THE MOST ADORABLE THING ISTG 😩😭❤️

My number one favorite stories for real... Not only are they HELLA HOT (HELLA IM SERIOUS), but they are so accurate when it comes to how us bigger girls think and act before we come to terms with ourselves and our beautiful bodies<3

Skz317CB97's Stray Kids X Thick Reader Masterlist

I hope you all enjoy this thick reader series! It has been so much fun to write so far! There will be strong language and explicit content in every part of this series and every part will have its own individual warnings so be sure to read before consuming! If you would like to know the outfit inspiration for the MCs in each part of this series click here!

Bang Chan- Blind date

Lee Minho- Teasing Poppy

Seo Changbin- Strength Training

Hwang Hyunjin- The Set Up

Han Jisung- Movie Night

Lee Felix- Forever My Wedding Date

Kim Seungmin- COMING SOON!

Yang Jeongin- Aphrodite's Pain

**To any new followers! Thank you so much for enjoying my content enough to follow me! Be aware, if you are a blank blog and/or do not have some indicator of your age being 18 or over some where on your page you will be blocked. This is STRICTLY MDNI/18+ ONLY blog. Thank you again to anyone who reads my stories or follows me I truly appreciate it!**

AYO THIS IS SO GOOD 😩

share you with the boys

Author's note: i tried to fulfill this ask but i got too carried away with writing the foreplay lol maybe there will be a part 2! who knows? i hope it's what you envisioned, anon! enjoy :)

Warnings: Smut. Spitting, exhibitionism, daddy kink, cliffhanger that's gonna probably make you hate me

Characters: OT8 x Reader (Chan and y/n is in a relationship but this time Chan wants to share)

Everyone’s in the living room, somehow the dance practice review that’s supposed to be at the studio changed venues to 3racha’s lair, and you can hear noises waking you up from your slumber.

Chan already told you about it last night as he pounded into you like an animal, but he didn’t mention anything about being discreet. So, now, still in your little headspace, all you wanna do is go out there and greet your Daddy.

See, you and Chan have an understanding with Changbin and Han. You’re practically the fourth tenant in their dorms, so some rules had to be presented.

It’s not that you’re messy or noisy or anything of the sorts but you and Chan just have a particular interest in letting it all go once you get to a vicinity that no outsiders can have access to.

The dorms is where you and Chan get to unwind and most importantly, indulge in you active sexual lives. But how do you do that with two other roommates being around so often?

Well, you let them watch. Or listen. Or both. Depends on how they prefer to partake on that day.

At this point, Changbin and Jisung are used to seeing Chan fuck you anywhere in the dorm. Kitchen, living room, the hallway and even in their rooms a couple of times – name it, Chan has definitely fucked you at, in and on it. And it’s only infront of Changbin and Jisung that you’ve ever referred to Chan as Daddy.

“Is Daddy still at the studio?” “I miss Daddy so much.” “Will you drag Daddy out of the studio early tomorrow? I have a surprise!”

To which they would always indulge and play along, answering, “Yup, your Daddy is still at the studio, little one. He’ll be back soon.” “Oh your Daddy misses you so much too. We saw him sporting a boner, so you better be prepared now, sweetheart.” “Of course, princess. We’ll drag him out early. We can watch too, yeah?”

Chan loves and appreciates how Changbin and Jisung dote on you. He’s been enjoying the new living arrangements, not because he doesn’t like the other boys, no. But because he knows Changbin and Jisung would not throw away the opportunity to watch you get fucked on a daily basis, to hear your moans every chance they get. So, it works.

Today’s a little different, though. He wants to share his goddess with the rest of the boys. He told you about it when he was busy pounding his cock into your tight cunt, informing you that the other boys would be coming over for the first time with you around, but he didn’t specify anything. He would have told you to be discreet but he didn’t.

So, he isn’t surprised to see you walking out of his room, face washed and hair still a little messy, still clad in his satin shirt from last night. From the looks of how your nipples are showing, you didn’t bother to wear a bra and you’re definitely not wearing pants because your legs are all bare for him to look at.

Or for all the boys to look at.

Because sweet, polite Jeongin is the one to greet you good morning yet he only got to say “Good-” when he chokes on his own word, eyes frantic, not knowing where to look because he knows he shouldn’t be looking at you like this. You’re his hyung’s girlfriend but the way your tits are clinging to the shirt is making it hard for Jeongin to think straight. And the other boys aren’t any different than Jeongin. Seungmin and Felix are looking away, pretending to monitor the dance practice video while Minho and Hyunjin horribly fail in trying not to stare at you. Jisung and Changbin are the ones blatantly staring, chirping a cheery “Good morning!”.

Chan appreciates the boys’ sensibility to not look at his sexy girl but that’s the thing. Chan wants them to look. Chan wants them to look at how pretty his girl is in his clothes. The way his shirt is too big on you but thin enough that they can still see the outline of your curves, the way your hair is still a little messy probably from the way he pulled on them the night before and the way you’re standing there, still processing if you should go back into the room and change, looking all cute and fuckable – Chan just can’t believe he’s the lucky person who gets to have you.

“Daddy’s not in bed,” is what you say, gaining the courage to openly refer to him as ‘Daddy’ in front of the other boys. And the way you say it in such a cute voice with that cute little pout? Chan can’t help but feel his cock stirring in his pants.

“Daddy has to work, princess. Why don’t you come here and join us?” he tells you, patting his lap, signalling you to come over and like the sweet, obedient little thing you are, you do.

And Chan chuckles to himself when he sees you walking in the tight space between the members who are on the floor and on the sofa. You could have walked over from the front but no, you just want to torture the boys sitting on the floor because they can probably see your cute little baby pink panties.

“What’s Daddy doing?” you ask shyly, trying to not focus on the eyes that are definitely on you, choosing to focus only on Chan, carefully sitting on his lap, making the shirt ride up a little.

Your heart is pounding from excitement. You like to show off for Chan. You like showing people how good you can be for him.

And you definitely like the attention you get from the boys right now.

“I feel like we shouldn’t be here..” Hyunjin speaks up, clearing his throat, probably ready to sprint out of the dorm.

Hearing that, you pout. You turn to Hyunjin, give him your prettiest puppy eyes and say, “I promise I won’t bother Daddy and his friends while working. Just wanna be close to Daddy.”

Needless to say, the boys are smitten. Chan’s short comment of “You guys can look all you want” definitely changed the stakes.

Now the dance practice monitoring session is long forgotten. Who can focus on that when Chan is slowly rubbing your nipples over his shirt that you’re wearing, when you’re mewling like a cute little kitten, when your hips are subtly grinding onto Chan’s thigh?

Who in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to watch this heavenly scene in front of them?

“Da-daddy.. Your work,” you try to remind him but your mind is filled with how good all this feels, having Chan touch you while his members watch. You’re used to Changbin and Jisung, but the others? It’s a whole new experience having 8 men look at you like you’re their last meal.

“But Daddy wants to take care of his princess. The boys don’t mind waiting, right boys?” Chan chuckles, amused how quiet the boys are, eyes dark as they look at your beautiful being. “Daddy needs some help though. Maybe Hyunjin can help me,” Chan speaks, calling Hyunjin towards the two of you on the sofa.

“Yeah?” Hyunjin sounds breathless and it makes you feel so shy that you have your head buried in the crook of Chan’s neck. “Don’t be shy, baby. Daddy needs you to turn around, can you do that for Daddy?”

