of wine on the table between you as you talk through your starkly different lives.

Minho shares tales of work you’d missed out on, dating app horror stories and recounts days from college when you’d go to nightclubs together and use fake IDs. You listen attentively for the first time in a long time, no sense of urgency present, nor the desire to set him up with somebody else. It’s you who wants to be here alongside him, rekindling your friendship and reliving your glory days. And Minho feels the same way, a gentle buzz swirling his mind from the cherry merlot and your sweet laugh in response to his tales.

“They so thought we were lying when we turned 21,” you say through laughter. “In hindsight, it’s pretty lucky we didn’t get thrown in jail for a night.”

“Yeah, only because you flirted with the bouncer,” Minho says. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t throw you in jail after offering you a drink.”

You laugh lightly, remembering the bizarre encounter, and then you slouch back in your chair as you shut your eyes.

“We should get to sleep,” you say to Minho. “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” he responds. “I’ll get my sleeping bag on the floor.”

“Don’t be such a fucking drag,” you protest.

“What?”

“Just sleep on the bed with me. It’s big enough and there’s less of a chance that you’ll wake up with a broken back. I’m not listening to you complain about your fucked-up joints on tomorrow’s drive home.”

Minho laughs lightly, and then he gestures to the bed.

“If you snore, I’m throwing you to the bears,” he says plainly.

“Yeah, well you kick me, I’m dumping you in the lake.”

*

Minho brushes his teeth over the small steel sink in the corner of the room, swapping out to fix the bed sheets while you brush your teeth, too. When you’re finished, you meet him at the foot of the bed, pulling your corner of the blanket down and climbing in beside him. The ceiling of the tent is barely visible in this level of darkness, just an indistinguishable outline of fabric visible as you cross your hands over your chest and exhale deeply. Minho does the same, and though he’s right beside you, he feels miles away, his exhale sounding distant as he focuses on the ceiling of the tent, too.

“It’s really dark,” you comment.

“Yeah,” he says back. “That’s the outdoors for you.”

He thinks for a brief moment, and then he breaks the silence that washes over the two of you.

“Are you excited for the honeymoon?” He asks quietly.

There’s no answer for several moments, the only sound coming from the gentle sway of the trees just beyond your tent.

And you are excited, but you’re more nervous, uncertain and disappointed knowing that everything will be so different upon your return. It’s like exchanging an old life for a new one- one that could be far worse, for all you know.

“I’m nervous,” you say candidly.

“Why?”

“Because marriage is a big deal. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m even doing the right thing.”

It’s Minho’s turn to remain quiet now, his hands folded over his chest as he ponders your words.

“Are you happy?”

There’s no response from you. Not now, not after a minute and not even after several minutes have passed. And you are happy, but you’re still much of the same- nervous, uncertain and disappointed that this new life implies change.

“Jung hates me,” Minho says suddenly.

“He doesn’t hate you-”

“He hates me,” Minho reaffirms a little louder. “The way he looks at me, or interrupts us whenever we’re talking. I’m sorry that I’m so distant from you when he’s around. The guy hates me.”

You stay quiet, knowing he’s right, but not wanting to fuel the fire that burns between the two of them.

“He probably thought we had something going on,” Minho says. “He’d kill me if he knew I was in the same bed with you.”

You scoff lightly, dismissing Minho’s claims with a wave of your hand.

“Please,” you emphasize. “He hasn’t even touched me in a month.”

And you regret the words the second they leave your lips, bringing two hands up to cover your mouth as Minho props himself up to look at you.

“What? Why?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly. “Forget I said anything.”

“No, I genuinely want to know,” Minho reiterates, keeping his gaze locked on yours. “You’re getting married and you haven’t had sex with your fiancé in a month? Who does that?”

“He told me it was a punishment,” you say in exasperation. “We had a fight, and he told me he wouldn’t touch me if I didn’t admit to being wrong.”

“What?” Minho says, turning audibly irate. “Are you serious? What kind of cruel and unusual punishment is that?”

“Look, I don’t know, okay? Let’s just not talk about it-”

“There go your excuses,” Minho says. “Your future husband won’t touch you, and you’re still defending him. Jesus Christ, it’s worse than I thought it was.”

“Would you stop?” You say to him, sitting up as he slings his elbows around his knees and shakes his head.

“Stop what? Stop being concerned for my best friend who’s clearly suffering at the hands of her own fiancé? Not gonna happen.”

“I’m not suffering,” you relay to him.

“Sure,” Minho says sarcastically. “So you never wanted to have sex in the whole month he’s kept this punishment going.”

You say nothing, swallowing nervously as you keep your gaze locked on Minho’s. He’s at a painfully close proximity to you right now, one strand of hair falling loosely in his face as his eyebrows furrow together in anger. His plain black t-shirt hugs his broad shoulders as he sits up, his basketball shorts riding up to expose a generous amount of his toned thighs. And his lips remain parted, waiting for you to say something, which you don’t. You simply stare at him blankly, your eyes darting over his gaze, down to his lips and then back up to his eyes.

Minho’s expression turns serious, too, unable to look away from your conflicted expression as you watch him.

“Not… really…” you manage to say in short words.

“Maybe not…” you continue, leaning into him a little as his arms loosen around his knees.

He somehow looks so tantalizing right now, in a way you’ve never seen him before. Sure, you’re aware Minho is good looking, and he always has been. And maybe your fleeting crush back when you first met him was short-lived, quickly moving on to date somebody else you met at a party. Maybe you were a little jealous the time his former girlfriend remarked how good he was in bed, or that she got to touch him when he wore that suit you loved so much at graduation. Maybe you even touched yourself once or twice to the thought of him, conjuring some stupid fantasy in your mind for the sole purpose of getting off to it. But nothing was ever going to come to fruition, not when he’s been your friend for years, you have Jung and you’re about to get married.

…At least not with any intention besides being fucked by him the way Jung has neglected of you for a month now.

“Maybe not until now,” you finally breathe out, your heart beating erratically in your chest as you await an answer from him.

Minho’s gaze flickers down to your lips, and then back to your eyes, furrowing his eyebrows as he makes sense of your words.

“Are you drunk right now?” He asks simply.

“No,” you’re quick to respond, shaking your head to affirm the answer.

“Good,”’Minho says. “Me neither.”

And the two of you meet in the middle, his lips crashing against yours roughly as you kiss him for the first time, hands flying to tug at his t-shirt as he brings to hands around the small of your back.

He tastes like wine, transferring the robust flavor of cherry merlot back onto your lips as you kiss him, his plump lips working perfectly against yours as you pull him closer. You want so badly to position yourself differently, to adjust your body’s awkward spot on the bed so that you can be a bit closer to him, so that you can cup his face and pepper it in breathless kisses. But you fear that the minute you pull away, Minho’s going to somehow realize that it’s you he’s kissing, his best friend of so many years, one who’s already engaged.

It’s Minho who pulls away briefly first, getting a little closer to you, while you scoot further back and lie flat on your spot on the bed.

“This is just to prove a point,” Minho says breathlessly, as he hovers over you now and steadies himself over your body with one strong arm. “It’s not cheating,” he emphasizes, and you nod eagerly at the words, suddenly aware that it’s not even the cheating aspect you were worried about. It was solely the possibility of ruining your friendship with Minho, who’s always been so vocal about his distaste for disloyalty.

“It’s just to prove a point,” you repeat, tangling your hands in his hair and pulling him back down to kiss you. “Nobody has to know.”

Minho grins against your lips, pressing repeated, chaste kisses to your already swollen lips and trailing down to paint a line of kisses down the column of your neck. Your heart beats in ways you’ve never felt before, a rapid arrhythmia brought on by the sheer terror of being found out, by the knowledge that this is the one person who could single handedly ruin your engagement to Jung. And yet you couldn’t care less in this moment, as his teeth take your flesh between them and suck bruises down your neck, a generous purple color painting the goosebumps that rise upon your skin.

Are either of you in any place to return with hickeys painting your skin like you spend the weekend at a frat house? Not in the slightest. And yet you can’t help but feel this is what you missed in college all that time, the same actions Minho repeated with the few girlfriends he ran through. Fucking them sweetly in his dorm bed, roping scarves around their necks when he’d send them off and his ears turning a bright shade of red when you’d point them out in your 7am college lectures.

Was there ever a hint of jealousy present between the two of you? Maybe, you think to yourself, as a string of spit connects Minho’s lips to your bruises, peppering them in light kisses. You could never help but wonder what it was like, what those girls had experienced each time they disappeared from his dorm in the early hours of the morning. And Minho, being the gentleman he was, was never one to kiss and tell. The sex was intimate, private, the details living and dying with him only, even if the relationship went awry or fizzled out suddenly.

“We probably shouldn’t go any further,” Minho interrupts, pulling away from you to maintain eye contact. His eyes are hooded with lust, his lips pink and swollen from kissing you so passionately. And his eyebrows arch up in a state of concern, mostly worried you’re going to protest him taking it any further than this. But it’s all you’ve occupied your mind with now, wanting so badly to know what little tricks Minho wears up his sleeve, if he’s just as intrigued with the idea as you are, if he even wants to have sex with you.

“It’s not like we’re dating or anything,” you say to Minho, desperately searching for the words to indicate how badly you want this. “It’s just… some drunken hookup. It’s probably nothing Jung didn’t do at his party last week.”

“But we’re not-” Minho begins, promptly silencing himself. He begins to tell you that he’s not drunk, and you aren’t either- but he’s already caught on to your little plan.

“Yeah,” Minho then says. “I’m a little tipsy.”

“Me too,” you say with a soft chuckle. “Too much wine.”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning into kiss you again. “And I get really horny when I’m drunk.”

“Me too,” you say between kisses. “It’s not like we can just leave each other hanging. Unless you want me to rub one out beside you, and that would be more awkward.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Might as well… help each other out, right?”

“Right,” you affirm, pulling down your panties as Minho separates to pull off his shirt.

It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, already having witnessed him in this level of undress at every pool party and when you’d come over to his dorm unannounced. But it feels different at this proximity, his tanned skin hovering over yours and brushing against your flesh with every eager kiss.

Minho begins to ask you if he can touch you, but you’re faster than he is, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to your aching clit, letting him circle two fingers around your bundle of nerves as he pulls back to look you in the eyes.

“Jesus,” Minho remarks. “You are wet when you’re drunk.”

And your breath hitches in the back of your throat as he rubs you gently, a smirk growing on his face as you let out little whimpers. It’s been so long since somebody’s touched you like this, Jung hardly even giving attention to the foreplay on most days. His nimble fingers rub at a steady pace, his eyes boring into yours as he makes you writhe in pleasure beneath him. Minho’s eyes are sparkling at this proximity, his big brown pupils exuding curiosity and tenderness as he gauges your every reaction to his touches.

“Minho,” you breathe out desperately, arching into his touch to chase the friction.

“What?” He asks sweetly, his expression shifting into that of concern as he waits for you to speak. But he knows what you’re going to ask, also aware of the tent pitched in his boxers as he works you.

“Don’t make me ask,” you say with a sheepish chuckle.

He chuckles softly, too, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling his hand away.

“Let me get a condom,” Minho says in a serious tone. And you’d completely forgotten about protection, not even having used a condom in ages, since your only partner for several years has been Jung.

With the painful ache between your legs, you wish so badly you could ask him to fuck you raw and help ease the weeks of waiting you’ve had to do just to feel some sense of relief. And a part of you can’t help but think back to your days of college, when Minho would always ensure he kept a new one between the crisp bills in his wallet. Ones that were put to use with other women, Minho always so careful not to make any stupid mistakes or take risks the way you and Jung often did.

But you can’t let him fuck you raw, being in the middle of nowhere, no access to pills and admittedly not the most punctual at remembering to take your birth control. The last thing you can do right now is show up to your own wedding with Jung- pregnant with Minho’s child.

Minho’s cock is fully erect as he fishes around his backpack for a condom, pulling out his wallet and sorting through the bills for one. You briefly wonder what would happen if he didn’t have one- you’d likely ask him to fuck you anyway, and to finish on your face or your tits. But it’d be such a waste not to let him finish inside of you, not when you’re both this aroused and desperate for some sense of relief

You silently pray he won’t think too hard about any of this. Don’t think about who I am to you. Don’t think about how this will complicate things, and don’t think about the fact that I’m engaged to another man. Just fuck me, and we’ll deal with whatever consequences arise tomorrow.

“Got it,” Minho voices, and you feel yourself exhale the breath you’ve been holding this whole time.

Minho approaches you again, pinching it between his two fingers, tearing open the silver packet with his skewed front teeth and pulling out the white rubber. You watch with bated breath as he rests a knee on the bed beside you, steadying himself with one hand and rolling the condom onto his length with one hand.

It’s the first time you’ve properly taken note of the appearance of his cock, and he’s bigger than you’d imagined. His thick, veiny girth is tinted a bright shade of red in anticipation, his head leaking a bead of precum as the rubber grazes his tip and coats every inch of his flesh. You’re a little disappointed at the sight being obscured by the protection, but you take a sharp breath, anyway, wanting nothing more than to just feel it inside of you.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Minho asks, as he hovers over you again and props himself up with two hands. “If you think we’re making some mistake-”

“We’re not,” you say quickly. “It’s not a mistake. I promise you I’m not drunk or out of my mind or anything. I’m just really fucking horny.”

Minho chuckles lightly, and then he leans into graze his lips over yours just barely, delivering a painfully light kiss as he positions himself in front of you.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, pressing another light kiss to your lips. “I promise I won’t get mad or anything.”

You nod eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck, and then you both maintain eye contact with his hands as he carefully guides the tip of his length inside of you. You feel like you could cum at the sensation of his tip alone, your walls contracting around him desperately as he shuts his eyes in pleasure.

“Jesus,” Minho breathes. “You’re tight.”

“It’s been a month since he fucked me,” you admit shyly. “I haven’t even touched myself.”

And Minho takes it as a signal to snake a hand down between your bodies, latching the pads of his fingers to your clit once more and rubbing in gentle circles.

“He’s a fucking idiot,” Minho says plainly. “What a fucking joke.”

You weave your fingers in his golden brown tresses pulling him in for another kiss as he begins to thrust in and out of you with gentle movements so as not to hurt you. And it feels heavenly, like nothing you’ve ever felt with Jung before. There’s so much fear circling your mind, but it simply elevates the arousal you feel at the same time, your mind and body contracting in syncopation to echo the same sentiment that maybe you have indeed, been jealous of some of the other girls he’s fucked. Maybe your jealousy forced you to shut out the idea of anybody being pleasured like this by your best friend. You silently pray it never felt half this good for any of them, that he simply couldn’t get hard for them or maybe he’d neglected the same parts that drive you crazy in this moment. Because the thought of his cock inside of anybody except for you drives you mad, it feels so unnatural to think about when he’s fucking you so sweetly in the privacy of your tent, here in the middle of nowhere. Virtually impossible to feel an ounce of guilt when the nearest human is likely miles away, made even harder considering the only man who’d even care is much, much farther.

And Minho hopes you can’t feel that he’s been trying to stave off his own orgasm for the better part of 20 minutes now. His cock twitching with every thrust, his eyes shutting tightly to give attention to the sensation of your cunt clenching desperately around his thick girth. He can’t remember how he’d imagined it all those years, but he knows this feels much, much better than any fantasized version of you that ran rampant in his thoughts. One he had to stop himself from staring at a little too long when you’d opt to wear short skirts and tight little shirts to the clubs you’d frequent. A version of you he swore would one day come around to the realization that Jung isn’t meant for you, that he doesn’t fulfill you emotionally, or intellectually or even physically. Even a version of you that found exhilaration in fucking Minho behind Jung’s back, because having any version of you belong to Minho in one form or another would always take precedence over your inevitable absence following the wedding.

“Talk to me,” Minho says, as his thrusts slow a little. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“You,” you’re quick to respond. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Minho captures your lips in a drooly kiss, gasping into your parted lips as he thrusts in again and holds it there for a moment.

“Is it still okay?” He asks, like he hasn’t already been fucking you for several minutes now.

“It’s more than okay,” you respond, folding your leg at the knee beside him so that he’s hitting an entirely new angle.

“Jesus Christ,” Minho breathes, squeezing his eyes as his cock grazes your cunt even deeper.

Your breaths are labored now, involuntary gasps escaping your mouth with every thrust inside of you. His cock is completely buried to the hilt inside of you, the condom completely coated in your juices and working out of you with complete ease as he fucks you.

And he fucks you like he’s yours, like he’s the one getting married to you, perhaps subconsciously to prove a point to both you and Jung. He could never fuck you like this. I’m willing to bet he never has. He could never want you the way I do so passionately and unrelenting.

“Minho,” you call to him, arching into his touch as he moves a strand of hair out of your face.

“What is it?”

“This is okay, right?,” you state, though your tone takes the form of a plea, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “It feels so good, I don’t want to ruin things-”

“It won’t ruin things,” Minho emphasizes. “We’re drunk, remember?” he says with a light chuckle.

His face is promptly buried in the crook of your neck, peppering kisses along the flesh and whispering promises against you that exist only in the intimate space of your shared tent.

“I’m just helping you out while we’re here,” Minho repeats. “And then you have a wedding to run off to.”

You smile up at him, fingers massaging his scalp lightly as he stays still inside of you, his cock pulsating lightly inside of the rubber as you take him.

“I would’ve asked for help a lot sooner if I knew it’d be this good,” you say with a saccharine smile, allowing your fingers to loop in his hair and tug lightly.

Minho chuckles down at you, his smile instilling an almost immediate sense of comfort once more as he begins to move again, his cock grazing your cervix with every slight movement as he lets out little gasps over you.

“I think I’m gonna cum,” you breathe through labored pants. Your tone sounds surprised, almost, at the prospect of your best friend coaxing an orgasm out of you.

And maybe you are, never having thought that this camping trip would end up with him inside of you, making love to you the way you picture the events of your honeymoon to unfold. Your best friend since college, and the most vocally displeased person at the reality of your engagement to Jung.

And the moment Minho’s been fantasizing since he first confronted his own feelings for you, a time completely unbeknownst to him now. Maybe it was the time you let him stay in your dorm bed when he wasn’t feeling good, or the time you baked him his favorite cake for his birthday most people seemed to have forgotten about. But the pinpointed time doesn’t matter right now- he’s here, your entire being is his for the night, and love or not, he’ll take any form of you he can grasp so desperately at.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, too,” Minho says back, his hands digging into your waist as he moves a little faster.

For several moments, nothing else is said between the two of you, only the echoing sounds of skin and drool and his toned body working itself in and out of you teeming around the dinky little tent like an erotic film on low volume. The sounds are muffled, both of you doing your best to remain hushed in your words and your breathy exchanges to each other, almost as if it’ll all be too real if you voice it any louder than this.

But all of this is very real, the actions serving as a sealed promise between the two of you to maintain this remarkable relationship you’ve developed with him. One in which you traverse the complexities of dating a man who’s never quite fulfilled you the way Minho caught on to very early on. And in turn, Minho uses the opportunity to fulfill you in every way he’s able to, whether it means being there at 3am to lend a kindly ear, concocting your favorite dishes after waking up hungover as a result of drinking to mask Jung’s shortcomings. And even to fuck away the stress Jung instills inside of you. To meet you halfway with his version of intimacy, one Jung has withheld from you for so long, and to remind you that although the marriage implies permanence, things could still be so, so different.

“Cum for me,” Minho says to you, leaning in to keep his lips pressed to yours. “Just let go of everything. Don’t think about him right now.”

And somehow it’s those words that assist you in reaching your finish, the subtle command to eject Jung from all your thoughts and replace him with Minho and Minho and more Minho.

It’s Minho easing the pain, Minho kissing you so tenderly, Minho thrusting his hardened cock in and out of your soaking cunt as you whimper helplessly beneath him.

And it’s Minho who finishes first, squeezing his eyes tightly as he feels his tip releases strings of cum into the constriction of the rubber condom, the finish feeling as though it’s the heaviest he’s had in months.

And the gentle pulse against your flesh coaxes out your own release, contracting around his wet girth and dribbling cum along the length of the condom as he fucks you through your fervent moans.

“God, you’re amazing,” Minho voices, as he pulls you in for a much gentler kiss. He holds his lips there momentarily, grazing them softly over yours, every part of him wanting to stay right here inside of you.

But as his cock begins to soften against him once more, he pulls out without another word, stripping off the condom while you watch him.

Strands of sweaty hair hang loosely in front of his face, framing his flushed appearance as his nimble fingers work to tie the condom off. He looks so attainable, so forgiving as he moves, and every part of you wants nothing more than to pull him close again and keep him tangled in your needy embrace.

“Minho?” You ask, as you sit up on the palms of your hands to meet his gaze.

“Hm?” He hums in response, discarding the condom and running two hands through his disheveled hair.

“Would you stay like this?”

He chuckles softly, occupying his spot again and pulling the blankets up to his chest.

“I’m not taking the floor anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, would you stay... close to me?” You ask shyly, your eyes flickering over his figure as he lies beside you.

He sits up to meet your gaze, reaching a hand out to you, his palm facing upward as he shoots you a sweet smile.

“I can stay close to you,” Minho reaffirms, pulling you close to his chest as he lies flat again, your head resting on his broad chest.

His chest rises and falls with every breath, his eyes shutting gently as he revels in the sensation of you seeking comfort beside him like this. And he can’t help but press a series of soft kisses to your temple, smiling when he hears a soft giggle escape your lips.

When the tent falls quiet once more, your listless bodies welcome the sleepiness that washes over you, euphonious melodies of crickets engaging in the sounds of nightfall outside. And Minho’s hand rubs gentle back and forth motions along the small of your back, reassuring for one last time that you have nothing to feel guilty about.

*

It’s like a moth to a flame, the way you’re drawn to Minho in the morning, despite the promise of it being just one night with him.

You’re hypnotized by the way he pulls on his sweatpants, chuckling as he nearly trips over himself in the confined space of the tent. His veiny hands working nimbly to chop vegetables and crush herbs as he prepares you one of his signature omelets. The silence that falls over you both while you eat, two fascinated gazes stuck on each other knowing very well you’d let him do it all over again if you weren’t so pressed for time. And when he’s helping you hoist your heavy backpack over his shoulders, the pressing urge to kiss him is present again, as though you seek a reminder that what occurred was indeed real and not some lucid dream conjured up within the darkened campsite.

An urge which you act upon, leaning into press your lips to his as he turns to ask if you’re all packed. And one which is reciprocated with a smile from him, grinning against your lips as he takes his time cupping a hand to your cheek and grazing his fingertips along your skin tenderly. With no real purpose, no sexual implication, no rush. Simply a kiss to conclude the trip, which may very well have been everything you needed as it precedes the wedding.

And with shared smiles between the two of you, Minho leads as you make your way back through the informational center. The same woman is sat at the desk, except she says nothing as you pass her by, a scowl on her face at the sight of you. You watch as she bows politely to other guests, inquires about their stay and offers them hard candies from the glass jar in front of her. Except she says nothing to you, almost appearing to shake her head as you pass her by.

“She was nicer yesterday,” you voice to Minho, your concerned gaze scanning his expression for a reaction. But he doesn’t give one, shrugging lightly as he holds the door for you on the way out.

“She’s probably having a bad day,” he says back. “Don’t worry about it.”

And it’s not until he takes your hand in his again that you realize it- this woman who you’d so confidently corrected on the fact that Minho is not in fact your fiancé, has witnessed you kissing him and holding his hand on your way out. Like a scarlet letter you wear upon your chest, except it’s you who put it there. Confirmation that you’re disloyal- a cheater, simply put. You want to defend your actions, but realistically, to whom? Not to Minho, who actively facilitated it. Not to Jung, who would kill you both if he knew.

And not even to the elderly woman, who you can’t explain it to, because it’s different. It’s not cheating, not when it’s Minho. He’s not some drunken hookup from a dive bar, or someone who’s relentlessly pursued you despite your protests. He’s your best friend, one who did you a favor in the absence of your fiancé’s desire to satisfy you. It’s different, you want to say to her. It’s not cheating with Minho- he’s different.

But you settle on the uncomfortable silence that remains when you climb into the passenger seat of Minho’s car, watching the trees melt into a blur of green hues as he backs out of the parking lot. And his hand meets yours over the center console, intertwining your fingers to put your mind at ease like he can somehow read your mind.

Perhaps he can, being the person who’s known every one of your thoughts so intimately since your time in college. And he also reads into your dismissal of the event when you finally let out a gentle sigh, lacing your fingers with his and allowing him to press a kiss to the back of your hand.

*

The arrival home is a non ceremonious one, Minho dropping you off a block before your shared apartment with Jung to avoid the interrogation he knows he’ll get.

He assists in gathering your bags, consolidating your items to ensure you can comfortably carry them up the block. And for a minute, the two of you say nothing as he sends you on your way, a kind of sparkle present in his eyes as he stares at you. He looks different today, a saccharine smile on his face and a much calmer demeanor overall. Every bone in your body wants to jump him and pepper him in kisses, to thank him for relieving the pent up sexual frustration in you and affirming that your fears surrounding this wedding are valid, but they don’t imply that you won’t enjoy married life, either. They’re just… feelings, ones you often find trouble confronting in the presence of Jung, and ones that you realize you’ve probably never confronted at all, if not around Minho.

The fears are valid, and they’re not fleeting in the slightest. But they are lessened with the reminder that Minho’s beside you every step of the way- regardless of how it manifests in your relationship. And the silence remains, as Minho shoots you a small wave, his eyes flickering briefly over the distant outline of your apartment.

“Hey,” you call out to Jung, who’s lazily sprawled out over the sofa, his feet laid flat upon the coffee table.

“How was the trip?” He asks enthusiastically, not taking his eyes off the sports channel that echoes loudly in front of him.

“Oh, you know,” you reply casually. “Just yoga. Always good to see old friends, though.”

“I’ll bet,” Jung replies, chuckling sarcastically as he speaks. “Seems like the only person you’re around these days is Minho.”

And then he reaches for the remote, lazily flipping through channels as you set your bag down.

“He’s my oldest friend,” you say casually, hoping he won’t notice the audible shakiness in your tone. It feels like he can hear how loud your thoughts are, the fears circling your mind, an expression on your face painted with incrimination. You think of your heart racing while Minho kissed you, the way his cock felt inside of you, your clit pulsating gently at the mere memory of it.

“Yeah, well, change is good,” Jung finishes. As you turn the corner, to meet him in front of the couch, you take note of his lap- a small, white cardboard box propped upon his sweatpants, the top ripped to keep it open and his hands working and out of it in rushed motions.

It’s the cake, you quickly realizing, your heart sinking a little at the sight of the frosting in complete disarray, almost half the dessert either smeared around the sides or piled on the fork he brings up to his lips.

“Listen,” Jung says, between a mouthful of food. “I have a golf thing this week and I want you to come see a couple buddies of mine.”

“This week?” You echo, your mind pondering all the potential excuses you can use against him. But nothing comes to mind, as Jung sets the box of cake aside and stands up from the couch.

“Yeah,” he says casually. “My buddy from college is gonna be in town, and he wants to get together before the wedding.”

You want so badly to protest his offer, knowing very well that Jung’s friends are nothing short of insufferable. They very seldom like you, openly voicing their concerns with your flaws, and they’re protective of him, as though Jung is the one who’s sacrificing more by being wed to you.

“Do I have a choice?” You ask, a small smile on your lips to offset the anger that could very well erupt in response to your statement.

But Jung just brings two hands up to your shoulder, rubbing the sides as he turns his attention back to the television.

“Not really. Hey, the game’s on again but make sure to clear your calendar on Thursday for me. And let’s bring that wine we got recently.”

“The white one?” You question, sagging your shoulders a little at his lack of hesitation to offer your favorite wine as a housewarming gift to his friends.

“Yeah, that one,” he says plainly, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead and slinging his body back over the couch.

“By the way,” Jung voices, motioning for you to move out of the view of the tv screen. “Where’s the cake from? Shit’s good.”

Your gaze lands on the box again, completely torn apart, the icing letters indistinguishable and the fondant ribbons in disarray on the cardboard. You can’t help but think of Minho and his careful attention to detail- the way he picked all your favorite colors, the flavors he knows you love, all from your favorite bakery you very seldom even visit because of the steep price points.

“Babe?” Jung calls again, spooning a layer of frosting into his mouth. “I asked where the cake was from.”

And you shrug casually as you pivot on your heel to exit the room.

“Minho picked it,” you say as you stride away from his still-slouched figure. “I wouldn’t know.”

*

“You have to freeze your cake and eat a piece of it every wedding anniversary,” Jung’s friend Kwang explains, as he brings a cigar to his lips and inhales generously. “That’s what we did, and we still have enough red velvet to last fucking years in there.”

“I love it,” Jung replies in a chuckle, slinging an arm over your shoulder and nudging you harshly. “Course, I’m not sure this one could stop herself from eating the rest of our cake for a whole year. She’s got a bigger sweet tooth than I do.”

You distance yourself from Jung a little, fiddling with your golf club as the men share echoing laughter between puffs of smoke.

The golf course Jung frequents is massive, spanning several hectares of land, which means you’re often stuck here for a long while during his golf sessions. His friends are the same detestable group of men he’s usually out with, all old friends from college you’ve since been forced to get acquainted with. And together they talk each others’ ears off about sports, food, making subtle digs at their own wives or partners, and of course, golf. The blinding shade of green hills contrasts harshly against a pale blue sky and depicts an almost cartoon scenery, and you can feel the headache in your temples worsening with every loud chuckle that escapes Jung’s lips.

He hasn’t asked once about your yoga retreat- which may be a blessing of sorts when you recall the events that unfolded. But you know it’s got nothing to do with that, and everything to do with the fact that he doesn’t give a shit.

He probably doesn’t even remember you were gone, nor does he care to fill you in on the details that unfolded while you were away. And it wouldn’t matter, because you know it would be exactly some version of this- his obnoxious friends, golf, sports on tv and bragging about his proximity to a married life with you. Strangely enough, you’re normally able to stomach these conversations when you’re forced to go out with Jung. But somehow today, every word he utters aggravates you, and you’re desperate to find some excuse to make it home again.

Except you also know very well that it’s something else eating away at your mind this afternoon.

“Y/n?” Kwang questions, and you snap your head to look at him, realizing you’ve tuned out most of his talking points up until now.

“Yes?”

“It’s your turn,” he says, gesturing to your golf club. Jung watches you and chuckles, almost embarrassed with you, as he mirrors Kwang’s gesture.

“Go on,” Jung says condescendingly. “Remember how I taught you last time.”

And with the golf club in your timid grasp, you approach the tee, positioning your club out in front of you and doing your best to mimic the way Jung taught you. Or rather the way he yelled at you to memorize, always taking his sports endeavors far too seriously.

The club head rests gently against the golf ball, pulling back momentarily as your hands shift and tighten around the grip again. And Kwang exhales another puff of smoke, a light chuckle escaping his lips as his eyes bore into your standing figure.

“Her form’s gotten a little better,” he remarks to Jung.

“Yeah, because of me,” Jung says back.

“And good thing, too,” Kwang voices. “If she’d gotten better without your help it’d mean someone else was helping her.”

He laughs as he finishes speaking, transitioning to a coughing fit as you turn to meet Jung’s gaze. But Jung doesn’t look back at you, he simply pats Kwang’s back and exchanges laughter of his own.

“That’s true!” Jung echoes through a fit of laughter, like it’s the best joke he’s heard all century.

“Could you imagine if she pulled up here better than you?” Kwang says, flicking stray ashes off his cigar. “Some other man doing your part for you?”

Jung chuckles again, pulling a box of cigars from the pocket inside of his blazer and thumbing at a fresh one. You watch as he flips open a small bronze Zippo lighter, a small metal clink emitting from behind his cupped hand, as he brings the cigar head to the little yellow flame and holds it there momentarily.

“Fuckin’ A,” Jung remarks with the cigar hanging between his lips.

When it’s lit successfully, he pockets the lighter again, taking a generous puff and blowing smoke just past the direction of Kwang’s still-laughing figure.

“They say that’s how you know your wife’s disloyal,” he remarks. “Her sports form never worsens.”

You stand awkwardly, your fingers grazing the rubber of the golf club grip as you say nothing. Their laughter continues to swirl the atmosphere around you, the sound of the birds and the buzzing cicadas drowning out amidst their cackles. The sun beams entirely too bright down over you, the artificial grass seeming to turn an even more obnoxious shade of green as you wait for them to finish.

“Better hope this one’s not disloyal,” Kwang says amidst his jokes, nudging your upper thigh with the tip of his own golf club. “That’s a lot of planning down the drain.”

And somehow the words trigger the familiar arrhythmic beat in your chest, flashbacks of Minho crossing your mind instantaneously. It’s like they know, the way their jokes seem to run on forever, their wicked cackling taunting you with every passing second. They speak of your form and your position, and you can’t help but picture the way Minho had you sprawled over the bed for you, his toned body looming over yours as he fucked you like he was consummating a marriage.

Beads of sweat trickle down your forehead as the sun glares over you, and the feeling is reminiscent of your sweaty bodies tangled together in the confined space of the tent. Was it you who came first? Was it Minho? The details are a little blurry right now as you try to steady your breathing, every single fear coming to life as you use your golf club to keep upright.

Disloyal. Another man. Cheater.

Their words replay in your mind and produce offspring of new ones, alluding to implications of broken trust and shattered plans. Hypothetical talks of one whole year of planning down the drain, another man with his hands all over you fulfilling Jung’s role in his absence and improving your form.

They know. They know you cheated, this is Jung’s way of humiliating you in front of his closest friend before he publicly calls off the marriage. He’s going to confront you about it any second now. He’s going to drag Minho’s name through the mud, and possibly also his corpse when he’s done with him-

“Y/n?” A voice interrupts, and your head snaps in the direction of their still gazes. The atmosphere is quiet now, birds chirping overhead once more, cicadas buzzing rhythmically in the distance again.

“Huh?”

“You want to forfeit your turn?” Jung asks with a chuckle. “We’ve been waiting for you to start for ten minutes now.”

Your gaze falls down to your hands, gripped tightly around the rubber of the club still, the ball remaining immobile on the little red tee.

“Uh, sure,” you reply, handing the golf club to Jung as he shakes his head.

You watch with an embarrassed expression as Jung grasps the club skillfully, pulling back and twisting his heel as he produces a robust hit, the ball lifting off its tee and soaring into the distance over the green hill.

“She can’t be disloyal,” Jung says with a chuckle, as he prods you with his golf club for the nth time today. “She can’t even complete one round successfully. Any other man would’ve taught her that’s not how you golf.”

*

At the one week mark since you’ve seen Minho, he’s aware something is wrong. You haven’t picked up his calls, haven’t responded to a single one of his texts, and you feign tiredness or some made up illness when he offers to stop by at hours he knows Jung isn’t home. But you don’t entertain any of it, fearing still that Jung knows, and that this is going to be the end of your marriage.

A fleeting physical endeavor caused by your fiancé’s stubbornness, and yet it’s effectively going to be the end of what was supposed to be your entire future. Seeing Minho will only reignite every fear present inside of you, causing it to coax the truth out of you and confront your fears in the presence of Jung.

The fear of what a lifetime of marriage implies. Are you meant to feel like teenagers in love for the entirety of it? Do the fights last a lifetime? Are you supposed to find a middle ground, or will there always be a need for somebody like Minho to provide some clarity and help you rekindle things to the best of your abilities?

What if in a week, you hate the cake flavor you’ve picked? What if you find yourselves so comfortable it doesn’t feel like love anymore? What if you spend a lifetime picturing it’s Minho fucking you instead of Jung, just to get off at night?

What happens to the marriage then? Does the love fizzle out until it’s a comfortable state of tolerance, one in which you’re sacrificing happiness for stability? Or does it simply exist somewhere else- or with somebody else? What’s implied by a lifetime of this?

Minho’s always been a worrier at heart, though, and he won’t let up until he’s certain your relationship to him isn’t at risk of dissipating, too. So at 11pm on a Friday, when he knows Jung is out with the same group of friends, he makes his move to confront you.

The living room is completely quiet at this hour, a soft ticking noise from the clock overhead as you flip past a page in your book. A romance novel, one littered with smut and cheesy dialogue, true to the lonely housewife you’re already conditioning yourself to be. And as your gaze falls over the first sentence of a new chapter, a knocking at the front door interrupts you.

It’s not Jung- it can’t be at this hour, his return home always signaled by his loud stumbling through the doorway, the jingling of his keys and drunken steps over the shoes he so conveniently forgets to put on the shoe rack.

You wrap your arms around the knit holes of your sweater, approaching the door hesitantly. It’s likely one of Jung’s friends, late to the party, or even one of your own girlfriends, here for a late night gossip session. But when you unlatch the door and pull it open, your heart drops at the sight of Minho, his hands shoved in his pockets and his figure standing slouched as his head looks up to meet your gaze.

“Hi,” says Minho, giving you a thin-lipped smile.

You give him a small nod, unsure of what to reply.

He looks handsome tonight, in a dark denim jacket and a pair of jeans. His golden-brown tresses fall loosely around his chiseled face, and his eyes look a little tired, like he hasn’t gotten much sleep.

“Minho,” you say plainly, fidgeting with a loose hem on the inside of your sleeve. “What are you doing here?”

Minho shrugs, peering into the doorway behind you, and then his eyes lock on yours again.

“I never taught you how to gut a fish,” Minho replies.

“I was just- what?”

“A fish,” Minho repeats. “I never taught you how to gut one.”

“Yeah, because we didn’t catch any,” you reply, a short chuckle escaping your lips.

“I know,” Minho says. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over and gut one.”

“Now?” You reply, glancing at the darkened street behind him. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, and Jung isn’t home until early morning. There’s a salmon defrosting on my counter as we speak, assuming the cats haven’t gotten to it. And I was wondering if you wanted to gut it.”

And he’s doing that thing again, where he takes the problem at hand and makes it so much more miniscule than it actually is. This state between disloyalty and tension you feel toward Jung, and the conflicting feelings you have toward Minho and the trip’s subsequent events. But he doesn’t address any of that- instead, he takes issue with you never having gotten to gut a fish. And that’s a relief, when you think about the other option of verbally confronting the emotions you keep at bay.

“Is it messy?” You ask with a little smile.

“It’s messy,” Minho replies.

“What if I’m bad at it?”

“Then you’re bad at it. But I’ll help you. Mess and all.”

You turn around to peer back into the hallway, at the book lying open and flat on the couch, the second hand on the clock moving painfully slow and the dim lamp illuminating the room around you. There’s not much of anything to stick around for, not when Jung’s still going to be out for hours on end. And not when a part of you is dying to confront the situation with Minho in the privacy of his place.

“You can’t laugh if I’m bad,” you say to Minho as you turn back to face him, slipping on your shoes in the process

“I won’t laugh,” he retorts. “No promises, of course.”

*

Two hours later, the kitchen is littered with napkins, plates, gloves, filet knives and scales. Minho walks you through how to remove the roe and the milt, discarding them for you as you prep your filet knife. He verbally instructs you how to descale the fish, and when you make minimal progress, he guides your hand up and down the length of the salmon with his, giving a little nod as the scales fall off with ease and uncover the smooth finish beneath.

He’s understanding when your reluctant hands fail to cut through to the back bone, chuckling lightly as he helps you cut that, too. And when you successfully pluck the remainder of the pin bones with tweezers, he nods proudly, giving you a thumbs up as you dispose of the fish parts and slide the plate of pink slabs to him across the counter.

“You did really well,” Minho says comfortingly. “You’re very attentive to detail. I don’t think there’s a single pin bone still on there.”

“It’s a little gross,” you say, shaking off your hands and chuckling lightly.

“But the end result will be worth it,” he replies. “Somebody plucked the pin bones off every filet you’ve eaten.”

You hit his arm lightly, as he laughs, coating the slabs in seasoning as you pull your gloves off.

“Minho,” you voice nervously, as he keeps his attention on the plate of fish in front of him.

“Hm?”

“Should we… talk about what happened?”

He sprinkles dried parsley atop the filet, not looking at you as you hold your breath for an answer.

“We can talk about it,” Minho replies simply. “Or we can choose not to. It was just a favor I ran you.”

You nod in response, watching as he swaps out parsley for onion powder and sprinkles lightly.

“Can we talk about it?” You say finally, twiddling your thumbs together.

Minho sets down the glass jar, turning to face you and pulling off his gloves, too.

“Sure,” he says, leaning back against the counter and giving you his undivided attention. Your heartbeat quickens momentarily at the sight of him focusing solely on you, and you struggle to find the words to say. But Minho is faster, taking reins of the conversation and breaking the deafening silence between you two.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Minho finally says, a kind of sadness evident in his tone.

“I was scared,” you reply. “I felt like Jung knew. It could ruin all of our wedding plans.”

“There’s no way he can find out,” Minho says. “I haven’t said a word to anyone. Unless you felt inclined to say something-”

“God, no,” you reply quickly. “I wouldn’t dare say anything.”

“Good,” Minho then says. “Then it was just a mistake in the heat of the moment. There’s nothing to worry about.”

And somehow the words sting a little, this conclusion that the affair was a mistake. Was it a mistake? You’re not sure- though you are sure of the complete sense of ease it instilled in you, and the fact that it hasn’t left your mind in a whole week.

“Are we okay?” You ask him, a nervous expression painting your face as you wait for an answer.

And Minho nods confidently, pulling on a fresh set of gloves as he reaches for the salt and pepper shakers.

“We’re fine,” Minho reassures. “If you think anything is getting in the way of a decade of you being stuck with me, then you’re mistaken.”

You laugh lightly, pulling on another pair of gloves too and joining Minho in front of the plate of fish.

“You want to pan fry this?” Minho asks, changing the subject. “I’ll walk you through it.”

Your eyes scan the well-seasoned strips of salmon, and then Minho’s comforting figure beside you, as he slides you a pair of tongs.

“Yeah,” you say to him. “Let’s finish this thing.”

Minho’s right- the end result is worth it. The fish is tender, well-seasoned, paired beautifully with his favorite bottle of white wine over an old comedy movie.

And everything feels like it’s back to normal once more as you sit beside him, your plates completely void of food as you finish your glasses of wine and sit back comfortably.

As the end credits roll, Minho lowers the volume, but he doesn’t shut off the television yet, taking another sip from his glass as your gazes fix on the names disappearing on screen.

Your eyes scan Minho’s mostly-vacant walls, at the things and the stuff he’s moved around. And he has, a couple new photographs displayed neatly on the wall in gold frames.

Most of them are black and white photographs you recognize to be cityscapes. And among the collage, placed right in the middle, the only photo with an ounce of color catches your eye.

“Shirakawa,” you say to Minho, cocking your head at the photograph.

It’s a wide shot of the town, bright green grass contrasting the traditional brown farmhouses that span the entirety of the landscape.

“Mhm,” Minho affirms, giving a little nod as he looks over the photograph, too.

You remain like that for a moment, reveling in the view, and then you finally break the comfortable silence once more.

“Could you tell me about it?” You ask him sweetly. “Just anything.”

Minho thinks back to the facts of Shirakawa he stores in the corner of his mind for a moment, sorting through facts and tales he’s held onto since college. Little stories he’s always wished to pass along again one day.

“Those are called Gasshō-Zukuri houses,” Minho says. “Which directly translates to hands in prayer.”

You cock your head in the other direction, nodding at his words, and seeing exactly what he speaks of. The houses do resemble two hands in prayer, the triangular thatched roofs almost reminiscent of a church’s.

“The roofs were designed to prevent heavy snowfall,” he continues. “Which the town is notorious for receiving. But apparently it’s like a little winter land when you’re there.”

His voice trails off a little at the last syllable, getting quiet again as he folds his hands in his lap.

“Which is pretty cool,” Minho finishes, pulling back from divulging too much information about the town he could go on about forever.

And he doesn’t know you’d gladly listen to him talk about it forever, being continuously fascinated with his appreciation for the centuries-old town across the world from you two. You nod in response to his words, imagining the winters those tucked away in that little town must experience- blankets of snow and freezing temperatures, and yet so warm inside those historical homes loved by people all around the world.

“We’ll go one day,” you say to Minho finally, turning to meet his gaze.

He turns to look at you, too, a somber expression on his face as he listens to you speak.

“We’ll go to Shirakawa one day. I promise it.”

Minho swallows nervously, well aware of how close you are to him on the couch now. Your face at such a close distance to him, your limbs resting right beside each other as his eyes flicker over your parted lips.

Minho engages in the nervous habits he always does, blinking nervously a few times and toying with the lobe of his ear. But he doesn’t act on anything, not wanting to push the boundaries you’ve practically just set in place. The same boundaries that concluded it was a mistake in the heat of the moment. So then why do you feel so inclined to kiss him all over again, let your body tangle with his and ease your stress as he assists in confronting all your fears preceding the wedding? Why does the idea of a lifelong commitment feel so much less intimidating when you’re in the presence of Minho? And what are you doing having these thoughts about your best friend when you’re getting married to somebody else in a month?

Thoughts that fail to induce an answer from you- instead interrupted and subsequently silenced by your lips on Minho’s again, kissing him with such desperation the way you did before.

And though desperate, it's still tender, his eyes shutting instinctively as his hands cup your cheeks and pull you closer. And you’ve nowhere to go but his lap, straddling his waist with your legs as you refuse to break away from the kiss, your kisses turning hungrier by the second as his hands find your waist.

This implication to fuck you is far greater this time, a pressing urge between the two of you to mirror the night’s actions and confirm it really did happen. That he did fuck you that night in your tent, and that you both came with each other and for each other, your bodies releasing the pent-up frustration you’re now certain has existed for years.

“Is this okay?” Minho begins to ask, his hands grazing your sides, and your kisses trail down his neck to provide a clear answer to his concern.

“Please,” you plead, nibbling a light bruise into his flesh. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty-”

“I don’t,” you say, moving to meet his lips again. “It feels so right with you. Please, could we do it again?”

Minho’s breath hitches in his throat as you palm him over the fabric of his jeans, his erection already visible for you.

“I want to,” Minho gasps. “But you’re getting married. I don’t want you to make another mistake-”

“It was never a mistake,” you say breathlessly. “Not the first time, not now. It feels so different with you. Do you feel it too?”

You pull away momentarily, hands cupped around the back of his neck as you wait for his answer. And Minho shoots a nervous smile in response; sheepishly toying with his hair as he struggles to voice his feelings.

“I… do,” Minho begins. “But I want you to-”

“Don’t worry about me,” you say, leaning in to resume pressing kisses along his neck. “Just fuck me like he doesn’t exist,” you finish, your lips working against his once more and guiding his hands down to your waist.

Although you were the one worried of getting found out, you can’t keep your distance from him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you all over again. Coaxing your own arousal out of you, encouraging you to forget all about him the way you’ve been trying to do in the absence of Minho. But with him here in front of you, you know the only way to shut Jung out of your mind is to fill it with thoughts of Minho, and Minho and more Minho.

“I… can do that…” Minho says with another nervous chuckle, as you unzip his jeans and palm him through his boxers.

“Call me something other than my name,” you say to him, pressing a series of chaste kisses to his lips. “Say it like I’m yours.”

And Minho reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, pulling away again to look into your eyes.

“Baby?” He questions nervously, eliciting a smile from you.

“Yeah. Like that.”

“Yeah, baby?” He says again, reciprocating confidently now as you stroke him over his boxers. “You want me to make you forget about him?”

“Please,” you beg again. “You’re so much better than him.”

And amidst the ego boost, Minho can feel his cock swell, painfully hard in your firm grasp now as you stroke him.

“Wait,” Minho says, wincing slightly as you slow your movements. “I don’t want to cum yet.”

“Then hurry up and fuck me,” you smirk down at him, looping your fingers in the waistband of his jeans and tugging slightly. And Minho sits up straighter, smirking back, as he moves to press you down against the couch and hover over you.

“You want me to fuck you?” Minho asks, using one hand to tug his jeans down to his thighs. “God, you haven’t stopped thinking about it, haven’t you?”

“Not once,” you admit, wrapping two arms around his neck and pulling him down toward you. “I would’ve asked you to fuck me years ago if I knew what I was missing out on.”

The two of you share giggles as his jeans are discarded on the floor, followed by his t-shirt, and then your pants and your t-shirt, leaving him in just his boxers, and you in your bra and panties.

Minho lowers himself against your clothed core, rubbing ever so gently against you to provide some relief to his aching shaft as he works his kisses against your drooly lips. And he smiles in between every slight movement, completely satisfied at the fact that it’s him rubbing against you like this and taking care of you instead of Jung. For the second time this month.

The idea that Jung is completely clueless to this game you play behind his back, that he still comes home thinking you belong to anyone except Minho. Both in mind and body, your entire being is intertwined with Minho in every way possible.

And you both know it, judging by the way you grab at each other like a pair of horny teenagers on a first date, trying everything in your ability to hold onto the feeling. Also by the way he’s so patient and forgiving with his movements, stil careful not to move too fast in case you decide you want to stop. And an unspoken promise between the two of you, that no matter what happens, the friendship will remain, that it simply can’t slip through your fingers after a decade of promises to each other.

“Let’s go to Shirakawa,” you say to Minho in a whisper, finally tugging his boxers down and freeing his erection against abdomen.

“You want to?” Minho asks, tugging your panties down, too.

“Yes, I want to,” you reply. “We’ve talked about it for so long. Tell me what we’ll do there.”

“Well we’ll definitely go fishing,” Minho begins, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as he discards your panties on the floor beside you. “And I’ll help gut all the salmon with you.”

“Mhm,” you voice in a dreamy tone, massaging his hair with the tips of your fingers.

“And then we can see all the animals there,” he continues, positioning himself over you and lifting your leg a little to get a better angle. His hand massages gentle circles in your inner thigh, careful not to enter without ensuring you’re comfortable first.

“And when it snows,” Minho says. “We’ll be trapped inside. But we can occupy the little attic space, where the walls slant inwards. And I promise to make love to you until it stops snowing.”

“When does it stop snowing?” You ask, as Minho pumps his cock gently over you and positions himself in front of your entrance. He chuckles lightly as he leans in to kiss you, your entrance quickly swallowing his tip and caressing his girth with your arousal as he leans in to push himself even further.