And turn around you did. Now you’re greeted with a heavenly sight – seven boys staring at you, bulge evident and none of them care to hide their erections.

“Spit on her tits, Hyunjin. Make the shirt wet,” Chan instructs the long haired blonde so casually he nearly trips on his way near you. Seungmin and Felix who are sitting a bit further away can’t help but scoot nearer. All of them wish they were Hyunjin right now.

Hyunjin has his face near your tits and it’s taking all of your might not to arch your back into his face. You know Chan wouldn’t approve because no one can touch you but him.

The blonde man gathers his spit as he looks at Chan and you interchangeably, wanting the green light to spit. The nod from Chan and the needy look you give are all he needs to follow through, slowly letting his spit drip onto your right tit, his hands holding onto the side of the sofa, so he won’t touch you.

The sight makes you moan. And the feeling of his warm spit coming in contact with the fabric of the cold satin shirt makes you shiver, hands holding Chan’s as Hyunjin gives you some time to compute that another man just spat on your tits in front of your boyfriend and six other men.

“You like it, baby?” Chan asks, clearly loving how your nose is cutely scrunched as you try to calm down from the littlest stimulation.

“Fucking hell,” Felix curses, swallowing his own saliva as he watches how Hyunjin’s spit is leaving a drak spot that beautifully showcases your pretty nipple. Oh how he would die to just suck on it right now.

Your attention goes to Felix when Hyunjin walks back to his spot, sitting with the other boys as he stares at you. But Chan’s finger rubbing your wet nipple over the fabric grabs your attention again, making you arch your back into his touch, moaning softly when he lightly pinches it.

“My princess likes that, hmm? Like having other men’s spit on her?” Chan teases, kissing the side of your face softly. You nod absentmindedly, eyes closing as you melt into his touch, forgetting about everything else.

“Daddy, please,” you moan, you don’t even know what you’re begging for, you just need something more.

And more you got.

Now you’re spread wide on Chan’s lap, his clothed chest rubbing against your back as you try so hard not to buck your hips up while the boys take turns to spit on your pussy. You managed to stay still when the first two boys, Jeongin and Felix, did it but the way Changbin is looking at you with such confidence and the cocky smirk of his, you could just cry in wanton.

“What a pretty cunt,” Changbin says before he spits rather messily, different from how softly Jeongin and Felix did, and the way his warm spit comes in contact directly on your clit makes you shake, the unintentional bucking of your hips nearly buries Changbin into your cunt.

Chan chuckles at your little movement, knowing how hard you’re trying to be good for him.

“Daddy,” you whimper, almost crying at how difficult it is to stay still when you can feel the boys’ spit trickling from your slit.

“Shh baby. Daddy’s got you. Just need Minho, Jisung, Seungmin and Hyunjin to spit on your pretty pussy next, then Daddy will fuck you, hmm? You can do that for Daddy, yeah?” Chan speaks, voice soft and assuring, you find yourself nodding again and again, spreading your legs wider, ready for the four remaining boys to spit all they want so that you can have Chan’s cock.

Minho makes his presence known, licking his lips as he stares at your pussy and you nearly cry at the intensity.

But you really cry when your boyfriend spreads your pussy lips wide, the boys whistling and groaning as they watch intently how the mixed spit from Jeongin, Felix and Changbin get to finally find their way into your cunt.

“Maybe today the boys can touch, what do you say about that, baby?”

can we please have a hyunjin and lee know link? <3 tysm!

Ofc you guys canヾ(*’Ｏ’*)/

Lee know Hard Thought Visualizer

Whiny sex with him would be so cute don't even try to convince me otherwise.. It's so easy to find links for him oml I'm in minho BRAINROT.

Hyunjin Hard Thought Visualizer

I ALWAYS think of hyunjin when i see a link like this. The way he would hold you up against the wall, yeah struggling the tiniest bit, but ultimately keeping you up there is the HOTTEST thing.

(If links are missing that were there before sadly they do not work anymore, for the Twitter account has been suspended)

---

This series pained me and brought me immense joy at the exact same time because I know I'll never read anything like this again. The way you know exactly what you're writing about makes it so wonderful to read. I felt so many emotions reading this but I'm so glad I took 3 hours out if my sleep schedule to. Just wow I'm so blown away by how confident your writing feels. Everything about this is perfect. Flawless ❤️

THE ZONE: Chapter 6

« PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“Maybe I don’t believe in soulmates, prince.”

Chapter 6: Have We Met Before? (Reprise)

[Series Finale]

🚨 Angst, alcohol consumption, themes of emotional manipulation, narcissism, revenge and retaliation, emotional turmoil, microscopic dom/sub elements, unprotected sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering, facesitting, temperature play/ice play, creampie, cumplay/cum eating, squirting

Taglist: @sai-kida134 ; @lolalee24 ; @choxcosmos ; @ughbehavior ; @anotherpinkpanda ; @mochaquokka ; @svintsandghosts

I STRONGLY urge you to loop this song in the background while reading this chapter.

“Can you get the door, baby girl?”

It was finally the first day of the spring break and everybody you knew was fucking spent because of the exam stress. Chris made it a habit to organize an annual party at his place to blow off some steam and it always ended up having hilarious stories somewhere along the way. God knows you were in dire need to unwind yourself. The guests were arriving in groups and it already looked like Chris’ entire building was in his living room because, hello, if Chris Bang was throwing a party you’d better goddamn cancel your entire life plans to be there. You made your way to the door.

You knew these girls, but you hadn’t officially met before. If you blurted out their names, it was totally going to come across as stalkerish, so you managed to pump the emergency breaks and assumed the pleasant host role.

“Welcome! Very nice meeting you, I’m Y/N.”

“Hey there, Y/N! It’s great to finally meet you.”

“Excuse me?” you smiled in surprise.

“It feels like we know you already. I’m Ryujin, by the way, and this is Chaeryeong.”

“Please, call me Chae!” she chirped, “Oh, and DON’T close the door yet, please.”

Someone else on the outside stopped the door from closing at the last second and held onto the door frame, panting.

“Made it. I fucking made it. Hey, beautiful!”

“No fucking way…”

The prince. Looking all normal and shit. At Chris’ doorstep. Super out of breath like he ran a mile. In the flesh. It had been quite a while since the last you had heard about him and got worried sick in the meantime. And now he had the fucking audacity to just show up and ‘Hey, beautiful’ you like nothing happened?

Like nothing fucking HAPPENED?

You took a step towards him and your utterly calm voice was terrifying.

“You…”

“I’m so sorry, I w-”

One more step and you nudged him on the chest, pushing him back to the hallway and slowly closing the door behind you.

“You… fucking idiot.”

“I- I can-”

One more step.

“Do you have any idea…?”

One more.

“...about the fucking concern you caused me?”

“Beautiful, I’m so s-”

One more step.

“You… absolute fucking dipshit.”

One more.

“I couldn’t fucking SLEEP because of you.”

One more.

“Now you just show up here…”

One more.

“And you say hey?”

One last push.

“YOU SAY FUCKING H-?!”

You couldn’t even finish that sentence.

Hyunjin attacked your face with aggressive kisses like he was trying to quench his thirst. So needy, so full of yearning, so full of lust. So full of him. Like he was trying to pacify you. Not until you felt his familiar texture on your skin did you realize how much you missed him. 

“God, I missed you so fucking much, beautiful.”