“It doesn’t,” Minho replies finally, thrusting himself into you and letting his hands find the small of your back to steady himself. You let out a fervent moan at the sensation, quickly drunk on the feeling all over again. The mesmerizing sensation of his body hovering over you, of his cock inside of you, exactly the way you remembered it from the other night.

And it’s not right, but it feels so right to have him those close to you again, your best friend closing the gap of uncertainty between you and shutting you up with the confirmation that your souls have always belonged to each other this way.

“Fuck, Minho,” you breathe out, beads of sweat dripping down your temples as he buries himself to the hilt inside of you and holds it there, pulsating harshly against your cervix.

“Will you go faster?” You ask him, running your fingertips down his back in encouragement.

“Are you sure?” he says between labored breaths, still careful not to hurt you.

“Please,” you practically beg. “I’m so eager for you, please just do something about it, baby.”

Minho’s eyebrows raise a little at the utterance of a pet name. He’s never heard it from you- not in all your years of friendship. He’s hardly secured a nickname from you in all that time. And yet here you are now, taking him so fully obediently, throwing words like baby at him and begging him to fuck you so that you won’t have to think about Jung.

“Baby?” Minho says curiously, capturing your lips in a kiss.

“Baby,” you reply, rutting your hips up against his as he begins to move a little faster. “Baby, and honey, and fiancé.”

Minho chuckles a little at the last word, cocking his head as he digests your response.

“Fiancé?”

“Yeah,” you say back between little moans that escape your lips. “If we were in Shirakawa I think we’d be engaged. And you could fuck me whenever you wanted to.”

Minho feels his cock twitch at your words, his mind running rampant with the fantasy of being engaged to you. The implication of a lifetime of this, fucking you sweetly in the comfort of a shared home and coaxing all your stress out of you. And furthermore, a lifetime of you- of being dragged to all your favorite bars, takeout meals and cheap comedy movies, camping when the leaves turn orange and gutting salmon alongside you.

A lifetime of security, stability. One of sheer, unwavering happiness.

“What a dream that would be,” Minho voices, moving a little faster at your words now.

“You think?”

“I know,” he affirms, his hands finding the mounds of your breasts and cupping them gently to unclasp your bra.

“What a fucking dream it would be to have you like this every night.”

Your bra is promptly discarded alongside you on the couch, the cool air grazing your erect nipples as he brings his mouth down to latch around one in gentle sucking motions. You can feel yourself clench around his cock, taking in the sight of his drooly lips wrapped around your chest and working you in eager motions. It’s still the same Minho you recognize from years ago- still the dorky, yet handsome figure of permanence always present somewhere in your life. And it feels even less unnatural than the last time you slept with him, simply instilling another wave of eased stress and tranquility deep inside of you. It’s like this is supposed to be the relationship between the two of you now- you live your life catering to the stubborn, unmoving personality of Jung’s. Minho tends to his monotonous life away from you. And when you reunite once more, relishing in tales of your separate lives from each other and laughing over glasses of chenin blanc, he concludes the night with a slow, intimate session of love-making, one to seal the promise between your souls that regardless of where the future takes you, this is still permanent.

Neither the college girls Minho’s fucked so well, nor the shitty men you promise yourself to could come between that. And it’s a comfortable truth you both come to terms with as he gives himself to you so lovingly and wholly.

“Are you close?” Minho asks, moving to your lips once more and indulging you in a slow, sensual kiss.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, wrapping your arms around his neck a little stabler and bringing your gaze down to his cock, where he disappears inside of you with complete ease.

“Where do- fuck- where do you want me to finish?” Minho asks, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily. “I don’t want to pose any risks to you right now.”

And he’s right, both of you knowing very well that just because you’ve addressed your mutual attraction to each other, doesn’t mean you can run around with Minho’s arousal catching in your walls like you just aren’t engaged.

You still have a wedding to tend to, another person to return home to and a promise in the eventual holy sanctity of marriage that Jung is your only lover. But right now that no official certificate holds you to that, you can’t find it inside you to care, wanting nothing more than to be filled by Minho, and Minho and more Minho, and yet knowing it’s simply not a possibility.

“Wherever you want,” you finally breathe out, placing the option in the hands of Minho. Your breasts, your mouth. Inside of you. You don’t care- all you care is that he’s here, and he’s upholding his end of sealing the permanence between you two.

Minho gives a few particularly harsh thrusts, and then he brings a hand to the base of his cock, pulling out carefully and wincing as he staves off his orgasm. Your hands remain wrapped around the back of his neck, your gaze fixed on his as he works himself in quick strokes and leans in to kiss you.

“Can we go to Shirakawa?” You ask him again tenderly, as he continues to pump himself over your lying figure.

“Of course we can,” Minho responds with a sweet smile, his breaths labored as he nears his finish. “We can go wherever you want.”

“As long as you’re there,” you say to him, smiling up at him as he leans forward to kiss you again.

“As long as it’s the two of us,” Minho clarifies. “We can go anywhere.”

His eyes shut once more, his long eyelashes grazing his eyelids as his lips part open, and then he lets out a whimpered moan as he finally reaches his finish, coating your stomach in the milky white release of his orgasm. He kisses you when he finishes, smiling against your lips as he brings a hand down between you and rubs your clit in gentle, circular motions.

Your moans turn whimpered, too, as you reach your finish, clenching around what you wish was his cock and letting go for him.

And the credits on the television reach their end, transitioning to the hushed echo of a commercial playing. But neither of you are in any rush to leave or clean up just yet, allowing your listless bodies to intertwine lazily on the sofa as your giggles fill the quiet space between you and reverberate off the walls with such mutual fondness.

*

Mondays are heavy with work. Tuesdays, Jung works late. Wednesdays and Thursdays are dedicated time for his friends from college, and every day after that is a toss-up, but they’re often days you spend with Jung, watching movies in your apartment, going on little dates or in uncomfortable silence alongside him as he spills details of his work and his friends.

And he believes this to be your schedule, because he’s clueless otherwise.

Mondays are really for late-night phone calls with Minho, where you run off to the patio for a few minutes of privacy while Jung catches up on sports broadcasts. Tuesdays, Minho cooks you intricate meals at his apartment, alongside old comedy movies and concluded always by his gentle love-making to you. Wednesdays and Thursdays feel like college again, Minho finally agreeing to accompany you to all your favorite bars again and paying for your drinks as he watches you dance for him, his hands all over you as the two of you exchange needy kisses for everybody to watch.

And though the lights by the bar are far too dim for anybody to recognize you’re out with somebody beside your fiancé, a part of you doesn’t care.

Bastard. Facilitator of cheating. Homewrecker.

Sometimes you and Minho joke about the names they’d call him if they found out. Every derogatory term under the sun, like they haven’t already thought it of him for being quieter than Jung’s douchebag friends. And yet they also fail to see he’s more kind, more attentive and more loving than any of them could ever bring to the table in the presence of their own wives.

You also know they won’t find out- not when you’re virtually invisible to Jung and his friends when he’s not showing you off like some trophy to be won. When corporate holiday parties arise, or the need for an even number of golf participants makes itself known, Jung’s there without hesitation, grasping your hand between his clammy fingers and recounting days of when you’d met.

And yet none of his stories involve the present you. They fail to include your successes at work, or the books you’ve taken a liking to recently, or even the valiant efforts you’ve put into decorating your shared space with him, despite his complete lack of assistance. His stories of you exclude the liking you’ve taken to “yoga retreats” recently. And they definitely don’t know you can gut a fish like your life depends on it.

“This wine is better than the last one,” you say to Minho, as he pours himself a glass and slips a crystal stopper into the spout.

“It cost me less than the loaf of bread,” Minho replies with a breathy chuckle. “I don’t think we’ll ever stop favoring cheap convenience store wine.”

You swirl the cherry red color around in your glass, admiring the way the liquid forms a little whirlpool and settles once again, the strong scent wafting upward in the process.

“Notes of cherry, wood, french vanilla and… pocket money,” you say to Minho wafting the scent up even further with a wave of your hand.

He laughs at your words, taking a sip from his own glass and smacking his lips together once.

“Undertones of fruit and nuttiness. And maybe penny pinching, like in our college days,” Minho replies, the two of you chuckling as you set your glasses down.

You look out at the view from his balcony window, the darkened sky providing little to see at this hour, but still outlining the silhouettes of the trees and the bushels that line his apartment terrace.

“The time passed us by so fast,” Minho says in a somber tone, not turning to face you. You keep your gaze on the trees outside, thinking over your shared actions over the past few weeks. It’s been nothing short of thrilling going behind Jung’s back the way you do, but you’re also aware that with every meetup, you’re a day closer to tying the knot with Jung, preparing for a lifetime of permanence alongside the same person you’ve never felt so unsure about before now.

You turn to face him finally, a sad smile on your face as he waits for your answer.

“I wish we did something about this earlier,” you respond finally, taking note of the glow in his eyes as you speak. He looks marvelous at this proximity to you, so attainable and so enchanting all at the same time.

“Did something about what?”

“This,” you emphasize. “Us.”

Minho blinks nervously a few times, and then he cocks his head slightly as he waits for you to continue, too scared to affirm your words with thoughts of his own first.

“All this time I was trying to validate the fears inside of me surrounding this wedding,” you explain to him. “And then there was you, the same person who makes them nearly nonexistent. I wish we did something about it earlier so that maybe the fear was just lessened to begin with.”

Minho nods nervously, as he understands very well now that you’re on completely separate pages.

Minho, who wishes he could shake some sense into you and confess that this isn’t just some physical endeavor soul-searching the way it is for you- that he’s so madly in love with you, and that he chases the reminder of your permanence because the ivy that constricts his veins will surely kill him in your absence.

And thus, he takes what he can get- you, at your most vulnerable moments, unloved and uncherished by Jung, just seeking a kindly ear and maybe a warm body to remind you that there is some semblance of comfort to be felt in the interim.

And yet you, who only partakes in this fleeting act of physical yearning because you’re scared of commitment to Jung, who maybe doesn’t fulfill you every way you wish he would all the time. So you go behind his back, and you chase the fulfillment yourself, and you act upon the fears and the anxieties that have always circled your mind in the presence of Minho.

Maybe he likes you, maybe he’s jealous, maybe he wants to fuck you.

Statements you’ve heard throughout the entirety of your friendship, ones you couldn’t help but ponder, too, as Minho would grow painfully quiet with Jung in the room. But ones you always brushed off, telling yourself that the two just don’t click. And yet the arousal present with the fear makes for some of the most pleasurable moments together in the privacy of Minho’s home, albeit for Minho, on time begged and borrowed from you. The affair with Minho is not indicative of permanence in any form, and yet it exists to confront your very fear of permanence.

Selfish? Surely. Contradictory? In every sense of the word. The concerns raised to you by Minho himself in any way? Never.

So it remains, this tragic cycle of sleeping with your best friend behind your fiancé’s back, blind to the fact that he’s irrevocably in love with you, in a comfortable state of mind knowing that at least you’ll have felt this state of peace for even just a finite amount of time before you give yourself away to the marriage completely.

And yet it’s a beautiful thing in essence, this shared love between the two of you. A trust instilled so deeply on both sides to give yourselves away to each other every night and close a chapter of what once was, regardless of the differences in how it’s perceived.

The incandescent glow Minho’s tender embraces bring forth in you, no matter the fact that he’s simply grieving a very real, living love that still exists between the two of you. Green leaves of ivy that constrict his throat and force words back down them again, so that he may never admit that he’s jealous, and it’s you, it’s always been you. The same suffocating feeling he ponders late at night, asking himself why he’s been so magnificently cursed to only love you under these circumstances, and never in ones that promise him your permanence in return.

But when you're across from him, a glass of cheap wine in hand and your gentle laughter accompanying his, he can’t help but embrace the grand feeling- tarnished, but still grand.

“Maybe it worked out the way it was supposed to,” Minho settles on saying. “Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be more than this little period of time.”

And there’s a pang of pain in his chest as he utters the words, but he’s met with your small nod in response, visibly comforted by the prospect of his implications.

“Hey,” you say after a moment of silence, sitting up straight and swirling your glass of wine around in your hand again. “There’s a dinner thing Jung’s hosting with some people from the guest list. Don’t say you didn’t get the invite.”

Minho exhales with an audible groan, slouching back in his chair and running his hands through his hair.

“I don’t even like his cooking,” Minho admits frustratedly. “He’s just going to make me feel like an idiot the whole night.”

“But I want you there,” you say to him in a pleading tone. “You’re my best friend. I can’t do this stuff without you.”

“I know you can’t,” Minho replies. “And I don’t want you to have to. But it’s going to be awkward, and painful.”

“I won’t let him cross any boundaries,” you reason with him. “I’ll diffuse anything that comes up. I just want you there, even if it means you’re going to sit there and say nothing. Even that would make me happier than seeing your empty chair all night.”

Minho groans again, swirling his own glass of wine around in his hands and averting your gaze. He’s quiet for a long moment, and then he speaks again, in a reluctant voice.

“He would kill me if he found out, you know. We would never see each other again.”

You feel your heart sink at his words, even the thought of it beyond unnerving to you.

“Why do you say that suddenly?”

“Just… thinking,” Minho finishes.

“Well he has no way of knowing,” you console him. “And I promise to keep things civil.”

Minho thinks for a moment, wanting to press you for more answers about what this even is, about why you’re choosing to let him waste his time like this and what possessed him to agree to attend your pre-wedding dinner as the other man.

But he says nothing, letting a generous sip of alcohol serve as the answer to the requests you press him for- yes, of course he’ll be there, albeit with his long list of fears and reservations. But he’ll do anything, twice even, at your behest.

*

The ebony wood dining table looks particularly elegant when it’s set up for guests. You line the seats with ceramic white platters, shiny silverware and iridescent glasses, paying special attention to even minute details, such as the direction of the prongs for each fork you place on white nylon napkins. Mixed peonies and birchwood make up the long centerpiece, and tall white taper candles are lit in the bronze candleabras.

And the mood is largely set by the guests, who laugh loudly around the table with glasses of expensive beverages in their hands. They speak of their jobs, and their spouses and pop culture references you can’t be bothered to pay attention to. Your eyes scan the emptiness in their eyes, most of them living lives you can tell they’ve simply settled for. And you wonder, briefly, if they’ve ever experienced the unwavering happiness you do in the presence of Minho. Do they ever crack open a bottle of convenience store wine? Do they still let loose at clubs every now and then? Could they gut a fish if they caught one?

You respond to their stories with little nods and fake chuckles, and your head snaps in every direction past your guests to the front door.

Minho’s fashionably late tonight, or at least you hope he is, still holding on to the promise that he’s going to be here. And Minho’s many things- but he’s not dishonest. He’ll show if he says he will, albeit for a few minutes each time when it involves Jung. But he’ll still show, dropping by with a timid smile and greeting the audience before sending you off with a lousy excuse again and leaving his spot vacant for the remainder of the evening. But tonight is different- tonight he’s here as the other man. And you can’t decipher whether that indicates a change in his subsequent actions, that perhaps he won’t show after all, and you’ll be left to your own devices with Jung and his obnoxious friends.

“… And one of our clients is an intern this quarter,” Jung says loudly, as he rants about his work in typical fashion. “Which means I’m going to be carrying most of our partnership.”

The guests laugh and raise their glasses, and you can’t help but wonder how on earth the comment warrants even an ounce of laughter. As Kwang’s wife begins to voice a response, the doorbell rings once, and your head snaps in the direction of the echoing bell.

“I’ll get it,” you say quickly, rising from your seat and smoothing down your skirt. “Excuse me.”

The guests glance briefly in your direction, and then turn their attention back to Jung, who begins to voice another chronicle of his inadequate colleagues. As you march down the hallway, your heart quickens in your chest, admittedly a little nervous to confront Minho after the recent events. You wonder if he’s going to be more awkward, or maybe even shut down entirely around the group. Maybe he’s just here to drop off another cake and send you off with a wave. Endless possibilities you’ve never had to consider when you weren’t actively sleeping with him. You unlatch the front door, taking a deep breath, and then pull it open, your gaze falling instantly onto the standing figure.

And it’s a wave of comfort when he smiles at you, his eyes forming little crescents as he grins and exposes his endearing set of skewed teeth, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips as he does. He’s much more dressed up tonight, in a black collared button down and a black tie, his light brown tresses framing his chiseled jawline so well. And seeing him is more exciting than any other guest you’ve seen tonight, a present urge to pepper him in kisses and remain right here alone, with him.

“Hey,” Minho says in a shy voice.

“Hi,” you respond, trying to stifle the giddy expression on your face from the guests around you who might be looking. “I saved you a seat,” you continue. “Come on.”

Minho enters reluctantly, glancing around the room and giving a small nod to the guests as you direct him to the vacant seat beside you. And somehow, he looks a little more confident, his posture much straighter and a knowing smile on his face as he occupies the seat beside you.

“Hi,” he says to the guests as they meet his gaze, and he even gives a small nod to Jung, who shoots him a subtle scowl.

“Jung,” Minho voices, gesturing to the table. “Pleased to be here.”

Jung just nods at Minho, and then goes back to telling a story of his business accounts.

But your attention is everywhere except for Jung’s story, hardly even able to take your gaze off Minho’s. His eyes sparkle under the hanging pendant lamp, his lips pulling into a little smirk as you watch him with such fascination. There’s something so enticing about the prospect that nobody here knows he’s fucked you, several times since the last time they saw him, and he’ll likely do it tonight when Jung thinks you’re out with a group of girlfriends. They don’t know the world you two have effectively built together, romantic nights of cooking intricate dinners together over glasses of cheap wine. And they don’t know the history you two share, years of walking through your fears and uncertainty alongside one another and bettering yourselves in the process. He’s your other half in so many ways, and you’re not sure it’s something anybody except the two of you could even begin to comprehend.

You watch as Minho picks up a bottle of wine from the table, rotating it in his grasp and examining the contents. It’s one of Jung’s favorites, an expensive bottle of zinfandel he picks up from a special market a few hours out of the city. And it all tastes the same to you anyway, pairing just fine with steak or fish or even fast food at 3am. In fact, it’s subpar in comparison to Minho’s favorites, which taste like safe intimacy, laughing at comedy reruns and love-making under the warmth of his blankets.

“Anyways,” Jung voices loudly, finally garnering your attention from beside him. “We’ve never been more ready for this honeymoon. I need tropical weather and some margaritas.”

“Amen to that,” Kwang chimes in, raising his glass for the nth time tonight.

I hate warm weather, you want to say. I wish it was Shirakawa, under the safety of the prayer hands thatched roofs and blankets of snow.

“If we don’t come back, just know we opted to stay,” Jung then says. “I’ll stay golfing on the beach and you guys can tough out the rest of winter here.”

Cue the obnoxious laughter, fake smiles, raised glasses.

“You’ll have the whole trip to help on her form,” Kwang says loudly, gesturing over to you with the wine bottle in hand.

“We went golfing the other day, and let’s just say there’s ample time for improvement.”

Roaring laughter, unsightly grins and clinking glasses.

And Minho glances over at you, who keeps a smile on your face at the stupid remark.

It’s exactly this that keeps him from acting upon the urge- you look content. You don’t argue, you don’t maintain a blank expression. Instead you smile, and you agree with his friends and your eyes look like they’re still on the same page of devoting entirely yourself to this less-than-desirable relationship you flaunt. Minho knows he’s just a stepping stone in this chapter, and that he’s going to come out of this hurt. But he also knows that despite your fears, you’re content, and he’s not going to insert himself between the love that you deserve, though it may take a while to materialize fully.

You glance over at Minho with a nervous smile, silently hoping he’ll say something. Just ask me to run away with you, you want to say. Tell me to run, and I’ll meet you there. Wherever.

But you know he won’t dare, too set on the idea that this is still what you want. So he’ll remain like this, in the unfamiliar atmosphere of a dining table you share with another man, and he’ll let himself face what becomes of it in due time.

“Are you okay?” Minho asks quietly, leaning in to fill your glass with more expensive wine.

“Peachy,” you say with a smile. And one he returns, shooting you another gentle smile and nodding at your confirmation.

The two of you listen as Jung segues into another story about his business client, and Minho’s leather heel finds your ankle under the table, grazing it softly as you stifle a smile.

There’s no sexual implication rooted in his actions, maybe not not even romantic implication, as his heel moves up and down the back of your bare calf. It’s just a reminder to say this will always be of permanence.

*

Minho’s hands work up and down the sides of your waist as he kisses you, smiling against your lips as you slot yourself between his legs and grasp the back of his neck.

He kisses Jung’s expensive wine back into your mouth, the flavor complementing the mouthwatering look he sports this evening, and you have to remind yourself several times to slow down.

“This looks so good on you,” you say with a smile, fidgeting with his tie and loosening it from around his neck.

“It’s the same one I always wear,” Minho says with a chuckle. “I can’t be bothered to buy a new one.”

“Don’t buy a new one. I want this one. I want it to be this one every time.”

Minho laughs lightly, a form of verbal agreement, and then he pulls you a little closer to him, rubbing little circles in the small of your back as you stay close in his embrace. He’s sprawled out on his couch, strands of hair hanging delicately in his face as he steadies you in his hold over him, his pink lips visibly swollen from having kissed you for the better part of an hour now.

“Tell me something about Shirakawa,” you ask him innocently, unfastening the first few buttons of his collared dress shirt.

”Anything?” Minho responds, bringing an arm up to rest casually behind his head.

“Anything. Something dreamy.”

“Hm,” Minho hums in response. “There are rice fields, and lily ponds and green orchards,” he says finally. “We can walk through all of them without a care in the world, and we can get drunk off little glasses of sake.”

“And the whole town can be ours,” you chime in, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his toned chest.

“The whole town,” Minho echoes. “It can be whatever we want it to be.”

“As long as you’re there,” you tell him, trailing your kisses lower and undoing the line of buttons as you near his navel

“Anything you want,” Minho exhales in a dreamy tone. “Say it and it’s yours.”

His eyes shut instinctively as the last of his buttons are undone, exposing his chest to you and promptly covered in eager kisses as you trail down to his hardening cock in his pants.

And his arms rest lazily behind his head, feeling completely taken care of, so needy always for your delicate touch. Your nimble fingers work to graze in slow back and forth motions over his flesh, and then you hoist yourself up a little higher to straddle your hips over his crotch.

“Thank you for showing up tonight,” you say to him in a sweet voice. “It means everything to me.”

“Anything you want,” Minho says for the second time tonight. “Say the word and I’m there.”

“You’re my best friend,” you voice to Minho. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

And the utterance of a friend doesn’t even sting for him anymore. It’s fact- you belong to each other, time and time again, as friends, and lovers in the evening, and everything else in between. He doesn’t fight it, because he’s grateful for any role he can play amidst the grand role you play in his.

“Are you hard?” You ask a little quietly, a knowing smile on your face as you rock your hips gently over his.

“A little,” Minho replies, though he’s in no rush to have you take care of it. It’s enough exactly like this, your bodies intertwined together and infatuated with each other in the secrecy of his home.

“You want me to take care of you?” You then ask, one hand trailing up to wrap lightly around his throat.

And as your slender fingers graze the column of his neck, it’s clear to you at this angle. Sticking out like a sore thumb, so glaringly wrong and indecent from this proximity.

Your left ring finger, completely bare, your engagement ring nowhere to be seen.

At first you’re sure you’re hallucinating, pulling your hand back quickly to examine the thin tan where your finger meets your knuckle, one that’s usually covered by the gleaming jewelry. But as you rotate your finger around under the dim lighting, you confirm it’s not in fact some illusion- your engagement ring is gone.

Minho sits up a little, craning his neck a little to examine your worried expression.

“Y/n?” He questions, taking note of the way your eyes remain fixed to your hand. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s not here,” you say simply.

“What? What’s not here?”

“My ring,” you say a little more panicked, climbing off him and glancing around the coffee table.

“Where’s my ring?” You question, moving aside stacks of books and magazines atop the glass table. Minho sits up, glancing around too, searching desperately for the little piece of silver jewelry.

“Let’s stay calm,” Minho says as he stands up. “It has to be around here. When was the last time you saw it?”

“I can’t remember,” you say in a panicked tone, now scrambling to the kitchen and searching the marble counters.

“Okay,” Minho says calmly. “Was it- do you ever take it off to wash it?”

“I never take it off,” you reply. “I never take it off, why the fuck isn’t it on my finger?”

“Let’s stay calm,” Minho repeats. “It has to be in here-”

“Calm?” You finally retort, turning to face him with tears pricking your eyes. “You want me to stay calm? Jung’s going to kill me, do you know how fucking expensive that thing was?”

“Of course,” Minho says, buttoning up his shirt as he continues to search. “Which is why we’re going to find it.”

And you don’t reply for several moments, still frantically scanning the kitchen counters for any sign of your ring. But it’s a moot point, every napkin you unball containing nothing, nothing in the trash cans Minho searches through, even the dishwasher thoroughly searched, to no avail.

And you can’t help but to cry, tears falling nonstop from the corners of your eyes as you rush about the kitchen and think of every worst-case scenario. This is it. Confronting Jung about it means he’s going to know what’s been going on, chew you out about the cost of the ring and your carelessness toward it. And then call off the wedding, and every single one of your friends will know you’re a cheater and a liar.

“It’s not fucking here,” you cry out to Minho, halting your movements to bury your face in the palms of your hands, letting yourself emit muffled sobs into the sleeves of your sweater.

“It has to be,” Minho says, glancing once more around the room, and then approaching you to pull you in for a hug.

“Don’t,” you order, pushing him away from you, and Minho furrows his brows together. “Just don’t fucking touch me right now.”

Minho gives a breathy chuckle, thinking at first you might be joking, and then his expression softens as he realizes you’re being completely serious.

“What- seriously? That’s it?” Minho questions.

“What?” You say with a choked sob. “I can’t find my fucking engagement ring. The one I was given to get married, in case you forgot. Sorry I’m not in the mood.”

Minho scoffs lightly, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head. And then he meets your gaze once more, a solemn expression on his face.

“What are we doing?”

“What?” You query in response.

“What the fuck are we doing?” Minho repeats. “What the fuck are you doing here if you’re getting married?”

You shrug frustratedly, wiping tears with the back of your hand and saying nothing in response.

“No, answer me,” Minho commands, his voice raising a little. “What are we doing, going behind his back like this? You come here almost every night spewing your bullshit about Shirakawa and suddenly it’s my fault that you can’t find your fucking engagement ring? I mean, who even cares?”

“Who cares?” You retort. “I do. I’m getting married-”

“Exactly,” he interrupts. “So then what the fuck are we doing? Go get married, for fuck’s sake. Will you just leave, for good then?”

“You want me to walk out of your life just because I’m getting married?”

“I want you to leave because I’m in love with you,” Minho says finally, and a deafening silence washes over you two.

For a moment, all that’s heard are your echoing sniffles and Minho’s heavy breathing, as he struggles to find the words to continue.

“You really don’t see it in the way I look at you? You really haven’t realized I’m only okay being the other man because I’ll take any fucking version of you I can get at this point?”

Your gaze fixes on his, taking note of the way tears prick at the corners of his eyes, too.

“I’ve been in love with you for all these years,” Minho says, his voice coming out in a choked sob. “And what a waste, all these talks of Shirakawa when I’ve known all along it was always going to be him in the end.”

His words circle your mind with a sense of urgency, as you struggle to respond.

You have known it, maybe even reciprocating by this point, but knowing that you can’t, not when you’re getting married in mere weeks. You’re happy, and you’re safe here with Minho. But in terms of love, this isn’t permanent. It’s a fleeting thing, one that has to end like this as you approach the next chapter of the rest of your life.

And yet it hurts, like a knife pierced deep into an existing wound, like thick vines of ivy that caress your veins and pull tightly with every thought of it being Minho all this time, all these years.

“I love you,” Minho says almost sheepishly, throwing his hands at his sides in defeat. “I’ve always loved you. I love you in loud bars and over cheap bottles of wine. And I’m jealous- god, I’m jealous,” Minho admits in a choked sob. “And it’s killing me. I can’t do anything about it except watch you plan a life with somebody I’ll spend the rest of my life wishing was me instead.”

Your lips part to say something, but you can’t, simply wiping the tears that fall onto the sleeve of your sweater.

“I love you in the hands of another man and I’ll still love you if you choose him. But I can’t do it at this proximity to you anymore.”

“Minho, please-”

“There’s nothing else,” Minho says, gasping back his tears. “This is it for us.”

You watch as he exhales deeply, wiping his tears and gesturing back to the kitchen.

“Did you check the soap dish?” Minho then says in a quiet voice.

“What?”

“The soap dish,” he clarifies somberly. “For your ring.”

And Minho watches as your gaze falls to the stainless steel soap dish across the room, a bristle pad sponge occupying the rectangular dish, alongside the familiar glint of your silver engagement ring.

One you removed to ensure you didn’t lose it among the plate of pin bones from the cod you helped Minho prepare. And one you hadn’t even realized has been missing from your finger for several hours now.

Your gaze falls back to Minho’s before you retrieve the ring, and his eyes are swollen and mournful. There’s not a glint of hope present between you two- not in friendship, and certainly not in love.

And neither of you say another word as you pivot on your heel to collect the symbol of yours and Jung’s ode to permanence.

*

The polyester-spandex mix of your reception dress is much itchier than you remembered it to be. It’s a simple white piece, long and cascading behind the heels you’ve chosen, a generous v-cut enhancing the curve of your breasts as you adjust the hem in the mirror.

“Is it more comfortable than your wedding dress?” One of the bridesmaids questions with a smile.

You shoot her a somber smile, nodding at her and fidgeting with the long sleeve of your dress.

“Yeah. It is.”

“It should be,” she responds kindly. “Remember, try not to step on the bottom or we’ll have to get it cleaned off before the real thing.”

You nod at her, checking your reflection once more in the full-length mirror across from you. You love the woman you embody- she looks elegant, and sure of herself and well on the path to a lifetime of stability and happiness.

And yet the girl inside of you can’t feel further from the perception.

You want nothing more than to climb out of the tight-fitting dress and leave all of this, damn this rehearsal dinner to hell and call off the wedding. But this is it- the final stretch. Guests at every corner assume their positions and practice where they’ll stand and how they’ll move about so elegantly as you say your vows.

Jung seems so sure of himself, adjusting the cuffs of his suit and shooting you a wink from across the room as you stare blankly. And you can’t reciprocate, still far too preoccupied with the events of last week to care about any of this. Minho sending you off, the ultimatum to choose between your fiancé and the best friend you’re in love with.

Of course you couldn’t choose Minho, whose role in most of this has been to help lessen your fears and prepare you for a lifetime of giving yourself to Jung. And yet somewhere along the way, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was even true, completely smitten with every part of him, too. The fact remains that you’re in love with him, and yet you’ve both been so magnificently cursed to keep it at a comfortable distance and pray that in some version of this story, it’s you guys in the end.

Your family saunters about the venue in their fancy dressed and suits, and your guests chat amongst themselves and sample the foods that have been laid out for them. And your mind circles with images of Minho, and Minho and more Minho. And what he would look like, instead of Jung, waiting at the end of the aisle for you with a toothy grin and tears in his eyes. The cheap wine you’d choose to cater, just a handful of guests the way you know he’d want it. And an innocent, undemanding love shared between the two of you, sealing your promise to each other with a tender kiss and his breathy laugh.

Yet the fantasy is fleeting, it’s rooted in the delusion of a cheater, in every sense of the word, and it would effectively ruin your life had it come to fruition.

“Which way do we go from here?” Jung questions loudly, and your head snaps up in his direction.

“From here you’ll go to the right, just past the foyer there,” a coordinator responds. “Make sure to smile when you’re walking down an aisle at any given point.”

Stupid. The whole thing feels stupid.

“Did you get that?” Jung questions, and you nod meekly.

“Sure.”

“Let’s take five,” a coordinator says, clasping her hands together.

Jung resumes a conversation with the groomsmen beside him, and your eyes fall to the vacant seat across the table, where Minho’s meant to be sitting. A small white folded card rests delicately on a white platter, his name scribbled in loopy cursive to reserve his spot.

Lee Minho.

And you read his name over a dozen times, replaying every last word of your conversation in your head and wondering what he’d do if he were here. Probably criticize the wine, or make faces at Jung’s phony speeches. And love you from afar, but with his entire heart, regardless.

“What do you think so far?” Jung leans in to whisper.

“Yeah,” you reply, nearly evading the question altogether.

Your eyes scan the room at the carefully placed decorations- rows of lantern lights, white tablecloths and organized dishes for the guests, tapered candles are lit at every table. And in the center, bushels of magenta flower arrangements in cylindrical glass vases.

Magenta.

Your eyes do a double take, carefully examining the color as you furrow your brows. Magenta. Neon, obnoxious shades of magenta at every table. Nothing within the realm of the baby pink you requested. Harsh on the eyes and contrasting repulsively against the rest of the decor.

“The flowers are magenta,” you say to Jung quietly.

“Hm?”

“The flowers,” you repeat. “Are magenta.”

“Yeah,” Jung says, audibly a little confused. “They’re nice, right?”

“I said pink,” you respond. “Baby pink. These aren’t pink.”

Jung furrows his brows together, and then he cocks his head at the floral displays set upon each table.

“You’re right,” he then replies. He snaps his fingers at a staff member, and then he gestures to the floral displays.

“These aren’t pink,” he says harshly. “She requested pink and not magenta. Could we get these swapped out, please?”

A coordinator jots something down in a small notepad, and then gives him an understanding nod.

“That’s what we’re paying you guys for, right?” Jung asks sarcastically. “Come on, don’t let us settle for magenta flowers.”

And when he turns back to you, his chuckles get quieter as he observes the displeased expression on your face.

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” You ask him quietly.

“What?”

“Why are you ordering them around like that? They’re just flowers.”

“What? But you just said-”

“You never make things feel like less of a big deal,” you say quietly, a little scoff escaping your lips as you speak.

“What are you talking about?”

“You just take something and run with it. You don’t make things feel like less of a problem than they are. You’re supposed to comfort me, or find the good in magenta flowers. Not yell at the service workers.”

Jung laughs nervously, taking your words for a joke at first, and other guests begin to stare across the table as they watch you rise from your seat.

“And why is the wine so fucking expensive?”

“Please, sit down,” Jung says nervously, waving the guests off as they shoot him concerned looks.

“No, I don’t want to.”

And as you search for the words to say, your heart beating erratically, you realize it’s exactly this that you’ve stopped yourself from doing all this time. Fighting back. Using your voice the way Jung so comfortably weaponizes his against you. Letting your emotions spill out from the years they’ve been bottled up inside of you, and finally coming to terms with the fact that this isn’t the life you want at all.

It’s Minho you love, it’s always been Minho and it’s always going to be Minho.

“I don’t want this,” you say to Jung, as you smooth down your dress and stand up.

“Please, sit,” he says through gritted teeth.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” you say in a shaky voice. “You don’t fulfill me, you haven’t touched me in weeks, I don’t think you even know that I asked for baby pink flowers, because you’re too busy showing off to all the shitty people you call friends. I don’t think we have ever been friends.”

All of the guests keep their gazes on you, taken aback by your words, but you don’t care, continuing your rant while they watch in horror.

“I hate expensive wine,” you say to Jung. “I want to go on a honeymoon somewhere it snows. I want to watch comedy movies, and go camping and be so madly in love it hardly feels like it some days, because we’re also such good friends when we’re not completely infatuated with each other.”

Jung doesn’t say anything, glancing nervously around the table as the coordinators maintain their silence, too. Your chest rises and falls with gasped breaths as you try to hold back from crying in front of them. And then you shrug, before finishing your speech.

“At the end of the day, there’s the man who tells me how to golf,” you say in a shaky voice. “And there’s the man who guts a fish alongside me, mess and all.”

Jung frowns at your words, visible confusion painting his features.

“What?”

“I have to go,” you say to him, sparing him any sort of explanation.

The hem of your dress is balled into the palms of your hands and pulled up to give yourself room to walk, as you kick off your heels and begin to exit the venue. And before you do leave, you pivot around one last time, letting your gaze meet Jung’s visibly irate expression.

“Here,” you announce, pulling the silver band off your ring finger and setting it down on the tablecloth.

“If you’re going to make a big deal out of anything, at least let it be this.”

*

The polyester-spandex mix of your reception dress isn’t made to run in. It’s much too long, the fabric bunches up at the sides and its bright white color begs to be kept indoors only. And yet you run- and you don’t stop, not even for a second, until the reception building is completely out of your sight, disappearing beyond the trees and the tall grasses that surround it.

Your bare feet scrape the squelching mud that surrounds the grassland after the recent rains, and overhead, the piercing blue sky and a harsh sun beams down over you in encouragement. And you normally hate blue skies and green grasses like this, always equating them to Jung’s stupid golf courses and the corporate events he’s dragged you to for years.

But today it serves as a sort of blessing, like the world is brighter, lighting your path and guiding you to the beacon that is Minho, and all his unconditional, unwavering love for you. Maybe it took you years to finally acquaint yourself with your emotions like this, and maybe you hadn’t even realized what true love was until Minho. And there’s the possibility, of course, that you’re also too late, and that Minho has already settled on the tragic fact that Jung would always remain a part of you.

And that’s true- he will maintain a role of permanence in your life. He was your first serious boyfriend throughout college, your first fiancé and your first true love before you understood it in a less superficial form. And yet he will also permanently remain the man whose life you walked out on, because he helped you realize he’s nothing near what actually fulfills you.

Once the paved roads are in view again, you waste no time waving down a taxi and uttering Minho’s address to the driver with such urgency. Your dress is caked in mud up to the ankles, and your hair is in complete disarray as you glance out the window at the rows of cars, all belonging to guests here for your dinner rehearsal. And you chuckle briefly, at the thought of them emptying the lot and walking out of your life forever.

Contrastly, Minho’s apartment is in complete disarray, too, as he hoists the last of his immediate belongings into a leather bound suitcase and latches it shut.

What a waste, he thinks to himself. What a waste to have spent so much time comfortably in love with the idea of a finite soulmate, and at such close proximity, too. You’re probably off at your rehearsal dinner, sampling finger foods and laughing at all of Jung’s surface-level conversation.

And he’ll never know you the way Minho knows you. He will never comprehend your fears, your reservations, all your little quirks and the things that make you tick. He’ll never fully understand the prospect of being so bound to somebody in both friendship and love that it’s almost indistinguishable what you are to each other. Perhaps that’s where you went wrong, too- because Minho knows it, that his role in your life has always been to love you, near, far and at every point in between. And yet you deem it just a fleeting thing, one implying an end.

There is no discernible point between the end of my friendship and my love for you, Minho wishes he could tell you. Just like the promise of my friendship to you, it’s a blossoming thing, this beautiful phenomenon. And we can run with it, or we can let it die like this- but it will always remain of permanence.

The chestnut suitcase is hoisted into the trunk of his car, also littered with boxes and duffel bags of his belongings. It’s a vulnerable feeling, to pack up and move on like this. Not forever- just for the duration of which you’ll be uttering your vows to Jung. He can’t bear to be in the same city as any of it, he refuses to let himself love at the proximity of you dolled up in a wedding dress, in the sacred environment of a church surrounded by your family. How could a higher power accept the felicitations of the same man who’s been fucking you behind the groom’s back? Within the four walls of which transforms hate to love, and sin to virtue?

What a waste, Minho concludes again. What a waste to have loved this deeply, and to pacify your fears only for another man to reap the benefits. Try as Jung might, he’ll never know you the way Minho does. And the vast trench that separates you from Jung, one which paints a clear divide of friendship and his superficial love for you- that will remain permanent, too.

As Minho starts up the engine, the last of his belongings all packed and ready to go, he glances around the neighborhood with a somber expression. The sun glares down on the empty concrete roads, birds circling the sky like there’s any reason to celebrate. Maybe they’re ravens, and maybe they circle in a mourning ritual. The only event fitting for an afternoon like this one, as Minho prepares to leave for his parents’ house- like the coward he knows he is.

His apartment grows smaller with every passing inch he drives down the concrete road, and a trembling hand reaches up to adjust his rear view mirror, letting out a deep exhale as he prepares to leave all this behind.

And as the faint outline of his apartment grows smaller, a white figure behind him grows bigger.

It starts as a fleeting blur, maybe a shadow, or perhaps the glint of the sunlight in his mirror. But as he quickens the push of his foot to the gas pedal, it grows faster, too, catching up to the drag of his car along the concrete and approaching him with such purpose.

An apparition of sorts, he thinks momentarily.

I’m fucking seeing things. I’ve officially lost it.

But as the frantic call of his name floats through the air and into the crack of his car window, his eyes widen, the lag of his brain finally reaching a halt as he slams on his brakes and throws open the door.

And in rushed motions, he’s climbing out to face you, doubled over as you catch your breath and hold a hand up in surrender.

“Stop!” You shout, waving your hands and motioning for him to cease his movements.

And Minho’s eyes don’t get any smaller, maintaining their shocked expression as he waits for you to speak.

Your white dress, tainted brown up to your knees in mud and grass. Even your face is muddy, streaks of it painting the otherwise stunning face of makeup you flaunt. And you speak in pleading gasps as you finally break the silence between the two of you.

“It’s you,” you say to Minho sheepishly.

“What are you-”

“It’s you, it’s always been you,” you breathe out. “I was so stupid, and I left as soon as I could comfortably come to terms with it. It’s you I love, Minho. Not Jung and not the idealized version of that life I created in my head. I can’t do any of this without you, and I can’t live the rest of my life without having said something. I love you- now, and in ten years time and I want to spend the rest of my life gutting fish alongside you- mess and all.”

Minho doesn’t say anything for a moment- in fact, he wears a poker face as he watches you continue to catch your breath. And then he scoffs lightly as he shakes his head.

“You waited until the day of your wedding to say something?” Minho retorts frustratedly.

“Rehearsal dinner,” you correct him. “This is just a dinner dress.

“Regardless,” Minho says. “I mean, what are we doing? There’s another man waiting for you, and we’re here doing something we should’ve done years ago if it was meant to be in the slightest.”

You feel your heart drop at his words, confirming the theory you’d feared the most. Too late.

“Please,” you beg, and Minho shakes his head.

“We’re terrible people,” he then states, his voice trembling in the process. “Cheaters, and liars. And this is far too rooted in dishonesty and selfishness to be love.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you watch Minho scan your expression. And perhaps he’s right- but it can’t be anything except for love, not when it feels this right with him.

“Where are you going?” You ask Minho quietly, moving a strand of muddied hair out from your eyes.

“My parents’ place,” he replies.

And you give him a small nod, pivoting on your heel to walk out of his life, forever.

Except it’s the realization of this that causes you to turn back around-

There is no forever in the absence of Minho- not when he plays a role of permanence.

He will forever be the man you fell in love with, the man you’ve been in love with for years, one you risked your life to come find and one who’s defined the limitations of what it means to be a best friend and simultaneously a lover.

That will remain with you always, and near, far and everywhere in between, the love will exist the way it always has.

“Loving me was the most selfish thing you ever did,” you call out to Minho, and he turns back around to meet your gaze.

“And yet you did it anyway,” you continue. “You made love to me and you drank my fiancé’s wine and we’re in love so selfishly at this proximity to each other. But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re in love, and that I’m not going back to Jung. And leaving here- depriving yourself of the love you’ve wanted for so long, that’s also a selfish move. You can go as far as you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that the love is still here between us.”

Minho’s lips part to say something, but he doesn’t, instead blinking nervously as he waits for you to finish.

“And at the end of the day, there’s the man who tells me how to golf, and there’s the man who teaches me how to gut a fish, mess and all,” you finally finish.

Minho stays silent, pondering your words, and scanning your expression.

And truth be told, he wants to take you in his arms and run, hearing the words he’s longed to hear all his life. But he stops himself, instead emitting a breathy chuckle from his lips and shaking his head.

“Well what do you propose?” He finally asks, cocking his head as he awaits your reply.

And his response is a weight off your shoulders, as you sigh deeply and shrug in his direction.

“I propose we let ourselves be selfish,” you say to him. “And we spend the rest of our lives seeking forgiveness together.”

Minho chuckles, taking careful note of the way your eyes sparkle as you approach him. He’s not sure he’s ever seen you so relaxed before, and certainly not so sure of yourself. You look like the woman he’s loved both near and far, exuding confidence and passion and unwavering comfort in your demeanor. His best friend and his lover, he thinks encouragingly, as he cups his hands around your cheeks and pulls you in for a tender kiss, one that confirms your proposal and implies all of this permanence.

The roads are still empty in the dull afternoon of the hour, Minho maneuvering the car with one hand as you sit beside him in the passenger seat, your hands intertwined over the center console as the harsh blue sky and bright hues of green grass melt into blurs of color beside you. And he speaks only of Shirakawa as he drives, promising you beautiful snowfalls and chilly walks along the lily ponds upon your arrival.

You can picture everything as the tales escape his lips, full of life as you imagine the brown farmhouses and green hills, where you and Minho promise to love selfishly under the prayer hand thatched roofs, the very place your forgiveness will coincide alongside the permanence.

And as he brings the back of your hand to his lips for a chaste kiss, he can feel the green vines of ivy loosen around his soul, but this time you feel it too, viridian leaves finally putting distance between your venules and their harsh grasp. And perhaps it wasn’t grieving all along, but love for you- love which you’re full of, too.

The vines tangle themselves beautifully between your seated figures, blossoming flowers and color and placing life back into you both.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Minho can finally breathe.

#stray kids #skz #skz smut #lee know fic #lee know smut #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids hard hours #skz scenarios #lee know stray kids #lee know #🌷 anon #request #Spotify

[skzdarlings]

mine ; lee minho x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood. “Can you please do ❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜ with Lee Know? I just know you’ll come up with something amazing! 🩶"

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: another pair of star-crossed lovers lol. reader is kissed by a different guy without her permission. possessive sex. unsafe sex. lots of biting and marking and grabbing. word count: 3700 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

-

You finally escape.

When the date is over and your supposed boyfriend leaves, you run out the back door.  Your parents are distracted, waving goodbye to your boyfriend as he pulls away in his expensive car.  They chat between themselves on the front porch of the family estate. 

“Such a remarkable young man,” they say.  “So wholesome.  So intelligent.“

So rich, is what they really mean.  Because he is not wholesome; he is a bully and a bigot at the best of times.  He derides anyone he deems beneath him, which is just about everyone.  He is also not intelligent, as true depth of intellect is revealed in conduct.  Someone that cruel and ignorant is not intelligent.  You have engaged in more stimulating discourse with birds.

But he is wealthy.  Your parents picked him for you and have been forcing the relationship along, contriving dates without telling you he will be there, inviting him into your home, encouraging his empty and shallow affection.  You encourage nothing, sitting stiffly whenever he touches you: an arm slung around your waist, a hand on your lower back, a kiss on the cheek.

Maybe you were naïve to think it would not escalate before its time, that you could bear it cordially until his interest withered and died.  Foolish.  He is not here for you but your name.  He does not care how you feel.  He does not care if you want him.  He wants the money and connections and power, sharing a bed with your parents through you.

Today he cornered you when you were alone.  He backed you into the wall and kissed you.  An unwanted kiss is a disgustingly slimy thing, all tongue and teeth and the bad, unfamiliar taste of a vile man’s breath.

Your whole unlived life flashed in your mind’s eye.  Every second was irredeemably awful.

So you run.  Out the back door, to the garage, weaving around your father’s cars.  Your old bike is hooked on its rack and you lift it down with some grunting effort.  You are dressed for a date, wearing a pristine ivory dress your mother picked, white lace stockings, and delicate flats.  It is not the ideal outfit for riding a bike.  It is a pretty but flimsy thing.  Summer nights are warm but there is a crisp breath on the wind as the sun sets. 

But if you stop for even a second, even just to change clothes, even just to catch your breath, then you will never get away. 

You swing onto your bike and escape via the back lane.  It is a long ride across town but your adrenaline propels you onward.

It is very obvious when you have crossed into new territory.  Across the park trail and over the railroad tracks is a different world.  The houses get smaller, more ramshackle, junk piled around the fully abandoned abodes.  Even the lived-in homes have old trucks and rusted goods stacked on their lawns.  It is a consequence of impoverished anxiety, hoarding in fear of one day having nothing.

Indeed, a very different part of town. 

Your parents are probably furious they cannot find you, but they will assume you ran to a nearby friend’s house.  If they knew where you really were, which friend you went to see, they would surpass furious and venture all the way into horror. 

But they are far away now.

You feel nothing but relief as the air changes.  You know it is the chill of a summer night as the sky turns blue, but it convinces you the air is clearer.  You exhale and feel as though you are releasing a breath that you have been holding all day.

Your journey takes you to a familiar yard.  You remember the first time you ever visited, standing so small and uncertain on the front steps, waiting for a kiss you actually wanted.

A kiss that never came.  

You park your bike against the side of the house.  You walk up the front steps on shaky legs, weak from speedy riding.    

You open the screen door to knock on the inside door.  While you wait for an answer, you fiddle with your appearance, adjusting any evidence of wind-swept dishevelment.

Oh, you are so nervous.  You were so hellbent on just getting here, you did not register any feeling beyond determination. But now you are standing on this porch in your flimsy white dress, the sun set, the day done.  You are doing something you should have done a long, long time ago and suddenly fearing you are far, far too late. 

No answer comes.  You knock again.

Your stomach forms a pit you hope you will eat you whole.  Is he ignoring you?  No.  The windows are shut, the blinds closed.  He cannot even see you.

You take a step back.  Even with everything sealed shut, you should be able to see a hint of light.  The house is small, a single story.  There are only so many places he could be.

He isn’t home, you realize, first with relief that he is not ignoring you, then with dejection.  Of course he’s not home, you tell yourself.  What were you even thinking?  Silly girl.  Riding all the way out here, expecting him to be sitting around and waiting for you.  He has a life of his own.  He probably doesn’t even think about you.  You’re pathetic.

You know you are being a little melodramatic.  Your emotions have been running at an extreme all day.  They finally become too much to bear.  You sit down on the steps and cry. 

Some time passes.  You eventually calm yourself enough to wipe your eyes.  You feel the cold more acutely now, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. 

You are not sure what to do now.  You refuse to go home, knowing what awaits you.  You have nowhere else to go. Your future is murky, which is still more comforting than the vision of it when your boyfriend forcibly kissed you.   