There were a lot of things that needed to be answered, but priorities mattered. His vanilla scent came first. His plush lips came first. Burning yourself on his skin came first. You let each other be consumed for quite some time out on that hallway before getting a grip and heading inside, completely forgetting what you were supposed to talk about. Hyunjin had his hand on the small of your back, and now that you completed the attendance check, Chris welcomed the guests from the kitchen island:

“Ladies, gentlemen, and esteemed non-binary folk, welcome to the annual Shitfaced Break Olympics™ because FUCK midterms!”

“FUCK MIDTERMS!!!!!” the crowd roared in response.

While coming back from Sydney last summer, Chris brought back a game that looked like the raunchiest version of Cranium that ever existed a.k.a the main tournament event for this year’s olympics. It was basically a drinking board game intended for eight people maximum for one round, and it involved a bunch of truth or dare prompts. The game did not give you the option to pick a category; whatever you landed on, you had to do it. The punishment of the game was the gigantic glass with measurement lines in the middle of the board: with each dice roll, everybody had to pour 5 ml of whatever they were drinking into the glass. Either when somebody failed to fulfill a prompt, or when the glass was full - whichever happened first - you had to drink that spawn of satan cocktail. If you couldn’t do it, your team lost the game. Your tournament parties involved you, Chris, his brother Felix, and Jeongyeon versus Ryujin, Chae, Hyunjin, and their friend Jisung. You were a little uncomfortable with Chae and Ryujin there considering the circumstances but did your utmost best to loosen up.

Jisung picked a card for Jeongyeon, “Name of your first head?”

“Giving or receiving?”

“Giving,” Jisung smirked.

“Uh- Whatshisname.”

“BITCH, drink!”

“But I DON’T remember his name!”

“DRINK, DRINK, DRINK!”

With cheers accompanying her, Jeongyeon’s face automatically contorted the second her tongue touched that blasphemy in the glass, “I fucking HATE y’all!”

You picked a card for Jisung, “Take off your shirt for the rest of the game.”

“Gladly,” Jisung declared and a collective oohing raised from the entire room when he flashed those biceps.

“Jesus fuck, man, your waist is like nonexistent, how the FUCK?” Felix’s jaw dropped upon seeing Jisung’s bare upper body.

“Feel free to cop a feel of the Jaist anytime,” Jisung winked and Felix legit reached out to touch him.

“GODDAMN Lix, I didn’t call you here to get corrupted!” Chris yelled.

“Too late for that, bRAH.”

Among that unison laughter, Ryujin picked a card for you, “Let the person sitting 45 degrees to the right from you touch your boobs. Under the shirt,” and she immediately placed the card in the middle of the deck.

You cocked a brow, “It really says that?”

“Yes,” Ryujin responded with a knowing smile, “Either do it, or drink. The floor is yours, Hyun.”

Hyunjin got up to get closer to you. The second you reached the hem of your shirt to pull it up, however, he grabbed your hand to stop you and pulled you in from your nape for a kiss. The entire table broke into an applause.

“A fine gentleman, indeed,” said Chris. “Now drink, you motherfucker.”

“No regrets,” Hyunjin responded and raised the glass towards you before downing it. While he was struggling to do that, Chris picked a card for him.

“The name of your most recent ex?”

Hyunjin put the glass where it belonged and answered towards Chris’ direction.

“Yeji.”

It was apparent that everyone in that table was completely flabbergasted by this declaration. Except Chae and Ryujin.

They broke up? They actually broke up?

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

Hyunjin was sitting down in Yeji’s kitchen in silence for the past half an hour or so. Yeji’s sister let him in and left upon Hyunjin’s polite request that he needed to be alone with Yeji.

“Wanted to chat a little. Coffee?” Hyunjin pointed at the fresh pot he brewed.

“Sure. Before that though,” Yeji flashed a little vial with white powdery substance in it, put it in Hyunjin’s chest pocket, and placed a kiss on his head, “happy belated birthday, handsome. I’ll be right back.”

After Yeji came back in changed clothes, it was their usual empty chitchat as if they actually cared about each other. How school was, what their folks were doing, were they going to attend that dinner on the weekend et cetera et cetera. Everything was fine. Until Hyunjin made his declaration.

“It’d be ideal if you looked for a date for the weekend because I won’t be taking you.”

“Party somewhere?” Yeji took a sip from her mug.

“No. I came here today to break up.”

Yeji’s shock was momentary. She broke into a hysterical laugh once her brain registered what came out of Hyunjin’s mouth. She found that so hilarious that she was slapping her own thighs at one point.

“Good one, Hyun. Absolutely not.”

“Look at my face and tell me if I look like I’m trying to be funny, Yeji.”

Yeji wiped the tears from her eyes and examined Hyunjin’s face. His expressionless, stoic face.

“If you think there’s not gonna be any repercussions after this, you’re fucking mistaken.”

Hyunjin calmly finished his coffee and got up to his feet, “I’m not asking for your permission. I’m telling you. We’re through.”

Then he left leaving Yeji utterly speechless. This was the first time he misbehaved after all those years.

It was only a couple of days later, though, Hyunjin found himself storming back in through Yeji’s front door. Fuming. Completely out of control. Like he was about to go on a fucking rampage.

“Missed me already?”

Hyunjin slammed the door behind him and glared at Yeji with all the menace he could possibly emit from his eyes.

“You fucking know I’m on prescription drugs. Why did you do it?”

“And? Don’t you think your father has a right to know what his precious son is doing with his life?”

Hyunjin landed a punch on the wall, almost breaking the surface in.

“Not that it’s ANY of your business, but if I’m NOT telling my OWN fucking family something, maybe it’s because I don’t wanna GODDAMN worry them. WHAT KIND OF AN EXPLANATION IS ‘YOUR SON IS ON DRUGS, I THOUGHT YOU SHOUD KNOW’??????”

Yeji broke into a satisfied smile as Hyunjin was angrily pacing in the room trying his utmost best to control himself.

“I know you think you’re all that and you’re the queen but there are lines that should never be crossed, Yeji.”

“If I’m the queen, that makes you the king. You ever thought of that?” she responded calmly. Hyunjin stopped dead in his tracks.

“Maybe I’d like to be a prince instead. If you ever fucking asked me what I wanted, you would goddamn know.”

“What the fuck has gotten into you?”

Hyunjin took quick steps towards her direction and pointed his index finger towards her.

“I’m trying really hard to be able to live with myself and do something fucking right for once. Stay away from me.”

Yeji immediately grabbed Hyunjin by the arm when he attempted to leave, “You belong to me, Hyunjin.”

“Really?” he turned around, completely outraged, “Fucking enlighten me, please.”

“It’s always been us!” Yeji yelled. “You wanna go have fun on your own? Fine, I’m not stopping you. I’ve never stopped you and I’m not about to. But at the end of the day, this is where you’re supposed to come back. You know it is.”

Hyunjin couldn’t believe it when the realization hit him. All this time he could have done it without getting blood on his hands but fucking cholera vision… He wasn’t about to lie: once you lovingly cut through his scars to force all the venom and puss to leave his body, he did experience side effects first. Hyunjin just wasn’t aware of how addictions worked. Everything was about to be okay if he could endure the initial withdrawal. 

He just didn’t wanna live like this anymore.

And this was about to get ugly.

“You didn’t even say we belong together.”

The usually intrepid Hwang Yeji was getting all flustered and it showed.