You sigh.  You know if you wait long enough, your friend will come home and help you.  Even if he doesn’t want you, even if he can be a bit standoffish at times, he has the warmest heart you know.  You met doing volunteer work, in fact.  You know he will help you like he would help anyone in need.

It does not mean you do not feel pathetic, curled up and shivering on his porch steps.  You are debating a course of action when a truck rolls into the yard with a flash of headlights and a noticeably hiccupping engine.  It pulls around the side of the house.

You stand and take tentative steps to follow.  You are still and quiet as the rough rumble of the truck comes to a wheezy stop. 

The driver door flies open.  He jumps out, cursing.  Your breath catches and all your hypotheticals dissipate in wake of the reality of him.

Lee Minho.

He is wearing his old, dusty leather jacket, something of a signature piece due its reliability.  His jeans are torn at the knee, likely a legitimate tear and not a fashion statement, his old work boots a bit scuffed.  He is a working man of limited means and nothing functional goes to waste.  

He is beautiful as ever.  Dark hair falls across his forehead and he pushes it back with a forceful rake, the softer pieces fluttering forward again.  He has an athletic frame, but delicate features despite his near-perpetual scowl.  When he does laugh, it is a hilariously boisterous sound.

He is scowling right now.  Cursing to himself as he stomps around the beat-up truck.  He wears a carabiner with a bundle of emergency tools, grabbing a miniature flashlight to guide his way.  He props open the hood and starts rustling around inside.  He curses again, then he puts the light away so he can reach inside with both hands.

You do not mean to startle him.  You thought he might have seen you, observant as he is, but apparently the truck has him distracted.

“Minho,” you say. 

You cannot see him too well in the dark, but you hear the distinctive thud of metal as he undoubtedly smacks his head on the open hood.  He curses louder this time. 

There is a small light on the side of the house.  You step towards it at the same time. 

He is rubbing the back of his head, frowning, but he comes to a total stop when he sees you.  His eyes widen ever so slightly, his brows drawn in confusion.  He stares intently at you. 

“Hi,” you say.

He just keeps staring. 

“Um. I was just in the neighbourhood,” you say.  “I wanted to see you.  I hope you’re doing well.”

He drops his arm and it swings at his side.  He continues to stare at you, the furrow in his brow more intense. 

“Right,” you say.  You feel a catch in the back of your throat.  Fortunately, you have cried all your tears and will not make a fool of yourself in front of him.  More of a fool, that is.  You want to say so many things but you cannot think of a single word that suffices. 

I missed you so much, you think.  I think about you every day.  Have you thought about me?

It sounds so clingy and pathetic.  Your boyfriend derides such women and their neediness.  Minho is not a man like that, though.  He has never spoken so disparagingly about someone.  You know that, but the words catch nonetheless. 

You exhale a shaky breath, looking aside at nothing. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally say.  “I probably shouldn’t have come here.  It’s been months since we last spoke.  I know we’re not really friends anymore.  I just had no where else to go and I…”

“You were crying,” he says. 

You look at him.  His expression has not softened.  It is still that same scrutinizing stare.  His gaze is intently locked on yours, on eyes that must show the evidence of your crying. 

You wipe your face quickly, embarrassed.  Your gaze lifts when he takes a small step towards you.  He reaches for you, as if he means to wipe your eyes himself, but then he catches the sight of his own hand, covered in black grease from the truck. 

“Shit,” he says, and snaps his arm back. 

“Minho,” you say, your heart fluttering just from the suggestion he was going to touch you.  A small touch from him means more than anything. 

“Princess,” he says, an old affectionate nickname for you, though he speaks it rather dryly.  He is still frowning.  “Are you hurt?”

“Maybe,” you say.  When he reacts physically, his shoulders stiffening, you quickly add, “Not like that.  Emotionally, I mean.  I just… I think I ran away from home.”

“You think,” he says flatly.

“Well, I didn’t really think it through, to be honest,” you say shyly.  “I just… I couldn’t stay there anymore.  You know what they’re like.” 

He flinches as if the memory comes with a strike.  You feel embarrassed, remembering too. 

You and Minho became fast friends through your mutual volunteer efforts.  You thought nothing of inviting him to a neighbourhood party at your parents’ house.  He wore his nicest shirt and fresh pants, but as soon as everyone found out where he came from, they wanted nothing to do with him. 

You are embarrassed to say you did not even notice at first, naively taking politeness for granted.  He had to explain it to you, then you saw their two-facedness everywhere and felt horrible.

You stayed on his side of town after that, at least until your parents put their foot down.  They didn’t want you developing feelings for that kind of boy.   You insisted he was just a friend, even while already in love with him.  His biting wit and good heart had you in thrall. 

You were in denial about your parents being bad people.  You wanted to believe they had your best interest at heart.  They were just set in their ways.  They wanted a good life for you.  You told Minho to just give them time.  He let you go.  They introduced you to your new boyfriend the next day. 

Minho takes a breath.  He shoves his tongue into his cheek, looking pensive.  You are thinking of something to say when he nods his head. 

“You look cold,” he says frankly.  “Let’s go inside.”

You nod, following him to the front steps.  He grabs the porch rail and jumps the steps in an effortless swing.  You shuffle behind him while he unlocks the door. 

He says nothing, just nods at you.  You follow him through, closing the door while he bends down to unlace his boots.  He kicks them to the side while you step softly out of your flats.  When you meet each other’s eyes, you feel a spark. 

You stood in this very spot a few months ago, almost nose to nose, arguing about your parents and what to do.  You knew, deep in your heart, the conversation was not about a mere friendship.  You both had stronger feelings, but you were both scared to act on them given your precarious circumstance.  He did not want to risk everything while you were indecisive.  You wanted to keep everything. 

You have lived a life of great privilege and you are used to getting everything you want.  You have had to confront reality, that you cannot always have everything.   

So, if you can only have one thing, you want him. 

He looks at you with the same dark passion as then.  Your heart skips beats under his intense gaze. 

“You’re here,” he says. Maybe the same memories flicker through his mind.  He tips his head, looking at you so closely, like he cannot believe you are real.   

“Yes,” you say softly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I’m here.” 

“To stay,” he says.

“If you’ll have me,” you reply.  Your heart is beating so hard, it is a wonder he cannot hear it.  Your legs feel even weaker than before, but this time is has nothing to do with bicycles and everything to do with him. 

He swallows, his throat bobbing.  He sniffs and looks aside while idly tugging his jacket.   

“And your boyfriend?” he says, glaring at the far wall. 

Your heart sinks.  It is your turn to swallow. 

“You know about that?” you ask. 

He laughs, not that gleeful sound you know but a sharp cackle.  He looks at you incredulously. 

“Of course I know,” he says.  “I don’t always stay on my side of the tracks.  Sometimes,” he speaks with sarcastic wonder, “I get to repair houses for the pretty rich people.”  He huffs, shaking his head.  “It’s fine,” he says.  “You should be with someone like that.  He’ll give you the house.  The car.  I bet your parents love him too.”

“I don’t want those things,” you say, bearing his bitterness because you understand what he is feeling.  You lift your chin and look him in the eye.  “You’re right, my parents do love him.  But I don’t.  He’s shallow and unkind.  And you—”  Your voice catches.  “You, Lee Minho, are anything but that.  You are everything.  And I… I love you.  I always have.”  You drop your eyes with this confession, suddenly overwhelmed with the sheer emotion pouring out of his gaze.  “I know it’s been a while,” you say.  “I don’t expect you to have waited for me.  I just—”

He laughs again.  It is still dry, but not so sharp.  You glance at him. 

“Princess,” he says. “Don’t tell me you seriously think I could just forget about you.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s like you don’t even know me.  I should kick you out just for that.”

You realize he is joking, the faintest hint of something warm melting his scowl. 

“I can’t give you that life,” he says seriously. 

You step towards him, holding his gaze, pouring as much emotion back at him.  He exhales, blinking quickly, long lashes fluttering as he looks at you. 

“I have no idea what we’re gonna do,” you admit.  “But I know I want to figure it out.  With you.  And no one else.” 

He smiles and it makes you smile.  Then he reaches for you, but stops when he once more remembers his dirty hands. 

“Shit,” he says again, then takes a step back.  “Let me just—”

You take him by the wrist and yank him towards you.  He follows your guidance, his breath catching when you plant his hand on your hip.  It will leave a big black stain on your perfect white dress, the shape of his hand in a possessive grip on your body. 

It is more effective than any word.  He swoops in and kisses you, his other hand cupping your other hip with the same deliberate possessiveness.   You are certain this horrid little gown will be destroyed and you do not care one bit.  You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back. 

“You’re cruel,” he says between kisses.  “Torturing me for so long.  I wanted to kill that man.  But I thought he made you happy—”

“He disgusted me,” you say.  “He kissed me without my permission today.”

“What.”  That stops the kiss and he looks at you with that scowl again.  “I’ll kill him,” he says without any hesitation. 

You just laugh a gentle laugh, shaking your head.  You twist a longer tuft of his hair around your finger, making his tense shoulders go soft as he leans in. 

“You don’t have to kill him,” you say.  “Just make me forget him.” 

Oh, Lee Minho is such an awful tease all the time.  Of course he goes back to just staring at you with a contemplative air, making you wriggle and wonder in his arms.  You whine his name, trying to kiss him, but he dodges it.  Your whimpering makes him laugh, because of course it does. 

Then he gets very serious.  Your heart sends a bolt of heat shooting through your body.  Your thighs press together. 

He presses his forehead to yours.  You gasp when you feel his fingers on your back, the careful slow touch as he tugs your zipper down.  The flimsy dress slides off your body as he steps back to look at you.  You shiver, gazing back at him.  His stare is unflinching as he peels off his jacket and tosses it aside.  His hands are already much cleaner, the distinctive print of his palms still plastered to your dress.  He wipes the rest on his own shirt then tugs it off and tosses it to the side. 

He smirks and wiggles two come hither fingers at you, walking backwards.  You follow him slowly, then give chase when he cackles and runs.  You follow him into the bedroom where he literally sweeps you off your feet.

“And you say I’m cruel,” you tease.   

He closes the door with a firm snap then leans you against it. 

“You are,” he says.  He looks down your body while running his fingers through his hair.  “You are.” 

Then he gets on his knees, first one while he tugs your panties down, then the other, when he hooks your leg over his shoulder and put his mouth on you.  He does not tease anymore, swiftly finding all the ways to make you moan his name.  You are scared your leg will buckle under you when he makes you come, but he holds you steady. 

Then he stands up and cups your face, kissing you deeply, making you taste yourself on his tongue.  It is a good kiss, everything a kiss should be, hot and hungry, slow and deep.  It makes you tingle with aftershocks, blinking at him with delirious pleasure when he pulls back.   

Minho can be loud, can be boisterous, can be scathing.  He can also speak gently, in such a soft, light rasp.  It makes your head spin.   He speaks like that now.    

“This is how it is,” he says, then kisses you again, licks into your mouth.  When you moan, he moans back.  “I make you sigh,” he says.  “I make your pussy wet.  I make you come.  Just me.”

“Yes,” you nod, clinging to him when he carries you to the bed.  “You, Minho.” 

He lays you down, kneeling between your open legs.  They are still quivering from your orgasm.  He looks at you, hungrily, while opening his belt.  He rips it out of his jeans and tosses it behind him, then unzips while leaning down to kiss you.  He dives past your waiting mouth to kiss your throat, biting marks under your jaw, on your neck, on your tits.  You grab his head, hands in his hair, arching your back under his desperate mouth. 

“You’re mine,” he says.  “You’ve always been mine.”

He holds your hips while thrusting inside you.  You imagine his hands leaving a permanent mark, just like that stained dress, a claiming that forever marks you as his.  He fucks you so steadily and deeply, holding you possessively, gasping your name and how good you feel while he takes you. 

“Perfect,” he says in that dreamy voice, rubbing you softly while fucking you hard. It makes you come around his cock, clenching tight, which makes him moan into your mouth.   “Mine.”

You wrap your legs around him.  You lay chest-against-chest, holding each other.  Your nails scratch his back, no doubt leaving your own marks, your whole body littered with his kisses and bites.  There is not a single inch of you that is not branded by him. 

“Yes,” you say.  “Always, Minho.”

Saying his name sends him over.  He comes inside you, claiming you even there, then stays inside you after while you kiss. 

You stay in his arms all night, making love and sleeping then making love some more.  When the sun rises, you wake to him holding you, stroking your cheek affectionately. 

He kisses your forehead and you nestle comfortably against him, happy to be home. 

#lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #minho x reader #skz x reader #lee know smut #lee minho smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #valentinesdaystories #tattywood

[daisy-milk]

Non Dimenticar

three times in which you needed minho, though it wasn't in you to ask

➠ lee minho x reader

➠ wc: 1.7k

➠ summary: both you and minho are independent induviduals, and that aspect thrives in your relationship. though it makes it hard for you to reach out to him when you need it. you and him learn that sooner or later you both will have to learn how to ask for help.

➠ warnings: slight angst (maybe its normal level angst idk its pretty sad), mentions of passing out, mentions of injury, mentions of hosptial/emergency room, overworked reader

➠ masterlist

➠ a/n: i am currently a little tipsy and therefore this is not proofread

he gets it. he really does. he understands because he is the same way. all his life, he has had the same mentality, but now that he’s met you, he has learned; and perhaps it was because you were so similar in that sense that he learned what it looked like from an outside perspective. 

it was your inability to ask for help and openness to receiving it. 

minho, as well, struggled with this. throughout his life he had that mindset. one of, ‘whatever is happening will pass. you must power through. don’t drag others down with you,’ and he knew what it felt like from a personal level. pretty much, you both lived a very much ‘just thug it out’ lifestyle. minho never saw it as too much of a problem though. it didn’t seem to hurt others, in his eyes it kept them safe even, ignorance is bliss, no? but that was until he met you. 

minho saw in you, the struggle that was deep within him. the one many urged him to overcome, because he never would see any issue in it.

the first time he began to become aware was when the two of you were working out. you were both doing bicep curls, your attention on the mirror in front of you as you counted your sets. minho and you took turns and he was using a heavier weight than you, so naturally you dropped yours in favor of letting him switch the plates. you must have been distracted however, and in switching, you accidentally dropped the heavy plate onto your big toe. minho wouldn’t have even noticed if his eyes weren’t trained on you at all times. you didn’t even make a sound when it dropped on you, just an airy hiss, and through your reflection in the mirror you tried your best to play it off. the weight was heavy enough to raise concern, there was no way that didn’t affect you. therefore, minho spoke up,

“hey, you good? that looked painful” he grabbed your arm as you stepped away. 

you shook your head, “nah. i’m fine. i’ve had worse,” a chuckle leaves your lips in an attempt to put your boyfriend at ease.

minho gave you a look. one of uncertainty. though he didn’t want to pry. he knows that even if it was hurting there is a reason you aren’t asking him for help. 

perhaps he should have asked though. you didn’t say anything further but he couldn’t help but notice the quite obvious limp you wore as you walked out of the gym. he noticed, as he peeked at your uncovered foot when you got into bed with him that your toe began to swell and bruise a nasty shade of purple. he noticed the way, even after days, you struggle to put your full weight onto your foot. he urged you to see a doctor, but you brushed it off, saying that it’ll heal on its own, you’ve had worse. 

again, he didn’t pry and you never brought it up. though he knows now to keep a close eye on you at the gym. 

the second time was probably the most brutal. what started as a simple stomach ache soon became an even worse pain that had you doubling over in pain. be it cramps, your pesky lactose intolerance, or food poisoning, you always had an excuse for when minho began to worry. because naturally he would become worried at the sight of you rendering unmovable due to the pain. though no matter what, each time you would ease his mind with a new excuse and a wave of your hand. the excuses lasted a while. though it was only a matter of time until something worse happened. he had gotten a call from you late into the evening, “hey…” your voice was low, it sounded as if you were far from the mic, “can you… can you uh pick me up. i’m at that pho spot near your place. i’m- i… uh don’t think i can drive home.”

“did you drink?” he had asked. you had told him no, but offered no further explanation. he could tell there was something you didn’t want to tell him; he knew there was a reason you sounded hesitant to ask for his help. 

minho had been right because upon arrival he was met with your nearly passed out form, drooping from the driver’s seat of your car. he rushed to you, and you were conscious, luckily. though you did let out a loud groan in pain, your hand clutching your abdomen tightly. without another thought, he rushed you to the emergency room. 

fate was on your side that night. appendicitis. the doctors had told you that you were lucky that you hadn’t waited. if it were perhaps a day later, your appendix may have ruptured. the two of you shared a brief look as the doctor debriefed you. it was a knowing look. 

during your surgery minho thanked every star in the sky that night. he also made sure to schedule himself a check-up with his physician as well. he had to take care of himself to take care of you, is what he told himself.

the third time wasn’t a physical injury per say. minho caught you in your room. using the spare keys you gave him, he welcomed himself into your apartment as he normally did, though you weren’t expecting him this time. he wanted it to be a surprise. he knew you were studying hard and came in to surprise you with your usual coffee order and some homemade pastries felix made. 

instead he found you at your desk, uncomfortably splayed out before your computer. surrounding you were litters of paper and textbooks, most with notes and formulas, but as he looked closer there were papers completely scribbled out, torn, crumpled; it looked like a disaster. he couldn’t count the amount of tabs open of your computer, the chaos that reigned the screen made his head hurt just looking at it. there were at least 2 empty coffee cups on the floor and another on the table, the ice melting into the now lukewarm americano. his hand cropped the one he brought you a little tighter. 

“sweetheart?” he questioned carefully, kneeling down to reach face level with you. 

though you were curled up, he caught a clear glimpse of your face. you looked nearly lifeless and his heart shattered. minho knew it was just finals. he knew that you were probably fine, but what made him break was the fact you were going through it all alone. it had been days since you contacted him, and it wasn’t an issue for him, the two of you were good at maintaining your own personal time, and as per usual he never pried. but the thought of you, pulling through like this for days left his stomach falling into the deepest pits within himself. 

“my poor baby…” his finger traced your cheek, now squished against the table. your skin was dull, eye bags too present, day old makeup faded and smudged all over your eyes. minho kicked himself for not coming sooner. 

minho’s arms curl under you and he pulls your body into his arms. you’re so knocked out that you barely notice the movement. as if it were second nature, you curl into his hold as he hoists you up. his face softens a little as you do so, relieved that even in this state you know to trust him completely. his arms bring you to your bed where he carefully tucks you in, giving a gentle pat on your head as he moves to clean up your desk.

scattered papers and endless notes littered the surface of your desk. it wasn’t just your desk though. your room itself was left in a messy array, the days of stress piled up and you couldn’t bring yourself to clean, as litter and clothes became too much to handle. without a second thought, minho cleaned, folding clothes, tossing garbage until your room was spotless. he finished at your desk, beginning to pick up your papers as you woke.

silently, you approached him, your hand resting on his from behind as he gathered some sheets of paper, 

“minho…” you said groggily, “don’t worry about it… i-i’m not finished with those. gotta finish them then i’ll clean it up”

you attempted to grab the notes but he stopped you. his hand took the papers from your own. without a word he continued to gather the papers and pile them neatly to the side. you didn’t have any energy left to stop him, to argue. you just let him do this thing. after he powered off your computer, he finally turned to you. his hands now rested on your cheeks, gently brushing the soft skin on your face. his head tilted at you as if you were one of his cats, his thumbs brushing the crusty makeup around your eyes. 

“did you sleep well?” finally he spoke

”i have a lot to study…”

”did you eat today?” he continued 

“there’s only one more day before my project is due…” he remained quiet and continued to caress your face, “… i won’t have time to study after my classes and…” you began to lean into his touch, softening up from both your sleepiness and his affection, “…and…” you could melt into the way he looked at you right now, “…and i have to finish… i’ll rest when i…”

”you must be so tired, hm?” there was no other infliction in his voice aside from affection

“…yeah,” you admit, “…i’m really tired.” 

tears began to well in your eyes as you dipped your head down. he didn’t let you though, using a gentle finger to tilt your head back up. new tears traced down the same path as the ones that were now dried on your cheeks. 

“let’s go take a shower?” he asks and you nod. his hand leads you to your bathroom as he begins to use your makeup remover to gently wipe the makeup from your face. 

his hands are too gentle, you think, as he cleans your skin.

”after this, we can study in bed, yeah? together.” he gazes down at you as he tosses one wipe for another, “next time… please call me. i know you want to do this alone, i get it, i thought the same way too. but now that i have you, i could never want to be alone again. trust me when i say, i will never be tired of being with you, helping you, no matter what it is. just please, call me when you need me,” he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, “i promise i’ll call you when i need you too.”

please leave feedback please please please

#skz #stray kids #lee know #lee know angst #lee know x reader #minho x reader #minho angst #minho stray kids #lee know stray kids #lee minho #lee minho stray kids #minho

[violet-1atte]

Kinktober Day Twenty-Six: Masturbation - Jisung/Minho

Tags: Fingering, getting caught, roommates, voyeurism

AO3 Link

When Jisung had first learned that he was going to get a new roommate for the next semester, he was a little nervous. He had been rooming with Chan for the past year and now he had graduated, so Jisung was left to find a new roommate. Chan thankfully knew of someone who was just a year below him and in need of a roommate so Jisung agreed they could room together. He felt a little less nervous after knowing he would be with someone who Chan knew because he trusted the elder with his life, even though he had an atrocious sleep schedule. 

What he hadn’t expected was for Chan’s friend to be so hot . Lee Minho. The hottest man Jisung had ever laid eyes on. He was a walking wet dream. When he walked in the door, Jisung nearly got on his knees right then and there. He had a perfectly sculpted face–high cheekbones, a perfect nose, and a jawline one could cut marble with–and a rosebud pink mouth, and eyes that pierced through Jisung’s soul. He was clearly well built, with hard lines of muscle and prominent veins going up from his hands to his forearms. Jisung wanted to bite him. 

Not only was he hot, but he was also the funniest–albeit weirdest–and sweetest person he had ever met. He took care of him, cooked for him, and he loved cats, and put up with all of his rants about random topics that didn’t even make sense half the time. Jisung was a weak man and Minho seemed to hit all of his weaknesses square on the nose. He wanted him in every way possible, but as far as he knew, Minho wasn’t interested, even when their friendship got to the point of hanging out with each other at every waking moment. His friends said he was in denial, but he informed them that they were reading into things. 

An unfortunate outcome of living with a man who looked like he was straight out of a kdrama and had also made his way into Jisung’s life as his best friend was the incessant horniness. He had never gotten off so much in his entire life. He burned with shame every time he thought about Minho like that–above him, touching him, kissing him, fucking him . But his need always overrode the shame and he ended up touching himself to those thoughts anyway, coming with loud cries of Minho’s name. 

And that’s where he found himself one evening after Minho had left to go to his evening class. They shared a bedroom so Jisung always waited for him to be gone from their apartment or he got himself off quickly in the shower. Now he had a whole hour of free time and he wasn’t going to pass it up. 

Minho had looked especially good that day. When Jisung was crawling out of bed with messed up hair, Minho was returning from the gym, wearing nothing but some baggy shorts and a tight black tank top. His arms were bulging with muscle and his veins were even more prominent from his recent workout. And then he showered and left the bathroom with only a towel on, and Jisung nearly died right then and there. Somehow, he continued to look progressively more attractive even as he got dressed, putting on a lavender turtleneck that hugged his arms and torso and made him look so pretty he could have cried. It was too much. 

So now Jisung was here, two fingers deep in his ass, lube dripping down his thighs from the ridiculous amount he had used. Next to him on the bed was a dildo, one big enough to make him sore the next day. His chest was pressed against the bed, ass in the air, and he muffled his moans against the bed as he pumped his fingers in and out of himself. He imagined his finger’s were Minho’s. They could probably reach so much deeper than his did. Jisung’s fingers never did enough, but he knew just by the amount of times he had stared at Minho’s hands that he would be able to fill him up so well with those alone. 

He slipped in a third finger after a moment, moaning out a whiny, “Minho,” as he did so. He imagined Minho behind him, holding his waist, digging his fingers into his soft, sensitive skin. He imagined Minho calling him pretty as he stuffed his hole with three fingers and pressed them against his prostate. Jisung’s body jerked at the mere thought. 

He spread his fingers and mewled at the stretch. It was good but it wasn’t enough . He needed more, needed it desperately. He needed Minho’s touch, Minho’s cock. 

“Please, please, fuck me,” he whimpered helplessly against the sheets. No one responded, but he had an active imagination. He could almost hear Minho, his overly sweet, teasing voice echoing inside his head. “So desperate and needy, hm? You really need my cock that bad, jagi?” 

Jisung moaned and nodded. He pumped his fingers inside himself a couple times and gasped when he just barely brushed against his prostate. “Yes, Minho-hyung, I need you so bad .” He bit his lip as he began to push his pinky finger against his rim to fill himself up with four fingers. The stretch burned a bit but it wasn’t his first time doing it. He let himself adjust for a moment before his began fucking himself like that. 

The stretch felt good but he couldn’t get deep enough. He let out a huff of frustration and removed his fingers. He was stretched enough. He could take the dildo now. It wasn’t a real cock but he could close his eyes and pretend it was Minho he was riding. 

He positioned himself on his knees and placed the dildo against his hole. He bit his lip as he began to sink down on it and a whimper caught in his throat. It stretched his hole more than even his four fingers could and by the time he’d fully sat on it he was already breathless. He raised him on shaky legs and then dropped his hips. His mouth fell open in a moan and he closed his eyes, letting the pleasure warming his stomach take over his senses. He imagined Minho in front of him, holding his hips as he rode him. He imagined him kissing his neck, praising him with his soft lips pressed against him. Jisung shuddered. 

“ Hyungg ,” he whined. A drop of sweat ran down his face. “Minho, Minho.” Minho’s name spilled from his mouth like a desperate prayer. He wanted him so bad it hurt. He was so fucking desperate, so needy. He needed Minho. Minho, Minho, Minho. 

He was so lost in the pleasure twisting in his stomach and filling his head with a pleasant buzz that he didn’t notice the sound of the front door opening. He didn’t hear the footsteps approaching the door, or the creak of the door as it opened. His own moans and Minho’s name were the only sounds his ears registered. That was until the subject of his fantasies started to speak, clearly not paying much attention either. 

“So apparently my professor canceled class and decided to just not tell, so I went all the way–oh shit.” 

Jisung’s eyes shot open and he snapped his head to the side to see Minho standing in the doorway, completely frozen in shock. His bag slipped from his hand. Jisung stopped all his movement and then rushed to move off the dildo and pull a pillow over his lap. 

“Hyung!” he exclaimed, cheeks aflame. “I-I thought you were going to be gone.” 

“I was!” Minho said back, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry I–” he paused and his eyebrows furrowed. “Were you saying my name?”

Jisung’s stomach sank. Oh fuck . Minho had just seen him getting himself off. While saying his name . And he heard . He felt tears spring to his eyes and his entire body burned. “I–I’m so sorry, hyung. I was—I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d hear. Oh no, now you’re uncomfortable. I’m so so sorry , you must be so disgusted, I can leave. I’m so sorry, Minho-hyung.” He didn’t even realize he had started crying until he saw the droplets begin to fall onto his pillow. He buried his face into his hands as his chest heaved with a sob. 

“What? No– no , Jisung-ah, stop that, don’t cry. Shit.” Suddenly Minho was beside him and he was immediately enveloped in his scent, which somehow managed to comfort him even in this situation. “I’m not disgusted at all–really jagi, I promise. Hey come on, look at me.” 

Jisung hesitantly removed his hands from his face and tilted his head up to look at Minho. He didn’t look disgusted with him at all. In fact, Jisung couldn’t even read his facial expression. But he didn’t look upset. 

“There you are,” Minho said softly. He cupped Jisung’s cheeks and brushed his tears away. “I promise I’m not upset at all. Quite the opposite.” 

Jisung wasn’t sure his brain was working properly. “Huh?”

“You really are so dense,” Minho huffed, but there was no bite behind his words. “I’m not disgusted because I like you, Jisungie. In fact I’m kind of ecstatic that you were just getting off saying my name. I’d be hard right now if you weren’t crying.” 

Jisung’s eyes went comically wide and his jaw dropped. “You–you– what? ” he gasped eloquently. “You’re not disgusted? And you like me too? Please tell me I’m not dreaming, hyung.” 

Instead of responding, Minho pulled his face closer and pressed his lips to his. Jisung squeaked but quickly melted into the kiss. He closed his eyes and committed to memory every detail–the softness of Minho’s lips, the taste of his chapstick, the smell of his cologne filling his lungs, the gentle touch of his hands on his cheeks. He never wanted to forget this. 

When Minho pulled away, Jisung stared at him, starstruck. “That give you enough of an answer?” he asked with a playful smirk. 

“Oh my gosh,” Jisung breathed. “Holy shit. Wow.”

“Yeah, so… You’ve got nothing to worry about. I didn’t mind one bit.” Minho smiled and Jisung felt a blush creeping up his cheeks. 

“Ugh, that’s still so embarrassing though…” he whined. “I can’t believe you walked in on me like that.” 

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, jagi,” Minho said softly. Jisung felt a chill run up his spine. “Actually…you know… I wouldn’t mind if you finished. There’s definitely more I want to do to you now that our feelings are out in the open, but I liked what I saw. And I kinda want to watch.” 

Jisung’s blood rushed south so fast he felt almost dizzy. Arousal pooled in his stomach and he licked his lips. “I think–I think I could do that,” he said bashfully. Minho grinned and Jisung’s stomach swooped. 

“Yeah? How bout I sit back then while you touch yourself. Then I’ll touch you more if you’re still up for it.” 

Jisung nodded quickly, his arousal already making thinking difficult. “Yes, yeah. Sounds good. Can you um–can you kiss me again first? Please?” 

“Of course my Jisungie,” Minho said with a sweet smile. Jisung’s heart nearly melted.

Minho grabbed his jaw and directed him to tilt his head so he could slot their lips together. Jisung moaned against his mouth as he squeezed his jaw and Minho slipped his tongue inside. Jisung couldn’t hold back his whimpers and Minho swallowed down every one of them as he kissed him deep. So deep. And with more passion and feeling than Jisung had ever experienced in a kiss. It was like he poured all his feelings into a single searing kiss and it was almost too much. 

When Minho pulled away, Jisung was back to full hardness again. Minho smiled at him and pecked his lips once more. “Good?” he asked. 

“Mhm, perfect,” Jisung mumbled. Minho moved back and Jisung hesitantly removed the pillow from his lap. He swallowed thickly at the weight of Minho’s gaze on him as he went to pick up his dildo again and grabbed the lube. His hands shook as he uncapped the bottle and squirted a decent amount onto the silicon. 

“Wh-what do you want me to do, hyung-ah?” he asked, his voice small. 

“Just touch yourself like you were before. I wanna see how you make yourself feel good while you think about me.” Jisung shuddered and nodded. He considered for a second that maybe Minho wanted to observe him to see what he liked. And that made him burn hotter. 

He positioned the dildo underneath himself like he had before and carefully sank down. He was still fully stretched but that didn’t take away from the pleasurable feeling of getting stuffed full again. He squeezed his eyes shut as he lowered his ass down until he bottomed out. He let out a shaky sigh that bordered on a moan as he let himself adjust. He heard Minho shuffling and then he spoke up. 

“Want you to open your eyes, jagiyah,” he said. “I want you to look at me.” 

Jisung inhaled and opened his eyes. Seeing Minho was like a punch to the gut in the best way, because how had he already gotten so worked up? He was just as red as Jisung probably was, maybe even redder, and he was looking at Jisung like he could eat him. “Hyung,” he whined and Minho licked his lips, going to palm himself through his pants. 

“Come on, Jisung-ah. I know you must be worked up. So go on. Be a good boy and fuck yourself on your dildo for me,” he instructed. A knot tightened in Jisung’s stomach and he let out an obscene moan at just his words. Fuck.

“O-okay,” he whimpered. He grabbed hold of the base of the dildo and lifted his hip so that he could begin fucking down onto it. It was so much easier to imagine it was Minho’s cock with him right there, watching him with hooded eyes. Still, he couldn’t wait until it was the real thing. He needed to feel Minho, hot and pulsing inside of him. 

His thighs quivered as he slammed back down on the dildo and tilted it just right so that it hit his prostate. The knot in his stomach tightened and he let out a strangled moan. “Mm-Minho-yah,” he moaned, his mouth going slack. Minho started undoing his belt and slipped his hand into his pants, and in response Jisung picked up his pace. He was so desperate from not getting his release before Minho came in and now with Minho actually there everything felt so much more intense. 

“How’s it feel?” Minho asked and Jisung could hear the strain in his voice. 

Jisung’s breath hitched and his hole clenched around the dildo. “F-feels soo good, nghh, just wan’ it to be your c-cock,” he hiccuped. Minho hissed and the sound made him feel giddy. 

“Fuck, Jisung. You’ll get my cock, I want to fuck you so bad. Make yourself come first though. Then I’ll take care of you so well, my sweet boy,” he promised. 

Jisung nodded vigorously and put more focus into coming. His thighs burned but he still bounced on the fake cock with as much energy as he could muster. He tried to thrust up to meet the rolls of his hips but it was a bit difficult with the angle. He needed more.

He took in a shuddering breath and wrapped his free hand around his cock as he fucked himself on the dildo. His needy moans, keens, and sighs filled the room. Precum dripped down his cock in little droplets which made the slide of his hand easier but it was also a little embarrassing that he was turned on so much. Luckily, Minho didn’t seem to mind, especially with how his eyes moved to the motion of Jisung’s hand over his dick. 

His orgasm was steadily approaching as he continued touching himself. Pleasure curled in his stomach at the combined stimulation and when he looked over at Minho again his mind reeled. His heated gaze scorched Jisung’s skin. He wanted him so badly it hurt. 

“ Please , Minho-hyung, please, I need to come,” he whimpered. His cheeks burned and he knew he probably looked like a disheveled mess, but Minho was still staring at him like he was the epitome of beauty and sex. He’d never felt so wanted. 

“Come for me, jagi,” Minho said, his voice rough. Jisung wanted to hear it over and over again. 

The pleasure melting Jisung’s insides built up quicker than he anticipated. His moans became more frequent and in between each sound he muttered, “Minho, Minho, Minho.” Minho held his gaze the whole time, his hand moving over his cock in his pants in time with Jisung’s thrusts. And when Minho moaned softly with one particular twist of his wrist, the knot in Jisung’s stomach came undone. “Ohhh f-fuckk , hyung!” Jisung exclaimed. His jaw dropped and he choked on a moan as his hole spasmed around the dildo and his cock spilled cum all over his hand. The corners of his vision went black for a second and he shook like a leaf throughout the entire thing. His orgasm wracked his entire body and it felt like he was coming for ages, even if it had only been a few seconds. Minho’s eyes never left him. 

When he was completely finished, Jisung let out a soft groan and crumpled up on the bed from exhaustion. Holy shit.

“Goodness, Jisung-ah. My Jisungie.” Minho got up from where he had been watching and moved to Jisung’s side. He brushed Jisung’s sweaty hair out of his face and cupped his heated cheek. “That was so fucking hot. Shit, you’re so hot. I loved that. Did you, love?” 

“Mhmm,” Jisung nodded softly, a warm feeling spreading through his chest at the nickname. “I did. Was so good, hyungie.”

“I’m glad.” He brushed his thumb over Jisung’s lip and he took it into his mouth. He swirled the tongue around the digit and Minho inhaled sharply. Jisung couldn’t help but smirk. 

“Are you up for more?” Minho asked for a moment. Jisung’s heart stuttered in his chest and he swallowed. Getting to have Minho like this was going to take some getting used to. 

“Yes, please,” he said eagerly. “Just let me rest for a minute and then you can fuck me for real. Please.” 

Minho grinned and leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I can’t wait.”

#kinktober #kinktober day 26 #kinktober 2023 #smut #stray kids smut #masterbation #caught masterbating #skz smut #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #fanfiction #skz fic #skz fanfiction #skz fanfic #minsung #minsung smut #lee minho smut #han jisung smut #roommates #omg they were roommates #getting together

[baby-yongbok]

One Shot

Mafia!Lee Know x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: Despite being a Mafia boss your husband has a big heart. He has a thing about protecting you and your sister, he's sworn his life to keeping you both safe in everyway that he possibly can so when your sisters partner Jisung is found out drunk with another woman your husband goes full protection mode. It doesn't matter that Jisung is his best friend, he'll do anything to protect you two.

Word Count: 1,064

Warnings: Guns, Mentions of blood and injuries, fainting, Mentions of anxiety

A/N: Happy Birthday Dear Minhooooooo, Happy Birthday to youuuuuu. + This is post #1 of the posts that I have planned for our wonderful, Lee Know. The rest will be posted tomorrow! 🎉

Also, this is just a One Shot that I wrote based off of this ongoing daydream that I have 😭 I liked it so I just thought that I'd share it. 💕

✨️Masterlist✨️

 “Minho, please don’t shoot. Don’t shoot.” My hands instinctively wrapped around his waist. I wanted to pull him away from all of this and hold him, I wanted to calm him down and hum to him for hours but no matter how hard I pulled at his shirt he wouldn’t move and he wouldn’t put the gun down. 

“Get back, Y/n.” I know he wants me to listen to him, the bass in his voice tells me so. He means what he says but I just don’t have it in me to leave him.

“Listen, baby you gotta put the -”

“Y/n, back the fuck up.” It would hurt less if he yelled at me but that growl that spilled from his lips already did all of the damage, reluctantly removing my arms from around his waist, I took a step back.

“I told you already, pull the fucking trigger.” The lack of emotion in Jisung’s voice didn’t make it any easier for me to process what was unfolding in front of me. My husband and my sister's fiance were at each other's necks and I’m the only one here to witness it. What makes it worse is that Jisung is Minho's right hand man, everyone looks up to him as a second boss and Minho loves him like a brother.

“What the fuck are you doing out here, Ji? With some bitch you just met. Your pregnant fiancee is probably at home wondering where the hell you are.” 

“You think I want to be home with her listening to her talk and talk about a baby?” Jisung is clearly beyond drunk but what he just said and the laugh that followed isn't helping his case right now. Minho is in full protection mode, he has a habit of getting a bit intense when it comes to someone he cares about, especially my sister and I.

 I’ve heard people say that my husband is a heartless monster who only cares about murdering and money but they don't know him. They don't know how sweet he can be. Even now I can see through his anger, I can see how hurt he is that Jisung would go behind my sister's back when they're months away from starting a family. 

“You made a baby with her, now be a man and go home. Go take care of your fiancee before I put a fucking hole in your chest.” I can’t help but cringe at the thought of Minho shooting him but Jisung doesn’t seem the least bit phased which brings me back to what I said about him being drunk. 

My sister had come to me a week ago saying that Jisung seemed like he was distancing himself and that his anxiety about the baby was getting more and more intense as the months went by but I never thought that it would be bad enough for him to go out to a random bar and get ridiculously wasted.

“ I can’t.” Jisung hangs his head, stumbling towards us a bit and Minho takes the safety off almost as if by instinct. “I’m not gonna be a good dad.” 

Minho slightly lowers his gun and his shoulders relax a bit at the sound of his friend opening up. “What are you talking about? Of course you will.”

“I won't, I can't be good enough for her. Look at what we do for a living.” Sitting on the ground in the alleyway, Jisung pulls his knees to his chest and rests his elbows on them. “She’s too good for me.” 

For the first time since I’ve ever met Jisung I’m standing in front of him and watching him cry. Never in the eight years that I’ve known him have I ever seen him display any emotion besides angry and happy. Minho lowers the gun completely, clicking the safety on before placing it back in the holster on his belt. A weight is instantly lifted off my shoulders once I realize that this entire situation is turning around for the better. 

“Jisung, you gotta go home, man. It’s okay to be scared, that's normal but you can’t go and get wasted then leave with some girl you don’t know at all because you’re scared you won’t be a good father. You gotta try harder than this.” 

“Do you think she will forgive me? For being such a fuck up.” Taking a step closer, Minho runs his hands through his hair. 

“You aren’t a fuck up, you’re scared and that’s fine. You two should talk to someone, I can help you find someone but you gotta do something differently. You can't do reckless shit like this.” Minho stops in front of Han and kneels down to his level.

“I don’t think she’ll forgive me.” 

“Ji, you gotta-” I jumped as Minho was interrupted by the bang of his gun. I swear that it was loud enough to ring in my ears for years to come. It all happened so fast, Minho kneeled down and right when he went to pull Jisung into a hug he snatched the gun out of the open holster and put it to his head. “Han!” 

Minho tackled him, a hopeful attempt at stopping him. I stood there, shocked and praying that the bullet didn’t hit him. Praying that Jisung maybe forgot to click the safety off or Minho got him down just in time. 

“ What the fuck.” Minho groaned laying next to a crying destressed Jisung. 

“You should’ve let me…” Minho sat up and looked at me, anger and concern were shining in his eyes and as if I read his mind I subconsciously pulled out my phone to call for help.

“Y/n, Call Chan and tell him where we are, tell him I’ve been shot and that we need help asap.” 

“You’ve been…” I didn’t want my eyes to trail down his body and search for a gunshot wound. Hell, I didn’t even want to be here but I am and my eyes found exactly what I didn’t want to.

Minho was holding his torso tightly applying pressure to his wound. 

“Y/n, don’t.” I couldn’t even hear Minho say anything to me before I blacked out. I fell to my knees and before I knew it my limp body was sprawled across the ground and everything around me faded into darkness.

#skz #stray kids #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz x reader #stray kids x y/n #skz angst #stray kids angst #stray kids au #stray kids lee minho #lee know #lee know fanfic #lee know x reader #lee minho #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #skz lee minho #stray kids minho #skz minho #lee know skz #lee minho x reader #stray kids x reader #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #skz imagine #skz au #lee minho skz

[feelbokkie]

One Last Dance | Chapter 11

pairing: Minho x fem reader

genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, major character death (I am apologizing now), friends to lovers, soul mates, first love, roommates

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: swearing, mention of food, mention of sex

summary: Childhood best friends Lee Minho and L/n Y/n are in their final year of university. While both of them are in love with each other, the only thing keeping them apart is Minho’s fear of change. As both dancers prepare for their lives after college, will Minho finally let fear rule him and his emotions or will he finally gain courage before he loses Y/n forever?

word count: 3,301

screenshot count: 19

taglist: closed!

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©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

You toss your phone aside and quietly groan at the "almost stepdad" comment. You lean your head against the back of the couch and pinch the bridge of your nose, anticipating the headache you’re going to get from Minho when he finally reads it. Be has no reason to get jealous over it, but knowing him, he might anyway.

Truth be told, you have no idea where your relationship stands with Minho after your beach trip. You slept together, a boundary you weren’t expecting to ever cross with him after he rejected you last year. And you were fine with that. As long as he was in your life, you were okay with that. But almost dying made something click for you. And it must have made something click for him too because, why else would he sleep with you?

You both care so deeply for each other, and that’s why your relationship works so well. You push each other to be the best versions of yourself. You probably wouldn’t be half the dancer you are today if you didn’t have Minho pushing you when you were younger. You’ve always been there for each other. Like when your parents asked him to escort you to your first date just so you wouldn’t have to walk to the meeting place alone. He did it begrudgingly. And when your date inevitably stood you up, he came and told you that he wanted to see the movie too so the two of you should just go together and get something to eat after. And then he promptly got suspended the next school day for finding the upperclassman who stood you up and breaking his nose.

And you'd do similar things for him, even though it never felt like you did anything of equal value to his favors for you. Favors, because that's what they felt like before you realized you liked him. Like when you practically lived with him for a month back in high school because you have always been better at school than him. His parents threatened to pull him out of taekwondo, martial arts, and dance if his grades didn't improve. After school activities that he did with you. So you made sure to go home with him every day, some days bringing him home with you, so you two could study together. You complain about how codependent Minho is, but maybe you're just as dependent on him as he is on you.

You can't think of a single day of your life where Minho wasn't there. You've been together since birth, literally. Minho's mother went into labor and for some reason, your mother did too even though she wasn't due to give birth for another month or so. It was almost as if you said, "Wait, me too!" While you were in the NICU, Minho was right there next to you, suffering from his own health issues. Despite the severity of your conditions, the two of you were discharged the same day. Your parents often talk about how much you and Minho used to cry when you were infants and how the only way to get you two to stop was to put you together. Even for college, the two of you ended up applying to all the same universities and made the decision together, it was almost a no-brainer. Second nature for one to follow the other.

Meow.

You lift your head off the back of the couch and look next to you. Moonshine is sitting next to you, tilting her head and staring. You check the time on your phone and shake your head.

"You hungry, Moonie? Go get Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. I'll put your food right now." You stroke her fur before she hopped off the couch and went in the direction of Minho's room. You stand up from your position on the couch and stretch. Once you're settled, you make your way to the kitchen. You make sure to close the makeshift double-decker cat gate behind you to avoid an incident like the flour. You still remember the day you and Minho had to get supplies to make it. You were 19 and baby fact. It was evident that you two were freshly out of high school, or at the very least, really young. You decided it would be cheaper to buy two baby cribs and combine them.

You quickly put food and water for the cats and put it in the living room where they are already waiting to be fed.

"Don't eat too fast, you know you'll choke and if you die on my watch, dad will kill me." You add before heading back to the kitchen.

Minho should be home from work soon. He's been at work all day. They called him in to work a double this morning. It's almost dinner time and you know he's going to be starving when he gets home. He'll probably be too tired to make something for himself and he often doesn't eat at the restaurant because he knows everyone who works in the kitchen.

You open the fridge and scan what you have that could be made quickly. You're tired yourself, having worked another shift at the bar the night/morning before. And you already cooked today when you made lunch for Jisung, Chan, and Changbin. You settle on kimchi fried rice when you find some leftover rice from last night's dinner. It's simple, quick, and, most importantly, Minho's favorite.

***

Click

You rub your eyes as you sit up. You look around. All four cats surround you, in various stages of sleep. You didn't mean to fall asleep. After cooking dinner, you decided to do some homework while waiting for Minho on the couch. You must have fallen asleep while watching your professor's dance demo for class on Monday.

"Ah, did I wake you?" Minho whispers. Careful to not wake Dori and Moonshine.

"It's fine. I would have caught a cold sleeping out here anyway. Welcome home." You greet as you carefully get up from the couch.

"Thank you," He says quietly as he takes off his shoes and leaves them next to yours. You look at the time on your phone out of curiosity it's two hours later than he was supposed to be home.

"Did they ask you to stay late?" You turn around to find Minho taking off his jacket and setting his bag down by the door.

"Yeah, one of the servers called out last minute and the only other person who could have covered her shift needed some time to get there. But it's fine, we could use the extra money."

"True," You stand awkwardly by the couch. How are you supposed to greet him? A kiss? You shake the thought out of your head. "I made dinner. It's on the stove."

"Oh," Minho freezes for a second.

"You ate at the restaurant?"

"I had to. My options were pass out or risk food poisoning and I really don't want to pass out."

"Okay, that's fine." You give him a soft smile before making your way to the kitchen.

You grab a bowl and put some of the rice in it, making sure to get one of the eggs and putting it on top. You put the food in the microwave above the stove. You suddenly feel something on your shoulder. You turn your head to find Minho's head resting on your shoulder, his chin slightly diffing in.

"You made my favorite." He hums quietly.

"I didn't feel like cooking a full thing and we still had some rice from last night so, quick dinner." You're not sure why you're downplaying the fried rice. One of the reasons why you made it is because it is his favorite.

"Ah," Minho opens his mouth and waits for you to put some rice in it. You grab the serving spoon and take a bit of rice before putting it in Minho's mouth.

Beep, beep

You grab your food out of the microwave just as Minho grabs his own bowl and starts filling it with the rice.

"You don't have to eat because I'm eating."

"I'm eating because it's good and I'm still hungry." He says quickly. You know he feels bad that you went through the trouble of cooking and he already ate, so you drop it.

You walk to the small dining room and sit at one of the table settings you made earlier.

A few minutes later, Minho joins you, sitting across from you in the other setting. Both of you eat in silence, which isn't abnormal for the two of you. Both of you will often just sit in silence together, perfectly content with just being next to each other.

"I know you're tired but did you want to watch some TV before bed?" You ask suddenly.

Ever since the beach trip, you've felt distant from Minho. Or rather, you feel as if he's been distant from you. It's been almost three weeks but you've never felt farther away from him even though you were the closest any two humans could be without crawling into each other's skin. Technically speaking.

"Yeah, that'd be nice actually. My body is tired, but I don't think I can fall asleep right now." He yawns. You know that's almost definitely a lie. He could probably fall asleep in his bowl right now. And maybe you're a bit selfish, willing to steal any moment you can with Minho, but you don't care.

"Okay, we can keep watching that show we started last time."

***

The two of you sit on the couch, the cats moved to your respective bedrooms so they can sleep while you two watch TV. Minho is leaned all the way back into the couch, his left arm draped over your shoulder, his hand resting on your butt. Your head rests on his chest. You're listening to the beating of his heart and breathing more than you are the drama. His heart is beating at a calm, steady pace, his breathing even. You're sure he's fallen asleep. You don't move out of fear of waking him up and because you like being near him like this. You can fall asleep yourself if you're not careful.

You're not even paying attention to what's happening on the screen. It's some romance about friends and that's pretty much all you know. You and Minho only started watching it after Hyunjin harassed the two of you into starting it so he could have someone to talk to about it.

You start blinking suddenly when the TV pauses. You furrow your brows and sit up only to find Minho with the remote. You didn't even feel him move.

"Bedtime?" You ask yawning.

"No--I mean yes, but I was thinking we could talk first," Minho says, sitting up, his body becoming visibly stiff.

ba-dump

"Talk about what?" Your voice is small and wavering. The idea of someone asking to talk is anxiety-inducing enough, the fact that Minho said it is killing you. Nearly 3 weeks after you slept together. After watching the drama you were just watching. You can't help by jump to conclusions.

"We," Minho shifts towards you a bit, his dark brown eyes staring directly into yours. The last time you two made eye contact like this, you two were otherwise preoccupied in a motel room. "We never talked about what happened during the beach trip."

ba-dump, ba-dump

"We don't have to, we're both tired and it's late." You say quickly, not fully ready for this conversation.

"Y/n, if I don't talk about this tonight, I'm not going to get any sleep again." He says softly.

ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump

Your heart feels like it's going to burst out of your chest in anticipation. You try to swallow, but there is a dry lump in your throat. You're not sure why you're scared. It's Minho, your best friend. Your other half. He would never do anything to hurt you.

"Fine, for the sake of your sleep schedule, let's talk about it." You respond softly, resting your hand on his knee. His eyes fall to your hand for a second as he stares, contemplating, like he's trying to figure out what to say.

ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dum

“What... what if— How about we treat it...like...a one-night stand.” His voice cracks as he suddenly makes eye contact with you again. He wasn't asking, he was commanding it. Almost pleading for it.

Crack

The cracking sound is so muffled, that you're not sure it's coming from inside the apartment complex or from your own heart. Your breathing quickens as your heart pounds louder in your chest and your lungs can't expand to their full capacity. You feel exactly like you did when you were drowning.

Let's treat this like a one-night stand.

You are drowning. An overwhelming wave of sadness hits you just like the wave that almost completely overtook you. Right, you wish it had. Tears flood your eyes, not even threatening you come out by pricking the back of your eyes. The corner of your lips pulling down, shaking as you try your best to stop the overwhelming emotion. To stop from completely losing your shit, but you're failing.

“H-how..." Your voice wavers, almost breathless as you try to process what Minho said. "How can you tell me to treat this like a one-night stand when you know how I feel about you?”

Minho looks down again at your hand, unable to look you in the eyes now that a stream of tears pour out of them.

"Y/n, we shouldn't have done it in the first place. We crossed a boundary we shouldn't have crossed because we were both scared." His hand reaches down to his knee. You retract your hand at his sudden touch. It felt like being touched by fire and for the first time in your life, it felt like a bad thing.

"So—so you muster up the courage to tell me that. Not do whatever the fuck this is!" You shout. You're no longer in control of your emotions.

"I tried, believe me, I tried to bring this up."

"No the fuck you didn't. Not once since we got back from our trip did you ever pull me to the side to try to talk."

"I was scared!" He cries out, tears falling from his face.

"Of course you were scared!" You quickly stand up from the couch. "You're always scared! You let fear run your life. You're scared of me leaving so you don't act on your feelings for me. You're scared of change so you don't take full advantage of your talents. You're scared because I almost died so you sleep with me! You're scared of letting yourself be happy so you are sabotaging whatever this is."

"It's reasonable to be scared."

"Not like this. This is ridiculous. You're scared of love--or maybe you're scared of loving me--but none of this is reasonable."

"I'm not scared of loving you." He takes a step towards you and you quickly take a step back. Everything about him hurts, even his comforting touch.

"Really? Then say it," You spit, your anger taking over your sadness.

"Y/n, you know I love you. I don't have to say it."

"Yes, you do!"

"Why?"

"That shouldn't be a question. I shouldn't have to stand here and beg you to love me back! It shouldn't be difficult for you to say it! Even—no, especially if you're scared! Because I am terrified. But I can still say that I love you. I can say that I'm in love with you. Truly, madly, deeply, foolishly in love with you. And I hate it. I hate myself for it. I'm starting to hate you for it.

"Don't say that. Y/n don't say that. You don't mean that." Again, he walks towards you and, again, you back up.

"I do mean it. Do you know how much simpler my life would be if I just liked you platonically? Significantly simpler. I wouldn't compare every man I meet to you. You wouldn't be occupying every waking thought. I could be...happy."

"We were happy. We didn't have to complicate things. Can't this be enough?"

"It was until you opened your mouth! I just--" You take a deep breath, looking at Minho one more time. The anger quickly leaves your body, being replaced by overwhelming sadness. "I'm just really, really, really tired. I can't keep doing this to myself."

"Y/n--"

"No, no I can't. I won't. I can't keep letting you hurt me like this. This isn't good for us. This isn't good for me. I need—" You ramble as you run your hands through your hair. You pace around the living room trying to figure out what to do while Minho tries to get your attention.

Without really thinking, you walk to your room, locking the door behind you. You lean your back against the door and slide down. Hugging your knees to your chest, you let out a sob so loud, that you aren't even aware that you couldn't be that loud.

Moonshine wakes up from her nap and makes her way to you, purring. Your hand finds her fur and you stroke it softly as you sniffle. You sit there for what feels like hours, stroking Moonshine. The only sound that can he hear is your sniffling and Minhos's pleads on the other side of your door.

Finally having enough, you stand up and walk straight to your closet. You pull out a couple of suitcases and Moonshine's carrier. You put all the suitcases on your bed and start packing your things. You make sure to pack your school things and clothes for work. You're not even paying attention to anything else you're grabbing. You just need to leave. You can't keep putting yourself through this torture of the push and pull with Minho. You have to put yourself first.

You make sure to grab some of Moonshine’s toys and snacks. You can get food for her later. She won’t eat until late morning anyway, giving you enough time to find something. Once you finish packing your bags, you scoop Moonshine up and put her in her carrier. Looking over your room again, you’re satisfied you have everything you need for a few weeks. Before picking up your bags and leaving your room, you yank off the necklace you’re wearing. You stare at your closed fist hand for a second before slowly opening it to reveal the scallop shell from the beach trip. You made it into a necklace and kept it close. As a souvenir of your trip. A souvenir that will forever be tainted with a bitter.

You finally grab your bags, and Moonshine, and head out, only to run into a confused Minho. His eyes are bloodshot and his face is puffy.

“Where are you going?” He panics.

“I can’t stay here anymore,” You answer quietly.

“It’s late. Where are you going to go?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Y/n,”

You walk past Minho and go straight for the door. You stop dead in your tracks when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist. Minho drops his head on your back, tightening his grip.

“Y/n, please don’t go. I’m sorry. You can hate me and be mad at me all you want but please don’t leave me.” He whispers.

“You know what’s funny?” You scoff, “You were so scared of me leaving but this shit right here is what made me leave. You pushed me away. This is on you. ” 

"Please," You pull your arm out of Minho’s grip before quickly leaving him alone in the apartment.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@amyyscorner @aaasia111 @weird-bookworm @allaboutyej8 @kangaracharacha @lilcutieana @jungkookies1002 @lanatheawesome @hanniemylovelyquokka @jiisungllvr @marked-unknown @kitheat @spearb-99 @chlodavids @veedoesntknaur @yongbbokkie @warlockwithoutcharisma @fennecnco @aslou  @babygirlsuna @jihanlovic @kalopsian-thoughts @reianagarcia @sunshinessky  @brain-empty-only-draken @f9clementine  @jaydebow @phtogravi @mal-lunar-28 @jhstayy

#feelbokkie writes #one last dance smau #stray kids #skz #stray kids smau #skz smau #chan #bangchan #bang chan #lee know #minho #lee minho #changbin #seo changbin #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #han #jisung #han jisung #felix #yongbok #lee felix #lee yongbok #lee felix yongbok #seungmin #kim seungmin #i.n #jeongin #minho smau

[k-krissten]

Interstellar

Minsung x fem!

Synopsis: Nova is the star of K-pop, and also the best friend of Jisung and Minho, she is the girl of the moment, and her falling in love with them will change everything, although it will be for the better... Or not?

Warning: Mentions of sex, depression and eating problems.

Being an idol was never easy, the hours of rehearsals so that the choreographies were perfect, the intense singing classes, and the improvement in general were exhausting. But it was worth it, at least it's what you like to think, as the leader of interstellar the most promising group of JYP and the fourth generation, things were twice as hard for you.

You fought hard to have the place you had, everyone knew it, of course, you are Nova “the new star”. In addition, as the only woman in your group, the eyes were constantly on you. They were more cruel to you than to Jay or Skyler, your other members.

You were the star you were because of how meticulous, rigorous and perfectionist you always were. In front of cameras you were the sex symbol of the moment, with your blond hair and curvy body, Bewitching dark eyes and that sensual but kind aura that drove your fans crazy. Behind the scenes were the group's producer and writer, the one who cleaned up their disasters and sacrificed herself so that they could live mostly a teenage life.

But above all you were a depressed girl, because of the critical eyes of others, how underestimated many people had you, the cruel words of social networks and your constant dissatisfaction with yourself. It was easy for insecurities to sneak into your skin. You can always do better, sing better, dance better, produce better, look better, be better.

You met a lot of idols. You saw them in the hallways, you published content with them, and you collaborated with them. But you also saw them act behind the scenes, you saw them go from woman to woman and from man to man, the media said that you were a bad influence, you smoked and a couple of years ago you had an overdose of antidepressants. But if the media found out about the amount of drugs and excesses in which the golden idols were involved, they would scream in the sky. You were always transparent with your fans, you told them about the depression you dragged since the beginning of your adolescence and your eating problems. Some were scandalized, most were grateful, to see that the girl of the moment was as human as anyone, was what probably brought you closer to the fans.

In addition to your members, the only other idols you considered friends were the Stray Kids boys, perhaps it was the hours shared with Christopher and Changbin in the studio working. Or that it was impossible not to love Felix or Hyunjin. And since Seungmin and Jeongin were Skyler and Jay's best friends, you were really close to them. But with Jisung and Minho things were different, Jisung with his playful and charismatic personality and Lee Minho with his stoic and sarcastic facade that hid his true kind and protective face, they got under your skin, with them everything felt so simple, as if you belonged to them.

"Noona is not listening to me," Felix muttered, when he realized that you weren't paying attention to his conversation. Taking your mind out of the mental train you were on, bringing you to the present. The celebration party for the comeback of stray kids, you never liked these holidays. The people who were here did it to see if they managed to have a stroke of luck, sleeping with an idol or if they managed to make contacts in the middle. They were vultures in your opinion, you also hated being around drugged people and too horny to realize that they were having sex in the middle of a crowd.

"What does your head have so distracted Nova, what do you think about?" Bangchan asked with his head resting on his friend's shoulder and reaching for your hand to draw circles on it.

"What is the fastest way to die and get out of here." You answered him with an innocent smile, while you tried to locate Jay with your eyes, since Skyler disappeared with a girl as soon as he entered the big mansion and you left him for lost.

"Come on, it's not that bad, you're with us." The youngest boy told you as he settled down to wrap his arms around your waist.

“No, but being here makes me feel miserable, I’m also sure you want to enjoy your party and you can’t because you’re here with me.” The words came out of your mouth with a bitter taste.

"I can enjoy the party and be here with you," Chan answered without letting go of your hand, or letting you escape from his grip. "You know, I'd rather be with you here, than be in a dirty bathroom with someone unknown, or be too high to think"

"Listen to Chan Hyung! In addition, we all know that I never waste the opportunity to cuddle with you"

"They're so sweet, they're right if I'm here with you it's not so bad" You said as you smiled at them and untangled yourself from Felix's grip. "I'll go to the bathroom, I hope to find some of my children"

As you walked through the big house in search of the bathroom, you realized how overwhelmed you felt, and you wondered why you agreed to come.

Minsung. They were the reason, they insisted that they wanted you to be here to celebrate too. At first they were with you, but I only needed a couple of drinks for both of them to get lost and leave you, that's when Chan and Felix joined you.

When you opened the bathroom door and saw Minho fucking Jisung, you felt the bile go up your throat. You felt that you would vomit. You acted quickly, closed the door and started walking. Until a hand stopped you, you begged them not to be them.

"Noona, you look pale, it looks like you saw a ghost." Jay's warm hand threw you against his chest trying to make you warm up, thinking that your pallor was due to the little clothes you wore. You were wearing a cute short black sleeveless dress with shiny and expensive embroidery. The dress you meticulously chose for them.

Every time you thought about them, guilt gnawed at you, they were boyfriends and they were your friends. Although they will blatantly flirt with you, they never saw you as anything else. And it was good for you you would never want to lose them or hurt their relationship, you knew that your infatuation was one-sided.

"I think I feel a little bad, I don't have dinner and the champagne went up to my head" You answered with a lump in your throat, you knew they were boyfriends, you knew they fucked at every opportunity they had, so why did you feel so bad?

You weren't jealous of anyone, or upset in fact you loved them, you wanted them to be happy, they became happy. So why were you so terribly miserable every time you saw them interact that way. The reason was simple, you also wanted to be happy, you would never get involved with them, but you tried it with other people just to realize that you didn't feel anything. And secretly even under your own reprimands, you fantasized that one day they would tell you how much they loved you in the same way that you loved them.

Jay knew about your feelings, and when in the distance he saw the couple come out of the bathroom disheveled and with agitated breathing he knew that champagne had nothing to do with your current state and rather they were the reason.

Jisung saw you when you interrupted them. And I hate that you found them that way, he didn’t understand the reason, and I wanted to think that it was because they had left you alone to go fuck when they knew that the only reason you went was them.

Minho saw the way Jay was holding you, his right hand widens your back hugging you without leaving space of separation between their bodies, and his left holding your hand. His tall and wider body larger than his protected you, as if he wanted you not to notice his presence. He held you like he did when you needed comfort. For a second he felt that Jay was doing something that it was up to him to do.

When the boys saw you again, you were chatting with Felix, you looked absolutely ethereal, with a cigarette hanging from your fleshy lips, and a bright smile that you gave to the blond boy. And before they could get close to you, you were going with him. And not with them, as it's supposed to be.

Remember that English is not my first language, if you see an error do not hesitate to tell me. This is my first job and I’m a little nervous. If you like me please reblog or let me know in the comments.

—Kristen.

#han jisung #lee felix #skz felix #stray kids felix #stray kids #lee minho #minsung #minsungxreader #minho x reader #minho x y/n #jisung x reader #jisung x y/n #skz x y/n #skz x reader #skz angst #jisung angst #minho angst #skz imagines #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids angst #skz #skz han #skz jisung #skz minho #skz lee know #skz minsung

[mazeinthemiroh]

How would skz react to their s/o being drunk (and thus being really flirty) for the first time around them?

stray kids reaction to their s/o being drunk and flirty

genre: crack, suggestive

word count: 0.8k

warnings: mentions of alcohol/being drunk, suggestive (espeically on changbin's uwu)

author's notes: thanks so much for the request this was really fun to write! hope you enjoy, feel free to request again <3

bangchan

will think its funny seeing you in such a way. he'll have a playful grin on his face as he flirts back with you here and there. but we know he is a protective boy. he will make sure to stay with you for the rest of the night because he knows you are too drunk to take care of yourself at this point. when he sees men try to take advantage of your flirtatious state he will wrap a protective arm around you and guide you away from them. will probably scold you the next morning for being so careless <3

lee know

not gonna lie minho is probably drunk with you so have fun with that one lmao. no but if he isn't drunk with you, which is kinda rare, he will think it's absolutely hilarious seeing you completely let loose in front of him. he will take so many photos and videos of you acting drunk. caught you on video dancing sexy next to some awkward guy who really looked like he didn't wanna be there at all. he will show you all the footage the next day and keep them on his phone to tease you forever about it.

changbin

when you come to him and act tremendously flirty, he doesn't think anything of it, at first. but as you run your hands over his chest and practically drool at the sight of him, you lean over and whisper in slurred words "i want you to make love to me right here, right now," he looks at you like 'have you lost your shit??' realises you are drunk off your head and wraps his arms around you, keeping you close to him for the rest of the night. "y/n ahh don't be so careless with your drinking" he would whine, but secretly wants to get home and indulge your desires-

hyunjin

"you're so pretty hyunne" you say as you erupt in a fit of giggles once more. hyunjin is looking at you, mouth agape, enquiring eyes watching you as you make yourself laugh violently. the corner of his lip pulls up into a grin. "you're drunk aren't you?" he teases you throughout the night and he likes the fact that he can make you laugh by literally existing. like he will be standing there and you start giggling again, he's very amused by it all tbh. he also basks in all your flirting and suggestive compliments, as he should 💅

han

he totally matches your vibe. almost makes it into a competition to see who could flirt the best. throws in cheesy pick-up lines ofc just to get you laughing loudly and obnoxiously in other people's ears. "isn't my boyfriend so funny?? he's also really good in bed- I MEAN i wouldn't know but 👀👀👀" like you are not subtle at all and han is totally living for it, especially seeing people's awkward reactions lmao he's having the time of his life it's just so entertaining for him.

felix

poor felix is so lost and confused when you start dirty talking him in the middle of the club. your hands are on his hips as you look up at him with a sensual sparkle in your eyes and he looks down at you like 'yk we're in public right?' he'll get you some water and try to 'calm you down'. this is the first time he has seen you drunk so he doesn't know what else to do bless him 😭 he ends up chuckling at your flirtatious antics and making sure you don't get yourself into any trouble.

seungmin

MY BOY IS GONNA BE AWKWARD AF. he's just like 🧍like he doesn't know what to do?? at all???? sort of chuckles along to your flirting and keeps saying to himself "ahhh you're so drunk aren't you sweetie" and tutting at your behaviour but he doesn't necessarily mind. he just doesn't really know what to do with himself. should he keep flirting back? should he make sure you have water for the rest of the night?? he. doesn't. know. he will end up shrugging and just going along with what you do. so long as you're flirting with him and not anyone else, he's fine!!!

jeongin

he'd be into it lol. he's just glad you're having a good time and not getting yourself into too much trouble. he will keep an eye on you if you start saying or doing stupid things that may potentially ruin your reputation. but when you finally decide to just stay with him for the rest of the night, he is thankful. he will get a bit flustered when you start sexy dancing with him, but he would follow your moves maknae on top can move those hips, afterall with a little smirk on his face. he will hold you close to him until late into the night.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #kpop #skz #requested #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #skz scenarios #skz reacts #stray kids crack #skz crack #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #kpop x reader #bang chan #bangchan #chan #lee know #lee minho #seo changbin #changbin #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #han #felix #lee felix

[starrgaziinggg]

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS | LEE MINHO

PART NINE -> epilogue (6k words)

navigation

"JEONGIN!"

There's moments in life when you're genuinely terrified. Like when you used to get called on from your scariest teacher with no clue what the answer to the question was. Or when you wake up in the middle of the night after hearing a loud noise and can't move a muscle for hours afterwards.

Now is one of those instances. You feel yourself practically jump out your skin when you hear Seungmin screech the younger boys name, taking your sunglasses off of your face instantly to catch a glimpse of the commotion.

How naive of you to expect a relaxing, stress relieving getaway with your friends. How naive indeed.

"You've crossed the line this time, kiddo," Seungmin seethes, traipsing round the decking in search of his target. "Where the hell is he?"

"Fuck me if I know," you say lazily, placing your sunglasses back on your face and settling yourself into your sun lounger again. You and Hyunjin had an ongoing competition to see who could get the best tan over the course of your week long holiday, and you'd be damned to waste precious sunbathing time whilst he was at the shops to get breakfast for everyone.

"Gross, don't say that," Seungmin grimaces, chucking you a bottle. "You're burning up, idiot."

You scoff, pulling your sunglasses off for the second time of the morning and dumping them beside you. "Am I really?"

"Yes," Seungmin responds, placing his hands on the railing that oversees the beach you were staying at, looking out to catch a glimpse of Jeongin before giving up and practically falling on top of the lounger beside you. "Unless the aim of the competition you've got with Hyunjin is to see who can look the most like a lobster by the end of the week, I'd lather up."

You sigh, picking up the bottle he'd handed you and rubbing the sunscreen into your arms and chest. "Why are you so mad at Jeongin, anyway?" You ask him, intrigued as to what had interrupted your morning detox. "And why did you think he'd be here?"

"He's a dumbass," Seungmin says, kicking his feet up on the sun lounger as if that explains anything. "And I thought he might be here since you're the only other person still at the resort."

"Everyone's gone?" You ask, closing the lid to the bottle and chucking it into the shade.

"Felix, Chan and Changbin went down to the sea front whilst Minho, Hyunjin and Jisung were at the shops. Jeongin must have gone with them," Seungmin explains, shaking his head. "I'm seriously going to kill him when I find him again."

"I swear if you don't explain what he's done, I'm taking your name off of the lease," you say, throwing him a side glance as you settle back into a comfortable position.

"You can't do that," he mocks, as if you would ever actually take his name off of the lease to your new apartment. You'd just signed it two weeks ago, with Hyunjin and Felix too. It had been stressful trying to find accommodation for your final year of uni, as you weren't entitled to on campus accommodation in fourth year. When Seungmin brought the idea of sharing an apartment close to campus with Hyunjin and Felix to you, it had been an obvious yes.

Sure, living with three boys was probably going to be a nightmare, but you'd just lived with Seungmin for a year and he'd practically kept you afloat, so no matter how messy Felix was or how late Hyunjin stayed up, you figured you could handle it.

"He left my flip flops outside in the scorching sun yesterday," he finally says, offering you an explanation. "I specifically told him not to, because I'd seen online that the brand can partially melt in extreme heat - and who would have guessed? I now have a pile of goo on the ground."

You can't stifle your laugh, giggling openly. It was just such a classic Jeongin move you'd come to realise. He was nothing short of a little shit when he wanted to be. "They can't be a very good brand if they melt in the sun."

Seungmin scoffs. "They weren't made for over 40°c heat. Plus, I may or may not have bought them from a dodgy website," he complains, though you know he's over exaggerating. You could put money on the fact his flip flops were only slightly damaged. "He knows exactly what he's done as well. He'd written an, 'I'm sorry, Seungmin' note right on top of the goo pile for me to wake up to this morning."

You laugh openly this time, shaking your head at your friends actions. "Unsurprising."

Seungmin hums. "Yeah, I'll get my revenge at some point," he assures you, turning to give you an evil grin. "He's gonna hate choosing me as a roommate for this trip, I swear."

The resort you were staying in abroad, found by Chan (of course, as the self proclaimed 'dad' of your friend group), had large apartment like rooms that joined together and allowed you a private stretch of gorgeous white sand beach. Each room had a balcony area overlooking the beach, which you were currently taking full advantage of.

"I thought you chose Jeongin as a roommate?" You ask, turning on your side to properly face your friend.

"Jeongin is the least gross out of everyone," Seungmin answers with a grimace. "Other than you, of course. But you're rooming with your lovey dovey -"

He doesn't get to finish his taunt, as the front door to your room flies open. "Honey, I'm home!" Minho shouts, walking through the slide doors onto the balcony. His flip flops patter against the decking before he flops down onto the edge of your sun lounger.

"You're not trying to steal my girlfriend, are you Seungmo?" Minho questions, tilting his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose.

"It wasn't funny the first time you said it, and it's still not funny now," Seungmin responds, making Minho chuckle. Since Minho had popped the big question a couple months ago, he hadn't shut up about you being his girlfriend. His friends, that had now easily become your best friends, were constantly telling him to shut up, especially Seungmin since he spent the most time with you.

"Boo hoo," Minho says lazily, moving himself on your lounger so he was nestled comfortably in between your legs.

"What did you get from the store?" You ask him as he lays his head on your chest.

"Some meat and stuff so we can have a barbecue tonight," he responds. "Snacks, alcohol - some tampons for you."

"TMI," Seungmin winces, though you knew he was only doing it for show in front of Minho. You'd spent a year living with him and he couldn't care less about your period.

"A woman's menstrual cycle is natural," Minho mocks, laughing when Seungmin puts his fingers in his ears.

"Shut up, Jesus," you groan. It was bad enough you'd had to go on holiday while you were at the end of your period, especially in a group of guys, but your boyfriend felt the need to show how 'cool' he was about it in front of your friends, which made him decidedly uncool.

"Anyway," Seungmin says, attempting to stray the conversation away from your menstrual cycle. "What's Hyunjin and Ji up to now?"

"Said they were dumping their shit in their room and meeting the other guys at the beach for the day," Minho explains, stretching his limbs as he looks up at you. "Thought we could join them?"

You him, nodding. "Yeah, sounds good. Seungmin?"

"I'll need to borrow a pair of your flip flops, Minho," he says, and you take that statement as a form of agreement. "Jeongin has decimated mine."

Minho chuckles, pulling himself up from off your chest to sit at the edge of your lounger again. "Fine by me. There's a spare pair sitting on top of my suitcase."

Seungmin grins, getting up to put on Minho's flip flops. "I'm gonna go get changed into swim shorts, I'll get you guys down there?"

"Aye aye, captain," Minho responds, shouting through as Seungmin walks out your room, leaving you and Minho alone on the balcony.

He bends down towards you, leaving a chaste kiss on your lips. "Hi."

You giggle at him, using your hand to shield your eyes from the sun as you look at him, pulling your knees up to your chest. "Hi. Thanks for the tampons, by the way. I forgot to ask for them."

"Yeah, I figured you'd forgotten," he replies lazily, tapping your knees with his fingers. "Not a problem for the best boyfriend ever."

You chuckle at him, shaking your head. Minho had voiced his concerns about not being able to be enough for you, as he'd never been in a proper relationship before, but you'd assured him you'd be able to work at it together. And here you were, happier than you'd been in a long time.

"You look pretty," Minho states outwardly, and you smile knowing he means it. You'd come to realise he didn't give out compliments easily, so when he did it made your heart melt. "Last I saw you, you were a zombie in bed."

"Yeah, well, we were up late last night," you say, which makes Minho snicker. You whack him on the arm. "Don't be crude."

"Says you!" He laughs, grabbing your hand to stop you from whacking him again. You take a second to eye him up - shirtless, in just a pair of swim shorts and flip flops, you thought about how lucky you were that your boyfriend was perhaps the hottest man on the planet.

"Stop eye fucking me," he says slyly, narrowing his eyes at you.

"I'm not eye fucking you," you counter, crossing your arms. That turns out to be a mistake, when Minho's eyes go straight to your boobs.

"You know," he starts lowly, moving closer to you to push a strand of hair behind your ear. "We haven't countered period sex yet, but if you -"

You don't even need to whack him for that one, because he gets hit in the face with a blow up beach ball. Cackling, you catch a glimpse of the perpetrator.

"Get a room!" Hyunjin shouts, laughing maniacally as his bleach blonde hair flies out around him, and you just know Minho's going to kill him for that.

"We have a room!" Minho shouts back, throwing the beach ball back to Hyunjin which he catches, walking up to your balcony from the beach, shirtless and dripping wet. You assume he's already been in the sea.

"Maybe use it?" He says cheekily, and you roll your eyes. "We're gonna play volleyball, get your asses out here."

"I refuse," you say, throwing your hands up with wide eyes. "Not after last time."

Hyunjin giggles, remembering your game on the first day you'd arrived, and how your bikini top had come undone whilst you tried to save the ball. That was not one of your finest moments.

"You can be umpire," he says, tilting his head. You look towards Minho who shrugs, so you turn back to Hyunjin and nod.

"Fine," you say in defeat, standing up off your sun lounger and grabbing your phone and the keys to your room, so you can lock the front and sliding doors and jump the barrier of your balcony onto the beach.

The boys are all round the corner from your balcony, their towels laid out on the sand with some beach umbrellas propped up. Jeongin and Felix are chasing each other up and down the coastline with water guns, whilst Jisung and Seungmin are sprawled lazily out on their towels, taking refuge under the umbrellas from the blazing sunshine. Chan and Changbin are setting up the volleyball net.

As you, Hyunjin and Minho walk towards them, Felix and Jeongin abandon their fight, dropping the water guns by the boys feet.

"Didn't think you'd want to play after last time," Felix says breathlessly, giving you a cheeky grin when you hit him with your beach towel.

"We collectively agreed to never speak about it again," you seethed, listening to the other boys snickers. You choose to ignore Minho's smirk. "Besides, I'm reffing, and your teams already in the minus points."

"Why?" Felix groans, pouting at you.

"Attitude and bad behaviour. Ref rules," you throw back, placing your beach towel down and making yourself comfortable. Minho bends down to give you a peck, ignoring the guys cries of PDA and Jeongin covering his eyes before he calls team captain and the boys split up into two groups. Minho calls the second team captain and gets first pick, choosing Chan instantly.

They were unsurprisingly competitive, as you'd come to find out. If their beer pong tournaments were anything to go by, their volleyball games were even worse. You'd had to settle a multitude of arguments by half time alone - Jisung claiming Changbin was using foul play and Seungmin purposefully making the other team laugh to lose their attention.

Minho's team won in the end, which you could have seen coming from a mile away, since Chan practically carried any team he was on in terms of sports games. By sunset, half the guys had left to shower and the other half were setting up the barbecue, leaving you and Minho alone by the beachfront.

You watch the tide slowly make its way in and out again, the sound calming as Minho lay reading beside you. He's motionless, save from the periodic turn of the page of his book and his thumb swiping over your thigh when he found a comfortable position to hold his book with one hand.

The sun was slowly starting to set, the orange and pink hues of the sky mixing together like paint on a palette. When Minho turns the page to his book again, you pull your sunglasses off of the bridge of your nose to study him.

"What you reading?" You ask him, and he seems to finish the last sentence before looking over to you.

"A book," he says slyly, keeping his thumb in the middle of it but closing it over to look at you. He probs himself up on one arm.

"Oh yeah? Though it was an oven mitt," you reply sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

Minho raises an eyebrow at you. "Oven mitt?"

"First thing I thought of," you shrug, lowering yourself so that your lying flat on your back, closer to him. He looks down at you with a half smile. "But really, what book is it?"

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes as one hand pushes his dusty brown hair out his face, turning the cover of his book around to show you.

"How to deal with rude people with a smile," you read the title aloud as your eyes scan the front cover. "Is this a step by step guide?"

Minho chuckles, shaking his head as he pretends to snatch the book away from you. "No - if you must know, it's one of my favourites, and I'm rereading it and annotating it so I can give it to you."

You blink a couple times at his words, not really comprehending what he was saying. "You're going to gift it to me after you've annotated it?"

"Yeah," he replies, and you watch his ears tinge red - his tell. "After everything that happened with your ex and Sooyun, I just...I dunno. I read this when I needed to, and I thought you could benefit from it as well."

Minho will never let you live it down if you cry in front of him about this, claiming his superiority from his heartfelt gift, so you force a brave face. A smile comes naturally to you at the kind gesture.

"I love you so much, did you know," you say easily, shaking your head almost in disbelief. Minho had opened up to you more than you'd ever thought he would after making your relationship official. He told you about his family; his parents who he loved but did not spend a lot of time with due to them frowning upon his decision to drop his medical degree to pursue dance, how his cats meant everything to him and more...

This just felt as though he was sharing another little part of himself with you.

"What about you, then?" He says, unable to take the compliment without getting somewhat flustered as per usual. "You were reading something earlier in the week."

You hum, turning and digging the book out of your beach bag. You gently throw it onto his lap, watching as he inspects it like you had done his before handing it back to you.

"A poem book?" He says curiously. "'A mouthful of forevers'. Any good?"

"I love it. I've never been a big poem fan but this book...I dunno, her poems really speak to me."

"Okay you freak, read me one," he says blatantly, lying down flat on his back like you and crossing his arms, staring into the sky. He turns to you when you don't reply to him. "Please?"

You choose to ignore his shit eating grin when you open to one of the pages in the book you had dog eared.

"Love Poems, by Clementine Von Radics," you start with a huff, already feeling your tummy flutter under your boyfriends smirk and watchful eye. "I want to kiss you. Like big, fat kisses. Or angels. Or stars. Or something. I don't know. Love poems never make sense to me."

You pause for a second to catch your breath and sneak a peak at Minho as you do, and he's carefully watching you - a serious expression on his features as he nods at you for you to continue.

"Poets say things like Your teeth are flowers or Your eyes are miracles. But you aren't miracles. Or flowers. You are some sweet boy with a good smile and a shaky heart. Come kiss me. I'm in love with the miracle of your body—beside my body."

Minho stays quiet for a second, contemplating your words, and you can't help but feel sheepish.

"I like it because it reminds me of you," you say, although Minho's one of the smartest people you've ever met and you'd be damned if he hadn't already guessed that. "It's like - humans are never supposed to be these amazing, wondrous, beings. But you're you, and even though you will never be this unrealistic perfected poet concoction of a man, you have already shown me what perfect feels like. Because, I guess to me, perfect is good and bad things coexisting in this one little life with you."

There's not another second to babble on, because Minho's easily caught your lips with his own after moving swiftly so that he hovers over the top of you. He keeps himself propped up on an arm beside your head as he depends the kiss slightly before pulling away.

His hair tickles your forehead as he breathes, shaking his head at you. "You know I love you too, right?" He says lowly, dark eyes shifting between your own. "I don't say it that often, but I am so absolutely in love with you and sometimes I just have to sit with my thoughts because I have never known what I have done to deserve you."

His deep words make your heart fill and your grin crack. You figure you must be looking at him maniacally, but you don't care - not when you lowers his head to kiss you again, the feeling one that you will never take for granted. After these months you still feel the same butterflies you felt after that very first time.

"You're sooo in love with me," you can't help but to tease when he pulls away again, watching when he shakes his head with a chuckle. "You're practically on your knees for me."

"I could be later, if you quit acting like a brat in the middle of our nice moments," he says, tilting his head and placing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose. "Now, come on, cause -"

The distraction of Hyunjin and Jeongin making sex noises and kissy faces is one that you surprisingly enjoy, since it firstly means that Minho doesn't notice the way your cheeks are the same colour as your sunburn and secondly, that dinner must be ready. You successfully rope Jeongin into helping you pack up the beach stuff when Minho ends up in the midst of a physical fight with Hyunjin, the two men hollering and rolling around on the sand like children.

Whatever the issue was, you could assume Hyunjin deserved it. The two of them had been ridiculously close recently, after having talked out all their issues back when they weren't on the best of terms. You didn't know if it was just because you and Hyunjin were so close or because they'd finally had a deep discussion together, but they'd been practically inseparable the whole holiday.

Not that you are complaining - you'd take them clinging to each other over the two of them avoiding each other like the plague any day of the week.

"You and Minho hyung are cute," Jeongin goads as he folds Minho's towel, showing you his dimples and widening his eyes. "Kind of gross, but mostly cute."

You take the towel from him and shove it into your back, grabbing your water bottle and waiting for Jeongin to pick up Minho's water bottle before the two of you head towards your bedroom's balcony. "You think?"

He hums, nodding. "Everyone's been saying it all holiday. Especially Hyunjin, which is so weird. To think a couple months ago he was like your relationship's number one enemy is laughable."

You can't help but roll your eyes with a smile at the memory. "He was such a pain in the ass back then, huh?"

"Right?" Jeongin agrees, giving you a hand to help you climb over your balcony decking's railings when you reach it. "I don't know who was a bigger clock block, him or Felix."

He laughs with you when you can't help but to crack up, remembering that one time Minho was helping you dance in the practice rooms and Felix came in at the worst possible time, or when you and Minho were finally opening up to each other and Hyunjin just had to spread a rumour that wasn't true.

"Is it weird that I wouldn't change any of it?" You ask the younger boy, thanking him when he hands you the water bottle.

"Nah," he agrees, his freshly dyed bleach blonde hair (that he'd tried and failed to convince everyone he wasn't copying Hyunjin) forming waves from the sea water he hadn't washed out yet. "It's one hell of a story."

The distant calls for you both to hurry up remind you that you've got food waiting, so you lock your bedroom door and head out back again. By the time you round the corner, you spot the boys in a large circle - your boyfriend in charge of grilling the meat, whilst Felix is preparing what looks like bibimbap. Changbin's also putting together burger buns and salad as Jisung hands out the drinks Seungmin's pouring. Chan seems to be in charge of the whole orchestration, making sure everyone gets a bit of all the foods on their plate.

"You are a grand help," you say snidely to Hyunjin, the only one of them not helping, as he sprawls lazily on a deck chair by the unlit fire pit.

"I was sworn off preparations," he responds, not bothering to look at you. "I'm the visual."

Jeongin shares a look with you as you scoff, getting stuck in to helping when Chan starts handing you plates of food to place on people's seats. "You need a reality check."

"Chan?" He calls lazily.

"He's the visual," Chan shrugs as he hands you another plate, the other guys snickering. "Plus, Minho beat him up earlier."

"What was that even about?" You ask, wanting to be kept in the loop. Your boyfriend catches your eye, rolling his own in response. It's almost a shame to see he's put a t-shirt on, but the way he's rolled the sleeves up over his biceps and his cheeks flushed pink from the heat of the barbecue make you think otherwise.

Since Minho isn't giving you an answer, you turn to Hyunjin, who only gives you a smirk. He pulls his arms up by his head, resting against them. "I only told him that public sex on the beach is actually a crime, and nobody wants to see his massive -"

He doesn't get another word out, after getting hit in the face from a flying beef burger. Jeongin cracks up beside you, and you can't stifle your laugh either, especially when Chan starts shouting.

"We only have so much of them to go around!" He frets, counting out the food items with his fingers. "Stop acting like a child, Minho. Your girlfriends right there."

Minho waves at you with a grin, and you shake your head at him. Seungmin and Jisung finish pouring the drinks, making the rounds and placing them in the cup holders of each chair.

"She's just as bad as him," Seungmin scoffs, picking up a plate full of food and taking a seat beside you. "You know she made me pick out paint samples with her last week? Guess what colour she's painting her bedroom."

Your boyfriend raises you an eyebrow as he finishes passing out the rest of the meat and turns off the barbecue. It must have slipped your mind to inform him of your plans for your bedroom in the new apartment; you were still renting, but the landlord was extremely lenient and allowed you to paint wherever you wanted as long as the apartment looked how did did before you arrived when you eventually leave.

"She wants the ceiling to be pink," Seungmin groans, sending a wave of laughter through your friends. Sometimes being the only girl who regularly hung out with them sucked, and you made a mental note to at least attempt to find another female friend - preferably one who wouldn't steal your boyfriend.

"The ceiling? How are you even gonna reach that, shorty," Changbin laughs, ruffling your hair with his free hand before plonking himself in a seat next to Hyunjin, the rest of the chairs filling up pretty quickly. Minho takes the spare seat beside you, of course.

"I have a vision," you mumble inwardly, ignoring Minho's pout about how cute you were.

You had to admit, Minho's food was delicious - as was Felix's bibimbap, which wasn't to be unexpected. One of your favourite thing's about Minho was his dedication to making food for everyone, one of his love languages- though he'd never admit it out loud.

All of you eat well, chatting together about anything and everything. Hyunjin giving Felix extras from his plate when Felix had finished, the younger boy grinning at him in delight. Changbin and Chan engaging in an arm wrestle, in with Changbin dominates, of course. Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin having a beer downing competition, spluttering with laughter when Jisung almost chokes on the drink. Minho, a hand on your thigh, watching his friends eat the food he'd made for them in contempt - all of it fills your heart.

To think how miserable you had been, in a relationship you had tried so hard to keep afloat, and a friendship that ended in distrust - how different your life was now was insane.

Hyunjin distracts you from your thoughts, calling your name as he stands up. "Yo, come help me get the ice creams from my room."

You roll your eyes at his request, but inevitably agree, standing up and narrowing your eyes at your boyfriend who slaps your ass as you do so.

"Come on lazy lumps," Hyunjin taunts, calling you as you run to catch up with him walking towards his room. "These ice creams won't get themselves."

"Alright, alright," you sigh, following him into his room and taking a bundle of ice creams he pulls out the freezer. "You're so clingy recently."

He scoffs, making a disgusted face at you. "I'm not clingy," he claims, whilst you tilt your head at him. He closes the freezer with the ice cream packets in his arms, sighing. "Okay, maybe I'm a bit clingy, but you can't blame me. There was a point I thought you and Minho would never talk to me again."

"You're so dramatic," you chuckle, as the two of you walk out the room and back towards your friends. "We've been over this a million times - I don't blame you for anything, and you'd never get rid of me or Minho that easily."

"I know, I know," he says, and you notice his faint smile. The sand gets in between your toes as you walk, so you take your flip flops off to walk barefoot. "I'm just happy about how everything's turned out. Don't tell Minho I said this, but the two of you have never been happier now that you're with each other, and I was a little bitch to think otherwise."

You laugh openly at his compliment, shoving his shoulder fondly as you reach your friends, handing out the ice cream packets.

"You're not trying to get with my girl, are you Hyun?" Minho comments cheekily, which everyone collectively groans at.

"Nobody is trying to steal your girlfriend, dickwad. That joke has been used and abused," Changbin whines, which your boyfriend grins at, as if this was the desired affect of his idiotic comment. Hyunjin only sticks his tongue out at him.

"Says the one that was all over her that first night at the bar," Minho jabs back, which Changbin just smirks at.

"We get it! I'm hot!" You say confidently, scrunching up your nose when Seungmin chucks a rolled up napkin at your face. "And anyway, Changbin's taken now."

Changbin widens his eyes at you as the other boys turn to him in shock because, oh shit, that was a secret you were not supposed to share. There's a chorus of irritated yelling forced towards Changbin, and he looks at you in despair.

"You have a girlfriend?" Felix shouts, standing up and pointing at Changbin. You shoot him a sorry glance as he waves his hands.

"Yes! Okay, it's a very recent thing," he groans. "And you! You were not supposed to tell them!"

You shrug your shoulders apologetically, secretly enjoying the chaos. Minho turns to you, an intrigued smirk on his face.

"And how did you know before any of us?" He asks, no distaste in his tone, just genuine intrigue. One of your favourite things about Minho was how he could not care less about your friendships with the guys, something your ex was almost always complaining about. Minho relished in the fact you got along so well with all his friends.

"I went by Changbin's place to get him to help me fix my broken bedside table for the new place, and she called him while I was over, so it was really only a coincidence," you explain with your hands up.

"Why did you need Changbin's help?" Hyunjin questions. "Am I not good enough?"

"You don't even own a toolbox, Hyun," you say, deadpan, turning to Minho. "And you were away working, so don't start."

"I know, I don't care," he says with a grin, and you laugh at how Hyunjin is more annoyed than Minho. Minho and you had trust and he didn't mind you spending time with others, but Hyunjin was a dramatic baby whenever he wasn't involved. Realistically he just had a bad case of FOMO.

"Anyway," Chan claps, steering the conversation in a different direction. "We're all happy for you Binnie, right guys?"

There's a collective mumble of agreement which you laugh at, watching Changbin get up off of his chair. "On that note, I'm gonna call said girlfriend before the time difference gets too ridiculous. Peace out sluts."

You shake your head at him with a smile, watching as he bounds along the sand towards his room.

"That's it," Jeongin whines. "We've lost another one."

"You're just jealous since you're single," Jisung prods the younger boy, which he shrugs at.

"Yeah," he sighs. "So real."

You drown out the guys conversation, discussing relationships and what not, as you pull out your phone, scrolling your instagram feed. A photo Seungmin posted of you, Felix and Hyunjin pops up - the two boys cracking dumb poses as you laugh at them. You like the photo with a smile, continuing your scroll. The next photo that arises is of Sooyun - a ring adorned on her finger.

Her and Doha had broken up not long after she'd come to your dorm. You'd spoken to her a couple times since then when you'd bumped into each other on campus, though your friendship had never resumed. It was for the best, to stay civil yet cut ties, because she'd hurt you badly and you'd never have trust for her again.

Yet, you were happy for her. She'd gotten into a relationship with one of her family friends from your hometown a couple months after her and Doha had broken up. They'd grown up together, and you'd always suspected they'd end up with each other. You weren't surprised when you heard they were together, and after a year they'd gotten engaged. She beamed in the photo, her fiancé looking at her adoringly as she held up her hand for the camera.

You like the photo, commenting 'congrats!' before showing the photo to Minho. He smiles, knowing you were over the drama and genuinely happy for your friend.

"Maybe it's a thing," he says, tapping your knee with his fingers absentmindedly. "After someone ends their relationship with Doha, they find the love of their life."

You shake your head at him with a smile, knowing he was probably right. The last you'd heard of Doha, he'd dropped out of university and was reputably known as a cheater in your area. Luckily, you hadn't seen him since you'd broken up with him, confirming the theory that when someone isn't meant to be in your life, you'll never see them again.

"I'm fucking exhausted," Jisung yawns, stretching out his limbs. "Should we call it a night, since we're up early to swim with dolphins tomorrow?"

Hyunjin nods, standing up. "Yeah, agreed. Felix, don't you dare let me sleep in. I can't wait to swim with dolphins!"

Felix rolls his eyes, joining Hyunjin as the two of them wave before heading off to their room. Chan starts getting all of your things together as the rest of you help, folding up the chairs and taking all your rubbish from the beach. You all say goodnight to each other as you part ways, you and Minho heading back to your room.

"I love it here," you say as soon as you close the sliding doors, locking them for the night and staring out at the view. "I never want to leave. It's like paradise."

"You know," Minho says, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms round your torso. "I was thinking, after you finish your degree next year, would you want to go travelling with me for a bit? By then I'll have a fair amount of money saved, so we could go wherever you want before you settle down to work."

"Really?" You ask, turning in his embrace to blink up at him. "You want to?"

"Of course. I've thought about it for a while. It would be fun, just the two of us, exploring."

You grin, kissing him on the lips. "I'd do anything and go anywhere as long as I'm with you, you know that, right?"

He chuckles, moving a strand of hair behind your ear. "And I you. Who would have thought friends with benefits could end up like this?"

You playfully hit his shoulder before pulling him into a hug, letting him wrap his arms around you.

"Who would have thought," you agree, sighing into his embrace and thanking the universe for letting your friends with benefits situation turn into the most beautiful love.

And friends with benefits, after a year, is fully complete. I hope you all enjoyed the epilogue, even though you had to wait forever for it. This story will always have a special place in my heart - it’s the reason so many of you read my fics and found my account. Thankyou always for the interactions on this series, love always 🫶🏻🫶🏻

taglist

@skzgallll @tangerminie @nepytune @jeyelleohe @judeduartewannabe @endzii23 @vixensss @odhnlzl101 @yoonguurt @trashieforchannie @xcookiemonsteer @kingsoowolves @woahsehun @laylasbunbunny @sahazzy @hyukastuffies @multifandomtrash-dree @sherlockholmes08 @iam2out @jisungxident @amnmich @linoots @galaxleeknow @kpopwh0r3 @fixation-dump @mal-lunar-28 @zerefdragn33l @i8rsie @strayluvr @yoontaethings @lomllino @biribarabiribbaem @downbadreading @where-is-innie @djeniryuu @lethallyprotected

#stray kids #hwang hyunjin #jeongin #lee know #skz #felix lee #han jisung #lee minho x you #lee minho x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #lee know smut #lee know imagines #lee minho smut #lee minho #changbin #bang chan #seungmin #stray kids ot8

[straylightdream]

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

full stray kids list

feedback and reblog with tags are greatly appreciate when you read one of my fics!

@straylightdream — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any fic, reaction, or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

~

contains smut: ♡

ｃｏｎｎｅｃｔｉｎｇ ｓｅｒｉｅｓ

ssfw - college au

ilysb (i’m gonna love you) - coming soon

between the lines ♡

arranged marriage au

↳ After being used a nothing more then a pawn to gain the upper hand on Chan. They’re left in a strained marriage and only one way out.

outta my head ♡

neighbors au / fuckboy chan

↳ He’s a lives next door and is someone who sleeps around often. You’re a nurse who is struggling to get enough sleep because of his night time activities.

illicit affair ♡

modern royal au / star-crossed lovers

↳ He was Prince and soon to be King, and she was his a royal assistant who looked after him. Thing between them have changed as they cross a line that they probably shouldn’t of crossed.

somebody else ♡

featuring: bang chan x f.reader, lee know x f.reader

friends to lovers au

↳  She loved him more then anything or anyone in all the galaxy. From the moment they met he was suddenly her everything.

give yourself a try ♡

fake dating au

↳ She had to attend her estrange fathers wedding, and didn’t want to go alone. Chan offers to go as her fake boyfriend so she doesn’t have to face the wedding alone.

where were you ♡

exes to lovers / fuckboy chan

↳  They were high school sweethearts and Chan let his ego get the best of him. He her high and dry without a second thought.

golden hour ♡

featuring: bang chan x f.reader x hwang hyunjin

↳  The three of them had fallen into a habit for sharing a bed and cuddling. What happens when feelings get involved?

almost losing you ♡

monster hunter au

↳ Loving him was never easy and you wished that someone else could of stolen your heart. Someone who is wasn’t too afraid of breaking your heart.

about last night ♡

↳ you have been playing a game of cat and mouse for too long. Things come to head when you dance with someone while he watches.

i think I like you ♡ (ssfw)

friends to lover, mutual pining, college au

↳ I’ll be right here waiting for us.

not in the same way ♡

friends with benefits

↳ things get messy with feelings get involved with casual sex.

I wanna be yours ♡

roommates / friends to lovers / blind date

↳ “If you keep pacing you’re going to burn a hole in the title,” Minho said standing in the doorway.

Stopping in your tracks you looked up at Minho with wide eyes, “is it too late to cancel?”

crying over you

established relationship

↳ even after a bad fight he’ll still come to you to protect you during a thunderstorm.

its not living

friends to lovers

↳ after years of being friends you talk about what the future holds for you.

champagne & wax ♡

↳ after two years together you decide to spice things up.

death by a thousand cuts ♡ (my lover)

↳  one bad fight leads to you breaking up. What happens when you can’t stay away from the one person you truly love.

run to you ♡

friends to lovers

↳ after running away from an abusive ex there is only one person you know you’ll truly feel safe with. 

what am I missing? ♡

feat: 3racha

↳ in your mid to late twenties you’re left wondering if you missed your sexual awakening. With a the help of friends you start to really find yourself.

rose-colored boy ♡

↳ Life never goes as planned, when you were younger you always imagined as reaches your mid twenties you would be married with kids. Instead you’re stuck at home helping take care of your sick grandmother and still desperately searching for her fathers approval. The only thing in your life that makes you feel normal is Chan.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

be my mistake ♡

featuring: bang chan x f.reader, changbin x f.reader

roommate / friends to lovers au

status: 40% done

↳ It started out as a simple crush and led to so much more. Unexpected feelings come to a head when when you learn you mean so much more to your roommates then you ever expected

#bang chan #bang smut #bang chan fanfiction #stray kids #stray kids fanfiction #bc ml #bang chan masterlist #BCML

[emilyssky]

Chapter 12: The Mess We Made

PAIRING: Lee Know! X fem!reader

GENRE(S): college au, smut, angst

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence and abuse, depression, self harm, eating disorders etc.. mentions of blood, swearing, smoking, smut [ dirty talk, oral; giving and receiving, choking, spanking, praising, degradation, pet names, sometimes Minho is a dick :)

SUMMARY: "Do you remember what you told me the first time we met?"  