“You know what I mean, Hyun.”

“You did it once before. What’s stopping you from letting me go this time?”

Yeji looked at Hyunjin’s face to throw some snark, but she actually wished he would interject so that she didn’t have to think. Words were spectacularly failing her. Hyunjin took a step towards her.

“Because you know I’m calling your bluff.”

One more step.

“Because you know that I know better now.”

One more.

“Because deep down you know I’m not gonna come back this time around.”

And one more.

“Because you know that it finally fucking hit me that belongingness is not equal to ownership.”

“Hyunjin, look-”

“I deserve to be loved too, Yeji. Did that ever occur to you?”

Yeji was frustrated at this point, “But I do love you!”

“NO, YOU DON'T!” Hyunjin exclaimed. “YOU love the guy who plays mind games with people and fucking wins. You LOVE it when people yearn for the shiny thing in the room and you love how they fucking CRUMBLE when you show off that it’s yours. You get off on rubbing it on people’s faces that they CAN’T have it. Insert anybody else, anything else in the equation and it would still equal to the same goddamn thing. I’m just a proxy for you.”

There was an unfamiliar expression on Hyunjin’s face. It looked like a bizarre metamorphosis of anger into sadness.

“Maybe it’s not the fact that I need to be loved although I’m fucked in the head.”

Hyunjin took a deep breath mixed with a sob before he continued.

“Maybe I need to be loved because of it. Let go.”

“No.”

“I said let go.”

Hyunjin hadn’t calculated anything beforehand the day he wanted to cut this weird tether he had to Yeji. He just wanted to simply punctuate everything with a full stop, but Yeji was insisting on replacing every single attempt with semicolons and ellipses, which meant peace was not an option and she wanted problems. It would be fine and it would be a fair fight if it was just the two of them, but dragging his father into all this?

Hwang Hyunjin finally fucking snapped.

“Listen to me and listen to me well. I’m only going to say it once,” he spoke in the only language she seemed to have a proficiency in.

“As we both know, I know the actual reason why you’re not strutting your stuff on the digital realm even though you’re dying to. I know it fucking kills you. There’s nothing… absolutely nothing stopping me from letting a little bird tell on the kind of shit your father runs in his business. But as I’ve clearly said before, there are lines that are never meant to be crossed. That being said, if you insist on what you absolutely should not, I will not hesitate to ruin your fucking  life. You’ve known me all these years and you know me too damn well to be able to tell when I pass the limits of bluffing.”

Yeji froze. As much as she would like to delude herself into thinking otherwise, Hyunjin was dead serious.

“Try me, I fucking dare you. See if it will be worth it.”

Hyunjin walked towards the front door to never come back again. It didn’t have to be this way. It could have been much more amicable, much less violent. Instead of being seen off, he heard one last complaint from Yeji.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you haven’t called me beautiful in months.”

Hyunjin shrugged in response before letting himself out of that house for good, “Maybe you’re just not that beautiful.”

Towards the end of the night, you walked out the balcony to get some fresh air. All this time you had this one desire that was buried kilometers under your soul, but you had convinced yourself it was nothing more than mere wishful thinking. Although it presented itself in corporal form, threatening you that you could indeed have it, you were dead scared. None of it felt real.

“Room for some friends?”

Ryujin and Chaeryeong let themselves out on the balcony while you nodded. Chae placed her hand on your shoulder gently.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you creased your brows like you felt a headache coming on, “That was just um… A lot to process.”

“But it’s true,” Ryujin smiled. “I know you’re looking for something suspicious somewhere, but no one’s trying to set you up.”

“Even a guy like him deserves happiness if he’s that willing to turn things around, you know,” Chae tilted her head to look at you, “God knows he’s paying his dues.”

“Make no mistake, with massive number of installments yet to be fulfilled,” Ryujin highfived Chae, and the gesture made you chuckle.

You couldn’t believe how... nice these girls were being. The complete opposite of that scathing first encounter with The Prince and The Charmer.

“I’m so sorry. It’s just-” you stuttered, “Because of Hyunjin and Minho- I thought- I thought you would-“

“Also have egos the size of Mount Everest? Hard pass, girl.”

“HOW ARE YOU THIS SWEET AND STILL FRIENDS WITH THEM?”

The girls heartily laughed at your unfiltered exclamation, and Ryujin responded, “To each his own. Their life choices don't erase the memories we have shared together. We just abstain from the intense drama whenever we can, that’s all. It doesn’t change the fact that we truly want them to be happy.”

“And Hyun will be if you’re willing to indulge him,” Chae placed the stray hair clinging to your cheek behind your ear, “All I’m gonna say is maybe you shouldn’t think of this as being his new Yeji. It’s just being his Y/N. Something to think about.”

You wanted to say so much but the fear of sounding infinitely nonsensical was there. You replied with a smile instead and you three made your way back inside. You sat down on the floor in front of the couch where Hyunjin and Chris were talking.

“...so yeah, it’s tense in the Hwang household nowadays,” Hyunjin told him. Chris threw his arm around Hyunjin and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Why don’t you crash here for a couple of days, Hyun? I have a spare room.”

Hyunjin’s eyes darted at you upon the offer, but there wasn’t even the insinuation of something lewd in his gaze. He just looked at you like a puppy.

“I um- I have a favor to ask, beautiful.”

And for the first time ever, you knew he wasn’t going to ask to play with you.

“What is it?”

“Can you…” Hyunjin averted his eyes, “Can you stay here, too? If Chris is okay with it?”

You looked at Chris for some kind of a signal and he nodded with a smile.

“Of course, prince.”

And the relief that washed over Hyunjin’s face afterwards forcing him to beam was totally worth it.

You spent a couple of days being disgustingly domestic at Chris’ apartment with people coming and going every once in a while. It didn’t always include booze. Some days were just straight up regular, movie nights or just rambling with friends. You couldn’t help but notice the shadows that passed by Hyunjin’s face every now and then. He would sometimes briefly disappear to the balcony or go for a walk to recollect his thoughts. You didn’t take offense to that, though. You were being careful to not bring up any subjects yourself until he felt comfortable enough to talk about them with you.

“Is someone crying?” Jeongyeon turned her head towards the bathroom.

You perked up your ears to pick up on what Jeongyeon was referring to. You heard sniffling sounds coming from the bathroom and Hyunjin was gone. You instinctively jumped from your seat and walked into the bathroom, not having an ounce of decency to consider knocking first.

The prince. Looking all disoriented and shit. At Chris’ bathroom sink. Holding a vial with some white powdery substance in it between his long fingers. Tears running down his face.

He was doing so fucking well up till that moment.

‘Why this, prince?’ you thought to yourself.

‘Why fucking this out of everything?’

It started the second Hyunjin was coincidentally reminded of its existence while he was looking for his credit card in his jacket pockets.

For the first time ever in his life, Hyunjin felt like he didn’t have a safety net. No Plan B. Which made the dread of messing up his only shot all the more real. It seemed like his meds were starting to wear off; he was feeling constantly on edge. Your existence was massively helping, but how he wished you also possessed the skill to silence the voices in his head, constantly whispering him things. That he was gonna fail. That you were gonna leave. That he was a terrible friend. That he could never make his parents proud in whatever goddamn capacity.

Whenever he felt the onset coming on, Hyunjin would leave. For some fresh air, for a little walk to distract himself. He didn’t want you to see him like that. You didn’t deserve that see him like that. A complete dumpster fire of an inner demon forcing him to yield and get on his knees, tempting him with sweet reminders that he knew the way to soundproofing his own brain. 