"What?"

"You said; Always leave people a little better than you found them" he looked at the floor with a small smile for a few seconds and then his eyes found mine. "You really annoyed me when we first met. I envied your optimism and excitement for life. But each time I saw you, I felt a certain thrill. You made me angry, you made me laugh., you made me feel everything. Something about you made me feel a little more alive each time. I know I fucked up and I know I'm an asshole but I'm also brutally in love with you."    

One year ago today Chan was running around my apartment, anxiously changing from a variety of dress shirts and pants. I remember how big this event was for him and how nervous he was about going for the first time, since back then he only knew the boys just a couple of months. This year things are different.

To say that I was anxious about going is an understatement and thank fucking god that Emma let me borrow one of her dresses cause I probably wouldn't have gone otherwise. Emma grew up in a quite wealthy family, she attended one of the best private schools in the area, and that involved many fancy parties and proms. So she has a good amount of nice, long dresses.

Unlike Emma, I was invited last minute and not by the person I would like, either way, I'm happy that Jeongin invited me the night we hang out. In Seungmin's family apparently, it's a tradition to host a Christmas Eve dinner party, and was a massive deal for him growing up. His nights before Christmas were filled with fancy dresses and suits, people drinking a shit tone of champagne, and 5-star catering employees walking around with plates of foods too small to be that expensive while classical Christmas music played in the background. During the last few years that he's been living on his own, he decided to carry on his family tradition and this year is no exception. I was kind of excited, I have to admit, it's not every day that I get to wear a fancy-ass dress and act like I'm not a broke college student that can barely keep her shit together. The one thing that I was stressing about was the fact that you had to bring a date. Of course, Seungmin told me that it would be completely okay if I show up alone but honestly, it will feel a little pathetic going solo, especially since he's going to be there. A small part of me wanted him to ask me that night. I waited and waited until the second I got out of his car but he never did. Moments from yesterday have been playing through my mind on repeat, like a film from an old movie, bits and pieces of the way he look at me and how the way his smile made the night sky a little brighter. I didn't expect him to call or text but still, since I woke up every time a notification would pop up a part of me hoped it was him. I'm both scared and curious to see how he's gonna act tonight but I know that if he acts like nothing happen it's gonna hurt just a little more this time.

Chan, Hyunjin, and Felix offered to be my dates yet I said no to all three of them. Everyone knows that we're friends and if I showed up with one of them as my date it would mean that I wasn't able to find someone else. Which is true, finding someone who's willing to come as your date to a nice Christmas Eve party is harder than I thought. When Kai offered to be my date after overhearing me complain to Hyunjin about not having one I was extremely reviled. I like Kai, he's pretty chill and I feel like he's going to be a great date, plus everyone knows him. Emma is going with Seungmin obviously, while Chan, Hyunjin, and Felix are all going solo, probably in hopes of getting laid.

I smoothen the front of my dress as we step into the elevator. The dress Emma gave me is breathtaking. It's a deep, dark shade of red that contrasts with the paleness of my skin perfectly and the satin fabric falls loose around my body yet tight enough in the right places in order to hug my curves perfectly. The straps are thin, not offering much support to my breasts, but thankfully Emma and I have similar chests so the cups of the dress are enough. My whole back is bare, the fabric starting from the top of my ass and hitting the ground while the big cut that's starting from the middle of my thigh, exposed almost my whole leg. I kept my makeup natural, letting the dress and the deep red that painted my lips do all the work. On any other occasion, I would've perfectly straightened my hair, but his compliment from last night tickled the side of my brain, so I let my long, thick brown curls fall all over my shoulders and down my back.

I bounced my right leg up and down, the sound of my heels clicking against the floor of the large elevator filling the small space.

"Can't you just relax?" Emma touched up the sides of her nude, glossy lips with the tip of her finger in the elevator mirror. She is dressed in a white, tight, strapless dress that makes her figure look almost fake. The way her boobs are pushed upwards and the way the fabric of the dress is so tight around her waist make her body look incredible, offering her an hourglass shape.

"Yeah, you've been fidgeting the whole way here." Kai adds, leaning against the wall with hands in his pockets. He's wearing a simple black suit with a dark red tie to match my dress, which I find really thoughtful and cute. His dirty blond hair is messily styled, yet somehow he managed to look like a runway model.

"I've never been in anything like this before." I mumble but in reality, that's not the reason I've been on edge since I woke up. It's not the people that are gonna be there, it's not the fancy setting or the nice clothes. It's him. It's the fact that he's going to be there, and the irritating feeling deep inside me that he's not going to be alone.

Kai pushes himself off the wall just as the elevator doors over. "You look stunning, relax." He leans in my way, his tone just a little lower than before.

I exhale, forming a small smile and we exit the elevator.

"It's going to be so much fun!" Emma squeals, fastening her step down the hall. "I'm so excited!"

We reach their door and Emma rings the doorbell. I feel my palms sweating already, my fingers playing with each other nervously. Kai shoots me a glance before resting his hand on my lower back, his fingers brushing my hip.

The door opens.

Seungmin's eyes go wide, the rest of his face staying completely still. "You're kidding." His gaze travels along her body.

Her smile goes wide, her whole face blushing. "You like it?"

He clears his throat. "There are people here." His tone drops so that only we are able to hear him. "So I can't really express myself properly. "

I hold my laugh. They're so freaking cute.

He opens the door further. "Please, come in."

The apartment is brighter than ever, with beautiful chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, crystals reflecting the light perfectly down on the crowd of people talking and slow dancing in the middle of the massive living room. All the furniture has been removed, the couch, the armchairs, the tables, everything, leaving the space empty and open. I can count almost 30 people here, and I can't help but let my eyes stare in awe at all the beautiful dresses and outfits. It's like a ball straight out of a movie, with slow music playing in the background, the food, the drinks, and the people, it's incredible.

"Oh, my god baby..." Emma whispers, wrapping her arm around Seungmin as we walk further into the apartment.

"Don't worry, " He says, sensing how nervous all 3 of us suddenly are. "Everyone here is in my inner circle, just close friends and family. All the guys are already here, as well."

Em's feet freeze. "Family?"

A soft smile overtakes Seungmin's lips. "Come with me."

We watch as he drags her further into the crowd, disappearing.

"Well," Kai turns to me. "Shall we go find the others?"

"I'm gonna need a drink first." I chuckle nervously.

Kai looks around, locking eyes with one of the waiters walking slowly between the people, offering them a glass of champagne, and motions for him politely to come our way.

"Champagne?" The blond waiter offers with a sweet smile.

I curl my fingers around a glass, lifting it off his tray. "Thank you."

He nods politely and walks away.

"I see them," Kai says close to my ear. "Let's go."

He takes my hand in his, leading the way to the end of the living room, near the massive windows, that offered an incredible view of the night city. All of them are standing there in a circle talking amongst themselves. Chan's eyes spot us and I can't help but smile at his expression.

"No way." He shakes his head, not believing his eyes. His comment makes everyone's head snap in our direction.

"Holy shit!" Hyunjin's eyes go wide, the glass of champagne freezing inches away from his mouth.

"What can I say?" Kai lifts his free hand, shrugging with a smug expression. " I might have the hottest date in the whole party."

"Shut up." I roll my eyes, his comment making heat spread all over my face.

Chan inches forward, looking at me from head to toe. "You look unreal." He takes my hand, pulling me away from Kai's grip and spinning me into a circle. "Wow."

I can't help but giggle a little.

"No seriously," Hyunjin moves to stand next to Chan. "You look hot as fuck."

"Thank you guys." I nod at both of them, appreciating the way they always go out of their way to make me feel good about myself. "You don't look but yourselves."

Chan adjusts his black tie, making it a little tighter around his neck before rolling up the sleeves of his perfectly straight, white dress shirt, that I ironed a few hours ago after much begging from his part. With black dress pants, black boots, and his dark, messy curls styled just enough to look good but not preppy, he looks shockingly different. Hyunjin wears a similar outfit to Chan and with a face like his and the way his long, blonde hair falls just above his shoulders, he looks like a prince. I move my gaze behind them, noticing Jisung, Jeongin, and Changbin with Lia, who's apparently the only one with a date. I quickly realize that Minho and Felix are missing.

"Where's Felix and Minho?" I ask them as casually as I can.

I notice the small glance that they exchange before Hyunjin speaks up. "Smoke break." I simply nod and move to greet the rest of them.

"Oh, my gosh you look stunning!" I give her a quick hug.

She tugs her hair behind her ear, shyly. "Thank you, you look amazing too."

"Green?" I lift my eyebrow at Changbin's dark green suit.

"I don't like boring outfits." He smirks. "The room is full of them."

"Shut up, Shrek." Jisung rolls his eyes at his friend, pulling me into a hug.

"Hey," I mumble with a soft smile in the small space between his shoulder and his neck.

"I was waiting for you." He says.

"Too many people?"

He scoffs a laugh. "Too many fancy, important people and not enough alcohol to get me though. There are some people connected to my family here as well and let's say that I would rather not talk to them at all. " He explains.

I remember when Minho explained to me everything about Jisung's past and how he and Seungmin are connected but I mask my face and pretended not to know anything. "Really?"

"Yeah, I'll tell you another time."

"Okay." I touch his shoulder sympathetically.

"Hello, gorgeous." Jeongin pulls me in a small, side hug, his cologne hitting my nose immediately.

"Hi." I smile at his compliment.

"So you found a date?" He nods Kai's way, who's chatting with Chan and Hyunjin.

"More like the date found me." I shrug.

He takes a sip of his champagne. "Bummer."

"Bummer?" I lift my eyebrows. "Why?"

"I would've asked you if I knew you were available." He boldly states, his face natural and his eyes confident.

"What made you think I wasn't available when you told me about the party?" I reply, mirroring his confidence.

His face breaks into a smile, dropping his head a little lower. "Were you?"

His question almost feels challenging and makes me wonder if he knows anything about me and Minho.

I look away, into the crowd. "Jeongin, if you had asked me, I would've said yes." I reply instead.

I feel him taking a step forward. "Well, I'll remember that moving forward."

I don't know what to do or say besides simply smiling at him, his forceful approach taking me by surprise.

He lifts his half-empty glass of champagne towards me and I do the same, before drowning the remains of the bubbly liquid.

"May I steal her for a few minutes?" I feel Kai's hand resting on my back.

Jeongin brings his lips into a tight smile. "Of course, she's your date after all."

I let Kai lead me to the dance floor where a good amount of couples are slow dancing to a beautiful melody coming from the speakers. I place my hand comfortably on his shoulder and wrap the other one around his before we start swinging to the music.

"So," He drags the word. "You're switching to one of his best friends?"

I look at him confused. "What?"

"I thought Minho was the one you were going after." He lets go of my waist, spinning me 2 times before settling back into our previous position.

"I'm not 'going after' anyone." I straighten my back. "And to answer your question; no. Minho wasn't one."

"And Jeongin is?" He presses but not at all in a rude or angry way. His tone is light and conversational.

"Can't a girl just have fun?" I almost whine out loud.

"Oh, trust me you can have fun." He chuckles charmingly. "If having 3 guys running after you is your idea of fun."

Now it's my turn to chuckle. "That's not true."

He clears his throat. "You're right, 4."

I narrow my eyes at his hint of a smile. " I know I'm not your type."

He tightens his grip, pulling a little closer, my body pressing onto his. "No, you're not. But I would never say no to you."

That, I've known for a while. Chan had told me that Kai was interested in me months ago, yet despite him being breathtakingly handsome and a really nice guy, I wasn't ready to move on. I wasn't ready to hook up or mess around cause if I would have gotten involved with him, that's all our relationship would be.

"Ah," He purrs near my ear. "And that's the reason you would say no, to both me and Jeongin." I feel his head nod in the opposite direction, his words making my body freeze on his hands. "Don't look, it will make it too obvious."

I wanna look. I wanna look so bad. The desire to simply see him is so intense that it scares me and makes me feel like an addict wanting desperately to get his hit.

"Is he looking?" I whisper in his ear, even though I know Minho can't possibly hear me, and even though I somehow can feel his eyes burning at my exposed back.

"Yep. Intensely, may I add."

I don't move a muscle. "Is he alone?" I asked the question that's been eating me alive.

"Nope."

I exhale, and I try to stay relaxed, I try to keep dancing, pretending to be unbothered by his presence and honestly, my curiosity would have gotten the best of me if Seungmin's voice didn't echo through the speaker, interrupting the music and dancing.

"First of all, I would like to thank each and every one of you that decided to spend Christmas Eve here." He says into the mic, standing on top of the first few steps of their huge staircase, getting everyone's attention. Kai forces our movements to a halt but still keeps a hand on my waist as we stand, facing Seungmin just like everyone.

"This gathering means so much to me, and I'm really happy that I get to host my own version of my family's tradition along with all the people that matter most to me."

It's eating me up inside, an uncontrollable craving and a tightness in my chest. Just a look, a tiny little glance to satisfy my curiosity.

"To my bandmates, to my friends, to my family, and to my lovely girl." He lifts his glass and the whole room does the same. Emma stands in front of him, smiling like I've never seen her before.

Just a peek.

I turn my head to the right, slightly and carefully, with my glass lifted towards Seungmin but the rest of his speech fades into background noise the minute my eyes lock with his. I swear to god, if Kai wasn't holding my waist, my knees would have bugled.

There he was, standing a few meters away, looking simply breathtaking. And already looking at me. Looking at me with a spark in his eyes, a force, a look so dark that made my throat dry, and I couldn't look away, I couldn't take my eyes off him. He looks, unlike anything I've seen him before. He's dressed in black dress pants that make his thighs look mouthwatering and a simple black dress shirt with the first few buttons open, exposing his wide chest. His hair, for the first time ever, is styled, with the left side slightly pushed back while the right front part of his hair falls perfectly over his eye. He looks so magnetizing that I almost didn't notice the petite blonde clinging to his side, under his arm. Dressed in a black, skintight, long-sleeve dress, with a full face of makeup and full red lips.

He smirks, lifting his glass my way with a challenging nod.

"So please enjoy yourselves tonight, and let's welcome Christmas in the best way possible." I snap my eyes back to Seungmin, finally able to breathe. Everyone starts cheering and clapping and when the music started playing again, everyone went back to either dancing or talking almost themselves while enjoying the incredible food and drinks, but I can't move. Not when my mind is glued to the image of her next to him. Who is she? I've never seen her before.

"Do you want another drink?" Kai asks. "Maybe a stronger one?"

"Yes, please." I breathe, wanting nothing more than to be dragged away from the dance floor, and enjoy a strong gin tonic in the corner, where I can't even see him. I let Kai lead the way, with his hand placed on my lower back. We reach the bar, and spot Felix and Hyunjin talking.

"Y/n!" Felix's eyes widen. "You look incredible." He wraps his arms around my waist, lifting my feet off the ground.

A series of giggles escape me. "Put me down! You're drawing attention."

"Are you enjoying the party?" Hyunjin questions with a lift of his eyebrows and a small knowing smile.

Instead of answering, I lean into the counter closer to the bartender making the drinks. "One gin tonic, please. Strong."

Felix lets out a low whistle. "We'll take that as a no."

"I was enjoying my night just fine." I cross my hands, looking into the distance. They're still on the dance floor, her hands loose around his neck and his holding her waist, like they've never held mine. They move slowly to the music as they chat casually. It's hard to stop my eyes from narrowing at the way his face looks almost relaxed, with a light smile as he speaks.

"Staring at him won't work." Hyunjin jokes, copying my position, arms crossed, back leaning into the table.

Felix lets out a laugh.

"Your drink miss." The bartender pushes the glass my way and I take it in my hands, taking a sip immediately.

"Is something going on that I don't know about?" Felix gives me a look.

"Nope." I shake my head, continuing to sip my drink, not taking my eyes off them.

"Something is definitely going on." Kai copies my position as well.

"You can tell us." Hyunjin adds.

"Nothing's going on." I've drank almost half of my drink already. "And even if there was, I wouldn't tell any of you."

"Excuse me?" Felix says, giving me a glare from head to toe while Hyunjin places a hand over his heart.

"Oh, please!" I roll my eyes at their reactions. "You would run to Chan and give him a full presentation of what I'd said, and you know it."

"That's a lie." Felix points his finger at me. "Your secrets are always safe with us princess."

"Exactly." Hyunjin nods. "Even if it's about fucking one of Chan's best friends"

"It's not like that!" Hyunjin's words make my tone rise, feeling a sudden need to explain myself but they simply laugh. "And besides, Chan's my-" Speaking of the devil Chan makes his way toward us, with his hands casually in his pockets, walking through the crowd like he's 7 feet tall.

"Chan!" I greet him. "Hi."

"Hello, pretty lady." He offers me a broad smile, before turning his attention to Felix and Hyunjin. "I need some help."

"Why? What happened?"

"Seungmin's having some trouble with the cakes." He scratches the back of his neck, a habit of his. "For some reason, they couldn't be delivered here, so someone has to go and get them from the bakery, which closes in approximately," He checks his watch. "19 minutes."

"I'll come. " Felix offers immediately.

"Oh, my god, thanks man." Chan sighs in relief.

"No, problem." He sets his half-empty glass on the table. "We'll finish the conversation later." He sends me a wink.

"What conversation?"

Felix pushes Chan towards the door, chuckling. "Nothing mate, come on let's go."

. . . . . . . . .

I tried sneaking glances as much as I could, whether he was dancing with her, going to get a drink at the bar, or absolutely devouring the mini burgers, and he didn't find my eyes once. Even when he was talking with the rest of the boys and I stood only a few feet away, fully involved in the conversation as well, he never once addressed me. In fact, he didn't even look my way. At all. All night. He smiled and talked, and acted like nothing was going on, like he was fully comfortable with me being almost right next to him. Like nothing had happened. He was simply ignoring me the whole night, so successfully that it made pure rage grow inside me. At the fact that it was so each for him to do so, when I couldn't even breathe properly when he was near, at the way he smiled and talked and danced with her, and most importantly at the way he looked absolutely ravishing. Simply stunning.

My anger was growing and growing each second, each minute, each hour passing and I found myself at the bar more often than I should. The party was beautiful. The decorations, the music, the elegantly dressed people, everything. Kai did dance with me numerous times, and I also danced with Hyunjin and Jisung but at times like these when Kai is somewhere talking or smoking with the boys and Emma is busy playing hostess with Seungmin, I give myself a second to simply do some people watching, and fully take in this beautiful scene unraveling in front of me. Everyone is having a great time, Emma and Seungmin along with Changbin and Lia are currently on the dance floor, and the rest of the boys are chatting and laughing. Every single person in here, has a smile on their face, enjoying the moment, something I can't bring myself to do. Hell, even Minho has a hint of a smile on his face.

I drown my 4th glass of gin and tonic.

"Easy there tiger." Jisung takes the now-empty glass from my hand. "Someone's clearly not having fun."

"I am having fun." I scoff. "In fact, I'm having a great time, this party is amazing." I wave my hand around.

"Yes, it is." He smiles, focusing his eyes on me. "Are you okay, kid?"

It's weird how Jisung can always realize when something's wrong, but then again I don't think that I'm making a good job of hiding it.

"Can I ask you a question?" I ask back.

"Sure."

"Do you smoke?"

He blinks at my straightforward question. "Occasionally, yes. Why?"

"Can I have one?"

He blinks again. "Um," Another blink. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Please." I press in a high-pitched tone when he appears to be looking around, probably for Hyunjin.

He sighs but reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

"For an occasional smoker, you sure are prepared." I tease.

He rolls his eyes at me with a smile. "Do you want it or not?" He holds a cigarette between his fingers.

My eyes light up and I immediately take it. "Yes please."

"I'd suggest you go somewhere else to smoke it." He lets his eyes trail around the room once again as if we're dealing right in front of 30 people, placing a lighter in my hands as well.

"Yes, I know." I hide the cigarette inside my palm. "Thanks, Jisung."

He gives me a short nod with a hint of hesitation in his big brown eyes and lets me walk away from him. My legs drag me up the stairs, making a turn to the only room I've ever been in this house. I open the big, glass door and exit the room, walking into the massive balcony. This time I don't climb the stairs to the roof, I walk further into the balcony until I reach the railing. It's a lovely night, perfect for Christmas Eve, the stars and moon lighting up the night sky and blending perfectly with the chilly atmosphere. I shiver, my bare shoulders moving inwards mechanically in an attempt to protect my body from the cold yet I don't wrap my arms around it, instead, I welcome the cold and let it lift the little hairs on my arms and spread goosebumps across my skin. Something about the cold air hitting me, this shivering feeling tingling my back, calms me down. It's like reality showering you in the best way possible, grounding you. I take the cigarette between my teeth, the red of my lips staining the edge and I circle my hand around it, lighting it up. The first inhale hits me hard, reminding me just how much I've missed it; the feeling of the sudden numbness in your brain unraveling and spreading everywhere in your body, and how suddenly with each inhale you feel more and more separated from the world around you. I let the moment sink in in my intoxicated mind, appreciating where I am right now and saving it. I know that my moment is gone when I hear the noise, the footsteps, and the door slamming, and even though I stay still, facing the night sky, hands resting on the railing, it doesn't take longer than 5 seconds to realize that it's him. Maybe it was his sweet vanilla scent mixed with a hint of cigarettes, that filled the air immediately or the way his light, slightly audible breathing sounded somewhat familiar, but I knew.

"Hello, Angel."

"Minho," I simply acknowledge him.

"I didn't know you had a tattoo on your back." He spoke in a low, controlled tone.

The corners of my mouth lift. "I have 5." I stay facing forward, pausing to take another drag of the cigarette and taking my time to exhale the smoke. "And there are many things you don't know about me."

"Like?" He starts walking my way, and I know that he has his hands in his pockets and a small smile is dancing on those beautiful lips, without having to look.

"You'll find out if you stop ignoring me."

My comment forced a chuckle out of him and suddenly he appears to my right with his back resting on the railing, facing me. When I move my eyes from the night sky to look at him, regret showers me from head to toe. I was right about the small smile but definitely not prepared for the way he looks at me through his long lashes. Having not made eye contact for most of the night, being here, and being looked at by him feels like the highlight of my night. And I hate it, almost as much as I hate the way my heart starts beating just a little bit faster.

His fingers come up, snatching the cigarette from between my own in such a swift movement, bringing it to his mouth. "Smoking doesn't look good on you, angel."

I admire how he moves the cigarette to his other hand, the one away from me, taking a drag of it midway and exhaling, and it's honestly crazy how attractive it is to me. "I don't care." I reply, trying to appear unbothered.

"Are you enjoying the dance?" He asks and if I didn't know any better, I would think that he actually cared but I recognize the irony in his voice.

"Of course, I am," I play along. "It's wonderful."

He drops his eyes to the floor. "I think I'm getting pretty good at realizing when you're lying."

My body stiffens. "I'm not lying." The party is wonderful...

"Well, I think you are." His words mix with the smoke as he exhales.

"And what makes you think that?" I further ask, holding eye contact for just a few seconds.

He shrugs. "Maybe it was the quite visible stiffness of your body the whole time, the constant frown that was plastered on those red lips, or the way too much drinking out of discomfort and nervousness. But I think it was probably the fact that you danced only up to 30% of your abilities thanks to that lame excuse of a partner you choose to drag along with you as a date." A small smile threatens to spread on his face, but he contains it.

"None of what you've just said is true," I try to brush him off, forcing myself to act like his words didn't affect me or how it scared me that everything he just said is in fact true. It makes me feel like I can't possibly hide from him, as if he can read me like an open book without even trying. "And don't talk shit about Kai, he's a great date and someone I actually know and have fun with."

His smile widened into a smirk. "Anna and I know each other for quite some time."

I stare into the sky again. "I didn't ask and I don't care."

"You didn't have to, I can see how it's been eating you up inside since you laid eyes on us." The confidence that laces his teasing tone makes me tense up and I feel his gaze on me as he continues.

Us...

"I saw the way you roamed your eyes from her head to her toes every chance you got, probably analyzing everything about her." He blows the last bit of the smoke before pressing the edge of the remaining cigarette on the railing and throwing it away. "It was easy to guess what was going through your mind, " He pushes himself off the railing and moves slowly, almost like a cat, circling around me and leaning closer and closer. "Questions, questions, so many questions, and doubts. I could almost feel you comparing every little thing about her to you." He stops behind me, his chest nearly touching my back yet still knocking the air out of my chest. I swallow hard, feeling his head moving to the side of my face, just above my shoulder.

"And honestly, I don't know what felt more entertaining to me; the fact that I could smell the jealousy out of you or the fact that you actually thought that she stands a chance next to you." He whispers, lips brushing against the cell of my ear and I'm on fire, from head to toe. He's suddenly close, so close, his scent hitting my nose, intoxicating my brain even more and memories of his hands on me and his body pressing against mine begin to dance around my head.

"Minho.." I try my best to sound stable, but my words come out breathy.

He pushes his face further into the curve of my neck, his lips traveling all around, brushing my skin. "What do you want angel?"

Such a dangerous question to ask when I feel like he has my body wrap around his finger without even touching it. "S-stop it. You can't do that."

His low chuckle against my skin sends a wave of vibrations all the way down to my core. "Can't?"

"Yes." I somehow find the strength to push my body away from his and turn to face him, resting my back against the railing for much-needed support. "You've been ignoring me the whole night, and now you wanna come and play games with me? That's not how it works." I cross my arms.

His face is now stripped of any playfulness, his features turning hard as he looks down at me. A moment of silence passes until he decides to speak. "I wasn't ignoring you."

I chuckle lightly. " Yes, you were. Completely."

He bites his bottom lip softly, eyes moving up and down my body fast. "I wasn't ignoring you, " He repeats. "I was trying to contain myself. There's a difference."

I feel my breath shaking at his words, and all I can do is stare at him, no words coming out.

He looks up, inhaling, tongue running over his bottom teeth as he steps forward. "You look fucking exquisite." He drawls. His hands grip the railing tight, trapping me. "My breath was yours the minute I laid eyes on you."

I can only hear my heart drumming against my chest, his words making me freeze. "I don't-"

A noise escapes him, almost like a growl. His nose bumps against mine gently, and his cigarette breath fills the small space between us. "You think I was enjoying watching him have his hands all over you?"

"It sure looked like it. " I whisper, looking up at him.

His eyes are dark, moving everywhere around my face before settling on my lips. "That was the point."

"Why is everything a game to you?" I can't help but whine.

He doesn't answer instead he brushes his lips against mine, taking my words and breath, and flashes me a look. His eyes warning me and asking me at the same time, and in a split second his lips are on mine. His mouth moved with so much power, so much force that it made my grip on the railing tighten as my knees almost gave up. It didn't take long before my mind caught up, making my own lips move against his with the same hunger and he hummed in response, satisfied. His cold hands cupped my jaw as his tongue began brushing aggressively against mine, demanding complete access which I was more than happy to provide. Our mouths danced together in a way that felt almost like a war, biting and sucking, nibbling and pulling, his hand traveled to my hair, grabbing a handful of my dark curls and forcing my head to tilt upwards, breaking the kiss with a choked moan. His mouth traveled to my jaw and down to my neck, leaving wet spots behind and marking my skin softly.

"You have no idea how hard it was for me to contain myself all night,"  He breaths out. "when all I wanted to do was bend you over and admire how hot the back of that dress would look as I fuck you from behind. "

A sound so desperate and needy ripped through my throat at his words, my body in shock and melting in his hands as he continues to devour my neck and chest, his mouth going everywhere.

"Minho.." I find the strength to whisper.

"Yeah, I know.." He groans against my skin.

"Someone could see us." I add.

He drags his lips from my neck back to my jaw, until his mouth is ghosting over mine again "I know," His eyes are hungry and wild. "don't care though."

I laugh under my breath. "We both know that's a lie."

"A lie?"

"Minho, you don't wanna be seen with me." I shake my head lightly. "Every time we're around people you act like a completely different person."

"It's not that angel." He exhales against my lips, brushing his nose against mine. His hands move slowly, from my jaw down my chest, his rough fingers toy with the thin straps of my dress before traveling down to my exposed cleavage. His eyes meet mine as he drags his fingers in between my breasts, making my nipples harden, the shape of them visible through the thin satin material. His mouth twists when he notices, his lips coming together hard. I feel my breath tremble as his hand passes from my stomach and doesn't stop. I switch my gaze from his hand to his eyes nervously while he stays focused on his movement, with eyebrows frowned. When his fingers brush over my core, I inhale sharply, holding my breath.

"God, it would be so satisfying to see just how wet you are for me right now." He lets out a low groan, smiling.

"I'm not." I swallow, tightening my jaw, looking at him dead in the eye.

His smile turns into a smirk, dark and wicked, that shakes me to my core and awakes a hunger deep inside me, making me wetter than I already was. "Let's check then shall we?"

Before I have any time to protest or do anything, he knocks my left foot with his, making my legs open enough for his hand to creep in from the opening of the dress that exposed my leg from my hip bone all the way down to my ankle.

"Minho!" My voice comes out more like a whine, the end of his name dying in my throat as his fingers waste no time, pulling my underwear to the side.

"Ah, shit." He hums in approval closing his eyes when his finger opens my folds, gently rubbing my clit and letting my wetness soak it. His smile grows as his teeth capture his bottom lip between them. "You're dripping baby."

I place my hands on his chest. "Please, s-stop."

"I don't think you want me to stop. Not when I can so easily do," His middle finger slides inside me, effortlessly. "This."

A moan leaves my lips, my head falling back at the unexpected pleasure.

His finger starts moving, fast and hard, making wet, sinful sounds mixed with my embarrassing whimpering fill the air.

"That's it, baby." He drags the words, in a low tone, attaching his lips once again against my jaw.

"Oh my god," I brokenly say, fisting his shirt. He slides another finger in with absolutely no warning, keeping the same brutally pleasurable pace and I feel my stomach tightening, the pleasure building and building. Everything has faded again, an effect that only he has on me, suddenly it's just me and him and I find myself not caring about where we are or who can see us as I let myself fall apart on his fingers.

His lips find mine, swallowing my gasps, in a sloppy kiss. "You feel so good around my fingers angel." His free hand comes up to cup my jaw, forcing my eyes to him, foreheads touching. "You think you can come for me? Huh?"

The way he speaks, so cockily and confidently, is challenging me and I hate how much the way he teases and handles my body, pushes me closer to the edge. This back-and-forth thing between us, this feeling, this rush of adrenaline that consumes me every time he's around is getting addictive and I want more and more. I want him more and more.

His fingers curled inside me, effortlessly finding that spot, and hitting it repeatedly. "S-shit."

"Found it." He says proudly in my ear, gently biting my earlobe, and if I wasn't currently on the verge of having an orgasm at a balcony, during Seunming's Christmas Eve party, I would have slapped that smirk off his face.

The knot in my stomach tightens, my legs begin to shake, and I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest, heat rising to my face. His thumb finds my clit, rubbing circles over it and the second he applies just the tiniest amount of pressure, I feel the pleasure creeping in.

"Minho, I'm g-gonna.." My orgasm hits me like a wave, my whole body going numb, gasps and moans of his name fall from my lips.

"There we go baby," He groans, connecting his forehead to mine again. "Ride it out." All of his digits move perfectly together, not slowing down even a tiny bit, as I make a mess of them. My eyes stay shut, still unable to breathe while the remains of my high still linger, the bliss still tingling my insides.

When he feels me relax, he pulls his fingers out, letting some of my release wet my inner thighs. I open my eyes slowly meeting his. He's grinning like a satisfied child, that got what he wanted.

"Well," He lifts an eyebrow, bringing his two fingers to his mouth and wrapping his full, pink lips around them, sucking them clean while holding eye contact. "That was lovely."

I blink and I swallow hard, and then blink again. Staring up at him, not really knowing what to say, my mind completely blank. "I- uhm.." I stutter, and it could be my head trying to wrap itself around what just happened or how the moonlight falls on his face perfectly, lighting up his big, brown eyes, but I struggle to form a sentence. His hair, a little messed up, probably from my hands, and his whole face, glowing, making me wish I could take a photo of him in this moment.

"I-I-uhm," He mocks, eyes moving all over my face. "Not knowing what to say; that's the 'Minho effect'. " He shrugs.

His words snap me out of my haze. "God, you're so arrogant." I push at his chest, making him stubble just a step, his shoulders shaking with laughter. I cross my arms, shaking my head at the boy in front of me. It's the second time, I've heard him laugh.

He bounces back to his previous spot, lowering his head a bit to catch my gaze, his eyes dark and beautiful. "Are you obsessed with me yet or should I try harder?"

I roll my eyes, fighting back a small smile, this playful and flirty side of his might be my favorite. It's making me wish we could stay like this forever. So close to each other, so open and relaxed. But sadly the nature of our relationship is nothing like that.

I open my mouth to answer but the shout of my name ripping through the air, makes me freeze.

Hyunjin.

He steps into the balcony, chest rising and falling so hard that he's visibly struggling to breathe. His face is covered with a thin layer of sweat and his hair is messily falling over his face as if he was repeatedly running his hands over them.

"Hyunjin?" My head snaps to him, but it's the look on his face, the panic in his eyes that makes my blood run cold, and my feet to take a step forward.

"We have a problem." He breaths out, hard.

"What is it?" Minhos takes a step forward as well, his body and face shifting completely, hardening, alarmed.

"It's Chan and Felix."

#lee know #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #lee know smut #lee know stray kids #skz lee know #lee know series #skz #stray kids #stray kids x reader #lee minho #lee minho smut #lee minho fanfic #stray kids smut #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #kpop series #lee minho x reader

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Yandere!Lee Minho x F!Reader TW : yandere themes ; reader is in a depressive state ; manipulative behavior ; smut ; public PiV intercourse without protection (wrap it before you tap it folks) ; exhibitionism ; let me know if there's more!! Word Count : 4.7k Request : @whatudowhennooneseesyou Okay, I need a pt. 3 to yandere lee know. What if he notices the reader is experiencing depression from being able to leave the house or do anything? And he's desperate to make you happy. Of course, please it smutty, needy & possessive. Thank you xx A/N : Of course of course!! The yandere Lee Know request series is my favorite to write!! (technically this is part 4 because part 3 was the shower sex one) Thank you for all your wonderful requests, and please do not hesitate to send in more!! You're the best!

Rain trickled down the glass panes of the windows, your eyes focused solely on one that seemed to fall behind the rest, inching its way along while the others had already reached the bottom, pooling on the sill outside before falling down to the sidewalk. It inched, and it inched, and inside your head you were cheering for it, you wanted it to win, even if it wouldn’t make it until last, it would at least make it where it needed to go. Moving and moving until… It got swallowed up by another droplet of rain, completely disappearing until all that was left was the bigger drop that rushed down the window and beat every other drop that had landed before it. 

You knew what it was like to be swallowed up completely, to just become a part of somebody else whether they truly needed you or not. In the long run, everyone was racing to get the sill… to get to the end, everyone was going to end up the same way, much like the drops of rain that hit the ground. Was it really important for the one drop to swallow the one you had your eye on, did it really help? Did Minho really need you, or did it just feed his desire for authority, to be completely in control of you and everything you did? 

It had been months since you left the house, but only a couple weeks since the falling out with him where he had laid his hands on you in a way that had left you feeling broken and unwanted, even by him… He had apologized, he had made it up to you, but he still didn’t let you leave, and you were stuck in a vicious cycle of fighting, silence, and then sex… As if that would make up for all the damage he was doing. 

In his mind, sex was all he needed to give you to make up for being an asshole. Whisper in a few I’m sorry’s and you’re so beautiful’s, and everything should be good as new. If you didn’t forgive him by the time he pulled out, it would only relight that rage inside of him and it would spur up another argument that would end just the same as the one before. 

“Darling?” Minho whispered, his cold hands coming down on your shoulders, freezing you through your skin, deep into your bones, but you didn’t shudder, you didn’t shiver, you didn’t want him to know that you knew he was there. “What’s outside that window that you keep looking at?” He hummed, sitting beside you on the bed, his eyes trying to find whatever yours might be locked into. 

The thing is though, you weren’t looking at any one thing in particular, you were just… looking. “Life…” You murmured, never tearing your eyes away from the fogged window, littered in streaks of rain and racing droplets. “The world… People… Everything.” You continued, and you could feel Minhos body tense up beside you. Obviously that wasn’t what someone like him wanted to hear. The yearning in your voice was obvious, the craving to be free. 

“Don’t be silly. You have all of that in here. Are you living?” He didn’t give you time to respond, mainly because he knew that whatever response you might give him would probably be sarcastic. “You are, you’re alive in here. You’re a part of the world just by living in it, so therefore, the world is here too. You have people here, and that’s me… You have a person, and that should be all you need.” 

Fighting, that’s what would happen if you disagreed with him, so you simply nodded, your entire body falling over onto the bed to rest your head against the pillow, your eyes still focused on the window though. “Yes.” Was all you said, not even bothering to get the blankets out from underneath you, instead grabbing Minhos end and folding it over yourself. 

Things were worse than he thought they would be. No matter how much he apologized for the slap, you had changed, and you hadn’t been the same since. He could tell that you were spiraling, you were sinking into a depression that he feared he wouldn’t be able to save you from. You didn’t fight with him anymore, you just agreed with everything he said, and while he hated arguing with you, the lack of arguing scared him. 

How much did he love you? Sometimes he even asked himself that question. Clearly he loved you a lot because he put up with a lot from you, but did that really qualify as loving someone, or was it simply tolerating? You rarely asked for anything, and when you did, he’d tell you no… And while he was doing it for your own good, and maybe because he selfishly just didn’t want to give you what you wanted, he knew that there would come a time when he had to say yes, or lose you. 

It seemed like he was losing you already though, and he feared the worst, and during one worry filled morning, he had taken everything that you might be able to hurt yourself with and tossed it in the garbage, gotten it all out of the apartment completely. Sure, he still had you… But you weren’t really you. You were just a fragment of the girl that he had loved. 

“I’m gonna take a day off work tomorrow. How does that sound?” He asked, his hand absentmindedly rubbing up and down your thigh. Usually you’d pull away from his touch, or get flustered and hide your face in your pillow… But there was no reaction, you just continued to stare out the window, a soft hum of indifference sounding from somewhere inside you although your lips were drawn tightly shut. “Get some sleep, darling. I’ll bring you something to eat.” 

Taking the day off would usually mean just spending the day inside, and he himself was perfectly content with doing that, but he knew that you needed more, you needed to go outside or that small fragment that was left of you would be gone as well. He needed to bite the bullet, he needed to give you what you needed and deal with whatever might come later on. 

“Good morning, darling.” He cooed, pulling open the curtains that he had shut the night before, hoping that your lack of outside visuals would get you out of bed, but it only made you fall asleep. Now that the curtains were drawn, your eyes were right back to being glued on nothing and everything all at once. “Do you want to get out of bed today?” Your head shook to his question, your hands pulling the blanket up higher around your face until all that was visible were your eyes. “Oh? Such a shame… There was this really nice restaurant that I wanted to take you to, and I thought we could take a walk or something.” 

The bait was set, and he saw your eyes momentarily shift from the window to look over at him, doubt etched in every single line of your irises. You didn’t believe him, and why should you? He had never offered to take you out before, so why would he start now? “Why?” Was all you could say, all you could ask. You didn’t trust him, not as far as you could throw him, and the offer actually scared you. 

“Because you want to go outside, and… Well… You’ve been very good and… I think that calls for some kind of reward. Don’t you?” The thought of taking you outside scared the living shit out of him. How many people would look at you, stare at you, try to talk to you? What if you told them that he had kidnapped you, that he was holding you captive… Which would be the biggest lie ever, he wasn’t doing anything like that… He just didn’t like to let you leave. 

Those thoughts almost had him backing out, turning away from the plan, but the way you jumped out of the bed… You were smiling… It was the first sign of life he had seen in your eyes in so long, it was the first time you actually looked at him, looked at anything but that damn window. “Oh, Minho! You’re the best!” You squealed, and he was thrown off guard when your body crashed against his own, your arms wrapping around him and your face buried in his chest. “I love you… Thank you…” 

Was this… all it took? All he had to do was… swallow his own pride once every blue moon…. And you’d love him like this? You’d willingly hug him like this? “Of course, my darling. Anything for you.” He murmured, his arms instantly wrapping around you and holding you close. “Dress warmly, okay? It’s quite cold outside, I wouldn’t want you to fall ill.” He said before placing a kiss to the top of your head, and you were so eager, nodding quickly up to him before rushing over to the closet and pulling out something to wear. 

His hand was tightly wrapped around yours as he walked down the street, and while it felt like walking on shards of glass for him, your steps were light, almost bouncy as you looked around. Your finger would point at storefront windows, and he’d take a mental picture of all the things you seemed to like so that he could buy them for you, gift them to you whenever you thought he acted out of line. “It’s so nice out here… Are you having fun?” You posed the question, and truthfully, this was not fun for him, this was not fun at all. It felt like the entire male population was looking at you, trying to steal you away from him, it made him sick, it made him angry. 

“Mmhm… I’m having fun as long as you are, darling.” His voice was strained, but you were too enamored by the outside world to notice. You squeezed his hand tighter before pulling him over to one of the store windows, pointing out one of the shiny bracelets that were on display. “Do you like that one, darling? Just let me know and I can get it for you.” 

Your head shook as you continued to look at it, your eyes practically glued to the piece of jewelry. “I just thought it was pretty. You don’t have to get it. I was just looking.” You smiled sweetly up to him, brushing your thumb across his before starting to move again. “We should get to the restaurant soon before the tables are taken. It’s almost lunch time.” You mused, and he nodded along, letting you pull him wherever you wanted to go, but not before taking one last mental picture of the bracelet you had pointed out. He’d get it for you as an anniversary gift, or a birthday gift, or just a gift to let you know he loved you. 

The wait for the restaurant wasn’t as long as you thought it would be, but that was only because he was who he was, and the two of you were given a table in the back, far away from everyone else. “Is this okay for you?” Minho asked, pulling out your chair for you before the waiter could. “Do you want to be out in the main area?” His fingers tapped against your shoulders as you sat down, shaking your head slowly as he pushed your chair in. “Good. We can have more privacy back here.” He murmured, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before going to his own chair. 

Minho loved seeing you in his home, in his room, in his bed, in his clothes, he loved seeing you in any and every way that would show him that you were his, but what he realized he loved to see even more was the beautiful smile that was on your face the entire day. He loved having you close to him, and you didn’t try anything, you didn’t talk to anyone, you would only look at him and whatever was interesting that caught your eye. You were solely his, and it took taking you out of the apartment for him to really grasp that. 

Of course, his mood couldn’t stay light for long, not when the two of you were surrounded by people who didn’t seem to understand how a relationship worked. Or maybe they just didn’t care for relationships, at least they didn’t care for other people's relationships. He tried to keep his cool, he really did, but it was becoming harder by the second and he was like a ticking time bomb, it would only be a matter of time before he exploded. 

It wasn’t time at all that had his anger and rage combusting though, it was one single action played out by the foolish waiter. One hand was all it took, one hand placed on your shoulder, the way the waiter's fingers seemed to squeeze, the uncomfortable look on your face when you looked at Minho… All he saw was red, and in an instant he had pushed himself away from the table, the movement causing the drinks to tip and spill over. You gasped loudly, pushing your own chair back and standing up, revealing your pants to be stained by the liquids that had run over the edge of the table. “Don’t worry, let me help you.” The waiter said, pulling napkins from his apron, but Minho pushed him back, wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you away. 

“He just wanted to touch you, he wanted to take you away from me… Disgusting… People are absolutely filthy. Can they not see that you’re mine?!” He ranted and raved as he led you to the bathroom, pushing open the door and practically shoving you inside. “You’re all mine… You know that, right darling?” Minho mumbled to himself as he pushed the door shut, locking it behind him. 

“O-Of course I know that… Wha-What are you doing?” You whispered as he stalked towards you, like a hunter would stalk its prey, until you were trapped between him and the counter top, his hands caging you in as he pressed himself against you. “Minho…” You whispered, a flustered mess, giggling nervously as you tried to move away from him, but he only pressed further against you. 

You were practically sitting on the counter at this point, pinned, nowhere to go. “They don’t know that though… They don’t respect that.” He mumbled, his hands moving from the surface of the counter to grab your hips, his fingers digging into the knitted fabric of the sweater. “This is why I can’t take you out. Everyone wants to take you away from me. Need to show them that you’re mine, kitten… I’ll let them hear you… I want them to hear you.” 

Although your head was shaking, he could tell by the way your thighs squeezed together, the way your eyes seemed to sparkle, you were excited by the thought of him taking you in such a place, the thought of potentially being caught by someone. “We can uh… We can just go home…” You tried to persuade weakly, but your arms were draped over his shoulders and you weren’t really trying to move away anymore. You wanted this… And he needed it. 

“Such a cute little kitten… come here…” He mused, his hand sliding up your back to grab the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer to him, his lips just barely grazing against your own as he yanked your head back, reveling in the soft whimper you let out. “Don’t you want everyone to know that you belong to me? Aren’t you happy to be with me?” He quizzed as he dragged his lips down to your neck, kissing one particular spot he knew drove you wild, and then biting down on it lightly, sucking at the sensitive skin, his cock growing hard just from the moans that he was eliciting from you. 

“Mmhm… I am… Minho…” You whined, your own fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him back, the motion causing a pop to sound out in the bathroom when his lips disconnected from your skin. “B-But we shouldn’t… Not here…” You whispered, your chest rising and falling heavily as you stared at him with parted lips, glistening in the flickering fluorescent lights. 

“Please, kitten…” It was a first to hear him beg like this, his fingers kneading into your hips as he tried to pull you closer to him. “I just really need you right now… I need to know that you’re mine… That no one else gets to have you but me.” His head hung low as it shook, his hair brushing against your face as he let out a heavy sigh. “I take you out… Just like you wanted… And all I want is this, you… You don’t know how hard it is for me. I see all these other men looking at you… It scares me… What if they take you away from me?” 

Now, deep down, you knew this was a way of manipulation, a way for him to get just what he wanted. It was a new form of manipulation, one that was brought about from the events of the day, and while you weren’t a fan of any type of manipulation in any way, you found this form of it strangely endearing. It almost sounded like he was going to cry, his voice breaking at different moments just to really get to you, and you hated the fact that it was working so well. “Minho…” You whispered, your hand hesitantly reaching up to cup his cheek. “I’m yours… you don’t have to worry. Maybe we can… just… make it quick… so we don’t get caught…” He had you right where he wanted you, and you could feel cheeks pulling up from the smirk he was hiding with his head still hung low. He was a great actor, a master manipulator, and you fell for it every single time. 

In an instant you were pulled off the counter and quickly turned around, his hand gently pushing against your upper back to bend you over the counter. “See what you do to me, kitten?” He groaned lowly as he rubbed against you, you could feel how hard he was through his jeans, and you were disgusted with yourself when you felt that all too familiar tingle in your stomach. “Only you make me feel like this, and…” His hands moved around your waist to undo the button of your pants before yanking them down, the sudden exposure in such a public place had you nervous but so excited at the same time. “I know that you’re feeling the same way, aren’t you?” He slipped his fingers between the waistband of your panties, gliding one of his digits between your slit and humming softly when he felt just how wet you really were. “What a naughty kitten… Trying to pretend like she doesn’t want to be fucked for the whole restaurant to hear. That’s what you want though, isn’t it?” 

Dammit. No matter how much your mind told you it was a bad idea, you just couldn’t deny him, couldn't deny yourself  of what you truly wanted, and at the end of every day, no matter how horrible it might be, what you truly wanted was him. “Y-Yes… please Minho…” You whimpered, pushing your ass back against him which had him letting out a shaky breath, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips to hold you still. 

“Good kitten.” His hands slid down to your ass, delivering a light smack to the plump skin, the sound resonating in the tiny room. “I’ll fuck you dumb, until all you can think about is my cock. You belong to me, kitten. Everyone needs to know that. Why can’t people just… understand that.” His tone went from taunting to irritated, and you braced yourself against the counter, trying to grip onto the edges when you felt the thin material of your panties being peeled off of you, his movements slow as he moved them down your thighs to pool against your ankles along with your pants. 

Minho was impatient, but he wanted to relish in the excitement of the moment, a moment that he knew wouldn’t come again for a very long time. He didn’t like taking you out, but there was something so exhilarating about doing this here. You hadn’t even heard his own pants come undone, and maybe it was because you were so focused on the sounds coming from the other side of the locked door, waiting to hear someone try to come in, but your train of thought and all your focus was derailed as soon as you felt the tip of his cock pushing against the tight entrance of your cunt. 

Your face was quickly buried in your arm, your mouth pressed into the crook of your elbow to muffle your gasp as you felt yourself slowly being stretched by him. “Now now, kitten, I said I wanted everyone to hear you… Not just me.” He scolded, gripping your hair and gently yanking it to pull your head up, the action causing you to moan loudly as your walls tightened around him. “There we go… It wasn’t that hard, was it kitten?” 

Fuck, he was so hot, the way one corner of his lips pulled up into the sexiest smirk, his hair shadowing his lust filled eyes, turning them darker than they usually are. It was easier to get over the humiliation of potentially getting caught when you’d be caught with him. “Keep… keep moving, Minho…” You begged in the most pathetic soft voice when he bottomed out and then stilled. 

“Tell me who you belong to, I want to know that you know.” He demanded, his hips only slightly beginning to move, although you were sure that it was only due to his lack of patience. “Who’s the only one who gets to fuck you like this?” He questioned further, and you whined loudly at the sudden pop quiz that was keeping you from feeling him thrust into you the way you both wanted. 

“You! I’m all yours Minho! Please, fuck me.” You wiggled your ass back against him, watching his eyes roll back and his tongue dart along his bottom lip before his head fell forward, his eyes locking with yours in the reflection of the mirror. The look was absolutely menacing, and you would have been scared if you weren’t 100% sure he’d never hurt you again. 

His fingers locked tightly around your hips, his nails digging into your skin, causing you to wince as he held you in place. “No moving, kitten. I’ve already rewarded you with a day out… Now I’m getting my reward. I’m gonna take my time with you.” Of course that’s what he was going to do, and as you rolled your eyes with annoyance, he pulled his hips back and suddenly slammed them forward with full force, your stomach being pressed against the edge of the counter was painful, but that feeling was quickly nullified by the pure pleasure Minho was bringing you. 

With the constant ramming of his hips against you, his cock being pushed deeper into you with each thrust, your mind was becoming hazy. You couldn’t remember where you were, and you didn’t even care, all you could think about was how amazing Minho felt, the sounds of his low breathy moans filling and strings of curses that were mumbled under his breath filling your ears and those sounds alone could have brought you to the edge. “Fuck… you’re so good… feel so good… I love you…” 

You were mumbling out the only things that came to your mind as you feebly tried to grip onto the flat counter surface. Your moans were getting louder, mingled in with whimpers and whines, gasps and incoherent jumbled nonsense. Minhos cock twitched with every slurred utterance of his name, and he could feel his heart racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins at the mere thought that anyone could come in at any moment and find the two of you like this. He wouldn’t stop though, he’d keep fucking you until your cum covered his cock and his cum filled your throbbing cunt. 

“Love you too, kitten…” He murmured back, leaning in to press a quick kiss to the center of your back. “Keep being loud for me… keep telling me how good I feel, you know how much it turns me on.” And you did, god, Minho got such an ego boost whenever you praised him. “You feel amazing too… so fucking wet… so warm…” He was practically purring at this point. 

The sudden knock on the bathroom door had you covering your mouth, looking at Minho through the mirror, but he only smiled wider, his hands moving from your hips to grab your wrists and hold them behind your back, pulling you up into a standing position in the process. He really wasn’t going to stop. “M-Minho… They’re gonna-“ 

“See us?” He completed your sentence, continuing to thrust into you as his free hand trailed down the center of your stomach, and you already knew where that trail ended, and the thought of it had your stomach twisting into knots. “Let them, want them to see how beautiful you look when you’re shaking and cumming all over my cock, kitten.” 

A sound of keys jingling had you tensing up, your walls tightening around him in an attempt to get him to stop, but then his fingers began their assault on the sensitive bud, rolling quick circles with the pads of two of his fingers. Your head rolled back, falling against his shoulders as your breaths came out more rapidly, your legs shaking and threatening to give out as he continued, your whines growing louder as you felt your orgasm coming closer. 

“Cum for me, kitten… come on…” He urged, kissing along your neck as his fingers somehow became faster, his hips rocking slowly but each thrust had the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot. “Let them see you, watch how you fall apart…” He cooed, and with one more roll of his hips into you, you were pushed over the edge, your eyes losing focus as the door to the bathroom flew open. 

Not even the sound of whoever it was that had caught you could bring you back down from the world's greatest high, and your pulsating walls had Minho cumming just as hard, loud grunts breathed out beside your ear as he held tightly onto you to hold you steady. “You do so good for me, kitten… so perfect…” He sighed, finally looking over at the man that was standing like a statue, eyes wide as he stared at the two of you. “Isn’t my darling beautiful?” Minho mused, brushing your hair away from your face, and only then did you feel the rush of heat from your embarrassment consume your entire body. “Don’t look at her. I didn’t tell you to look.” Minho continued, turning you away from the man who was staring, slowly pulling out of you and helping you pull up your own pants before doing the same with his own. 

“Y-You’re not allowed back in here! I should call the cops!” The man shouted once the two of you were fully dressed again, and Minho only chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist as he walked you to the door, only stopping to pull a couple bills out of his wallet and press them against the man's chest. 

“Don’t worry, we weren’t planning on coming back anyway.” Minho retorted, moving you further out the door until you were on your way out of the restaurant, the cold air feeling much more chilled against your sweat covered, flushed skin. “Shall we go home now, darling? Or would you like to see if we can find somewhere else to have some fun?” 

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[thedeluluverse]

Annyeong my darling @starfire21! Here is your request! Sorry it took longer than I quoted, hope it was worth the wait! Let me know of anyyyyy feedback ok? Enjoy :) <3333

Author’s Note: Big thanks to @starfire21 for this request as it beckons in a new era of not just BTS fics! I hope y’all enjoy and feel free to send me requests anytime 😊Also, I got a tad bit carried away so if it's too long, sorry! hehe

Summary: Being together for 2 years, there is no limit to how well you know each other. So why do you still try to hide?

Pairing:  softDom!Minho x subbyJYPstaffF!reader.

Rating: 18+

Genre: idol!au, angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, coworker romance

Word Count: 3,861

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI.  swearing, angst in a couple parts, fingering (f. receiving), breast play, dirty talk, pet names, overstimulation, clit play, praise kink, neck kissing, guilt, crying, cockwarming, mom and dad issues, reader highkey hates her dad and wants to unalive him so there's talk of that too.

It's been 2 hours, and you are still reeling. Despite living in Korea for about 6 years at this point, your parents still manage to get under your skin. A notification pops up on your phone that your boyfriend, none other than Lee Minho of Stray Kids, has gone live. A small smile appears, knowing that he helps comfort you even through a screen and wondering if he can sense your need for his presence. Probably not, but it's a nice thought!

Once the live is through, you give a sigh of contentment, quickly replaced by the familiar sinking feeling that comes with the trauma you can't seem to shake. You are on the verge of sobbing when your phone screen lights up, showing that your boyfriend is trying to Facetime you. Taking a few deep breaths and smiling, you accept the call and are greeted by an "Annyeong jagiya! Did you see the live?". Nodding your head, you reply, "I did, and you look so handsome today, babe!".

Despite you doing your best to smile enough to not worry him, he can tell that the smile far from reaches your eyes. His tone changes to stern as his eyes bore into your soul; thank goodness there's a screen separating y'all! "Tell me." He demands; you try to laugh it off. "Tell you what? That I love you; you know I do, Min!". He isn't laughing, "Don't play this game with me, angel, I can tell something is wrong. Please, I'm here for you, always.".

At his sincere words and concern for your well-being, the dam is broken, and you start bawling, unable to communicate for about 3 minutes. He understands and doesn't bother you; he just looks at you pitifully, upset that he knows there is nothing he can do to help right now. Once your breathing has regulated, you say, "Okay, well, buckle up, my love, because today was a doozy…" he nods to show that he is ready and you are free to start whenever.

After a sip of water, you begin, "First off, my dad, who I haven't talked to in about 7 years, texted me out of the blue asking what I've been up to, and he misses me (bullshit, you mutter under your breath). So this fucker asks if we can meet up for lunch or something soon. I told him that I was not in the States anymore. He said that my mom was bragging about me and accidentally let it slip that I live in Korea now, so that's no issue since he has wanted to take a trip anyway. “

“I told him to stay out of my goddamn life since that is what he is best at, and he lost his chances to reconcile with me a decade ago. Then he dared to get angry with me and say he deserves to see me because ' he's my father.' I told him he was just a sperm donor and he had no right to me, especially since I changed my last name once I moved out. He didn't like that and said that I was just like my mom, a bitch, and that was it. Now most times, I don't like being compared to my mom, but in cases like these, it's a badge of honor, lol.”.

As you take a breath, Minho stares off from his phone for a moment to process all of that. Now, that situation would be intense to hear about for anyone. Still, it's an entirely different playing field for your fiercely protective boyfriend who knows about your trauma. "I'm gonna kill him." He states, still looking off into the distance.

You damn near spit out your water at the suddenness of this statement, then reply with, "I mean, go for it, have fun even, but make sure I'm there. I want to see his pathetic life leave his blank stare as I deal the final blow." His eyes widen, knowing that your talk of wanting to kill your dad was serious all these years; his only response is to nod, "Anything you want, Princess.".

Blushing at the pet name and feeling a bit better, having vented some of the day away, you say, "You are already fuming; I can just finish up the story later. It's okay. I will see you, la-" "You'll see me as soon as you are done telling me what happened today. Yes, I am pissed at your dad on multiple levels. Still, I care about you even more. So what else happened, honey?". You close your eyes, and with your voice slightly cracking, you say, "My mom. She happened. So she Facetimed me earlier, like 10 minutes after the ordeal with 'dad'.

  She just wanted to check up on me, but I was snippier than usual because I don't like surprises like that and wouldn't have agreed to call just then. I told her that she needs to not just randomly Facetime me because next time, depending on what kind of day I'm having, I may not be in the mood to pick up. She didn't like that at all and tried to play the guilt card of not seeing me in forever despite her knowing I’ve been super busy lately. I told her that wasn’t fair, and we texted enough for her to know that my life has been hectic, so she needs to not try to make me feel guilty for my success."

“So then,” you continue, “she happens to spot that the sink has dishes, trash needs to be taken out, etc., etc., and huffs. I ask what's wrong, and she proceeds to say that, well, despite success looks like you can't handle it all if you can't maintain a clean living space and that after this long, she thought that I would’ve figured out a routine that works for me by now.

  She even had the audacity to say, 'Ah yes, your work is soooo taxing being around gorgeous people all day, you poor thing.' That set me off; I told her that my job is taxing because I want to ensure I am doing my best, so they do not have to worry as much. I have had no energy to do anything when I come home lately besides shower, eat, and talk to Min for a little while before I pass out. The final straw was when she said, ', Oh, so you have time for your boyfriend but not for your mom; I see how it is.' And just ended the call."

  He stares into space again and says, "Wait…what the actual fuck??!! She knows you have abandonment issues and how your energy levels can be, and she dares to pull that…. I'm so sorry, love, for everything." You sniffle, trying to ward off more tears and answer, "It isn't your fault, though; none of this is, which is why I wasn't going to bother you with it or bring down your day. Especially after a live because I know you get a mixed bag of comments with those; I feel extra bad now. I'm sorry; I'm selfish and shouldn't have word-vomited on you. Oh fuck, am I like my dad? I'm really gonna run into traffic now," you half-joke.

"AISH. Y/N-AAAA!! I've told you that you never need to hide anything from me, okay? I am here for you. I would’ve hated it if you kept all of this to yourself until you deemed that I was ready to hear it. Lovingly shut the hell up about that 'like your dad/being selfish' shit. I could tell you weren't okay and asked you to share why. Yanno, I love you and know you have struggled mainly alone for too long."

" Your dad would've just started unloading about his day without even thinking to ask how I was before, so stop. No running into traffic jokes either, alright? You really wanna do that to me and the kids?". The corner of your mouth twitches into a slight smile as you say, ", Okay, you maybe have good points; I'm sorry. And I wouldn't do that to you and those fuzzy little cuties in a million years!"

He smirks, "Good, and stop saying sorry. You did nothing wrong, okay?"; you nod in response, granting you a flying kiss through the screen. "Do you have any plans today y/n?" "Nope MinMin, I'm free the rest of the day; why?" "You'll see, just be ready in 15 minutes, dress comfy. I'll see you soon; gonna hang up now, saranghae jagiya!" "Saranghae jagi, I'll see you soon!". The call ends, and you put on your favorite pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie you had stolen from him on your third date paired with your trusty boots, and you are ready to go!

15 minutes later, your boyfriend is pulled into your driveway and leans against the car waiting for you, not wanting to rush you but letting you know he is there. The second you step past your door, he runs up to you and captures you in the most comforting hug that might've ever existed.

This causes you to cry more, and his only response is to softly rub your back, occasionally pecking your temple and forehead with kisses and soothingly whispering, "There there, y/n, I'm here. It's going to be okay, that's it. Let it out.". After about 9 minutes, he wipes away the tears for you, kisses their faint trails, and leads you hand in hand to his car. As he starts driving, you have no idea what he has planned, and frankly, it couldn't matter less; you are feeling better just being in his company.

Putting the car in park, he turns to you and asks, "You ready?" "for what?" you reply. He emerges from the vehicle and opens your door for you, holding your hand as you walk into the building, saying, "Just trust me.". As soon as you walk in, you are taken aback at how nice this place looks but are too entranced in the calming scents of rain and vanilla to put too much thought into it. He notices you just taking everything in and places a gentle hand on the small of your back to catch your attention, "Let's get this started, shall we? Don't worry, I pulled a few strings, and we have the place to ourselves.".

Returning to reality, you look at him with wide eyes, "Wait….did you rent out a whole ass spa just because my parents were jerks??? This is too much; I'll be okay, I swear!". He calmly places a finger over your lips, looking into your eyes. "Nothing is too much for my baby girl, you need to wind down anyway, and I just had an excuse to pull something like this off. Now… go enjoy my love."

You blush at the effort and care he put into this, all for you, and nod, walking to the back. First, you get the best massage of your life, not counting the ones that Min has given you; of course, once it is done, the masseuse leaves so that you can retie your robe and move on to the next room. Nearly falling asleep from how jelly-like your muscles feel, you don't notice that you aren't alone until you feel a hand gripping your ass cheek.

You bolt up and whip your head around only to find your cheeky partner showcasing the cat smirk that you so adore until he moves closer to you and bends down, placing soft kisses on your shoulders, neck, and all over your face until you are both giggling. "Now, on to the next room." He commands while taking hold of your neck with his strong, veiny hands that impress you more and more every day.

Helping you into the next room as you are still a bit wobbly, Min starts feeling like this was definitely a good idea since it has been ages since he has seen your features this relaxed. Once you sit in the massage chair, he plants a kiss on the top of your hand and then leaves you to enjoy phase 2. Phase 2 includes a full mani-pedi as well as a customized facial treatment due to him knowing that you have sensitive skin. He even asked the staff to provide extra cucumber slices to snack on if smelling them on your face kickstarted your craving.

Throughout the mani-pedi, you receive heavenly hand and foot massages, and you start to wonder if this is all a dream due to how perfect everything has been. As you wait a few moments for them to ensure the next room is ready, your sneaky boyfriend whispers into your ear, "Enjoying yourself pretty?" as your eyes are closed, leaning back in relaxation.

  Your eyes fly open, mainly from the realization that those 3 words created body-wide goosebumps. Hovering over you, he shakes his head and gently lowers your lids, "Keep relaxing, pet. Let master take care of you, yeah?". Biting your lip, you nod slightly while fighting a moan; at this green light, he starts a trail of kisses from your collarbone down to your sternum.

Your breathing becomes more uneven by the second as he takes one tit into his mouth, swirling and flicking his tongue around your hardened bud and occasionally sucking on it as if his life depended on it. He can tell that you are needy from his actions and stops right before the staff returns to lead you into the next room. Not before he leaves little love bites all over your cleavage, though.

Phase 3 is a special treatment that he personally requested. Now, the spa staff is well aware of your heat sensitivity, and you were fine temperature-wise until Min's little sneaky stunts left you panting with flushed cheeks. Well, it seems he anticipated this because he arranged a cooling stone treatment for you in the next room. They spend about a half hour moving stones of all sizes all along your body and double as many times over your pressure points to ensure you don't get overheated.

In the end, you are instructed to lie face down once again as they leave an even pattern of chilling stones all down your back as well as on the nape of your neck. In the midst of cooling bliss, you feel a familiar set of lips kissing up your calves all the way to the back of your thighs. Goosebumps appear again, and you can feel the desire pooling in your stomach along with the increasing wetness between the lips of your pussy.

He barely has to apply pressure to your inner thighs for you to spread your legs for him even wider. Leaning over your back, he nibbles your earlobe and coyly says, "Damn baby, you really are my subby little kitten, aren't you? All it takes is a few kisses and teasing touches, and you are dripping onto this table for me. I'm not complaining; I've just come to taste my handiwork.".

  Before you can object for fear that you'll be walked in on, his tongue is deep in your throbbing cunt, licking broad stripes along your lips. Feeling you adjust slightly in an attempt to grind against his face, he firmly holds down your legs, saying, "C'mon, my needy little babydoll, you gotta stay still so daddy can take care of you. Unless you want them to see that their handiwork has shifted and be privy to your true nature." You groan as if to say, "That's not fair," but you aren't complaining after all…

You finish for the third time, not 5 minutes before the staff walks in with a robe, ready to remove the stones from your back, ignoring the smell of sex as they were paid to do. Sitting on the end of the table, waiting to see what will happen next, Minho saunters in and extends his hand towards you while slightly bowing. Furrowing your brows, you ask, "Um, my dear boyfriend, it's a little difficult for me to walk. Could you tell me where we are going?".

Ignoring your question, he states, "You feel a little chilly."; you huff and reply, "Well, thank you, great compass, that helped a ton. For your information, I am, actually. The stones set me back to neutral, but then, all of that release burned a lot of calories, and now I'm resetting." "I thought as much. Well, welcome to the last stage of Min's 'If I can't kill those who hurt you, I'm gonna try my hardest to kill your unhappiness and soothe your soul for eternity' tour!".

Trying to disguise the tears in your eyes from being seen, you tease, "Damn, that's a mouthful, love…" He just grins and cocks an eyebrow replying, "Yeah, well, so are you, and I'm not complaining."; this makes you blush and scan the area, hoping nobody heard him.

He leads you into a private hot tub/sauna room with the temperature of everything set just warm enough to help you feel normal but cool enough that you won't pass out. You don't waste any time changing into a bathing suit and letting your body succumb to the sensation of the jets and the melting effect that the water is having over every inch of you. Eyes closed and head back, you still have trouble believing all this is real. Ten minutes later, you feel the water rise higher on your body, and it isn't long before you know the culprit is your Min joining you.

Looking to the right of you, where he is sitting, you pull yourself over his lap and start kissing along his neck, all the way behind his ear, and finally over to his lips for a steamy makeout sesh that leaves you both breathless and has him asking, "Well Princess what was that for? I am certainly not mad about it, but I figured you'd be too relaxed to be this bold right now."

It's your turn to smirk as you rub your clothed core against his growing bulge, then whisper against his ear, "See, the thing is…I was relaxed, then you made me all needy, so you have to fix it now, mister." "Oh, do I?" he teases as he slips two fingers inside of your soaked cunt easily, which elicits a very loud “fuck Minho” from your lips. He curls his fingers inside of you, occasionally toying with your sensitive bud while kissing you passionately until you have cum all over his hand 5 times.

He lets you stay collapsed against him for a solid 10 minutes before saying, "Let's go, my adorable little raisin.". Pouting, you lift your head up, meeting his eyes and saying, "But baaabe, I feel too weak to dry off, get dressed, and go all the way to the car…” He chuckles, tucking your hair behind your ear and placing a soft kiss to the tip of your cute nose before explaining, “I planned for this situation as well my love, just trust me yeah?” he says touching his forehead to yours as you nod.

He gets out first, quickly drying off, pulling on a pair of boxers, and heading back to you. He lifts you bridal style with ease out of the hot tub and places you on possibly the best bed you have ever laid on. As he joins you underneath the covers, you curl up against him with your nose on his neck and his chin on top of your head; "Jagi, did you invent a cooling cloud for me to sleep on?" you ask, half out of consciousness.

He gives a deep chuckle in amusement at how tiny you are right now, places a kiss on top of your head, and traces his fingers up and down your spine as he answers, "I'm not thaaat powerful jagiya, but that was precious."

Pressing yourself closer to his chest in embarrassment while giggling, you retort playfully whiny, "Don't make fun of meee. Just tell me what magic is underneath us right now, and can we take it home?". He smiles ear to ear, just as smitten with you as the day he met you, and replies, "Well, I thought you might get overheated, so I asked if they could set up the extra room as a nap area with silk sheets for cooling reasons. Sadly, they didn't have any, but thankfully, they did have this other fabric called habotai. It is much like silk but a bit cheaper and slightly more cooling. If you like it this much,  we can send a set home with us."

Barely raising your head, just enough for him to see your eyes, you ask, "Wait, really??" with the wonderment of a child who just got told they can take home the toy they've been eyeing in the store for the past 20 minutes. Kissing your forehead, he nods and can feel fatigue overtake his body; right before he drifts into dreamland, though, your sweet voice permeates the air.

Pressing a palm against his firm chest to let him know you're awake, barely above a whisper, you say, "Um…I don't want to be greedy, but I have a question….if that's alright. I know you've done so much already." He glances down at you and cups your cheek with his palm, "What is it, my star?" you feel your cheeks flush as you ask, "Well, see, the thing is, I was thinking, or rather wondering if you could just…be inside of me? If that's silly, I get it, just, I dunno, I want to feel as close as I can to you. You're so healing you have no idea…".

Before you finish your sentence, he is gently filling you up with his cock and softly presses his lips against yours right as you finish speaking. "I doubt you could ever make a silly request or be greedy where I am concerned, sweetheart. You could want to hula hoop with Saturn's rings, and I'd find a way to grant your wish, my love." Giving a contented sigh, you nod, and you both drift off to the most peaceful sleep either of you have experienced in a long while.

  Even though you felt like absolute trash earlier today, here you are, feeling like the most valuable piece of treasure. All thanks to your fantastic boyfriend who sees you as a goddess and would move mountains if it meant you were at peace. The reason is, to him, you are the rarest gem that he had the fortune of stumbling across in life, and he spends every day trying to think of ways to show you just how special you are to him and in general.

After that day, you both vow to always let each other know what is going on so that neither of you faces hardships alone; from now to eternity, you will be each other’s soul soothers, and you couldn't feel more thankful to have this man by your side now and forever.

THE END

#lee minho #lee know #skzfluff #skzxreader #spa day #lee minho fluff #parental trauma #skz smut #skzff #lee know fluff #lee minho smut #lee know smut #jyp #coworkerromance #established relationship #skzangst #hurt/comfort #usermaggie #ughreads #habotai #eoieopda archive

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

Hi fav writer!!!! Are you still doing the prompts thing? If so, can I request list #75, prompt #10 with Minho please?

SKZ PROMPT GAME

Prompt: "Can you two pretend to get along for just one night??"

Member: Lee Minho

Relationship: Little Sister!FemReader x Older Brother's Best Friend!Minho

Genre: Light Angst, Light Smut, Fluff

"We'll Never Be Those Kids Again"

Minho had always been around.

He was a constant in your brother's life-so by proxy he became one in yours too-and one day, he just, stayed.

Your mother gave you an explanation along the lines of 'Minho is gonna stay with us for awhile, because he doesn't have an eomma and appa who love him like we love you," or something similar that would make sense to a curious eight year old, and that was that.

Minho moved into your brother Chan's room, and he became a permanent fixture in all your lives.

You're not quite sure when the nightmares started. Maybe it was when you were eight and a half and were being bullied in school. Or maybe they showed up when you were nine and Chan and Minho were twelve and left you alone in primary school to move on to secondary.

Whatever the case, the nightmares started, and they didn't stop.

You don't remember exactly how it happened, but you figured out, after waking up one night, shivering and sweating and hoarse from screaming, that silently slipping into your older brother's bed helped.

He grumbled at first, as you slid beside him underneath his comforter, but eventually rolled over and gave you room to curl around him, not even fully waking up.

You fell asleep listening to Chan's even breathing, and that was that.

Chan never said anything about you sneaking into his room at night, cuddling up to him, even though you were probably plenty old enough at nine to be on your own, not scared of the dark, and you were grateful.

He let it happen again and again on the nights the nightmares plagued you, rolling over without so much as a word as soon as he felt your hand on his back, throwing some of his blanket over you as you took your place in his bed.

It became a routine. A comforting, silent one that the two of you shared.

And then, one weekend, when you were almost ten, Chan went away for the weekend with some friends, camping or something, and suddenly, waking up in the middle of the night felt much more daunting and so much more alone.

Without thinking about it, you padded the familair path down to Chan's room, slipped through the crack in the door, and glanced at his empty bed.

It didn't feel the same without another body.

You glanced to Minho's corner of the room, his form a silent lump under his blankets, and crept toward him, carefully lifting the corner of his blanket as he shifted slightly.

"Minho?" You had whispered, and Minho had grumbled something nonsensical in response.

"Can I sleep with you? Chan's not here, and my nightmares-"

Minho rolled over, squinting up at you with annoyance on his prepubescent face.

He had sighed, lifted the blanket without a word, and gestured for you to get in.

You curled up carefully beside him, trying to keep as still and small as possible, and Minho had dropped the blanket back over the two of you.

You both went to sleep without a word, and like Chan, he never said anything to you about it again.

But it continued, sleeping with Chan to rid yourself of nightmares, crawling into bed with Minho when Chan was gone, more and more frequently as they got older.

When you were twelve, and Minho and Chan were fifteen, your mother finally found out about the bed sharing and put a stop to it.

"The boys are too old to coddle you like that now, yeobo, and you're going to be getting more.....grown up soon. It's not proper."

And she was right.

About getting too old, about Minho and Chan having their own lives, about the less than platonic feelings that had been growing inside you over the years for your older brother's best friend.

Feelings that had only ached and flourished the taller Minho got, the more handsome, the more sharply funny.

You'd seen the way girls and boys alike looked at Minho-even Chan-and you knew, you never stood a chance.

So you started to deal with the nightmares on your own, and you stopped trailing behind Minho and Chan like a lost puppy, stopped sleeping in their beds, started trying to ignore the jealous bitterness that crept over your skin every time Minho talked about someone who wasn't Chan at school.

And when they packed up and left for college, you almost, almost managed to not let Minho's cold abrupt aloofness of the last several months bother you.

You were just his best friend's little sister after all, and that's all you'd ever be.

So you buried your feelings deep, deep down, where they wouldn't sting, and decided to hate him.

Hate him for not saying goodbye, hate him for not asking about you when Chan called every week, hate him for moving on, hate him for sleeping fine alone when you couldn't even bear to close your eyes.

You hated Lee Minho.

Because after all, it was far easier to hate him than to love him.

********************************************************************************

"But Maybe We Don't Have to Be."

And now, your stupid brother was getting married, and you knew, you just knew, in every fiber of your being, that staying away from fucking Lee Minho was going to be next to impossible.

So, when he sits down beside you at the front table, the bite of the rehearsal dinner you'd just put into your mouth suddenly turns to glue, and you cough, reaching for your water hurriedly.

You really wish it was wine.

"What-" You start to ask, but cough again, and Minho arches a brow at you, and you take another swig of water.

You try again.

"Why are you sitting here?"

He simply stares at you as he uses one long finger to push the name card in front of his chair toward you so you can read it.

Lee Minho.

Fucking perfect.

You swallow, trying to get air back into your lungs, and Minho spreads his napkin over his lap like it's the most ordinary thing in the world, being here, sitting next to you, at your brother's wedding rehearsal dinner, as if he hasn't just gone the last five years without so much as seeing you, let alone sparing you a single word.

Your fingers clench into the expensive table cloth, and you do your best not to look at him again, focusing on your food as you swirl it around your plate, your appetite long gone.

You hate how good he looks.

Dark hair swept back off his forehead, wearing a clearly tailored suit fitted perfectly to his toned, lithe body, wrist adorned by a gold, shiny watch.

You'd bet a million bucks that he drives a fancy car now too, damn him.

You spare a quick, sidelong glance in his direction and he's not even looking at you, not giving you the time of day, turned to someone on his other side, chatting idly away.

Anger flares in your gut, hot and furious, and you force yourself to focus on anything but the man beside you.

He's not worth your time.

Never has been.

And he's made it quite clear he feels the same way about you.

Has he? Something deep inside you whispers persistently, but you immediately tamp it back down, burying it under the years of anger and loneliness, back with the rest of the pesky feelings where it belongs.

Yes.

You shove up from the table to go and find a waiter, and hopefully some much needed wine.

********************************************************************************

Minho watches you go and his whole body, tense from the moment he sat down beside you, relaxes slightly, his white knuckled hold on his fork receding.

Fucking hell.

He should've asked Chan to put him somewhere, anywhere, else, but beside you.

He'd thought he had it all under control, thought he'd buried the traitorous feelings deep enough that they had no chance of resurfacing, but seeing you, here, dressed in that little black dress that hugged your perfect body in all the right places, well, fuck.

Minho feels his self control slipping away by the second.

You return to the table, a glass of wine held between your fingers, and Minho slides his gaze back to his own plate, keeping his expression perfectly schooled.

You sit down with a huff, and Minho has to force himself to remember to breathe as the smell of your perfume washes over him.

Fuck it all, you smell incredible.

He remembers the way your hair had smelled, wrapped up in his bed, tucked beneath his arm as you slept. Minho had let himself gently nose the crown of your head, just once, just to get a whiff of you, and he'd never recovered.

Not when everything about you made him feel electrified all over, like he was touching a live wire.

And that wasn't even mentioning the persistent, aching boner.

He swallows, as you lean forward across the table to say something to one of the bridesmaids, and tries to look anywhere but at the dip of your breasts.

Fuck.

He's just horny. He'll find someone from the wedding party tonight, after it's all said and done, and take them back to his room-

The thought instantly makes him prickle with annoyance.

You're this close, and he doesn't want anyone else, but he also can't have you.

He won't let himself. Not after all this time. Not after he's worked so hard to put distance between the two of you.

He'll get through this wedding, if only for his best friend, and then he'll be long gone, and his best friend's little sister won't even be a blip on his radar.

********************************************************************************

Chan had rented out the entire, luxury hotel for the guests and wedding party, and the bass is still thumping through the floor of the ballroom when you finally call it a night, carrying your shoes as you leave on aching feet, headed for the gardens and the pathway to your private little bungalow room on the back end of the property.

You walk along the path, lit only by glimmering fairy lights, admiring the way the moon is shimmering off the dark, turquoise water of the outdoor pool, and you're so caught up in the beauty of the hotel's grounds that you run straight into someone coming from the other direction.

You almost fall, but the person's fingers go around your forearms and steady you, and you glance up with wide eyes, apology already forming on your lips, and then your eyes trail over the familiar face of Lee Minho, and any words you were about to say die on your tongue.

Minho's expression is blank, unreadable, as you pull from his grasp and take a few steps backward, increasing the distance between the two of you once more.

He's still wearing his suit from earlier, but his tie is loose around his neck, his top button undone, his hair tousled, as if he's been relaxing or someone has been running their fingers through it-

You backtrack out of that line of thinking before it can go any farther.

You realize you're staring, and you drop your gaze, moving to skirt around him on the narrow trail, muttering out, "Sorry, I'll just-"

Because the faster you get away from here, from him, the better.

The feelings are dangerously close to the surface, even after all these years, and this is extremely risky territory.

Fingers curl around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"Do you want to know something?"

You freeze, your skin burning wherever his touches, and you glance back at him, eyes wide.

He doesn't look at you, expression still as unreadable as before.

"I should've never let you sleep in my bed."

Your mouth opens, then closes, like a fish gasping on air, and you feel as if someone has doused you with a bucket of ice cold water.

Everything goes numb.

And the anger flares up, hot and bitter.

Minho glances at you then, sidelong, eyes dark.

"Aren't you going to ask why?"

"I don't need to." You manage to say back, though your voice trembles slightly, wobbly, and you know he notices.

Minho's brow ticks upward as he stares at you, and his damn fingers are still burning a hole into your wrist.

You shake free of his grasp and back up a step, clutching your heels to your chest as you hold his gaze.

"I'm your best friend's little sister." You continue, digging the hole deeper for yourself, even as you take another, faltering step in the direction of your room. "Nothing more."

Something darkens dangerously in Minho's gaze at your sour sounding words, but he doesn't move to stop you as you finally drop his eyes and turn, continuing on your path toward your cottage.

You've made it all of five feet, before fingers are once again on your wrist, tighter this time, pinching, dragging you off the path and into the darkness of the garden.

You yelp in surprise, stumbling over rocks and roots you can't see as your eyes adjust, bare feet stinging, and you haven't had time to catch your breath before Minho pins you up against the nearest wall, old, stucco brick cold and rough against your back.

You open your mouth to tell him off, maybe make a smart remark, but the look on Minho's face has you stopping dead in your tracks.

He's furious, beautiful and vengeful and raw.

His fingers grip your chin so tightly that you whimper, but he ignores you, tugging you toward him as he leans down, slowly and silently, holding your gaze.

"See, that's where you're wrong, little one." He hisses, and his warm breath washes over your face, making you shiver, his fingers digging in to your skin. “And therein lies the problem.”

The old nickname he used for you when you were kids goes straight to your insides, turning them molten with anxiety and nostalgia and want.

His eyes flick to your lips, and he tenses, dragging you toward him until you're only inches away from each other.

His voice is low when he speaks, tremulous and tortured and hoarse.

He punctuates each word by closing the distance between you little by little.

"You. Are. Everything."

You stare up at him, all the breath gone from your lungs, taking in the black of his eyes, the part of his lips, the way his chest heaves with breath, as if he's just barely in control of himself, his fingers curling almost subconsciously deeper into your skin, as if to hold you in place and never let you go.

"I hated you." You breathe out, because you don't know what else to say, and Minho's hot gaze once again flickers down your face to your mouth.

"I know." He murmurs back, and you get the feeling that he really does.

You drop your shoes on the ground at your feet, and wrap your arms around his neck without warning, going up on your tiptoes, pressing the entire length of your body against him.

He stares at you with a challenge in his eyes, one you're more than eager to meet.

You let your lips meet his, and he covers your mouth with his own, letting his tongue instantly sweep inside, devouring you, and you moan breathily into the kiss.

Minho groans in response, backing you up against the wall once more, as your feverishly kiss him, tangling your fingers messily into his hair.

Without warning, he sweeps you up, your legs going around his waist as you let out a little shriek of surprise, clinging to him.

"What the fuck, Minho?" You screech, your dress riding up around your thighs, as he carries you back toward the path, your shoes forgotten.

He trips over a root in the dark, and you cling to him for dear life as he rights you both.

"Shit. Fuck." He swears, finding the path after another few moments.

"Seriously." You hiss, trying to scramble down, but he doesn't let you go, holding you tightly as he takes you to god knows where. "Someone will see!"

"Fuck them." Minho growls, glancing around, until he finds the number he's looking for and slides a key card from his pocket. "I've waited too fucking long for this."

Still holding you, he swipes the keycard on his door and kicks it open with his foot, carrying you inside the darkened cottage as the door falls shut behind the two of you, plunging you into darkness.

Minho's lips are immediately crashing back into yours as you topple gracelessly onto the bed, pulling him down on top of you, frantically touching every part of him you can reach as you strip his suit jacket off his body.

"Fuck, get this off-" You swear breathlessly, fingers fumbling clumsily with the buttons of his shirt.

Minho pulls back, smirking, and reaches up to still your fingers on his chest.

You stare up at him, dumbfounded.

"What-"

He leans in to your space, lips brushing across your jaw, teeth scraping your throat, and an impatient whine leaves your lips, but he merely chuckles in response.

When he speaks, his voice is a growl in the back of his throat that sends instant heat pooling between your thighs.

"Patience, baby girl. I've waited ten years for this moment. And I want to take my time so I can savor watching you fall apart beneath me."

********************************************************************************

Minho's a liar.

He doesn't want to take his time.

He wants to devour you whole, sinking inside you, and listen to you scream his name as he makes you feel all the things he's hidden away all these years.

But instead, he takes in a deep shuddering breath, letting his nose dip into your hair, and slides his fingers between your thighs.

Your breath hitches, and Minho feels everything in his body react to your arousal-arousal he put there.

"Fuck, you're wet." Minho breathes out against your skin, and you hiss a breath as he gives you a finger, body tensing beneath his. He turns his head so that he can nibble your ear. "Already a mess for me, hm?"

"I've been a mess for you for years." You retort back, but your voice doesn't hold much bite, considering Minho eases another finger between your thighs. Your breath breaks off into a shudder. "You never noticed."

"Oh, I noticed." Minho admits, pulling back to stare down at you, reveling in the way your hair is messy, your pupils large and dark, your lips parted.

You slide your hands down to the closure of his pants, and Minho's body tenses immediately.

He groans as you find him through the fabric, hard and insistent beneath your palm.

"Why didn't you say something?" You ask, and he hates the hurt look that is suddenly in your eyes.

He blows out a harsh breath, trying to focus more on his words and less on your palm wrapped around him.

It's fucking hard.

"I couldn't. There's no worse betrayal than falling for your best friend's little sister, baby girl. I wasn't going to hurt Chan like that, no matter how much I wanted to-"

Minho's words cut off sharply as you clench your hand around him, and he lets his body sag into your hold, his fingers stilling.

There is a breathless moment, the two of you panting into the space between you, and then you ask quietly, "Wanted to what?"

Minho hisses a breath out through his teeth, and leans forward to capture your mouth with his.

He bites your bottom lip, rolling it between his teeth, and you moan into his mouth, and fuck, he's never heard anything so sexy.

"What didn't I want to do to you?" He murmurs back, lips moving against your mouth, your harsh pants warm on his skin. "Fuck, I would've given anything to just-" He moves his hand on your inner thigh, feeling how wet his fingers are. "-touch you like this."

You arch up into him, and Minho feels like he's losing his mind.

"Please, Minho." You whimper out, pleading now, and Minho's brain shuts off, hearing his name fall from your lips like that.

It's everything he's ever dreamed of and more.

"You are everything." Minho repeats his sentiment from earlier, fingers curling around your hips, and this time, he knows you believe it.

********************************************************************************

You can feel Minho's eyes on you from across the room, and you bite back a smile, but you don't look up, standing perfectly still as your mother fixes the hem of your dress.

You're holding the bride's bouquet of flowers close to your chest, watching as her other bridesmaid flit around her, straightening her veil and brushing imaginary lint from her dress.

Your gaze, against your will, darts to the opposite side of the room, where Minho leans against the table, your brother fixing his tie, and your breath catches as your eyes meet.

Minho arches a brow, a smirk curving the corner of his mouth, and you clear your throat, blushing and looking away as you remember what you'd done last night.

Several times.

Your body was still sore and aching, but in a pleasant, sort of fulfilled, content way.

Your attention is pulled back to the present, as Chan wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in for a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

He smells like cologne, and something warm, and you let yourself sink into his embrace for a moment, breathing him in.

"Baby sister." He holds you back at arm's length to look at you. "You look beautiful."

You laugh, reaching up to pinch his cheek. "I think I'm supposed to be saying that to you, brother. It's your wedding day after all."

Chan laughs, tugging you to him once more for a hug before releasing you as Minho approaches, straightening his vest as his gaze flicks to his best friend and then back to you.

"I hear we're walking down the aisle together." Minho says off handedly, glancing at you, his expression perfectly blank.

You bite back a smile. "Unfortunately."

Chan chuckles, the sound clear with exasperation. "Can you two pretend to get along for just one night? It is my wedding after all. And you're my sister and my best man."

He throws an arm around each of you, pleading clear on his face, and Minho sneaks a look at you from beneath your brother's arm, amusement flashing in his dark eyes.

It makes you feel warm all over.

"We'll try, Chan. But only for you."

You flash him a hidden smile behind Chan's back and he gives you a quick wink.

"Only for you."

And it kind of sounds like a promise.

"Because Maybe, In the End, We'll Be Something Better"

#skz #stray kids #stay #ot8 #bang chan #chan #minho #lee minho #lee know #skz minho #y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #lee minho x you #lee minho x reader #minho x you #minho x reader #skz imagines #skz prompt game #skz reactions #skz scenarios #skz fluff #skz angst #skz smut #inbox #anon #anonymous #moots #mutuals #submissions

[2chopsticks2eyes]

What You Deserve: Part 1

This is part 1 of a three part series, please be sure to start from part one!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Fem Reader

Themes: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: All parts are ~67k | AO3

Warnings: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, mentions of non-con, PTSD, Anxiety, Alcohol, Cussing, Come Eating, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Loss of Virginity, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, References to Drugs, Drug Dealing, Alternate Universe - College/University, Eating Disorders, Childhood Trauma, Vaginal Sex, Protected Sex, Unprotected Sex

Summary: After unfortunate circumstances, you pack up and move to Korea with your best friend Bang Chan to attend college. After falling into Chan's group of friends he had established, you find yourself getting a little too close to the mild tempered and snarky Lee Minho.

Author's Note: I am probably spoiling the whole story with the warnings, but I like to be safe. I originally was only on AO3, but I wanted to link platforms with Tumblr and Twitter too. Hope you enjoy!

________________________________________

Part One: Moving On

None of them had ever treated you any differently than the rest of the group. Even though you’re a girl, to them, you were always considered ‘one of the guys’ and you were grateful that being the only girl among a group of 8 boys never made things stupidly awkward. Picture fucking perfect, really. Although, this was mostly thanks to Bang Chan, your best friend and self proclaimed little brother.

You had met Chan in primary school and grew up with him all the way to Newtown High School of the Performing Arts way back when he still lived in Australia. You two were extremely close, you were even considered as a sister to him within his family with how much time you spent hanging out with him. Everyone always called him Christopher or Chris, but with as much time you spent around his family, you got accustomed to calling him Chan. After all, you were closer to his family than you ever were to your own due to your hapless home situation. If you had one choice in life, it would be to jet the hell straight out to anywhere but there, but reality isn’t that kind.

Your mom and dad fought round the clock, no matter what time or day, you couldn’t remember a day where they hadn’t fought. It didn’t help that they were constantly shooting cocaine and getting blackout drunk any chance they got, making it virtually impossible for them to hold a job. This kept them in constant poverty and living in a shitty one bedroom apartment, making you have to crash on the couch or Chan's place. All the money they made from dealing was used to either buy even more drugs and alcohol or to gamble. You consider yourself lucky that you didn’t have any siblings that would have to subject themselves to that shit lifestyle.

They used you mostly to transfer drugs and collect money, subjecting you to the most seedy situations that a teenager should never have to deal with. You had to learn major self defense tactics in case things had gone awry, which happened to be often. You didn’t have a choice though. It was mostly your father that had threatened to subject you to unspeakable scenarios - that you’d rather not think of - if you didn’t cooperate.

Chan never once judged you, even when he first found out, even when you confided in him, even when you begged for him not to tell anyone, he was always there for you. Whether you were kicked out of the house for a day or your dad had beat you again, he was always there to help you get through it. He definitely worried about you though, especially when he saw that you had to skip out on school lunch again due to lack of money or he discovered you had even more bruises. He didn’t realize that you had caught him staring at your protruding ribs on the days you went swimming at his house.

His family was fairly wealthy. Actually, disgustingly wealthy. How someone so popular and loaded chose you to be his best friend would forever be an unknown mystery. But you always refused his help when he offered, you hated feeling like you owed anyone anything despite his insistence that you didn’t have to pay back. You were raised to believe there is no such thing as free help.

The only time you had involuntarily accepted his help was when you had passed out in class from lack of energy. He had dragged your tiny, malnourished ass to the nurse and bought you more food than you had eaten in days. He chewed you out for weeks for letting yourself get to that state. 

He really was too good for this world. He was the only beacon of light in your life.

However, your entire sense of happiness was demolished when he had decided to go up to Korea for college to grow in music production. He wanted to stay because he knew you weren’t safe, but - even though it tore you to pieces - you insisted he follow his dreams.

You were studying dance at the time, however you had given up hope for any chance of going to college due to lack of funds. You were a year older than Chan, so once you graduated, you at least still got to hold on to your best friend for a moment longer before he moved. Even if that year was filled with you working three jobs only to pay for ‘your share of the living expenses’ to your parents and to save up enough money to get the hell out of there.

The farewell with Chan was the hardest thing you had done up to that point. Harder than being beaten to a pulp by your dad. Harder than being told by your parents that you should go kill yourself. Even harder than not eating for three days.

You talked and video chatted almost every day, but that still didn’t fill the ache of missing him. Before he left you rarely cried, numb to your whole fucked up situation. But after, you had cried yourself to sleep almost every night, trying to escape the nightmare that had made its home in your life. This continued for four whole years. On the nights you were kicked out of the house again, Chan's family would still welcome you with open arms. Most friends would have drifted apart and lost connection, but not you and Chan, nor his parents. You were family.

One night, when everyone was asleep, your dad had walked into the living room and woke you up from the couch. To say you were surprised to see him pointing a gun at you would be quite the fucking understatement. He smelt like piss and enough alcohol to make him at least 80 proof.

“If you make a single fucking noise, I will shoot that worthless, ugly cumdump of a mouth of yours.”

You were frozen from his words, and in your half-asleep daze, you were extremely muddled. That was until he made his intentions painfully clear when he straddled you and took the hand that wasn’t holding the gun and started to desperately pull off your sleep shorts. Your skin turned to ice and your gut felt like a ton of bricks dropped through your ass. You started to squirm in attempts to get him to stop, but he just painfully pinned your hands under his knees on each side of your hips and held the cold metal barrel of the gun to your temple.

“Don’t fucking move you stupid slut.” He spat his venom on your face and you had to restrain yourself from vomiting on the spot.

At this point, the tears were streaming down your face and you felt like a complete dumbass in distress disorder. “Dad, please s-stop…” You sob in the quietest voice you could muster. He promptly backhanded the side of the barrel over your right cheek with a blinding amount of force and your vision was momentarily clouded with white hot searing pain. He returned the gun to your head and you could feel the warm, sticky substance of blood drip from your cheekbone. He gave you a final warning look that sent a crippling sense of fear down your spine and then continued what he was doing.

Your eyes kept scanning your surroundings looking for anything that could help you escape. The only opportunity you saw was when your demon of a father had pulled your shorts and panties down to your knees and started shoving his hand into your bone dry pussy painfully . You felt humiliated and violated, but you used his distracted state to promptly knee him as hard as you could in his dirty, perverted balls.

The man shrieked like a fucking banchee as he dropped the gun to cup the rattled testicles in his hands. You quickly retrieved the firearm and ran to the front door, yanking your bottoms up in the meantime. You had always kept your backpack fully stocked by the front door in preparation of the days that you were briefly thrown out. You were silently praising God that you had kept that habit as you grabbed it and bolted out of the apartment, your father screaming limping after you. You heard the sound of his quickly fading stomping as you rounded the corner and hauled ass out of sight, ensuring to leave no trace of your whereabouts.

You ran faster than you had ever run in your life, not even stopping to look back. You didn’t know where you were running to, you just ran where your feet took you. It wasn’t much of a shocker that your feet took you to the only place you ever knew as a safe haven. You had apparently run five miles at one in the morning to find yourself standing at the door of the Bang residence.

You had probably rang the doorbell around twenty times before the exhaustion hit you and you dropped to your knees on the pavement, the gun laying at your side on the ground. It took a few minutes, probably due to waking them up, but the door finally opened to a very bewildered Mr. and Mrs. Bang. You instantly threw yourself into their arms and let out loud, choked sobs, clinging onto them for dear life. You were finally home.

- - - - - - - - - -

After explaining everything to them, not only about that night, but every grizzly detail of your entire family situation, they refused to let you go back home, fearing for your safety. You tried to refuse, but they eventually forced you to tell Chan. 

Tell Chan? The man already had a full fledged death wish for your father! And they expected you to tell him as if you were giving an update on the crisp Australian weather? Well this should be fun...

It would take all but the convincing of God to keep him from reporting him. You could already tell a shit storm was waiting on the other end of that dial tone.

It was probably the most emotional phone call you had ever had with him and he was so damn ballistic that he was about to hop on a flight home to come ‘kill that motherfucker’. It took some desperate convincing and ass kissing to change his mind.

You stayed with the Bangs for about a week - staying in Chan’s old room - before Chan’s mom and dad sat down to have a serious talk with you. This is it. You thought. They are going to tell me to find somewhere else to live. You hadn’t saved enough money from your jobs yet to find a place because just about everything you had earned went directly to your parents. You were hardly prepared to start sleeping in cardboard boxes and panhandling.

Mrs. Bang let out a big sigh and rested her hand on your knee. “Dear, you already know that we have always considered you a part of this family. We love you and we want to keep you safe.” The tears started welling up in your eyes and you looked down at your restless hands to hide your face. Fucking why emotions? “And to keep you safe, you can’t stay here any longer.” You couldn’t help the uncontrollable shakiness that came over you, wrecking your body with silent sobs.

“That is why…” Chan’s father held your hand. “...we are going to send you to go to school with Chan in Korea. If anyone can protect you and be there for you, it’s him.” You craned your head up with wide eyes.

“W-what…?” You just sat there looking at them with a frozen, gobsmacked look. Nowhere in your mind had you expected that. It was certifiably insane.

“Well, we know how much you wanted to go with him and how distraught you were when he left. Only now, we know just how deeply that fear was grounded. We had no idea you were going through all of that, sweetie…” Chan’s mom held your other hand and you saw that she, too, had tears rolling down her graceful features.

“N-no… no no no! I can’t do that! I can’t afford it! Please I–” You couldn’t hold back the hyperventilation that was formed by your tits-for-brain emotions.

Mr. Bang cut you off. “You don’t need to worry about that, we just need to do what’s best for you Y/N. And there is no use arguing with us, we have discussed this thoroughly and our decision is final.” His voice was stern and his expression set in stone.

You were gasping back your sobs. “I-I-I c-can’t–” One hundred percent ugly crying, no doubt about it.

Chan’s mom enveloped you in a tight hug. “Please Y/N! We wouldn't be able to live with ourselves if we let you stay anywhere near that hellhole. You deserve a better life than this, sweet girl, and we love you as our own. Please do this for us.” You hugged her back and sobbed into her shoulder violently.

“If it makes you feel better…” Chan’s dad said from the side of your vision. “...you can pay us back with monthly payments. Would that make you feel better about this?” Chan’s mom sat up and lightly slapped his arm.

“Honey! I don’t want her to have to worry about th–”

“Yes! That would make me feel much better.” You interjected her protest eagerly. “If this is something I have to do, I would much prefer not to do it for free.” You had been backed into a sticky, bittersweet corner and you needed to make rational decisions.

They smiled at you. “And you won’t even have to worry about that until you find a job, or if you can’t pay at any point in time, please don’t worry about it.”

You meekly nodded and looked down at the frayed edges of Chan’s sweatshirt that enveloped you, stretching the worn out fabric and releasing it to watch the way the fibers scrunched together again. “I really don’t know what I can do to thank you guys… I really don’t deserve you two…”

“Oh enough of that!” You received another hug from Mrs. Bang. “You deserve every wonderful thing in this world and more.” You sat back and looked at your newly self proclaimed parents and smiled, tears never once stopping as you were overwhelmed with how surreal everything felt. You would finally be free.

- - - - - - - - - -

You were extremely grateful that you grew up learning Korean from Chan and his family because if you hadn’t, you would look like an utter dinktwat in this country. You weren’t perfect, but you figured you would learn fairly quickly from constant exposure.