He made his way to the bathroom, closed the door behind him, and reached for the vial containing his bootleg limitless catalyst. Just once. There was no harm in once.

Very rarely. There has to be a cause for celebration.

And what the FUCK was there to celebrate? His endless descent into darkness? How he was completely undeserving of a single drop of happiness because all he did was cause pain to everyone around him?

Hyunjin broke down crying, eyes still glued to the vial.

It wasn’t worth it. It was never gonna be worth it. It was time to man the fuck up for goddamn once and take the road less traveled. And experience that struggle in every single one of his cells. Revel in that pain so that the gain might be even greater. For himself. For you. For the both of you.

The door opened.

I’m not, Hyunjin wanted to scream out, but it felt like he swallowed his own tongue.

It’s not what it looks like, beautiful. I swear I’m not. Please!

Your voice came out so calm that you were in complete disbelief in your own self.

“Is there something you wanna tell me, prince?” you closed the door behind you.

Having done this way too many times than he cared to admit, Hyunjin knew what that sentence meant. That impending confrontation which may or may not result in a complete disaster. But this wasn’t a situation of the defense taking the stand. He was going to lay everything out in such clear terms that there wasn’t going to be any room for doubt.

At least that was what he initially set out to do.

But with Hyunjin’s severe disability to follow his own track of thought at that moment, it instantly devolved into something completely irrelevant since, for some reason, he felt the need to start from the Big Bang.

“The day we met…” he said. “I didn’t wanna believe it. And every single fucking day that followed, I tried resisting it with every fiber of my being, but you…” he sighed, “You were just something else, beautiful. You still are. The most mesmerizing thing that has ever happened to me.”

Then a string of brief stories followed. Like he was showing you some random pictures on his camera and telling you where he had taken them. The night you noticed the scars on his thighs. The night he left you with Minho at the bar. Chris’ birthday. His birthday. Minho’s birthday. Their face-off afterwards and how he almost shoved a fucking knife down his throat to get the truth out of him about your birthday. What he told you to get you to do things. How he played you.

Not necessarily in this order.

There was seemingly no connection between them, but when you examined Hyunjin’s face as he spoke, you could see the ghost of a desperate plea: he was handing you the pieces of a puzzle and begging you to please please piece them together as he was in no condition to do so.

And you were right. He had absolutely no right to demand anything that even reminded someone of loyalty from you. But it felt like he did. 

It still feels like it does. I’m so sorry I’m this selfish, beautiful.

“I just didn’t know any better, beautiful. You have to believe me.”

You listened, and listened, and listened. Maybe for the first time ever, Hyunjin wasn’t able to read your face.

“I just got myself out. I didn’t think you’d say yes to me right away. I thought you’d need some time to see how I can change because I know words mean nothing,” he kept silently crying throughout his entire monologue, “So that… so that you’d accept me. See that I’m worthy of you. And give me a chance.”

You heard the gentle drip of the water droplet that caused the entire glass to fucking overflow.

Snap.

“This is how you change? THIS is how you CHANGE???” you pointed at the vial.

“No, please beautiful, I wasn-”

What about all the times you felt like you were severely mistreated, huh? Like you were a nobody. What about all the times you were there for him? Whatever the fuck you shared all this time? All those nights you would slowly fall into the descent of pleasure together like you two were the only goddamn people alive? Providing each other with elaborate tactical guides to ruin one another? The day he basically tortured you with his words without a shred of mercy? 

DID HE LOSE HIS FUCKING MEMORY SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY? HE COULDN’T HAVE CONCLUDED A FUCKING YES FROM ALL THAT??? 

It felt psychotically good to vomit all the poisonous bile of dejection and resentment that had been pooling inside you for months while all Hyunjin was able to utter was a neverending ‘Please’.

“Stop looking at me like I’m the only fucking thing that matters in this world!!!!!!”

You harshly opened the door and pointed your finger at him one last time before taking off.

“I’m gonna say this once, Hyunjin. Whatever I did up to know, all that shit that endured like a goddamn lunatic was for you. Because I fucking love you!”

What did you just say to him?

Hyunjin. You called him Hyunjin. Outside of the bounds of your cocoon of lust.

Not prince.

Not your prince.

This must have been a nightmare and he desperately wanted to wake up.

“Please, beautiful,” was all he was able to whimper.

“Please, don’t go.”

It wasn’t the anger, the judgement, the chastising… You could curse him all you wanted all night long and he wouldn’t even bat an eye. God knows he wanted you to.

The thing he couldn’t endure, however, was the expression on your face that spelled utter disappointment.

“Whoa, where are you going, baby girl?”

“TO GET SOME FUCKING AIR!”

Hyunjin wanted to run after you. He did. He really did. He just couldn’t fucking move under the weight of your words. It felt like you handed him blocks after blocks of iron with every sentence. In a momentary lapse of sanity, he smashed the vial into the toilet bowl and flushed it.

Chris walked into the bathroom to witness a Hyunjin sitting on the toilet, yanking at his own hair. He kneeled down in front of him.

“Not to be that person, but you might need a miracle this time around, buddy.” Hyunjin looked at Chris with bloodshot eyes.

A miracle. He needed a miracle.

It wasn’t long before you reached the park. Or maybe it was; you couldn’t exactly track how much time passed with all the rant you were having with an imaginary Hyunjin in your head.

The selfishness. The audacity. How fucking dare you…

Yet even in a moment like this, you were trying to find solace in bits and pieces of him. It was Hyunjin’s park you instinctively retreated to so that you could hear yourself think.

How fucking pathetic were you?

Your inner rambling transformed from frantic to erratic and not so long after, it stopped. All you were left with was a very unnecessary revelation about yourself.

Loving someone so desperately shouldn’t have hurt this good.

“Hey, beautiful.”

You watched the owner of the voice that didn’t have a fragment of its usual playfulness. That was the bleakest, gloomiest ‘Hey beautiful’ ever. He kneeled down in front of the bench you were sitting on, restlessly shaking your legs. You thought you had calmed down but that sight just rekindled that fury inside of you.

“Just tell me something. What was the reason? WHAT WAS THE FUCKING REASON????”

“Hate me,” he grabbed both your wrists, “Hate me all you want. Curse me, I don’t care. I deserve it. I will endure it. But please, please, please don’t let me go.”

Let you go?

Hyunjin reached his hand and caressed your cheek, “I’m nothing without you, beautiful. Please don’t stop loving me the way you do.”

Stop loving you? Like it’s a fucking matter of free will?

“There’s nothing in this world that I want more than to be yours. I love you, beautiful. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

What did he just say to you?

“Look at me. Look into my eyes. You know I’m not lying.”

“Pr-”

“No, don’t,” Hyunjin shushed you, “Please don’t say anything for now. Just think about it until Saturday. Let it gestate at the back of your head. Meditate on it, sleep on it, I don’t care. But just don’t say anything right now. Even if it’s a good thing. I will never be able to live with myself if you made a rash decision and then resented me for it. For better or worse.”

It was maybe for the first time that Hyunjin didn’t try to coax you into whatever outcome he wanted. He was legitimately offering a choice.

“I just want you to be happy. Ideally let me make you happy, but I swear I’ll be ready for whatever you decide. I’ll accept it with open arms. I promise, beautiful.”