You squinted your eyes as you tried to see past the hustle and bustle of the busy airport, looking for the right face. Finally, you saw a hand raise up to wave at you across the sea of faces. You looked down to the owner of the hand and there he was, your dirty blonde haired beacon of light, smiling brilliantly at you with his deep-dimpled grin. You instinctively pushed past the barrier of bodies and threw yourself into his arms, burying your face into his warm, familiar scent. You could hear him lightly chuckle at you as you were squeezed tightly.

“Hey my little Kiyomi. I’ve missed you so much” You teared up as you smiled into the crook of his neck. You had always loved the nickname him and his family gave you. They had told you it basically meant cutie or a cute person in Korean and, at first, you laughed at the name, but now it was as natural as saying your actual name.

“I’ve missed you too Channie… so much.” He held you tighter momentarily before letting you go. He stared at you with a sad smile on his face, caressing his thumb over the large, scabbed gash on your cheekbone. He gave it a small peck and smiled down at you.

“You ready to go home?” The words sounded weird coming from Chan’s mouth, but you nodded earnestly in reply. He grabbed your luggage from you and slung you over his other shoulder, ignoring your protests and turning to push past the onlooking travelers while you laughed and covered your face in embarrassment.

- - - - - - - - - -

When Chan opened the door to the three bedroom condo, you took in the surroundings of the area that already looked three or four times the size of your previous apartment. It had a narrow entryway with a coat closet on your left with an area to leave your shoes. You saw a pair of white fluffy slippers with a sticker bow placed haphazardly on top like a present and you smirked back at your new roommate. “Housewarming gift?” Chan said with an awkward smile. You just chuckled at him and plucked the bow off to stick on the middle of his forehead, making him scoff, and you slipped on your comfy new slippers.

You took a step inside and saw a wall on your left with three doors lined along it, slightly ajar, to show a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom in between. To your right, there was the living room adorned with a couch, a loveseat, and a lounge chair surrounding a coffee table. An unnecessarily large TV sat atop a table scattered with various video game consoles and anime figurines in front of it all. Walking further in, the living room was attached to an open-floor planned kitchen lined across the back wall with a large, granite counter island separating the rooms diagonally with a small dining table pressed to the wall on the right. 

The floors were completely dark hardwood minus the kitchen, bathrooms, and bedrooms. The bedrooms with plush, off white carpet and the bathrooms and kitchen with sleek, stone tile. You walked in a little further to peer into the open doors and, at the end of the wall that held the bedrooms, there was a door holding a huge utility room with a washer, dryer, and wash basin for the laundry. The condo was fucking unbelievable. Sure as hell too nice for your impoverished ass.

There was a single closed door on the wall to the left of the TV, between the living room and dining area. “Now, don’t argue with me, because I already know that you will. But Felix and I already decided that you deserve the master bedroom because you need your own bathroom. He said something like ‘A lady needs her own space’. If only he knew how un-ladylike you really are, he might have rephrased that.” Chan rolled his eyes, using air quotes for effect.

You scoffed at him and shoved his shoulder with a fond smile. I mean he wasn’t wrong per-se. “Chan… Chan. You do realize I’ve never needed my own room, right? As far as I’m concerned, you could make me sleep on the washroom floor and I’d be down-right giddy.”

He threw his head back and let out a hardy laugh. “Maybe if you’re in one of your bitchy moods, I will. But no, that’s just even more reason you need that bedroom. You need to be able to have some sense of normalcy. Plus, since you don’t exactly have many belongings, I already decked out your room with all of your favorite things.” He raised his head slightly to the ceiling with a smug face and his fists on his hips, looking like the proud little brother he was.

“Damnit Chan! I told you not to spend money on me!” Another harsh punch to his shoulder.

“Ow! Get over it! If I want to give my best friend a present, I’m going to do what I want! And stop hitting me, you fucking ogre!”

Much to your dismay, your eyes got watery again. You honestly didn’t know what you did in your past life to deserve this man. “Damnit Chan, stop making me be an emotional bitch baby…” You quickly wiped away an escaped tear. He didn’t say anything, he just wrapped you in one of his big bear hugs.

When he let you go, he wiped away your tears and grabbed your luggage again. “C’mon, let me show you your new room!”

When you walked in, the edge of the ceiling was lined with fairy lights, bathing the room in a soft glow. This was punctuated with a large salt rock lamp sitting atop a beautiful antique nightstand. Thankfully not everything was super grand or expensive looking, just a simple wooden desk with a chair and bed frame with an ornately carved headboard, both painted white.

It was only when you walked into the master bathroom that your jaw dropped. There was a large vanity stretching all the way down the length of the wall with two sinks attached to the left of the room and a separate jet tub and standing shower. There was a partition wall hiding the toilet and the far wall had the most massive closet you had ever seen.

The closet was filled with all sorts of women’s clothing. Ranging anywhere from formal attire to loungewear. You turned to Chan with a bone-chilling glare. “Chan, what the actual fuck is this?”

He hid behind the luggage he was still holding as if to protect himself. “That’s part two to your gift. Trust me, I know your tastes.” You looked inside one of the drawers and pulled out a pair of black lace panties and held them between two fingers to show them to Chan with an incredulous look on your face. “Okay okay that was NOT me! That was Lix! He supposedly wears that kind of stuff for Hyunjin all the time so he volunteered to shop for the… um… delicates?”

You rolled your eyes and covered your face with your hands. As you moved on, your eyes continued to roam the area as you made your way back to the living room, claiming the lounge chair. “By the way, where is Felix? I want to meet this other Aussie boy.”

“Ah.” The brunette rubbed the back of his neck. ”He said that you would probably be overwhelmed once you got in so he went to hang out with the guys until a little later tonight so you could get accustomed.”

Ah, yes. The notorious group of boys that Chan had befriended over the years that he has been gone. He had talked about each and every one of them several times and you really already felt like you already knew them, despite actually meeting them. “Oh yeah, the guys, yours and Felix’s friends from Uni right?”

“Yeah, but Jisung and Changbin also work with me at Eunsincheo.” You vaguely recalled Chan mentioning this. The word meant ‘The Hideaway’. It was a music and reading lounge where he spent his days serving shitty coffee and organizing small performances for up-and-coming artists. It really was a cool gig, and he absolutely loved it. He said he could get you on the team, but you wanted to find your own job without all the help that he was already giving you.

“Nice. When will I be introduced? I want to meet the guys that are competing for my best friend spot.” 

Chan scoffed from his spot on the couch. “Psh, as if there is any competition. I’m afraid you, Kiyomi, are stuck with me.”

“Awww little baby Channie. You’re so sweet!” You leaned over and gave him an annoying pinch on the cheek.

“Okay okay, that’s enough of that! As for meeting the boys, we didn’t think it was a good idea for you to meet them on your first day here. They can be a little… overwhelming…”

“Well that just makes me want to meet them more! I need to start my socializing skills to get used to the language. Can’t we all go out for dinner or something? I want some authentic Korean food and see if it rivals your mom’s cooking.”

“Okay, first of all, nothing rivals her cooking. And secondly, I’ll have to message them and see if they are all up for it.” 

“Great! While you do that, I’m going to go shower and see how much of a trainwreck you made of my wardrobe.” You heard a small ‘hey!’ as you wormed your way into your room. You laughed behind your closed doors and let out a big sigh, looking at your own room and feeling as if you were dreaming. After 23 years of your life living in hell, all of it was really too good to be true.

- - - - - - - - - -

You decided, since you were just going to a simple bar and hot pot place, you opted for some ripped blue jeans, a Totoro t-shirt, and some checkered Vans. You pulled your hair up into a half ponytail and just lightly brushed on a natural shade of eyeshadow and mascara to the corners of your eyes as best as you could since you weren't accustomed to wearing makeup. You tried desperately to hide the wound on your cheek with concealer, failing gloriously and inadvertently huffing in frustration.

As you and Chan neared the restaurant, you could hear a rambunctious bunch from the front of a small, humble building. “Ah, sounds like the band of misfits are already here.” Chan said before you could even see the patio. For some reason, you could feel the nerves bubble up inside you. Partly because your Korean was extremely rusty, but also because you desperately wanted Chan’s friends to accept you like the insecure chicken-shit you were.

“Do you all always have to disturb the peace wherever we go?” Chan spoke loudly over the loud group of boys once the two of you stepped onto the small patio that the men invaded. The group went silent and turned their attention toward you, making your heart fall out of your ass.

You gave a deep bow and pulled out the most confident Korean words you could muster. “Hello everyone, I’m Y/N. Lovely to meet you all.” You cringed at yourself and Chan sputtered out a laugh, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth when you glared daggers back at him. You could feel your cheeks warm up in embarrassment, but then several of the men stood up with smiles on their faces to come and greet you.

The first one was skinny with a shaggy, but surprisingly stylish bleached mullet and cute freckles that scattered across his cheeks and nose like stardust. He had a grin that spread across his entire face, making his eyes disappear behind his blinding, sunshine smile. He unexpectedly enveloped you in a hug. “OHMYGOD HI! I’m Felix! I've been SO FUCKING EXCITED to meet you! You will probably hear some of the guys call me Lee Yongbok, but that's just my Korean name. You can call me whatever you like!”

“Good to finally meet you!” You hugged him back and released with a warm smile. You instantly felt warm in his presence and you already knew you would be fast friends.

“I’m so glad you wanted to meet everyone today! I’m going to bake some cookies in the morning to welcome you as our new roommate. I know we will be best friends in no time!” He had a thick Australian accent as he spoke in English and you couldn’t help but smile in his presence.

“Hey!” Chan shoved the smaller boy away from you. “The best friend position is already taken! Find your own!”

“Jealous much?” You smirked up at Chan who just rolled his eyes at you petulantly.

The next boy walked up to wrap his arm around Felix. He was slightly taller than the rest and he was also fairly lean, but his arms were very toned. He had long black hair that he had tied in a half ponytail. His face was incredibly beautiful with plump lips and a beauty mark underneath his left eye, surely making even the coldest hearts swoon. He slightly bowed his head and squeezed Felix to his side. He started to speak in very broken English. “Hello, my name is Hwang Hyunjin. It is nice to meet you. I am Felix’s boyfriend. My uhhhmm… my English is not… too good?” He said it as if it were a question, as if he didn’t know if what he said was correct or not. Cute.

You decided that you should start to try and speak Korean to the group so they would feel more comfortable. Confidence is key right? “Nice to meet you as well, Hyunjin. I suspect I will be seeing a lot more of you now that I live with your boyfriend.” You waggled your eyebrows at Felix and that seemed to lighten the tension in the air as everyone started chortling.

The two headed back to their seats as a short, muscular (more like completely ripped) man with black hair walked up to offer a handshake. “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Seo Changbin. Chan-hyung talks about you non-stop, he’s been giddy like a school-girl for the past week waiting for you to get here.” The two of you turned and smirked at the dirty blonde Aussie, his ears slowly reddening.

“Shut it, bada kokkili.” Your confused look indicated you had no clue what the fuck that meant. Chan smirked at you knowingly. “Walrus. He hates it when we call him that.” You giggled behind your hand and Changbin punched Chan’s arm.

“Please tell me you’re nothing like this asshole?” Changbin said to you as he kept glaring at Chan.

“No, he wishes he was as badass as me.” You shrugged with a matter-of-fact look on your face.

“Have I subjected myself to a life full of verbal attacks by introducing you guys?”

“Hmmmm, yes. But you still love me.” You smiled smugly up at Chan and he poked his tongue out at you like a child.

You heard someone clear their throat next to you and you turned to see a doe eyed boy with round cheeks and a sharp jaw bone. His frame consisted of a broad chest that tapered down to a teeny tiny waist. “Oh! You must be Han Jisung!” He looked at you with an astounded expression and you realized it was probably weird how you came to that conclusion. You nervously scratched behind your ear. “Oh, sorry. Chan had told me that you looked like a quokka so I kind of assumed…”

“Hah! I can’t believe you got it right with that description!” Changbin guffawed from where he had left to sit at the table. 

“Well unfortunately your assumption was correct. I had just hoped he would have described me by my stunning good looks instead.” He gave you a huge, cheesy grin and stood proudly, his mousy brown hair swaying slightly. You giggled at him and accepted his offer for a hug. He was so fucking adorable that you wanted to stuff him in your pocket and keep him.

“Okay okay, out of the way.” The quokka was pushed aside by another animal looking man. This one, for some reason, looked incredibly like a puppy. You almost cooed at how adorable the boy was. He had fluffy brown hair like Jisung's and he was fairly tall as well. “I’m Kim Seungmin, I would run now before you subject yourself to this awful group of human beings.” He spoke in fairly good English and you laughed at his statement. 

“Did you say that in English so they wouldn’t protest?” You said amusedly.

“Maybe, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugged and retreated back to his seat.

The next one was obviously younger than the rest, even if he stood taller than Chan. He had eyes like a fox and dimples deep enough to swim in. He was a bit timid as he shook his black hair out of his eyes. “I’m Yang Jeongin–”

“Baby Bread!” Hyunjin yelled across the table.

Jeongin glared back at him. “Anyway, nice to meet you.” He bowed and went to sit down.

That just left the man still sitting at the opposite end of the table.

“Min, come meet Y/N.”

The man looked up from his phone and you could feel his eyes pierce through your soul. He sighed dejectedly and stood up, walking slowly over to you like a cat stalking its prey. He was fairly tall and his movements flowed like water. He had intimidating cat-like eyes and cheekbones you could cut yourself on. His fiery, orange-red hair glowed warmly in the dim outside lighting, black leather jacket complimenting his entire look. He offered a muscular, veiny hand out to shake, which you timidly shook. This beautiful man’s presence intimidated you without reason.

You only marginally started to relax when he offered a small halfass smile and when he spoke, it punctuated his cute overbite. But as quick as it came, it left, leaving him with a bored face. “I’m Lee Minho. Hopefully you will adjust soon enough.” You watched as his eyes flit to the cut on your cheek and you slightly lowered your head in embarrassment. Without another word, he headed back to his seat. You wondered what you had done to put his panties in a twist until Chan threw an arm over your shoulder.

“Don’t worry about him. He only cares about eating, sleeping, and Han Jisung.” The boys laughed at the redhead while you and Chan took your seats as well.

“Oh, are you two also a couple?” You genuinely asked the two boys at the other end of the long table who just stared at you with dumbfounded looks. They looked at each other momentarily, then burst out laughing, clutching their stomachs while cackling, the rest of the group following in the laughter. You just sat in the chaos, wondering if you missed some sort of joke. Your eyes scanned over to Minho’s laugh and smile which was stupidly mesmerizing, probably because of the contrast to his previous behavior.

Minho started making kissy faces at Jisung as the younger pushed him away with a jokingly disgusted face. He had to wait until he stopped laughing, but Jisung finally spoke up. “No no no, we like to think we are soulmates, but only in a best friend type of way. No, the only happy couple here is Hyunlixie over there.”

Felix hid his smile and flushed cheeks behind his hands and Hyunjin flung his arm around his shoulder with a proud grin. Your subconscious wished you could experience that kind of feeling.

“So… Chan-hyung said that you are a year his senior, does that mean we should call you noona?” Jeongin spoke up from next to where you were sitting.

“Oh god.” You chuckled nervously. “That is very sweet Jeongin, but not necessary. Please speak casually. 'Noona' makes me feel like an old lady.”

“Well you’re not far off…” Chan muttered which earned him a flick on the ear. “Just call her Kiyomi! That’s what me and my family always call her!”

“Cutie, huh?” Seungmin said in English with a cute grin.

You exaggerated a sigh. “Much to my dismay, but yes. I’ve gotten used to it.” You said with a bemused face and the rest of the boys nodded with understanding.

“I like it!” Felix raised his glass. “To Kiyomi and her new life!”

The rest started to raise their glasses until Jisung halted them. “Oh shit, you two need drinks! We need to get you wasted ASAP.”

“Oh no no no, you do not want to see me drunk.” You waved your hands in front of your face in protest. Getting plastered would definitely not make a good first impression.

“Yeah, she is an absolute mess. Last time we got sloshed, I had to carry her ass three miles back to her house while she was singing the Macarena nonstop.” Chan rubbed over his eyes with one of his hands, overemphasizing his mortification.

“Shut it Chan!” You whisper-yelled at him.

“Oh-ho-ho now we HAVE to get you drunk. Get her a bottle of soju, stat!” Hyunjin slapped Minho on the back and the cat-like man glared at him as he stood up to go to the bar.

“I’m only doing this because I may or may not be interested in seeing this for myself.” He grumbled as he walked away.

“I’ll go help him carry the other drinks!” Jisung jumped out of his chair to chase after Minho. As the rest of the boys chatted, your eyes naturally gravitated to the window of the restaurant, revealing the two boys inside at the bar. You watched as Jisung threw his arm over the shoulder of the statue of a man next to him and yelled for the bartender. Minho slapped Jisung’s ass and the younger whispered something to Minho and they both cracked up laughing, showing glistening white teeth and bright smiles from the pair. You felt your stupid stomach flip upside-down in your gut.

Throughout the night, you looked around at the group of gorgeous men, Changbin and Minho screaming loudly across the table at each other as Hyunjin and Seungmin stirred the pot. Felix and Jisung laughing about something completely unrelated and Jeongin watching it all with an amused smile. You felt a weight lifting off your shoulders you didn’t know was there. They all seemed to welcome you with open arms and you felt your heart swell with warmth as your sights swiveled across the table and landed on Chan who was smiling brightly at you. You felt like you were finally home.

- - - - - - - - - -

Fucking lightweight. Two bottles of soju in and you already started to feel bubbly and light as if you were floating. The rest of the group wasn’t in much better shape though.

“Okay okay! What about this? Chan-hyung, have you two ever done the dirty deed?” Changbin shouted from the seat next to him, waggling his eyebrows at you two.

Jisung drunkenly elbowed him. “Binnie *hiccup* hyung! Too far! Tooooo far!”

You and Chan made gagging noises and disgusted faces. “What the fuck Bin? No! She’s like a sister to me! That’s disgusting!”

“OKAY I agree with Channie, but don’t call me disgusting you asshole!” You shoved his head to the side and he rolled his eyes.

“Ssshe is a bootiful woman you monster! Kiyomi, f’you efer needa real maaan, just cm’to me!” Jisung slurred heavily and pointed at you with a winky face.

“She could do so much better than any of your lame asses.” Chan laughed and slapped you on the shoulder, making your body wobble.

“Okay enough enough! My turn! Noona, if you could describe all of us as a type of animal, what would you pick?” Sweet Jeongin, of course, had such a humble question.

“Booooring!” Hyunjin rolled his head back in dramatic annoyance.

You poked your tongue out at him and turned back to the maknae next to you. “I would definitely say that you look like a fox. Seungmin looked like a puppy when I first laid eyes on him. Changbin looks like a mix between a rabbit and a… pig?”

“Yah!” Changbin looked at you with an offended frown, the whole group cackling in the background.

“Not in a bad way! I mean like one of those cute little teacup pigs!” He smiled in content, making an aegyo-like bashful face and poking his cheek. “Jisung obviously looks like a quokka. Hyunjin… hmmmm… a llama maybe… or a ferret? Felix looks like a baby chick and I always thought Channie looked like a wolf.” You turned your sights to the man at the end of the table. “Minho looks like… bunny? No no no, a cat! He definitely seems to have the mannerisms of one.”

The man looked up at you with wide eyes. “A cat?”

“Yeah! You are stand-offish, but I feel like if someone were to pet you, you would purr and pass out.” Everyone started laughing but the man looked stunned. Maybe you did have a little too much to drink. You just met this man and you were talking about petting him. “It’s a good thing! I promise!”

“Mhm, sure. Maybe I should call you a mouse to make it known that you shouldn’t fuck with me.” He gave a crooked smile with a glint in his eye. You internally shivered. Well… hot damn.

“Oh give it up, hyung. *hiccup* Y’ve got nooo claws! Anyway, it’s funny y’say that, noona ‘cause Minnie-hyung owns 3 *hiccup* cats himself!” Jisung slapped him on the back and chuckled at his grumpy friend.

“I don’t own them, they own me. They are my babies.” Minho grumbled.

Your eyes lit up and you leaned in closer. “Oh my god I looove cats! You have to let me meet them!”

“U-uh s-sure…?” The fiery haired man turned his face away and you couldn’t tell if his red cheeks were from your comment or from the alcohol. Where the hell did that reaction come from?

“Noona, you are going to go to Uni with us, right? When will you start?” You brushed off the use of honorifics Seungmin and Jeongin kept using, accepting that they all are just trying to be polite and it was probably second nature to them.

“Two weeks from now, I still need to settle in, get registered, and find a job.”

“Ooo! Work with us! I’m sure the *hiccup* boss would hire you f’we asked!” Jisung raised his hand to get your attention.

Chan interjected before you could respond. “Yeah good luck with that one, Han-ah. I have been trying to convince her of that ever since I found out she was moving here and she isn’t budging. Something about ‘I need to do this on my own’ or whatever bullshit she said.” The air quotes he made came with an annoying mimicking voice.

“Hey shut your gob, dumbass. So what if I want to be independent?”

“Ahhh an independent woman *hiccup* I like it!” Jisung winked at you and you giggled at his drunken flirtiness.

Minho grabbed onto his ear like a mother would to scold her child. “Cut it out, she is going to get tired of you before the night is even over.”

“Okay okay! I get it! M'sorry!”

“It’s okay Jisung, I think it’s cute.” You exaggerated the statement by saying it in baby talk and cooing at him. He blushed at your words and chuckled nervously as the rest of the group laughed at his flustered fumbling.

“Okay my turn!” Seungmin announced…

- - - - - - - - - -

You decided it was time to stop drinking when you could feel your emotional side take the reins of your brain, the feeling of the welcoming new friends overwhelming you. You, Chan, and Felix parted from the group and Chan had to help you walk down the street to get home with you yelling your farewells to the giggling group retreating behind you. Once you got home, Felix immediately went to his room and slumped down, only halfway on his bed, completely wiped out from the alcohol.

Chan took you to your room and sat you down on the bed. “Chaaaannie!” You held onto him with tears building in your eyes as he removed your makeup for you. “Channie *hiccup* I love you so fucking much Channie! I’m so happy to be here and meet your *hiccup* frieeeeends.” He chuckled at your idiocy and handed you a glass of water.

“If you're happy, then why are you crying, you big baby?” You threw a tiny fist at him.

“I am just sooo happy, I don’t deserve you! I don’t deserve this life! It doesn’t even feel real to be here right now….” He froze as you crossed your eyes to focus on sipping your water and bent down to level his face to yours.

“Y/N, don’t you ever say that again. You deserve all of the happiness in the world and more and I wouldn’t give you up for a goddamned thing, alright? I want to hear you say that you deserve happiness.” You just whined and shoved your alcohol-flushed face in his chest. “Say it Kiyomi…”

All you could think about was the huge fucking piece of your heart this man had claimed. “I… I deserve happiness.”

“There we go, girl. Now let's get you into bed.” He pulled back the puffy white comforter and tucked you into the softest sheets you have ever felt. “G’night sis, love you.” He kissed your forehead and you were out like a light.

- - - - - - - - - -

The first month of getting used to university was hard, you were older, but you started behind the rest of your group of new friends. But thank God that dumb luck got you to join some of their classes.

Chan was in your music theory class, Jeongin and Minho were in your fine arts class, and Hyunjin, Felix, and Minho were in your dance class. You managed to find a job at a local café as a barista close to Eunsincheo where Chan worked. Things were falling into place for you remarkably fast and you threw yourself into your studies, not wanting to squander the opportunities that were gifted to you.

“Do you ever stop studying?” Seungmin leaned in close to where you were sitting on the ground next to the coffee table to examine what you were noting down from your second-hand textbook. Chan and Changbin were at work, but the rest of the boys decided to come hang out at the Aussie flat for movies and snacks.

“Well, not only does my Korean suck ass, but I also have to make up for all the lost time these past years. I need to work extra hard if I want to get past basic courses so I can become a choreographer.” You were, in fact, currently brushing up on your Hangul at the moment.

“Hey, that’s Minho-hyung’s major too! Maybe you guys can study together!” Jisung looked at Minho next to him on the loveseat expectantly. He just stared at you with a blank face.

“Depends, can the mouse keep up with me?” He smirked at you and leaned forward as if he was challenging you.

“Well now there’s no way I can back down. Bring it on MeanHoe!” You sat up straight, proudly, as you reached out your arm to shake hands as if you were making a business agreement. His grip was strong, but softened as it lingered there.

“Hyung’s in advanced courses, aside from the dance class we all have together, he has two or three intermediate and advanced classes too.” Hyunjin blankly stated as his focus was directed at picking at a hangnail, long limbs sprawled across the couch and on Seungmin’s lap.

The feline grew a smug grin. “I won’t go easy on you noona, get ready for an ass beating.”

“Ooo kinky!” Oh god, please don’t conjure images, brain! You could feel your ears getting red at Jisung’s statement. Minho was quick to slap him over the back of the head. “Ow!”

“Han Jisung! Can you stop being dirty minded for two goddamned seconds?” Minho crossed his arms, obviously embarrassed too as he looked away.

“I’m sorry hyung, I’m afraid that’s impossible. He is utterly helpless.” Jeongin sighed from his spot on the floor on the other side of the coffee table.

“He’s just like a child, just start up a video game for him and he’ll shut up real quick.” Felix yelled from the kitchen where he was pulling the delectable smelling brownies out of the oven that he had made for everyone.

“That’s not… entirely true…” Jisung meekly mumbled as he scratched the back of his head.

“Minho-hyung really helped me with my Korean when I moved here, maybe he can help you too?” Felix looked at Minho who just hummed in response.

He lifted himself off the loveseat and sat next to you on the floor, examining your work. “Your handwriting is shit.”

You just scoffed and narrowed your eyes at him. “Thanks, Min. Very insightful.” You turned back to your work and kept writing in chicken scratch font. “Do I really want your help? I’d rather not have my pride filed down more than it already is.”

He just shrugged and plucked the pen from your hand, mid-character. He wrote down what looked like a pangram with his left hand and erased and re-wrote a mistake with his right hand. That threw you for a hot loop. “Repeat writing this until your writing is actually legible.” You glared at him and shoved him slightly, making him chuckle. “Don’t worry, even if you have an extremely thick accent, you seem to have an easier time talking than you used to.”

“Yeah, your accent is even thicker than mine when you speak Korean, and that’s saying something.” Felix said while he placed the neatly arranged plate of brownies and napkins on the coffee table. The boys crowded around to grab their treats and Minho placed the yummy, gooey, center piece on a napkin and handed it to you. Well that is suspiciously out of character.

“Awww but I wanted that piece!” Minho flipped off the whiny Jisung.

“Maybe you should’ve been quicker, then, Sungie.” Minho turned back to grab himself a brownie.

“Thanks, Min. What is it that you want from me to deserve this kindness?” You smiled to yourself as Minho narrowed his eyes at you.

“Would you like me to take it back?” You hid your chocolaty treat from his field of vision followed by an attempt of an intimidating expression. You felt a modicum of success when he turned to hide his suppression of a laugh.

Once Felix finished his duties of serving brownies and popcorn to everyone, he turned the TV on for everyone to watch Howl’s Moving Castle upon Jisung’s repetitive insistence. You turned your head to see that Minho was still sitting in his spot he took next to you on the floor. Stupid stomach for its stupid flippity flops.

You contemplated your actions for a minute, but then decided to go for it. “Hey Min.” You leaned in with a hushed tone so you wouldn’t interrupt the movie. He leaned his ear closer to hear you better. “You really want to help me study? I really am kind of at the ass-end of the curve when it comes to my studies.”

He shrugged. “Sure, why not? Do Tuesdays and Thursdays after art class work for you?” You eagerly nodded your head and he gave you a crooked smile.

“Thanks Minnie! I owe you!”

“Yes you do.” He chuckled and leaned away, indicating the end of the conversation. Well shit.

- - - - - - - - - -

You aren’t sure when it happened, but apparently you had fallen asleep because the next thing you knew, you were waking up in a dark room - lit only by the TV that had some random YouTube video on - with Chan shaking you awake. You were still on the floor in the living room, but everyone was gone save for Chan and Minho which you had evidently fallen asleep on. Not just on, in his fucking lap . Head fully rested on fully-jacked, muscular thighs. God, kill me now.

You had never sat up so fast in your life. “Ah shit!” You rubbed your eyes and tried to shake off the lightheadedness you felt from getting up too fast. “Shit, Min, I’m so sorry! Why the hell didn’t you wake me up?!”

He shrugged his shoulders as the two of you stood up. He slightly stretched his back and his neck and you felt mortified that he had stayed behind just because of your lazy ass. “It’s whatever, I was just entertained by watching videos and hearing you blab about something in your sleep.” He said nonchalantly.

“WHAT? Oh no. No no no, what did I say?” You hid your face in your hands as the two boys laughed at you. This is hell.

“I couldn’t really figure it out, it was in English.”

“Oh thank god.”

“Tell it to me, I’m sure I can translate!” Chan said with a chipper voice.

You grabbed onto your best friend’s shirt collar. “Do you want to die tonight, pup?” He sheepishly laughed and held his hands up in surrender.

“I sounded like you were having a nightmare, but don’t worry little mouse, I’m sure I’ll figure it out one way or another.” You looked back at Minho’s winking face with terror in your eyes. You side-eyed Chan and saw he was looking at you with worry. You knew what he was thinking and silently prayed he wouldn’t say anything, but you just huffed and marched off to your room like a petulant child.

“Good night!” The two shouted after you in unison as you slammed your door.

Behind the cover of your bedroom door, you ran your hands over your tired face and prayed that you didn’t say anything too embarrassing. You didn’t know how long he had stayed there after everyone had left, but the thought of him staying behind so he wouldn’t disturb you made your core throb. That’s stupid, he probably just wanted to wait until Chan got home. You convinced yourself to stop having a weird imagination, and with that, you showered off to rid you of your thoughts.

- - - - - - - - - -

The next Thursday afternoon around four in the afternoon , you were lounging on the couch scrolling through your phone when you heard someone knocking at your front door. When Chan opened it, the both of you were surprised to see Minho standing in the doorway with that damned stereotypical leather jacket on.

“Uh, hey Min, what’s up?” Chan looked confused as he gestured for Minho to come inside.

“Study sessions, remember? Tuesdays and Thursdays? Please don’t tell me your memory really is that bad or else this is a lost cause.” He said pointedly at you in response to Chan’s question.

You sat up quickly with a sheepish grin. “I didn’t forget! It just may have… slipped my mind…” Shit memory strikes again.

He rolled his eyes and threw his backpack down on the dining table and shucked off his jacket, flinging it over the back of the chair. “Well are you coming or not?” You quickly realized what he was indicating and you hastily grabbed your textbooks and papers from your room and sat down next to him.

“Well I guess I will leave you two to it, I’m going to go to the gym.” Chan walked out without another word. And you suddenly found yourself in an empty apartment with only your studies and Lee Minho to keep you company. Fuck, I should have thought this through.

“Okay, so where should we start?”

- - - - - - - - - -

It was probably around 8pm and studying was completely forgotten about about an hour and a half after you two started. You had asked to see a picture of his cats and it all went downhill from there. The two of you discussed anything from favorite foods to childhood memories. However, you elected to opt out of mentioning your family situation in favor of reminiscing your time with Chan. No one wants to hear about that shit show.

This was until Minho verbally backed you into a corner. “So what do your parents do for a living?” You could feel your blood turn ice cold. What should I tell him? ‘Oh yeah, they sell and smuggle drugs for a living. What about yours?’ 

Yeah, fuck that. “Oh, they just get odd jobs here and there.” You tried to be as vague as possible.

“Oh okay cool, did you live near Chan-hyung?”

“Nah, I lived about 5 miles from him. But I basically lived with him half the time.” You said with a nervous chuckle. He leaned his elbow on the table, laying his cheek on his fist as he was fully facing you in his seat.

“Your parents didn’t mind? My mom would worry herself to an early grave any time I spent the night at a friend’s house for more than a night. She definitely used to baby me.” He chuckled, not breaking eye contact with you, making you extremely flustered and intimidated. Stupid cat man. Your eyes couldn’t meet his for more than a couple seconds before they looked elsewhere in attempts to escape the inexplicable nervousness.

“No they didn’t mind… They weren’t those kinds of parents.” You looked down and played with the hem of your shorts. It was silent for a second and you were afraid you had maybe said too much. But as you looked back up into his eyes, you think it was possible that he realized that it was a sore subject by the way he was searching your eyes.

“Well that’s cool, no wonder you and Chan-hyung have so many experiences together.” He suddenly decided to stand up and make his way toward the kitchen. “I’m making dinner, any requests?”

You breathed a sigh of relief with the end of the previous conversation. “It’s our kitchen, Min. How do you know we even have the stuff to make what you want?”

He turned his head over his shoulder from where he is standing in front of the pantry and gave you a crooked smile. “I told Yongbok and Chan-hyung that they need to be adults and actually keep their kitchen stocked, even if it only gets used when I come cook for them.” He turned back to look in the walk-in pantry, speaking a little louder so you could hear. “I probably screwed myself by saying that, though, because now I cook for them all the time. ”

You moved from your position at the dining table, abandoning your schoolwork, and sat on the barstool at the island. “Am I really going to get the great Chef Lee Minho to cook for me? I am honored, but I'm not really a big eater.” You were used to eating nothing for days so your appetite wasn’t huge. Even if you were accommodated with three meals a day now, you were always painfully full before you finished your serving.

He walked out with a deadpan face and a few items in his hands. “Well if we are going to be friends, that is going to change. No arguments. How does chicken fettuccine alfredo sound?”

Your mouth starts watering at the mention of it. “My lord, that sounds amazing. You’re my hero .” You said the last part wistfully as if you were a damsel in distress and dramatically leaned your head back with the back of your hand draped on your forehead.

He scoffed at you and pulled a small bowl out of the fridge after he put on a pot of water to boil for the noodles. Once he placed the bowl in front of you, you looked at him with a confused face. “Kimchi for a starter.” He looked at you expectantly.

You looked warily at the delicious looking snack. “Min, if I eat this, I won’t be able to finish my pasta.”

He didn’t respond, instead, he pulled out a pair of chopsticks and raised a bite of kimchi to your mouth. “Say ‘ahhh’ little mouse!” He waved the food around and made airplane noises as if you were a child. You couldn’t help but laugh loudly at his antics and he used that opportunity to lightly press the tip of the food to your lips. You gave in and wrapped your lips around the chopsticks, cleaning it of the kimchi juices.

You were a little surprised to see him use those same chopsticks to pop a bite into his mouth for himself. You figured it was a perfectly normal thing to do between friends. Hell, you and Chan have shared almost everything, but something about the action coming from Minho made you feel different.

Once he tried to feed you another bite, you spoke before he could shove it in your face. “Aren’t you supposed to be cooking?”

He shook his head and continued his movements toward your mouth. “Water Isn't boiling yet. Open up.”

You couldn’t help but huff at the stubborn little shit. “Do you not want me to eat your alfredo? Because if I eat a starter, I’ll be too full for dinner!”

“That’s just the first step to get you to eat more!” As the food got closer, you had planned to just slightly push his hand away. However, as you realized that life still hated you, you accidentally whacked the chopsticks out of his hand and the kimchi flew directly onto Minho’s white shirt, trickling the red juices down the length of it. Of fucking course.

The two of you were silent for a moment, processing what just happened. He looked down at his shirt and then back up at you with an indistinguishable expression. “Oh shit. Oh fuck. I’m sorry, Min! I’ll go get you a new one! Just give me one sec!” You stood up to go grab one of Chan’s shirts but Minho stopped you in your tracks, standing right in front of you and looking down menacingly. You instinctively took a couple of steps back because you, of course, were a piece of chicken shit.

“Mouse. Come here.” He started stepping forward and, for some reason, you felt fear and excitement jolt up your spine. You continued to step backward as he grabbed the small bowl and chopsticks in one hand.

“Minnie. Min-min. Buddy-ole-pal, listen, I really am sorry! Lemme just–” You were cut off when you felt your back hit the wall next to the kitchen. He kept prowling toward you and you froze in place. He stepped until there was about a foot of distance between your faces.

“I said. Open. Up.” His voice was colored with intimidation and a touch of dominance that made you quiver. You meekly opened your mouth and he gently placed the kimchi on your tongue, slowly pulling back the chopsticks once your lips were wrapped around it. He smirked at you, mockingly.

You decided that if he wants to play games, you will too, you already ruined his shirt after all. As Minho was still holding up the bowl, you decide to throw caution to the wind as you dipped your hand straight into the bowl, pulling out a long string of kimchi and promptly rubbing it over the side of his face and mouth and letting the remaining cabbage leaf fall to the ground, splattering on the tile.

He looked at you, utterly gobsmacked while you cackled, using his momentary shock to escape the spot where you were caged in. Once you were out of reach, he spun around with a bone chilling smile on his face. “So that’s how you want to play? Fine.” He started to walk toward you swiftly, bowl in hand, and determination in his eyes. You were still chuckling as you ran on the other side of the island, making the two of you dance around it (ironically) like cat and mouse.

He then did something you hadn’t expected him to do, he grabbed some kimchi with his own hand and flung the dripping, red snack across the island. And of course, the fat, juicy piece landed directly on your chest, slithering from your collarbone right down to your cleavage and under your shirt.

You shrieked at the cold contact as Minho cracked up on the other side of the bar. As you squirmed your hand under your shirt and bra, Minho had found an opportunity to set the bowl down and lunge at you, only to tackle you to the ground with more kimchi in his palm. “Caught you, you neanderthal!” You couldn’t control your laughter as you hopelessly tried to push off the man hovering over you, bracketing you to the ground with his limbs. “Now, little mouse, open up.”

He dangled the piece of kimchi over your mouth between his two fingers. You giggled, but sucked your lips into your mouth, sealing off the entrance. You shook your head in defiance, letting him know full well that you weren’t giving up that easy. Not chicken shit anymore, huh?

“Gonna be a brat? Okay, fine.” He then took his free hand and started poking your side, making you flail in ticklishness. Your hands immediately flew to the hand trying to tickle you to push them off, but to no avail.

“Ack! Min– *heh* Minho! *haha!* S–stop! *gasp* I– *heh* I give up!” you almost had tears running down your face in laughter as he finally relented. Once you felt the relief from him halting his assault, your arms fell to the ground to the sides of your head. Your eyes locked onto the feline above you. His smirk was full of playfulness, but something else showed in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place, making your useless heart skip.

“That’s what I thought.” He held the piece up to your mouth once more and you kept eye contact as you licked your lips and slowly opened your mouth. You waited as he slid the kimchi into your mouth slowly, releasing it, and briefly catching his thumb on your lower lip. You felt your brain short circuit momentarily until you realized you needed to start chewing. “Yummy, yeah?” You nodded your head slowly. “There’s a good girl.”

He stood up and it took your frozen limbs a moment to clamber up to accept his offered hand, pulling you up and onto your feet. Once you stood, the cold, sticky feeling running down your chest made itself known again. As if on cue, the two of you look down at your ruined shirts and back at each other, bursting out laughing and clutching your stomachs.

You dug the remaining piece of kimchi out of your shirt as he politely looked away. “Let me go get you a new shirt.” You chuckled out after you could catch your breath.

“Bet. I’ll clean up our mess once I put the noodles on to boil.”

You started to wonder where Chan was once you entered his room to grab Minho a new shirt. He said he was going to the gym, like what? Three hours ago? Surely he’d be done by now. As you walked back into the kitchen to give Minho the shirt, you were frozen solid, dropping the shirt at the sight in front of you. Good LORD.

Standing in the middle of your kitchen was a completely shirtless human statue. Minho had stripped himself of the soiled cloth, leaving him clothed only from the waist down. You tried to get ahold of your bearings, but the man’s back was turned away facing the sink to clean his clothing, leaving your subconscious to stand and gawk over the expanse of skin.

You had seen Chan shirtless countless times, so why did this particular moment affect you so much? Minho wasn’t as jacked up as Chan was, but you could clearly see the bands of toned, lean muscle just beneath the surface of his milk and honey skin. Your eyes skimmed the muscles of his arms and drifted down to his deliciously veiny forearms and hands. If your eyes hadn’t had enough of a feast on his back, it was absolutely gorged when he turned to face you. Two toned pecs and a lean stomach that adorned a small scar. Your attention was snapped back to reality when your gaze lingered on the hem of his pants. Wait, shit, fuck, he turned around!

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Your eyes flew up to his face to show that same annoying smug grin. 

You huffed and quickly grabbed the shirt off the floor and threw it at his face. “No need. I was only thinking of how gross it was to be half naked in a room where we EAT, let alone cleaning your nasty shirt in my kitchen sink.” You snatched his shirt from the sink and started to head to the laundry room.

“Yah! I’m not gross! And where the hell do you think you’re taking my shirt?” He grabbed your arm before you could get too far and spun you around to, once again, face his shirtless body. You refused to look anywhere in his general direction as you could feel your cheeks warm up. He must have picked up on your demeanor, because you could hear him lightly chuckle, forcing you to glance at his amused face. “Do I make you uncomfortable little mouse?”

“No… I just–”

“Juuust what?”

If you weren’t already being tortured by the current situation enough, life decided to rear it’s ugly head again. Before either of you two could react, the front door swung open and in stepped a suspiciously well dressed Chan. “What the FUCK?”

Now, you wouldn’t necessarily call Chan an irrational or violent person, but with Minho’s grip on your arm, his shirtless body, and an undistinguishable wet spot down the front of your shirt, you could definitely see cause for misinterpretation. “You motherfucker.” Chan started to march toward the two of you and you could see terror morph in the, typically unwavering, eyes of Minho. 

“Hyung I can expla—“ You watched in horror as you saw Chan’s fist fly through the air. You expected to see the innocent man get pile driven into the ground, but thankfully, Minho was quick enough to dodge the blow. You bolted over to Chan, jumping on the man and grabbing his arm to hold him back. Unfortunately, your tiny body failed to make him even budge. You might as well have thrown a teddy bear at him for how little it affected him.

“Chan stop! It’s just a misunderstanding! Please!” He looked down at your pleading eyes and back at Minho suspiciously. 

“Explain. Now.”

- - - - - - - - - -

After Minho put a shirt on and Chan calmed down, you briefly explained the situation. You excused yourself to shower off the kimchi juice as the boys talked it out. You felt awful that Minho had been subjected to that because of your own childish fuckary.

“God, why am I such an idiot?” You groaned at yourself as you pulled sweats and a tank top on, dampening the cloth with your wet hair. You stepped out into the living room and, to your amazement, Minho was still there. The two boys looked up at you in tandem with smiles on their faces and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank god, I was afraid I was about to walk out into a bloodbath.”

“Not today, Kiyomi. But you really need to stop being such a lunatic. You almost made me kill a man today.” Chan stood up from his spot on the couch next to Minho to come hug you.

“You almost committed murder and I’m the lunatic?”

“Yes.” The two boys said at the same time. You glared at the pair when the embrace was broken.

“You–!” You accusingly pointed a finger at the smirking redhead on the couch. “--aren’t any less guilty, mister!” You glared each other down, neither backing down for an instant. Little shit.

Chan let out a heavy sigh. “Well I’m utterly wrecked from the gym so I’m going to go shower. Goodnight guys.” The color of the tone in his voice sounded somewhat off.

“G’night!” You and Minho both said, still staring each other down.

After a moment of awkward silence, you cleared your throat in preparation to say something, but Minho beat you to it. “Pepperoni or cheese?”

“Uhm... wha—?” You were completely thrown. You searched your brain to think of what the hell he was talking about.

“Or supreme? If you’re into that. Just no pineapple or we can’t be friends anymore.”

“Did I miss something? Should I leave and come back? Because I have no clue what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Pizza.” He said with his gaze down, simply scrolling through his phone. “The pasta got overcooked so I’m ordering pizza, now what do you want?”

Ah, yes. The dish that started this whole tiff. “Ummm I guess meatlovers?” You said as you slid over next to him on the couch.

“Hell yeah, a woman after my own heart.” Sir, don’t even. He tapped away at a few things on his phone and sat it down. “Placed, should be here soon.”

“Sorry I ruined dinner, Min. If it’s any consolation, I really was looking forward to trying your cooking. I guess that’s why I was so determined to save my appetite…” You looked down at your hands in embarrassment. All I can fucking do is cause trouble for people.

“Hey.” You felt a gentle hand being placed on your shoulder and you looked up to lock eyes with the redhead. “It’s no problem to me, it just means I’ll get to cook for us on Thursday.” His eyes are soft and he was sporting a gentle smile that you had never seen before.

You unattractively snorted at the comment. “You mean you’re still going to help me study after the trainwreck I led you to?”

“Of course, as long as you keep your dog at bay.” The two of you shared a lighthearted laugh and you silently thanked God that things aren’t awkward now. I mean, as long as you didn’t fuck shit up again.

- - - - - - - - - -

That following Saturday you had to go to work. You had already worked a few shifts before so you were almost getting the hang of it. Since you weren’t one hundred percent confident in your Korean, you didn’t take orders, you only made the coffee and handed it to the customers. You were fine with this because you didn’t have to talk to people (because the general populous of all humans suck ass), but you would still get to make tasty drinks and listen in enough to advance your Korean. 

It was around 7:50pm, about ten minutes away from the end of your shift when you heard the entry of a large group ringing the bell of the front doors that announced their arrival. You internally groaned at the sound, (not looking so you could focus on the current task at hand of making a vanilla latte that had WAY too many modifications asked for by a particularly picky customer) knowing how you were about to have to stay late to make all of those people's plethora of drinks. You didn’t completely mind though, more work meant more money.

You turned around to hand off the last customer’s latte and once it was handed off, you froze as you looked on at the rowdy group of men. Eight, gloriously bright smiling faces were all directed at you, you could feel yourself flush as you walked up to them in a hushed tone. “What the hell are all of you doing here?”

“What? We can’t come see our favorite barista?” Changbin pouted, most of the rest following in mimicking his exact expression. You rolled your eyes at the group. You felt like a damn adolescent being picked up from school early.

“How do you know I’m your favorite? You haven’t tasted my coffee yet, it could taste like shit.”

“Then shitty coffee will be my new favorite!” Felix replied cheerily. What a sweet little lying son of a bitch.

“Speak for yourself.” Seungmin smirked at you and left to find the large group a couple of tables. 

The order was easy enough, seven iced americanos and a caramel macchiato for Felix. After that, your shift was already done and you accompanied your rambunctious friends, all gulping down their delicious drinks.

“You down to go for some karaoke tonight? We are all planning on getting trashed because there’s no school or work tomorrow.” Hyunjin said with a dramatic blissed out expression at the end of his sentence.

“Except for boring ass Chan-hyung that is about as interesting as a wet sponge. For some reason, he needs to go meet up with a person from a group in his class to study.” Changbin shot a disappointed grimace at Chan.

“Yah! I already had that planned! You guys sprung this on me last minute!” Chan crossed his arms defensively. Interesting, you didn’t recall him saying anything about that…

“Whatever you say, hyung.” Minho spoke up for once. He looked at Chan with feigned belief, then his sights automatically locked onto yours. “What do you say? Coming or not?” 

You internally pondered to yourself. Would I rather go home and get an early sleep after work? Or would I rather hang out and go get sloshed with my friends? One hundred percent the latter. “I am in desperate need of a drink, let’s go.”

As you followed the boys out, Minho grabbed your arm. “You’re riding with me, Felix’s car is full.” You hesitantly let him pull you around the side of the café and your heart stopped beating. The man sat down on a fucking crotch rocket. As he straddled the motorcycle, he patted the seat behind him. “Well, are you coming or not?”

You realized that your eyes were still bulged out of your head as you shook yourself out of your stupor. “No no no, no fucking way am I going to get on that death trap! I’d rather walk there barefoot on hot stones before I subject myself to that contraption.”

He rolled his eyes into the back of his head and groaned. “Oh come on, I’ve been riding this thing forever. I’m a really good driver I swear.” He picked up the helmet behind him and got off the bike. When he walked toward you, he promptly lifted the hard shell of safety over your head and stuffed your head in it, gently fastening it tightly under your chin.

“M-Min… I don’t know about this…”

“Would you rather walk alone? It’s getting dark out and the place is pretty far. I’m sure we will be done and gone by the time you get there.” He grew that stupid smirk that you could see through the eye socket of the full-faced helmet.

“Fine, but my ghost will haunt you for eternity if you kill me.”

“I think I’ll take my chances.” He went to straddle the bike again and you hesitantly hopped on behind him. “Hold me tight.” You are flabbergasted when he daringly grabbed your hands and wrapped them around his waist. His leather jacket felt cold around your arms and your body pressed up against his back.

When you heard the motor start, you looped your fingers together to squeezed onto him for dear life and you felt him squirm in your grasp. “Geez, don’t fucking crush me!” He yelled over the sound of the motor, but you only let up a miniscule amount.

Your breathing accelerated as he kicked off and drove out of the lot. It was stupid really. You had experienced a lot more dangerous things than this. Maybe it was because you weren’t in control of the circumstances here. You were putting your full trust in this man and trust is something you were not accustomed to.

The ride was terrifying and exhilarating all the same. The wind whipping around your body and through your hair was an experience you have never felt before. Adrenaline ran through your veins and - it was hard to explain - but you felt... free. You couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up in your chest and you saw Minho slightly turn his head with a smile on his face. You threw your head back and let your mind ease itself of it's worries.

- - - - - - - - - -

It was about 11pm and you were currently singing ‘DDU-DU DDU-DU’ by Blackpink with Jeongin and Jisung, mostly laughing and stumbling into each other in attempts to dance. Normally you danced phenomenally, but at that moment, you were hammered enough to just let loose and flail your body in whichever direction fate had decided for you. The group was all laughing and taking videos of you three, but you didn’t care, you were lost in the moment.

When the next song came on, you slumped back onto your seat next to Minho on the long booth, circling around the small room to accommodate everyone around a couple tables. You felt hot from all of the dancing and laughter as your limbs and head laid limp against the seat. “Have fun?” Minho turned his gaze to you from where he was sitting by your side.

You let your head fall to the side from where it was leaned back against the head of the booth. The colorful and flashing lights flickered across his face, creating little dancing sparkles in his already gorgeous eyes. “Hell yeah, w’should do dis more offen.” Your drunken body leaned towards him and glared at the man. “Why didn’t y’look like y’were hav’n fun when I was *hiccup* singin’ and dancin’?” You bumped a tiny fist against his chest that somehow looked like it was getting closer. “You just sat there ‘n stared like y’hated me!” Your lower lip moved to jut out in a deep pout. You felt like you were sitting on a boat, waves rocking and wavering your movements.