Yeah, I’m sure he never breaks his promises.

“Saturday, huh?” you said, remembering the day of the event you made a bet on months ago, “What makes you think I’m even gonna be able to go?”

“Because you are,” a convivial smile appeared on his face, “I know you are since the day we bet on it at The Hideout.”

You smiled back. Not because your anger automatically vanished. Not because you instantly forgave him. There were so many things Hyunjin needed to show you so that you could even begin to consider leaving the past where it belonged. But at that moment, you just smiled because seeing his crescent eyes was like watching someone yawn.

“You’ve never called it The Hideout before.”

“I am now.”

Hyunjin grabbed your hands and placed a kiss on each of them.

“I know it sounds like complete bullshit to you for now but I am willing to change things. A lot of things. You make me wanna do it, and I’ll prove it to you. In whatever way you want. Just let me. Let me and I promise it’ll be worth it.”

You know what, he actually never does. Honestly, it’s the only thing I can vouch for about the motherfucker.

Ping!

You looked at your phone expecting a whole-ass scolding from Chris for storming off like that and urging you to bring back donuts as a punishment or something. Never in a million years did you expect what you were seeing on the screen. Your eyes widened.

“No fucking way.”

Your tone immediately alerted Hyunjin, “What? Is everything okay?”

You looked at Hyunjin in complete astonishment then back to your phone, mouth still parted from shock.

‘We are pleased to inform you that…’

“I can’t fucking believe the park actually works.”

“Remember when I said our friendship with Hyunjin was based on keeping secrets?” Chris asked while buttering his toast.

“Uh huh?”

“Yeah, what the fuck was I thinking?”

You laughed. Not because you were trying to veil some awkwardness for once, but because you agreed with him with every single cell of your being.

It was finally Friday morning, D-1 until the day you were looking forward to for so long no matter how much you didn’t allow yourself to have any kind of expectation about it. Since Hyunjin’s invitation came in way earlier than yours, he had made his travel plans accordingly. His flight was scheduled for noon while yours was supposed to take off at 9 PM that evening. Ever the gentleman he was, Chris was going to take you to the airport.

Prince

Hey, beautiful!

Go to the airport.

Like, right now.

You looked at your phone while crunching the bread in your mouth. You appreciated Hyunjin’s enthusiasm, but no fucking way you were about to leave twelve hours earlier than intended.

Prince

It’s supposed to snow like hell today.

And the rest of the week.

There’s no way flights aren’t getting canceled.

I swapped my flight with an earlier one to not risk it. There’s another one in an hour.

Hurry, beautiful.

“Channie boy, move your ass.”

You and Chris dropped your toasts immediately and you got changed at lightspeed. Chris got a little carried away on the way, fully convinced he was starring in the latest Fast & Furious movie, but he managed to drop you off at your destination in one piece.

“RECORD time! I’ll be leaving a 5-star review, Chrissy.”

“Have fun, baby girl,” he gave you a quick hug before leaving, “Call me if you need me to come back and I want all the details!”

You blew him a kiss and ran to the airport dashboard, just to notice that…

Prince

I fucking MADE IT!!!

What’s your situation beautiful?

Me

I think I got some bad news for you, prince.

As you were typing to explain your situation, Hyunjin called you.

“What’s going on, beautiful? Is everything okay?”

“My flight got cancelled. So di-.”

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah, I th-”

“I’ll call you in 5. Just hang in there for me,” and Hyunjin hung up the phone.

You just stood there in front of the dashboard with your phone in your hand. You examined the entire board and noticed there were seven flights in total leaving for your destination, including the one Hyunjin managed to get in. Your originally scheduled flight was the last one, and the board already had two lines that spelled CANCELLED on it in bold, red letters. It didn’t look good, honestly.

Your phone rang again.

“Go to Counter 5.”

“Counter 5?”

“Yes. Give them the code I just sent you.”

The code you got texted contained the reservation number of a flight you must certainly had not booked yourself. You found the counter Hyunjin directed you to.

Me

Sorry, prince. This one’s canceled, too.

Prince

GodfuckingDAMMIT!

Hang tight, beautiful. I’ll fix this, I promise.

You know what, he actually never does. Honestly, it’s the only thing I can vouch for about the motherfucker.

You never wanted to believe Chris that badly before. Who gave a crap about the event? Fuck the event. There were more important things that needed to take place that day. However, the more time passed, the more you visited counters, the more your gaze was met with regretful faces, the more you started to lose hope. For a second, you caught yourself thinking whether it would be at all possible for you to drive there. Sure, whole-ass flights were getting cancelled so it would make perfect sense to fucking drive.

Get a goddamn grip, woman.

“Listen to me, beautiful. I got it,” Hyunjin spoke urgently on the phone, “The 7.30 flight. It’s supposed to carry a volleyball team, so they’re for sure flying that one out before they get snowed in. It doesn’t allow me to make a reservation from here - it has to be an in-person purchase at the counter because of the circumstances. Hurry. Please.”

Yeah, the plan seemed nice and all, but…

“Um, listen prince, not to rain on your parade or anything, but last minute plane tick-”

“I DON’T CARE!” Hyunjin yelled, “You have my credit card information. Just go!!!”

You what fucking information?

Hyunjin sounded like he was legitimately going through some kind of a panic attack at the end of the line. You attempted to diffuse the tension with a little humor, “That was a dumb move on your part, prince. You do realize I can just max this out right fucking now.”

“I don’t care. Get yourself a private jet if you can, but just come to me, beautiful.”

You totally meant to control that tiny sob, but it escaped your throat anyway.

An infinite wait in the line accompanied by the chitchat with the volleyball ladies later, you actually saw it. The leather chair you were supposed to strap yourself on for an hour in that damn metal tube. That was supposed to take you to the prince.

Your prince.

Me

I MADE IT!

I FUCKING MADE IT!!!!!!

Prince

When you land, take the shuttle and tell them you’re gonna get off downtown.

I’m so looking forward to seeing you, beautiful.

Come to me already.

When you got off that shuttle that night, there was nothing but butterflies starting a damn riot in your stomach. Like you were going to see Hyunjin for the first time in your life. It felt like you were about to willingly assist in your own heart’s abduction. 

That entire avenue looked like one of Hyunjin’s photographs came alive. Little flickers of lights dancing everywhere, a sea of people, and a tram passing by in the middle of that road closed to any other traffic.

Then you saw him.

You saw the tall, beautiful man, blonde hair glowing under those yellow lights, walking in quick steps with hands in the pockets of his blazer.

Then he saw you. 

The second he spotted your silhouette from afar, he broke into a smile so bright that his eyes disappeared. He started running.

“You came to me, beautiful.”

His embrace.

His kiss.

Him not giving a single fuck whether people were watching.

Not because it satisfied some perversion, but genuinely because he didn’t care.

Because your existence was the only thing that mattered.

You had been to a bunch of hotel rooms with Hyunjin before. Always luxurious, elegant, making you wonder whether you can actually put a price on a good night’s sleep (or the lack thereof), but nowhere quite like this.

First and foremost the room was orange; not the usual formal, borderline clinical-looking colors. There was a coffee maker on the vanity table, the small box next to it stacked with espresso capsules. The painting right above the headboard of the bed depicted a woman walking on the beach naked. And some champagne on ice with a small bowl of strawberries resting on the right nightstand as the finishing touch. This room looked so cozy. It felt warm. It felt intimate.

It felt like home.

As Hyunjin placed your cameras on the left nightstand, you went out to the balcony to check out the view. You had never seen such a beautiful sight before. Not that it was something grandiose or anything, but the sea view in the distance with a bridge lit up in rainbow colors adorning the dark waters just looked like something Hyunjin would paint during a cool, lonely, but delightful night. It moved you.

“I say today’s triumph calls for a celebration. Champagne?”

Hyunjin handed a glass to you and extended his glass for a toast. The weather was already chilly, so when you took a sip from your glass…

“Damn, that’s cold!”

“Yeah, the bottle is on ice,” he smiled, “The best kind to be honest.”

Hyunjin fixated his gaze on the bucket for some time as if an epiphany had dawned on him.

“Actually…”

When Hyunjin took a piece of ice from the bucket, you were watching him with curious eyes. He trapped it inside his mouth as he got closer to your face. When his lips met yours, it was an automatic reflex - you had to feel his tongue on yours. The wet muscle brought even a wetter guest with it this time around. You exchanged the ice cube between your mouths like you were in a competition to see who was going to melt it faster. It was so cold, borderline numbing, but Hyunjin’s warmth was comforting you.

Hyunjin touched your torso under your shirt. His hands were wet and cold like he was trying to come home in snowy weather and that sensation immediately sent a jolt down your spine, but you allowed him to equalize the temperature of his hands with your body’s nevertheless. While he was doing that, he crushed the ice between his teeth, and a drop of cold water trickled down the corner of his mouth, immediately prompting you to lick it clean. He couldn’t help but slither his hand under your shirt again, eventually peeling it off of you.

Hyunjin guided you inside, gently laid you down on the bed, and took another frozen cube from the bucket before joining you. At a completely torturous pace, he dragged it between your bare breasts and on your nipples. You were shivering. Everywhere. Then he closed his mouth on your nipple and started drawing languid circles on it. The contrast of the ice and the warmth of his mouth peaked your sensitivity. It felt like running your hand under the shower water and thinking it was freezing cold for the first couple of seconds only to realize that it was in fact boiling hot.

Hyunjin sofly removed your pants and underwear as if he was trying not to wake you up. Zero rush. Once you were completely naked for him, he dragged the ice from your ribcage down to your crotch, licking on the wet trail the cube was leaving behind. Then he gradually guided the compressed frost to the most sensitive spot of your body.

“T- Too cold.”

“Relax for me, beautiful,” Hyunjin placed a kiss on your clit while sharply inhaling your scent, “It’s gonna feel amazing.”

He kept dragging that fucking ice cube all over your labia with such unhurried movements like he was trying to find inspiration to paint the landscape of a snowy day. The more he rubbed the cold mass on your body, the smaller it became. All your senses were on hyperdrive and when he jumped the gun by slowly pushing the remains of the ice inside your pussy, the moan that ripped from your throat was nothing less than animalistic.

“Hold my hands, beautiful.”

You were feeling the ice melt inside you slowly. It was the singular stimulant alerting your entire body until Hyunjin trapped your clit between his voluptuous lips, and it was the most exquisite of contradictions. When he started sipping on you, you squeezed both his hands out of delight. He let you tug on his slender fingers entangled in yours however harshly you wanted like all he wanted to do was to soothe you. To cater to you. To satisfy your every single need. Absolutely nothing else mattered.

“If you just let me, I can do this for hours, but I don’t want to torment you, beautiful. Just tell me when you wanna cum.”

The hardest fucking proposal of the century. You didn’t wanna cum, absolutely not. The way Hyunjin set fire to your body was way too heavenly, and you would seriously consider jumping off the balcony before letting it stop of your own volition. Just watching this beautiful fucking creature between your legs, eating you out with such hunger but still with the manners nothing short of a prince was enough to lose whatever sanity you had left. Sometimes it was incredibly unbelievable how eager he was to please you. You weren’t able to utter a single word to give him any sort of instruction, though. All that left your lips were the rapturous moans, the source of which was shifting to your diaphragm with every passing second.

“Come to think of it, you’ve never squirted for me before, have you beautiful?”

Not for him per se, you didn’t even know you were capable of doing that, period. It was another mythical phenomenon from the realm of pleasure for you. It was a rhetorical question but you were too far gone to process that, and you legitimately tried to come up with an answer for Hyunjin.

“Would you like to do it for me?”

Did he really fucking ask that? As if even the thought of him forcing you to cum all over his face was not erotic enough.

“I just happen to find that so fucking hot. Just saying.”

You wanted to say something. Signal something, but you genuinely felt like you lost the ability to speak.

“Just say the word and I’ll have you raining all over me.”

Oh, fucking hell.

“Please,” was all you were able to articulate. Hyunjin broke into a content smile.

“Your wish is my command.”

It was that exact same sentence he uttered during your first night together, but this time around it felt infinitely different. Like he actually meant it rather than just saying some random shit to turn you on.

As if you needed to be turned on more.

Hyunjin hovered over you and grabbed one of your legs to place on his shoulder. 

“Tell me when you feel the pressure, beautiful.”

He started hitting your deepest spots at the same leisurely pace, exploring them anew with a specific destination in mind.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it just… It feels…”

“Like you wanna pee?”

He smirked. You knew that mischievous smile all too well. It was the telltale sign of how proud he was of something he was able to cause in you. 

“Tell me when I hit that spot, okay?”

Hyunjin’s movements got a little rougher, but they were still in the second gear.

“There. FUCK, right there!”

"Nice and loud for me. There you go."

He leaned down to kiss you, the curvature of his cock involuntarily hitting the spot in the meantime.

“You know the drill, beautiful. I’ll hit that until you make a mess all over me.”

He calculated your coordinates in an instant and gave you a fair warning in advance.

“Can’t promise I can hold it in, though. No one told you to look like such a fucking goddess.”

And he set off. Rough. Determined. You lost your damn mind at the sensation, but Hyunjin hadn’t realized your loud moans echoing in the room would affect him so.

“Ah, fuck, I’m- Tell me you’re close. I’m begging you, beautiful, please tell me you’re close.”

Yes, he was trying to please you, but Hyunjin pleading like that was just too fucking sexy for your own good.

“Look at me.”

Hyunjin could have fucking sworn he almost blew his entire load in you upon that gaze. You were looking at him with such motive dripping in absolute lust that you didn’t need to exert a drop of effort. It would quite frankly be in vain now that Hyunjin was turned on this much.

“Cum inside, my prince.”

“Ah, beautiful, PLEASE-”

“This once you make a mess for me.”

Or maybe it wouldn’t be.

In none of your encounters up until that point had Hyunjin orgasmed that violently before, frantically spasming, strings after strings of hot liquid painting you white, inducing the strangest of serenity in you. He collapsed on your chest trying to catch his breath and basking in the utter afterglow of his orgasm.

“Fuck, I just- I don’t wanna get out.”

You smiled at him caressing his hair, “Weak already?”

He placed a kiss between your breasts, “I just don’t want my seed to leave your body. Ever.”

He slowly pulled out and propped you up signaling that you should change positions.

“It can’t go to waste, beautiful. Sit on my face. I’ll clean you up real nice.”

Did you absolutely clench around nothing when he said that? Fucking yes. You quickly made your way up to straddle his absolutely beautiful face and made yourself comfortable.

“My fucking GOD- You’re just a fucking godsend, beautiful. Ride my face, there you go.”