He stared at you with a cheeky smile on his face for a moment. “Psh, I don’t hate anything, too much effort. I just wanted to watch you from behind.”

Now you weren’t sure if that phrase was misinterpreted in translation, or if you were just too drunk, but that definitely sounded pretty damn flirty. “You’re a teeease Minnie! Why’re all of y’guys sooo handsome? I feel like a nasty wart in th’group!” You twisted your eyebrows in confusion, already forgetting what just came out of your mouth.

He belted out a melodic laugh that made you swoon from your inebriation. “That’s sweet, but I wouldn’t say you’re quite like a wart. Maybe more of a mole.” He cackled when you shoved him over. “What?! A mole is more permanent!” You refused to let up your glower. Cheeky little asshole. “Kidding! Kidding! You’re gorgeous, little mouse.” His gaze was a little cloudy as well and you could see the indication of the five shots of soju everyone took on his red cheeks.

“Nooo y’r jus drunk ” You slurred out, poking your tongue out at him.

“Oh I’m the one who’s drunk?” He fully faced your staggering body in the booth to challenge you.

“Yeah!” You leaned forward, puffing your chest out to attempt intimidation. He let out a small chuckle and the both of you realized just how close you were as your eyes met each other. However, for some reason, neither of you moved away. Is the alcohol making us abandon all reason? You could've swore that his eyes had flit down to your lips, but you could’ve also imagined it. After all, you were a stupidly high level of plastered.

“Do... do you think you would wa–” Minho’s statement was cut off by a drunken Jisung sprawling his body over both of your laps.

“I looove y’guys sooo mush!” He was clinging onto Minho’s waist. “Wan’it t’always be like this…”

The two of you giggled. “Me too, Ji…” You smiled down at the quokka, but you refused to turn your attention back to Minho for the rest of the night.

- - - - - - - - - -

After a few months of you working and getting used to study sessions with Minho, the two of you had gotten extremely close. That also meant that you got extremely close with Jisung too, because those two men were just about attached at the hip. Minho was even comfortable enough now to hang out with you aside from classes and study sessions. However, the topic of the karaoke night was never brought up.

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were your days scheduled for your dance class, and Tuesdays and Thursdays were scheduled for your art class right before tutoring. This meant that, unless you spent the weekend holed up doing shit-all, you would see Minho every day. You didn’t necessarily mind it, but it did absolutely no help to quell the germinating feeling in your gut of pure tension any time the two of you were alone.

Dance classes were the hardest. Not the dancing of course, you loved the dancing, feeling your inhibitions fly out the window as you moved to the beat of the music. You revered the art of it. No, the burdensomeness of it came from your fiery-haired classmate that was a dance god .

Hyunjin wasn’t kidding when he said Minho was well ahead of the curve when it came to dance. During your long, late-night talks with Minho, he had said he had been dancing ever since the start of middle school and never stopped. Any chance he could - unless he was working at his job assisting the local performing art’s center as an intern, or hanging out with friends - he was dancing.

You could never fully focus in class as you watched his stupid graceful movements with his stupid unholy physique like he’s a fucking stupid dance statue from hell. The worst part is, when you had decided to be taken under his wing before all the tutoring crap was decided, he had taken to assisting you with your technique in dance on top of helping with your other classes.

First it was simple instruction, a little ‘higher’ here and a ‘more powerful’ there, no problem at all. Welcome even. That’s until he started physically guiding you. Small touches to fix your posture which then turned into lingering hands that were full-on spotting your moves. You didn’t protest. How could you? When his hands felt like god’s fucking homemade buttermilk and melted you down to the faux-wooden padded flooring.

“It needs to be more angular with your posture, but not stiff.” You had taken a day from your tutoring to go to the round-the-clock student accessible practice rooms. You thought it was a good idea to get ahead in your class in order to achieve your choreography dreams sooner. It all made sense on paper, but your fatal mistake was your choice of instructor.

Minho gently placed his hands on your shoulders - while you were frozen in your previous dance pose - and pushed them down to relax them (as if you could possibly relax). This was followed by him gently placing his solid hands lower. One on the lower dip of your back and the other on your abdomen as he straightened your posture. 

“You need to be able to feel the tension in your core.” He said, squeezing your abdominal muscles for emphasis. Trust me, I’m feeling the tension, you ungodly son of a bitch. You wondered if he knew what he’s doing to you. If he thought was fun making your breath hitch any time he touched you. Well two can play at that game, asshole.

You grabbed his forearm and held it in the proper position for the score, trying to look as unaffected as possible. “Should I roll my arm like this?” Your hand slowly glided up to rest on his shoulder. “Or should I just roll my shoulder back?” His mind looked staggered at your sudden boldness and a light pink dusted over his cheekbones. Your expression stayed utterly neutral. Pro move.

You looked at his lips twitch in an attempt to hold back a smile. “I think you should focus more on moving this.” He abruptly stood behind you and put a hand on your shoulder blade, pushing forward while holding your upper arm to roll back. The small stretch you felt from the pull brought a sensation of euphoria through your muscles. Embarrassingly, your mouth let out a small sigh of relief without warning.

“Feel good?” You heard him say in a low, husky voice, suspensefully closer to your ear. You felt stirring heat shoot straight to your lower abdomen. You could smell the pure sweat and testosterone oozing from his body and you felt like you could get high off of it with how lightheaded it was making you.

“Heh, yeah. Maybe I should have stretched more.” You found yourself leaning into the touch, not realizing the intimacy of it all. He started rubbing small circles with his thumb on your bare arm, still looming behind you like a predator. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

“Maybe we should call it quits for today.” You could feel his hands leave you and you wanted to cry from the loss of the delicious sensation. “Let’s go eat.” You internally fumed at the feline, feeling like he was just playing with his food. Stupid cat.

- - - - - - - - - -

On Saturday after your shift, it was around eight at night and you were more than happy to get home and get in an early sleep. However, when you gently opened the door to your flat, your eyes were scarred beyond repair. Chan and some random girl - as naked as the day they were born - were sucking face on the couch. They obviously hadn’t heard you enter because the chick was still riding Chan’s dick like her life depended on it. Your cheeks flushed with unparalleled embarrassment and you immediately turned around and gently shut the door behind you. You would rather sleep anywhere else than interrupt that mess.

You shivered slightly from the cooling weather (and partly from what you just witnessed) and thought of where you could go. Jisung and Jeongin shared a room in the university dorms as well as Changbin and Hyunjin. Seungmin still lived with his parents so that only left Minho. Of fucking course. Why does it have to be Minho? You groaned as you pulled out your phone.

“What's up?” Minho mumbled on the other line sounding like he’s eating something.

“Hey, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“If it involves heights, it's a hard pass.”

“No I nee– wait, you’re afraid of heights? Awww what an adorable little kitty.” You mockingly cooed at him.

“Yeah yeah, I’m a scaredy cat, I get it, I get it. What’s the favor?” You heard him take another bite.

“Well, I just witnessed the most horrifying scene I’ve ever seen in my life. I don’t think I’ll be able to burn it out of my memory for as long as I live.” You knew you were being dramatic, but this particular occasion called for it.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Worry colored his voice and your heart swelled. Damn you, don’t be sweet to me.

You lightly chuckled. “It depends on what you classify as being ‘okay’. I just found Chan and some chick butt-ass naked on our couch fucking their brains out.”

“Awh nasty, not cool, hyung.” There was the faded voice of Jisung in the background saying ‘hell yeah, get it hyung!’

Your heart sank. “Oh shoot, you have Ji over, sorry! I’ll just ask someone else.”

“Wait–” He halted you, slightly choking on the food he was swallowing. “What did you need?”

You sighed dejectedly. “I was trying to find a different place to sleep tonight and you’re the only person who has a couch I can crash on.”

“Well Ji was just about to leave, actually.” You could hear a faint ‘No I was n–’ and a thud, followed by an ‘ow!’. For your own sanity, you pretended you didn’t notice the background exchange so your brain wouldn’t break from over processing.

“I don’t want to impose.” You said politely, only half meaning it because, let’s be real, you were really desperate.

“No imposition at all, come on over. I even have a spare toothbrush if you want it.”

Before you knew it you had already started walking. “You’re a fucking saint, I owe you Min. Just text me the address.”

Luckily, the bus stop next to your condo was a direct line to Minho’s apartment. You knew you had the right building when you saw his bike parked in the lot next to the complex. You knocked on the door tentatively, hoping it was the right flat and you heard rustling on the other side. Once the door swung open, you were met with a disheveled and panting Jisung.

“Do I want to know why you look utterly fucked out?”

Minho blushed as he walked up, looking the same as Jisung. “I just had Ji help me clean up real quick, my flat was a landfill.”

“Dude, I’m the one that’s barging in at nine at night. I already feel bad enough springing this on you, let alone subjecting you two to last minute spring cleaning.” You stepped inside as they gestured for you to come in.

“Like I said before, it’s no problem.” Minho looked down at you with a contagious smile.

“Well I really need to get home and do… things? Dishes? Yeah, dishes. See you guys later!” And with that, Jisung was out the door and it was just you and Minho. Shit this was a bad idea. Your stomach turned with nervousness. You’d been alone with him before, but you felt a lot more tense when you were alone with him in his private living space.

“Want something to drink? I have… water and… water? *heh* Oh! And gin.” He started walking toward the kitchen.

“Ew, who the fuck drinks gin?” 

He shrugged. “No one, but I have it nonetheless.”

You sauntered inside behind him and took in your surroundings. One bedroom and one bathroom on the wall on your right, and the space that stretched out on your left first held a kitchen. Small, but big enough to have counter space and an island. The far wall had two small windows with a TV setting between them, sitting atop a simple, long coffee table. The couch stood a few feet from the island behind it, leaving just enough room between the TV and the couch and couch to the island to squeeze through comfortably.

Overall, it was probably only slightly larger than your apartment in Australia. “Why the hell not, I need my mind to escape Chan’s fucked out image from my head anyway.”

“A well deserved reason.”

“By the way, where are your cats? I wanted to meet them!” You walked over and took a seat on the couch, searching for them as Minho brought over two glasses of ice and a large bottle of Tanqueray.

“Back at home in Gimpo, I can't afford a place big enough for them yet.” You silently nodded your head, slightly sad you wouldn’t get to meet them. “Maybe I can take you there some time to meet them, mom’s a really good cook.” Your mind went haywire and as you looked over, his expression is extremely blasé. Calm the fuck down, your just like any of the rest of the guys in the group, no need to make it weird.

After the drinks started flowing and you two conversated about shit-all on the couch, you started to get less tense. “Uhk this stuff is disgusting, but I think I’m starting to get used to it.” You took another gulp of gin with a disgusted face.

“No shit Sherlock, that’s your third– no, fourth glass tonight.” There was that melodic laugh again that made warmth shoot up your spine.

“Well you’re not any better, you thirsty little kitty!” You coo at him and pinched his cheek that was reddening to match his ears. He didn’t protest like you thought he would though, he just froze and stared into your eyes with a fond expression. Your heart started beating fast and the nice, air conditioned apartment started feeling extremely hot.

The moment of silence made you clear your throat before speaking. “So, um, your apartment… it’s really nice.”

“Heh, yeah right, this place is a shithole. I’m just living here so I can save money.”

“No really!” You flushed from your suddenly loud outburst. “This place is ten times better than the flat I lived in back in Australia, and that was a one bed, one bath too.”

“One bedroom? Did you share the room with your parents?” He looked dumbfounded.

“Ew, GOD NO. I slept on the couch most nights. Some nights I would just go to Chan’s when my parents needed me gone for a day or two.”

“Needed you gone?” His expression turned from dumbfounded, to outright bewildered. This was when you realized that the alcohol had gotten to the point again where your mouth would blab out words without allowing you think about them first.

“Oh… yeah… But that’s why I don’t mind a night away from my flat, sleeping on the couch is no stranger to me.” You chuckled and tried to sound lighthearted to relieve the tension in the air, to no avail. His face fell. Shit, you let too much slip again.

He stared at you with two black pools of eyes, holding galaxies in each one. His expression was indiscernible. The air was knocked from your lungs while looking at his gorgeous face, flushed with alcohol. His eyes sank down to your lips just like last time during karaoke, but this time, they lingered there. Your eyes flit to his too, taking in his plump bottom lip, overlapped with the steep incline of his upper lip that tapered up to two round peaks at the center.

You wanted to blame the alcohol, the lack of sleep, the hard day’s work, anything. But really you just wanted to see what he tasted like, felt like. Apparently he had the same thoughts as your lips gently collided with one another with just a whisper of a kiss. It was sweet, humble really. Until it wasn’t. 

Once his hand reached up to cup your face, you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. You flung your arms around his neck, one hand running through his fiery hair, and the other caressing his back. You could feel the hand on your cheek slide its way down to your neck as his other hand took purchase on your waist. His tongue sneaked out to gently seek out your bottom lip and you eagerly allowed its entrance, exploring and tasting each other’s mouths freely. He tasted like alcohol and something sweet that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He smelt like heaven with his earthy and citrus scent as you felt fire run down your abdomen and both of your breaths started to get heavy. 

You pressed closer to him, chests touching and bodies turned to face each other on the couch, knees interlocking. The kiss started to get hungrier as you ran your fingers through his hair, giving soft little tugs. His hands traveled from your waist to your hips, feeling his fingers on your skin where your shirt was riding up. His hands felt like fire and you relished in the intoxicating sensation.

You had abandoned all better judgment when you sat up to straddle Minho, lips never breaking contact. Your kisses began to get sloppy and he groaned as he moved from your lips to your jaw, to your ear, and to your neck. Oh god, yes. You gasped at the light sucking you felt on your pulse point. You instinctively pulled yourself closer, wanting more, needing more, moving from his lap to being flush against him. Also flush against… something else…

You were probably soaking in your panties as you felt the bulge beneath his jeans. Against all reason, your body naturally grinded against it. Both of you moaned in tandem and your head flew back in ecstasy, giving him better access to your neck. His gentle sucking turned into wet, open-mouthed kisses that trailed further and further down. 

You knew that you should probably stop, but it all felt too delectable to even consider that. Your nerves were vibrating from the feeling of his tongue and hands against you. You wanted to feel him everywhere. You couldn’t find the will to stop grinding your sensitive clit over his erection, making you ever wetter and the bulge ever harder. The both of you were a panting mess and the sounds of obscene moans filled the room as you grinded faster. “M-Min–” You could start to feel the warmth of his hands travel up your back under your shirt and you keened . “M-more…” You could feel his shaky hands act upon your whispered words as he started to fumble with the clasp of your bra…

The loud sound of the vibration of your phone on the table made the both of you jump and look at each other in realization of your current position. You flew off of his lap as if he were made of fire and looked at your phone. Chan .

“Oh fuck, he’s probably wondering where I’m at.” You ran your hand through your disheveled hair.

“O-oh y-yeah… go ahead, I’ll, um… I’ll go get some things together for you...” Minho stumbled into his room and closed the door in a rush.

You took a shaky breath and pressed your palm to the beading sweat on your forehead. It took a second for you to collect yourself and answer. “H-hey Channie.”

“Where the fuck are you? I’ve been worried sick!” He sounded mad, but you knew it was just because he had been overthinking your safety again.

“I’m at Min’s place, I… um… saw that you had someone over so I’m staying with him for tonight.” Silence followed.

Followed by more silence.

“Hello–?” You’d wondered if you lost connection.

“What did you… *ahem* see exactly?” He sounded terrified.

“Oh nothing much…” A sigh of relief from the other end. “Just your disgusting naked ass on our couch with some chick riding your dick like she was late on her rent.” You stated matter-of-factly, knowing he was probably dying on the inside.

“Noooo, fuck! Shit, Kiyomi, I’m so sorr–”

“Please, Chan, it’s fine. Having roommates doesn’t mean you have to hold back on getting your dick wet.”

“Ew.”

“Don’t ‘ew’ me! Your not the one who had to see your best friend fucking on your damn sofa! Which, by the way, gross . I expect you to disinfect that thing immediately.”

“I know hun, I’m sorry… I didn’t mea–” He sounded absolutely ashamed of himself.

“I know, I know. It’s done with, just fuck on your own bed in the future please?” You rolled your eyes even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

“Of course, Kiyomi. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“Damn straight you will.”

“So are you coming home now or staying there?” He sounded apprehensive and the previous actions between you and Minho flit through your mind.

“Chan, it’s like, what, eleven at night? No way I’m going home at this hour.” You said as you looked at the time on your phone.

“Yeah, you do sound pretty exhausted.”

“Work and drinking a fifth a bottle of gin will do that to you. Gross, I know.” You obviously hadn’t completely sobered up yet either because you had no idea why you said that.

“Wait, the two of you are drinking?” He started to sound like a riled up father-figure. Why were you not surprised?

“Calm down Chan. It’s Min we’re talking about here, he’s fine.” More than fine. Wait. Stop thinking these things stupid fucking brain!

“Yeah I guess you’re right, just make sure you’re getting plenty of sleep okay?”

“Okay.”

“And don’t forget to drink plenty of water and brush your teeth.”

“Okay! Okay! I get it mom .” You muttered at him with a condescending tone.

“Good… Well… love you sis. I’ll see you tomorrow, kay?”

“Kay, love you too. G’night Channie.”

“Good night little Kiyomi.” You smiled to yourself as the call ended, heart warmed with affection for your best friend.

You were dragged back down to reality as you heard a small clearing of a throat behind you. You braced yourself for the worst as you turned around to face him. He was holding a towel, some clothes, and a toothbrush stacked in a neat pile.

“Everything cool?” He mustered up the courage to talk.

“Yeah, I told him to clean up whatever…” You shivered in disgust.”... mess they made and now he owes me.” You said with a smug smile. You walked up and grabbed the stack of items in his hands. “Thanks.” You tried to make a beeline for the shower but he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, um, sorry about… earlier… I think we both just had too much to drink.” He chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his neck. “I really hope things won’t be weird between us now.” Your heart ached with these words, wanting to erase any uncertain feelings.

“Of course it’ll be weird. But we are always weird so it comes with the territory right?” You joked to try and ease the tension. He still locked eyes with you with a nervous expression. You sighed and put a friendly hand on his own that was still placed on your shoulder, making him go rigid. “Don’t worry Min. We’re friends, no drunken mistake is going to change that.” Mistake, that’s all it was, a mistake. You internally tried to drill that into your brain. “It’s only weird if we make it weird, right?”

You felt him physically relax under your hand. “Right…”

“Cool, I'm go gonna get ready for bed and use all of your hot water. Good night!” You said with a convincing lilt of your voice.

“Heh, good night little mouse.” You could feel your face flush and you quickly turned to lock yourself in the bathroom before he saw.

You took an almost painfully hot shower and attempt to overpower the heat in between your legs as your mind unintentionally floated back on yours and Minho’s… encounter earlier. You tried to escape the thoughts as you got changed into Minho’s clothes. You tried to escape the thoughts as you brushed your teeth. You tried to escape them as you walked out to fall asleep on the couch. It was almost working, until you rounded the back of the couch to be met with the beautiful, fiery haired man that had been plaguing your mind, clad in nothing but some tattered sweatpants and sprawled along the length of the sofa.

You, once again, stared in awe at his beautiful naked and sculpted torso and had to shake yourself back to reality. “What’re you doing, Minnie? I want to go to sleeeeep.” You whined and nudged the arm that was holding his phone up to his face.

His eyes flicked over to his clothes that you’re wearing and then back at his phone as he responded. “You’re not sleeping on any damn couch ever again. Take the bed, the sheets are clean.”

You got slightly annoyed. “Damnit Minho, I told you that I’m perfectly fine with the couch. Now move your ass!”

He glared back at you. “Make me.”

Make him? God, he was being such a child. You played his little game and grabbed him by his ankles to swing them off the couch, but he didn’t budge an inch. You could see his thigh muscles clench beneath his pants so he could plant himself into the cushions. “Ugh! Minho!” You sat on top of him and tried to squeeze your butt in between Minho and the back of the couch, attempting to roll him off of it. He started laughing heartily at your struggling attempts.

“Tsk, you’re so stubborn.” You heard him mutter before he rolled out from under you and grabbed your wrists. Before you knew it, he was hiking you up over his shoulder like a ragdoll and carried you to the bedroom.

“Minho! What the hell?!” You threw tiny fists at his back but couldn’t stop the giggles that were bubbling up in your chest. You suddenly felt that same warmth in between your legs at the prospect of being manhandled as he pulled back the covers and threw you on the bed, wrapping you tightly into the sheets.

“Stay.” He pointed at you like an owner training his dog. You glared and poked your tongue out at him. Seeing as you weren’t trying to get up, he smiled. “Good girl.” A shiver wrecked your body from hearing the words. Go straight to hell, Lee Minho . He proudly walked out the door and gently shut it behind him, leaving you alone in the darkness, buried in his scent.

- - - - - - - - - -

Fortunately, things weren’t super awkward between the two of you after that. Yes there were times where physical contact was followed by blushing faces and study sessions where the two of you were alone seemed a bit... tense. But other than that, everything was completely fine. More than fine actually. And it seemed Chan had noticed as well.

“What’s going on between you and Minho?” The two of you were snuggled up under the blankets on the couch one Monday before bed, watching a classic anime you both loved when Chan questioned you out of the blue.

“W-what do you mean?” You nervously chuckled, being thrown completely off guard.

“I mean that you two seem to be getting pretty close lately.” He eyed you suspiciously.

“Channie.” You laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’ve already told you, you don’t have to be jealous, hun. You will forever be the top spot amongst my friends.” You exaggerated your consolation.

He rolled his eyes at you and shrugged off your hand. “That’s not what I mean, Kiyomi. You two just…” You looked at him more intensely, scanning his features for a hint at what was going through his mind. “...I mean, okay. For example, he told me he was worried about you and your family situation. He obviously means something more to you if you are telling him about that shit.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “He said that?” He nodded in a demeanor that screamed ‘well duh’. “You didn’t tell him anything did you?”

“No, he didn’t ask.”

“Good.” You replied immediately. “I might have told him about my ‘couch’ situation growing up due to idle chatter and a dizzying amount of alcohol, but that’s it. I don’t ever want our friends to know more than that. I’d rather that life be dead and gone.” He sighed and held your hand.

“I know, hun. I know. I just want to protect you. I trust all of our friends unconditionally, so when it comes to anyone else, I don’t think you are quite ready for any… commitments yet. I don’t want you to feel backed into a corner ever again.”

You pulled your hand from his grasp. “What do you mean commitments?”

He looked at you like you had taken away his puppy. “I- I just mean I don’t think you’re ready for any kind of relationshi–”

“Channie, please. I know what I am and am not ready for. Are you seriously telling me not to date?” You huffed and looked away with a disbelieving smile.

He glowered at you and his voice became more stern. “No, I’m just saying that you shouldn’t tread in unknown waters. People are dangerous–”

“Oh please, drop the whole ‘father figure’ act, Chan. I can protect myself.” You started to feel hot steam rise up in your ears, ready to burst.

“Y/N, you are defenseless when I’m not with you and are nowhere near experienced enough to make that judgme–” His harsh voice popped your self control like a bubble.

“Oh, inexperienced because I’m a virgin? Or defenseless because I was almost raped? Which one is it Chan? Because as I see it, I am still older than you. My ‘defense’ comes from my willingness to attack a fully grown drug dealer and my ‘experience’ comes from years of hard work and intuition. Not just from getting someone's dick shoved in me, not Minho’s or whoever the fuck else’s you think I’m slutting around for.” You felt hot tears run down your face that you quickly wiped away. “Stop trying to baby me, Chan. If I want to date, I’m going to date. If I want to fuck around, I will fuck around. Whatever it is, it’s none of your goddamn business!”

You stood up and marched to your room. “Y/N, get back h–!” You slammed your door behind you before he could get in another word. You were fuming. Why did he always have to act like he was the big brother? Why in the world should your love life be dictated by what your past experiences were? And why the fuck did he have to bring Minho into that conclusion?

An image flashed through your mind as if to answer that last question. An image that was completely unwelcome while you were this heated and riled up. An image consisting of you and said redhead drunkenly grinding on his couch in your sploosh-drenched panties. All other thought processes flew out of your mind like dandelion seeds as more obscene images continued to invade your thoughts. You shook your head to try and get rid of them, although they were definitely more welcome than the encounter you just had with Chan. 

You decided to start up a hot bath in hopes of relaxing all of the tension buzzing around in your body. However, as you sunk into the much needed seamy pool of water, your mind drifted back to Minho. Why was he so infuriating? It’s my mind, I should at least have control over that. He had no right to make himself a home there, rent free even! You huffed in annoyance and closed your eyes, trying to think of the sudsy water surrounding you. 

You tried to meditate on your slow, controlled breaths. Listening to the foam of the bubbles dissipating in little crackling noises. Feel the warmth of the water encasing your legs, thighs, hips. Hips . His hands were even hotter than the water you were currently soaking in. The hands that ran over your neck, your waist, your hips, and under your shirt up your back.

Fucking Chan. If only Chan hadn’t called, you would finally find out what Minho felt like in other areas. You subconsciously dipped your hand down to your aching core, flicking the pad of your thumb over the sensitive bead of your clit. You let yourself be swallowed by pleasure as you felt your mind wander. Fuck it.

Could he have been thinking of going further too? He had been working on your bra, so you had a pretty good guess as to where it was leading. Your unoccupied hand snaked up your torso to rest on your breast, tweaking the red bud at the tip and rolling it between your fingers. You let out a long sigh. His hands would have held them so much better than you could. The rubbing on your clit took you back to the feeling of you grinding it against his rock-hard bulge. You added a bit more pressure to your efforts and let your imagination run rampant.

You envisioned yourself being pressed against his silky sheets and imagined being touched where you most wanted him. You let the finger that was circling your clit glide down in between your folds. You moaned as you entered yourself, imagining all the while that it was him entering you, curving right up into your sweet spot. Staring down at you with that intimidating gaze and those long, dark eyelashes that fanned over his cheeks. Drinking in your moans as if to quench his undying thirst. Ramming hard into you faster and faster and faster until you were cumming. And you were cumming. 

Your body went rigid through your orgasm, then completely limped overall as you came down from your high. You could call it ‘post-nut clarity’ or whatever, but you wanted Minho. You wanted one of your close friends more than you’ve ever wanted anyone. And that scared the shit out of you.

- - - - - - - - - -

It was a few days after your’s and Chan’s fight and you still refused to discuss it with him. You knew it was childish, but you were too proud to say anything until he apologized. So here you sat, completely devoid of all emotions in your art class next to Lee Minho, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

It was Thursday and the two of you had finished your individual assignments, yours being a self portrait and his being an abomination of a drawing of a cat. Or as he liked to call it ‘Lee-caso’s latest and greatest masterpiece’. The professor bathed the room in darkness as she projected a film of some sort of historical piece of art or whatever, and you could see Minho lean into you from your peripheral vision.

“Hey little mouse.” A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the blow of the warm whisper coming from his lips.

You leaned in closer as well, keeping your head facing forward so as to not arouse suspicion from the professor (and so you wouldn’t have to face him at this proximity). “You know you sound extremely creepy when you say that? Especially while whispering?”

He chuckled and you could swear you could hear a darkness behind it. You stiffened as he leaned in even closer. “Would you rather me whisper something else, Kiyomi?” Fuck… Shut the fucking fuck up… fucker.

White hot pumping started to feel painfully evident in your veins and you felt your ears burning bright red, hoping he, and Jeongin across the table, wouldn't notice. You jabbed your elbow at him in annoyance. “What do you want, Min?”

“I just wondered if you were going to Seungmin’s new place tomorrow night? I know you’re not working and he wanted us all to stay the night and get shit-faced to celebrate the liberation from his parents.”

You tore your gaze from the front of the room to face him, suffocatingly close. “A-all of us are going?” 

He flashed a crooked smile at you. “Yeah, you in?”

For some stupid ass reason your stomach was doing somersaults and you wanted to dunk your head in an ice bath from how heated you were. Why the fuck did this infuriating, beautiful piece of meat affect you so much? Stupid piece of meat.

You knew it wasn't not his fault, not really. He was only being himself, even if it wasn't at all fair that his natural self looked like a goddamn masterpiece every time you saw him. “For sure, I could definitely go for a little inebriation right now.” More than a little really.

“Cool, I’ll let him know. Oh, and you won’t see me for tutoring today or in class tomorrow ‘cause I have plans and an appointment during those times.”

“Oh, okay cool, what appointme–” You were cut off by the flickering of the lights being switched on and the professor announcing the dismissal of class.

“See you at Seungmin’s, Kiyomi.” Minho pinched your cheek briefly and jet straight out of class without another word. You cursed at yourself when even that tiniest touch affected you.

“You okay, noona? You’re looking kind of red.” You had an internal breakdown from Jeongin’s observation.

“Nah I’m fine, Innie. Just kind of hot in here.” Thankfully he just nodded his head and walked with you out of class. Whew, dodged that bullet.

That tutorless night was filled with you locking yourself in your room, away from Chan.

_________________________________________

Click here for Part Two

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

#lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #minho smut #kpop smut #stray kids smut #kpop imagines #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #lee know x female reader

[pastelracha]

BUFF BABY

☾ Title : BUFF BABY 

☾ REBLOG/FEED BACK IS ALWAYS ENCOURAGE 

☾ Pairing: Changbin x fem!reader

☾ Genre: MINORS DNI , smut, friends/idiots to lovers.

☾ Prompt: College smutty Changbin with glasses and yeah I'm weak ok.  

☾ A/N:  the one is on RACHALOG and bin’s look in it still f’ed me up to this point, lovely mention to @kookthief & @baekhyyun for proofreading my messing mind, and the lovely @uwuheeseungie​ asked me to be tagged but I can’t find it so here we go, don’t forget to give me your feed back guys, and please interact with the reactions/ scenarios I post thanks xox

☾ Word Count: ~4.4K

masterlist | ask or request

College life was hard as a musical engineer, thank God someone decided to send you an adorable looking buff junior named Seo Changbin, a scary looking guy whenever he wasn’t smiling, but with a heart of gold.

The man was always wearing black, but his glasses made him look like a small puppy.

Chan was your best friend in college, and he always attracts younger friends in your group and changbin was one of them.

The first time he told you he needed to meet changbin and jisung at the gym you couldn’t say you were shocked, changbin surely got his huge muscular arms from somewhere. But he always seems so shy and uncomfortable with girls asking him about it.

Changbin was a normal guy, loving music and going to the gym. He wasn’t really here to impress people; he was just doing what he loved and lived for a healthy life in college. He was intimidating but also looking really cute with his black glasses almost like he trademarks the boyfriend look. His backpack always hanging on his left shoulder, huge, oversized hoodies in the autumn and nice fitting shirts in summer, and his curly hair falling on his forehead, Seo Changbin was the cliché of college boyfriend.

Your senior year wasn’t going easy on you, exams on exams. And changbin (even if you never wanted to admit it) was the sunshine in your college life, always bringing you iced americano or one of your favorite pastries. Seo Changbin was probably your caffeine getting you through your college life.

“Noona !!!” Jeongin was running straight to you with two iced americanos in his hands. Yang Jeongin was the cutest first-year student, his fennec fox features and his smile always running on his lips. “Noona, here is your daily coffee, and your daily dose of your favorite cutie — aka ME”.

“Well hello mister Yang, thanks for the caffeine I really needed that” you started looking at an unmotivated Kim Seungmin. “Minnie you good?” You asked out of concern.

“If you think having 3 exams on the same day, a failing group project cause people in my philosophy class are rich lazy assholes and the fact Minho won’t stop cooking with ‘Lix until like 3 and half a.m. last night... I guess I’m good y/n”.

Ok... Seungmin was probably in the top 3 of drama queens of the group, Hyunjin having the first place, but Seungmin was running close. “Welcome to college life.”

“And I didn’t even tell you about my shifts at the cafe.” he said, side eyeing the youngest guy. “It’s not my problem that every girl in my classes thinks I’m the cutest kid they've ever seen,” said Jeongin.

You giggle watching the two youngest members of your friend group.

“Speaking of Minho, he said you cost too much of free americano and he thinks he wants to make you pay now,” said a laughing Seungmin.

Lee Minho, you chuckled.

“Well, he needs to remember who feeds his babies when he doesn’t have time.”

—-

Friday nights were the one time everything seems to be relaxing in this life.

Minho closes the cafe at 6pm so the 9 of you could use the space for bad karaoke night, pool games and other stuff.

And here you were sitting at the bar with yet another iced americano watching Hyunjin, Jisung, Minho and Chan playing poker.

“Noona, can you give me a glass of iced ice?” Smirk Minho, his eyes still on his cards.

“Sure for 2000 won, Lee Minho”.

His cards dropped on the pool table, looking you straight in the eyes as if you were still wearing your grudge custom from last Halloween. “I mean that is what you get for making me pay for my coffee addiction.” you retorted, smiling to his Binnie like features.

“Wooow burn.” Laughed Chan at his younger friend.

“Shut up Bahng, or you’ll also pay for all the pastries you eat for free here”.

At that Chan stopped laughing, pursing his lips and scratching his nose.

“Sorry I'm late guys ... but Mrs Kim seems to be an ass as spring is coming”.

Changbin came into the cafe, looking like he had been running from the campus to here — a simple 7-minute walk. His hair got fluffier with his run, a sheer layer of sweat making his glasses sliding on his nose. He smiled at you as he put his bag on the floor next to some of yours.

“y/n noona, hi.” He said sweetly and waved at the rest of the guys.

“Yah Seo Changbin, where is my kiss?” Teased Jisung. His only response was the middle finger from the older guy.

He sat at the bar watching you serving a glass of tea for Minho, while talking with Jeongin.

You poured another for him, giving him the drink before going to serve your other friend at the table winning the poker game.

You couldn’t help but eye the muscular friend dressed in full black sitting next to the youngest kid in your group, Changbin seems to look more attractive as the days pass. His muscles getting more defined, his chest getting bigger, and you were sure he could break a watermelon with these thighs. And damn how you wish he could place you a headlock — weird but his arms are screaming how good they would look around your neck.

Every person in the room was totally on the top 10 most attractive people, but there is one thing about Changbin you couldn’t describe.  

But the way his black glasses were framing his face, the way his smile was always creeping on his lips when you were close to his body. Yet how cold his look turned when another male was watching you, and how his aura got menacing in the same second.

—-

Friday nights were also Changbin's favourite time of the week, even if his last lecture finished at 5.30pm because Mister Kim was an asshole and apparently Beethoven was far more interesting than Changbin’s crush on you for the professor. It was his longest lesson, and he was sure of it.

But now that he was playing pool with Minho, Felix and Jeongin, he could flex his skills and muscles just to impress you who’s not sitting so far.

“y/n you should really stop vaping you know it’s not good.” warned Chan looking at you with his disappointing dad look.

“I know Chris but you know, college life isn’t what we all expected and this is my way of coping with it.” you said, taking your vaping pen between your lips... and damn Changbin wished it could be one of his fingers and not that stupid thing laying between your pillowy lips.

“Excuse y’all music thingy future producers and shit but I’ll let you know I have an exhibition in 3 weeks and my teacher is going insane as if it’s her going to expose her paintings ... if she wasn’t already.” Hyunjin sighed, re-doing his bun.

“Sorry your majesty Hwang.” Changbin laughed, looking at his friend.

“How about we don’t talk about our classes and enjoy this night?” Chan stopped everybody. “And I order some food?”

After you all agreed on tteokbokki and fried chicken, the guys started another pool game flexing their skills with cue sticks. Minho tried to distract every one of his friends so he could win the game, crouching next to the table making weird faces to his friends.

You feel so at ease watching them playing, speaking and just doing the usual Friday night activities. “y/n?”

You looked up to find Changbin looking at you with concern in his eyes, his hand on your shoulder. “Food arrived, but you seemed in your own world.” he smiled. You nodded following him to the tables Minho arranged so the 9 of you could fit in.

You watched around you, sitting between Felix and Seungmin with Changbin sitting in front of you, eating his rice cakes. You felt at ease right now, no one was really talking, too focused on food.

—-

Changbin was determined to teach you how to play pool for years and tonight was the night.

“Let me help you noona.” you felt his chest colliding with your back, his arms caging you between his body and the table, his hands covering yours on the stick, and his perfume flowing around you.

You were used to flirting with him but more in a teasing way, having him right here covering your figure with his whole body was something else. You could feel the rush of red and pink running on your cheeks and ears.

His breath was hitting your ear when he was telling you what to do. “Move your back just a little and softly hit the ball.”

It’s almost as if you could touch the tension between your two bodies.

“Bin you're supposed to teach her, not make her a tomato dude!” Seungmin giggled.

He stopped moving, his hard chest hovering on your back. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

You just shook your head, finding an excuse about how bad you were with this game. This moment was surely gonna feed your next wet dreams for weeks. Changbin being the main protagonist.

He moved from your body letting you breathe better, going to sip on his beer. “So, Bin,how is it going with Mi Na?”

Song Mi Na, she shares classes with Changbin, and the boys have been teasing the guy with this girl who has been obsessed with him since they shared a project.

Changbin sighed before looking in your direction, hoping to see a reaction from you.

You know better than to show any signs of jealousy for this girl.

“She signed up to the gym— no Chan, it's not funny! She won’t let me live; I swear she even sent food to the apartment yesterday. Jisung ate it”.

The poor girl has been following Changbin like a lost puppy since that project. Giving you side eyes whenever you sit next to Changbin in the cafeteria.

It was funny to see to be honest, for the rest of the guys it was a comedy show direct live.

The side eyes Changbin gives to any guys trying to flirt with you, putting one hand on your back or shoulder. His dark aura gives them a tough time, and Mi Na tries to do everything to get his attention but fails every time.

“The poor girl seems to really like you though,” laughed Felix.

You listened to the conversation, knowing that Changbin seems to be harder with any other guys that tried to flirt with you. Since that night 3 weeks ago when you two shared a drunken kiss at a Wooyoung party.

You two only had a hot make out session in a bathroom, but nothing more since that day.

You couldn’t help but watch him, holding his glass to his lips, drinking the beverage.

You sighed giving up on playing pool for tonight, if you were honest right now you wanted to lay in your bathtub with cheap soju in a wine glass.

Hearing the boys talking about their last hook up and about Mi Na wasn’t your cup of tea.

“Noona, we're gonna play another round of poker, wanna play?” Jisung offered.

“As much as playing stripped poker tempts me so badly, I don’t know how to play and after pool I decided I’m giving up on playing anything but Mario kart with you.”

“Next week noona, pizza and Mario Kart!” Jeongin said.

“Deal Innie” you smiled looking at the kid, Jeongin was like a baby brother to you, during the first few weeks he seemed so lost in the huge college and you decided to take him under your wing, just like you did with the 2000’s liners last year. Your soft spot for the kid was transparent for everyone, everybody knowing Jeongin was like a teddy bear you kept in your backpack.

Changbin couldn’t take his eyes off you, during that exact same time, watching interact with Jeongin was making you look so soft and adorable. Giving your full attention to the youngest one, as if nobody was around in the room, just giving him your full attention.

A small smile finding home on his lips, he looks at you like you were home to him. Chan was also looking at the two of you wishing any of you would confess to the other if he was asked, he would say he was tired of looking at you both flirting with each other but not doing anything else. He was tired of listening to drunk Changbin rambling about how perfect you were every other weekend.

For the love of God just tell her Seo Changbin - he was thinking.

“y/n sleepover tonight?” Asked Chan, and he saw Changbin eyes sparkling with little stars, hoping you would say yes.

“Only if you promise we work on this project and not watch Deadpool for the hundredth time.” You retorted.

—-

This is how you find yourself in Binchan's apartment at 2 am still working on this music thing with CB97, in full producing mode with a Red Bull next to you.

Wearing one of the old Changbin shirts you left in their home and some shorts you always kept in your bag.

Chan was drinking a milkshake trying to stay awake.

Changbin was sitting on the floor right in front of the couch where the two of you were working, playing Gran Turismo 7.

He was listening to your conversation with his best friend. How you all needed to make a ballad to pass this project and get stuck on lyrics. He also chose a musical course, but as he was the year before, your classes were not really the same.

“How about you write a ballad about a burger instead of a lover?” He asked jokingly.

“Bin we all know food is your number one, but I think Miss Kang will kill us if we do a cheeseburger, you are my loveeer~” said Chan sighing to his best friend.

Changbin raised his shoulders, continuing his game. Mumbling about how cheeseburger wasn’t not his favorite burger and how his friend should have known better.

“Are you sure you guys aren’t married at this point?” You asked giggling.

“Christopher, let's make out to show your friend here, we’re indeed an old married couple with 6 children.” said Changbin, who placed a  hand on Chan’s thigh, making kissing noises.

You were sure none of your friends couldn’t be serious for more than 3 minutes max.

Changbin finally looked in your direction, winking at you, laughing at the same time.

This, ladies and gentlemen, was your crush, and you couldn’t be sure about it. Cause you were the same.

It's been 3 hours since you gave up on working on this project, Chan laying on the carpet sleeping like a baby, a little drool running on his chin, you were laying on the couch, a leg on the back of the said couch. Your hair going crazy on top of your head.

Changbin woke up feeling thirsty, when he saw you, he took the duvet from the loveseat to cover you.

“Bin?” You asked, your voice groggy and full of sleep. “What time is it?”

He ran his hand into your hair, smiling at you “A little past seven love— sleep some more”.

You look at him, his face a bit swollen with sleep, his glasses laying on his nose, and his hair messier than ever. Making him look so beautiful and lovable. “Changbin?” You asked unsure.

He nodded looking at you, his eyes glowing so much behind his glasses, you could feel his breath hitting your cheek. His eyes were moving between your lips and eyes. “Tell me not to kiss you y/n.”

You didn’t say anything, just watching his kissable lips. Your tongue wetting your lips. “Tell me not to—“

You cut him off, taking his lower lip between yours.

Morning breath was one of your biggest turn offs, but Seo Changbin didn’t have any of that. You both totally forgot about your best friend snoring on the ground.

The kiss wasn’t long or anything, it was a soft and timid kiss. “I don’t want you to stop” you mumbled “Have been thinking about this since that night” you confessed.

His hand holding your cheek, his fingers caressing behind your ear. His forehead against yours. “Noona, you can’t do that to my heart.” he said softly.

“Nnnhg!!!” You both jumped at your friend and turned to look at Chan still sleeping peacefully. His arm laying on his face.

You both laughed, thanks Chan for cutting the moment.

“We should not kiss with him sleeping here.” Chuckled Changbin. You nodded, your faces were still close, the tension was still here.

“But I really want to kiss you and do ... other things.'' he confessed. “D-do you want it too?”

You kiss his cheek, jaw, your lips finding home on his collar bone.

Your hand running on his naked chest, feeling every of his muscles under the skin. He took your kisses as a yes, taking your hand into his, leading you to his room to not disturb a sleeping Chan— which was a miracle.

—-

His hands were running your side feeling the skin underneath the skin, you were a little smaller than him.

Changbin couldn’t believe it was happening, right now in his home, you in one of his old shirts, it was screaming ‘HIS, HIS’

He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact you wanted it as much as him, your hand tugging the baby hair at his nape. “Kiss me, Bin.”

His eyes half lidded, turning dark, blown with want.

His body pressed to yours, breathing heavily as his lips collided with yours. You could still taste a little bit of his lip balm, making them soft and a little sticky, but none of it mattered to you at this instant.

His teeth capturing your lower lip, letting his tongue caressed it, asking for entrance.

He tilted his head making the kiss more passionate, a small war between your tongues fighting for dominance. Warmth blossoming in your chest, it felt more personal and passionate than that night. It really felt like you and Changbin, right now. No liquid confidence in the mix, just the two of you. The kiss felt raw and real, his hands holding your hips, making you feel small and fragile in his embrace.

He stopped kissing you, breathless. Changbin suddenly felt shy, pink tones finding a place on his chest. He couldn’t not believe it was happening. He was sure he was still sleeping and dreaming.

“Are you really here?” he asked shyly.

You were laughing and nodding while looking at him. “Yes, Bin and I’m dying to taste you”.

He was sure he was about to explode at your comment. His pyjama shorts started to feel a little uncomfortable and tight now.

“I will let you do anything to me.” he said, running his nose against your neck, smelling your perfume mixing with his liquid detergent.

“Changbin.” you hum, not knowing where to touch him.

“Mhm?”

“Fuck me.” you begged, breathless.

He let out a breathy moan, feeling breathless and vulnerable under your touch.

He throws your shirt at the other side of his room, looking at you. He felt insane at the instant looking directly at your chest, and he swore he never saw such a perfect chest, your left nipple adoring a piercing and your sternum covered in sweet ink. His hand, hovering over your nipple, silently asking for your permission.

He gently sucks on your breast, caressing the other the same way. He was sure heaven felt like it.

“Let me take you to bed, love.”

You looked so pretty laying on his black sheet, waiting for him to join. Your mouth slightly open breathing hard, watching him taking off his boxer briefs, you knew he was beautiful but now he looked like someone took their sweet time craving him into marble.

He felt you staring, and blush found him again.

He was beautiful, slightly above the normal length and in girth, a small curve at the top. A nice shade of pink and glistening with precum.

He climbed into his bed hovering you, kissing you again, pressing his chest into yours, letting your skin touch his hot one. His hand tracing your chest to your stomach to find its place onto your heat on your short, asking silently for permission once again. “I want you so bad.”

He pulled back, tearing the tissue for your skin finally able to fully watch you, you sure were heaven.

He pressed his hand to your heat once again, finally touching you, making your breath hitch.

“Bin i want to—“

“No, let me first, please let me have you.” he begged heavily.

You sighed in pleasure, letting him have his way. His lips follow the way his hand did first, from your collarbone to your chest, to your hip bone, going to your inner thigh.

“You smell so sweet, love.”

He laid between your thighs, putting both of your legs on his shoulders, diving into your heat. Delicately tasting you, softly kissing your clit just to see your reaction.

Seeing Changbin like this was breathtaking, he looks so good buried in your cunt.

Your breathy moans making him nibble at your bundle of nerves, humming against it teasing you.

His finger teasing your hole until he entered you little by little, his eyes on you assessing your reaction, your eyes closed, and mouth opened in an ‘O’ shape, he started to move softly.

Your nails scratching his scalp, moaning his name and other profanities. Your back arching, he was feeling you were getting close, feeling you clenching around his fingers which were abusing your gummy spot.

“B-bin I’ll cum s-sto—“

“Cum around my finger baby” he cut you, continuing his ministrations to your velvety walls. “Come on cum love, cum for me.”

“God, Bin!” You stopped breathing feeling that knot in your lower stomach about to burst at any second.

His lips taking your clit into his mouth once again, getting you closer to your first orgasm. He felt your legs giving up on his shoulder, trembling and your walls trapping his fingers. His name escapes your lips as a prayer.

He looks at you, smiling, saliva and slick on his chin, his pupils fully blown still. He looked so pretty like this, messy but pretty. His glasses running on the low of nose, glasses weren’t a thing until now, with Changbin laying butt naked on his bed rutting on his shit, looking at you demanding to be ruined.

He got up, looked in his bedside table for a condom, tearing the silvery paper as fast as he could, he couldn’t make you wait.

He pumped his length a few times before putting on the latex onto his erection. He looked so ethereal at the moment, sitting on the side of his bed. The muscles on his back moving with every move.

“Let me ride you.” you asked, looking at him.

Changbin moved on his bed, sitting comfortably, his bed his back laying on his headboard. He leads you onto his body, holding one of your hips while the other guides his length into you, inch by inch.

He kisses your breast, taking your mind off the stretch of his girth. You bite your lip once you were sitting on him, his length hurried into your warm walls.

Changbin groans when you start to move your hips into little circles.

“Fuck— if you do that, I’ll burst in second.” he groaned louder. “You feel so good, love.”

His hands found place on your hips once again, guiding you up and down, whispering sweet words into your chest. It’s slow, perfect for morning sex and your guys' first time together. You couldn’t think straight, thanks to Changbin making you move on top of him.

Your hands laying on his chest, you groan his name over and over. Other words caught in your throat.

“Love, look at me.” he said trying to get you back into reality, trying to ground you.

“Changbin—“ your head feeling so heavy, filled with pleasure. He saw how you couldn’t take it anymore; he laid you on his bed, keeping his dick buried in your wet walls.

He started to push once again, his length kissing your sweet spot, over and over. Settling a strong pace, he pushed hair from your face, and caressed your cheek with his lips.

Your nails digging in his back, you could feel that knot forming into your lower stomach once again, tightening increasingly, you knew your release was coming.

“Bin, I’m—“

He stopped kissing you, catching your eyes with his. “Just a little more. A lil more” he begged starting to fasten the pace, chasing his own release. His hand coming to your clit, making eight figures onto it, and nibbling at your nipple.

You could feel your breaking point coming. “Changbin—“

Changbin became more vocal when he was about to come, his voice going lower, breathy moans mixing with your name.

He closed his eyes, mouth round open, noises falling from his lips, he came a few second after you, filling the condom. His hands, gripping your thighs— “Noona!”

He stayed still for a moment, and you admired his expressions. Taking his features in fully, his hair sticking to his forehead, lower lips trapped between his teeth, chest moving with heavy breath.

He rolled off to lay next to you, taking off the condom, tying it to throw it into his trash next to his desk.

“Man, morning sex is something else.” he chuckled breathlessly. “But sex with you is indescribable.”

He moved to his side, putting his arm around your waist. “What?” You asked shyly.

“It’s just— we had crazy sex, but I’m still shy about asking you to be my girl—“

“YOU FUCKED HER INTO YOUR MATTRESS AND YOU FEEL SHY?” Chan screamed from outside feeling so done with you both.

You never felt as shy as you did in that moment, hiding your face into one of Changbin’s pillows, feeling blood rushing on your cheeks and ears.

“FUCK YOU BAHNG, get out of here, shit!” Changbin shouted back.

“Sorry about him— so about the girlfriend thing?”

©𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 

𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁, 𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸. 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘁, 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁.

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