Then the torture began. You remembered this scene from your first night together, as well. How he locked his mouth on your entrance, gently sucked on it, and collected the dripping cum with his tongue as if he was trying to drink the last drops of a milkshake, wet thumb gently teasing your clit all the while. The point wasn’t to get you to cum; Hyunjin was doing it to indulge himself because he genuinely believed there was nothing sexier than filling you up just to empty you again. By himself. Granted when he did it the first time, you weren’t full of him, but that very incident was the ultimate reminder for him that you should always always be filled with him and him only. Not to mention this particular act had always felt intimate for Hyunjin for some reason, and he loved that feeling. Once there wasn’t even a drop of his own cum to be cleaned, he point-blank asked you:

“Tell me how you want me to finish you off, beautiful. Just say the word and I’ll do it. Anything you want.”

Anything you want?

That was way too much power to be trusted with you, especially when you considered the rap sheet of kinks you possessed. You didn’t wanna scare Hyunjin right off the bat, but on the other hand, he was offering your wildest fantasies on a goddamn silver platter. There was a more pressing matter at hand, though.

“Would you like me to keep going here, or-?

“Earlier, you didn’t- You didn’t get me to-”

“Ah, of course. And that was so fucking rude of me, wasn’t it?” Hyunjin laid you back on the bed, “Please accept my apologies, beautiful. And since I have my mind intact this time, I get to fucking ascend you.”

The way you were spread for him always did something to Hyunjin. In addition to your undeniable allure, it was the thought of you willing to be this vulnerable with him, offering yourself for him, trusting him… It was an inexplicable thing.

He really appreciated that.

“You’re a fucking goddess, beautiful.”

You were expecting him to make a move, but he reached for his camera on the nightstand instead. You chortled.

“Wanna make another sex tape or what, prince?”

Hyunjin smiled, but it wasn’t that obscene smile of his, informing you of something lewd ahead, “I just wanna capture you. This moment. Us.”

It wasn’t fair that Hyunjin was the only one to get to do it, so you reached out for your own camera as well. You realized there had only been a handful of instances where you looked at him through your viewfinder.

“God, you are so fucking beautiful, prince.”

And you also realized you had never called him beautiful to his face before. Hyunjin broke into a smile behind his camera and you captured that exact moment. Both with your lens and your heart.

“So that’s how you feel, huh beautiful? Kiss me.”

It was time to appreciate art in real-time. Hyunjin loved how you kiss, always with a couple of gentle bites on his lips. It told him volumes as to how much you desired him. He didn’t waste any more time and made his way to the coordinates of that one spot in you, completely determined to have you seeing stars for hours. The way Hyunjin moved… Oh, the way he fucking moved…

It had always been so damn delicious, but tonight the entire room was bleeding wine red, exactly in the shade of the wall behind his headboard. It was raw. It was primal. Precise. Intentional. Driving you to absolute insanity one push at a time. 

“SHIT, prince, you’re killing me with this! FUCK-”

“Claim me, beautiful. Call me yours.”

“My pr-”

“No. No, no, no,” Hyunjin squeezed his eyes while shaking his head, “Yours.”

You clung to his biceps and dug your fingers on his skin, like you were trying to mark him, and pulled him closer.

“You’re mine.”

“Yes. Fucking YES!” Hyunjin pulled you harshly into his own lips, “I’m yours. Just yours. We belong together, beautiful.”

You knew that feeling from somewhere.

Simple. No games, no calculations, no strategies. This wasn’t a chess game. 

It was affection. It was just compassion. As simple as that.

“There. There, THERE, right there FUCK, please don’t stop!”

“Gonna make a mess for me?”

“Yes, YES, please- Please, make me- mak-”

“I have a favor to ask, beautiful,” Hyunjin stopped and forced you to look at him, “Will you let me eat you out?”

The request surprised you a little, “You just… did?”

“No, not like that. I want you to lose yourself,” he stole a kiss from your ankle he was still holding onto, “I wanna make you squirt on my face.”

“Fuck, prince, you’re seriously gonna be the death of me,” you groaned. Hyunjin took that to mean you gave him permission and lowered himself between your legs.

If you got exposed to something over and over again, wouldn’t that lose all meaning? Wouldn’t you be eventually numb to the feeling?

Then how come every time Hyunjin dragged his tongue across your skin, no matter the local moisture, he always managed to make you fall into pieces? How come all his ministrations felt this delectable every single time to the point of pushing you into a state of complete frenzy? How fucking come he was the epitome of sensuality in corporal form? Just how?

Hyunjin coated your entire pussy with his saliva and started tasting you with such an appetite. It was literally the same lip movements on your clit - the exact same pattern as whenever he kissed you. Slow. Sensual.

Wet.

His long, slender middle finger came to his aid and to your eventual rescue. You leaned into that familiar hook of the finger and fucked yourself on it as Hyunjin kept licking you. You already had an inkling that this wasn’t going to last long. 

“Hold my hand, beautiful.”

Hyunjin offered his left hand for you to grab and squeeze however you wished. He wanted to be connected to you through more than one channel. The index finger of his right hand joined the middle one, both reaching that delicious spot inside you.

“Fuck me harder.”

Hyunjin smiled into your pussy, extremely delighted by your reaction. He added a third finger and started massaging that spongy spot with sheer fervor. You could feel the imminent threat of a brutal convulsion ahead.

“More. Harder.”

Hyunjin squeezed your left hand, “You’re gonna feel a lot of pressure in a second, beautiful. Don’t hesitate and let go for me, okay?”

“Please, harder, FUCK!”

You could die.

You had never been able to resist how fucking beautiful Hyunjin was. He just exuded sexiness being his normal self, but getting him between your legs like that, hungrily lapping at you, and you got to taint all his delicate features with your arousal?

You could seriously fucking die.

Hyunjin never let go of your hand while you were riding out your high, still sucking on your supple skin and placing kisses everywhere he could. Once he was convinced there wasn’t a shred of climax left he could elicit out of you, he climbed up on you to kiss you. Breathlessly. Like he just couldn’t get enough of you. You had never experienced an afterglow this warm before. Hand supporting his head, Hyunjin was turned to your side, fingers gently caressing your torso and patiently waiting for your tremors to fully recede. 

“You know what Jisung said when I told him about this morning’s action?”

“What?”

“Is she made of fucking gold?”

You laughed in response, “How did you answer?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“How FUCKING dare you, prince!!!”

You were getting ready to land a sizzling smack on Hyunjin’s waist when he trapped you in his embrace so that you couldn’t move.

“Because I’ll be damned if I call you anything less than a diamond. You’re so fucking precious to me,” he pressed his lips on your forehead.

“I love you, baby.”

You felt your entire body being electrocuted and you were sure you were beet red as if nothing remotely obscene happened between you two just about five minutes ago.

“Oh, I got an upgrade now?”

“If you’re okay with it. I’d love to hear you call me that, too.”

The look in Hyunjin's eyes, begging to be loved, begging to belong, begging to be embraced by you… It was impossible to resist. You took his lips between yours again, and his eyes automatically closed at the contact.

“I love you too, baby.”

Hyunjin smiled while caressing your hair, “If I’m completely honest, I’m actually very much inclined to call you my soulmate instead, beautiful.”

You chuckled in embarrassment, “Maybe I don’t believe in soulmates, prince.”

And that was a lie.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

*Adapted from a true story

The Zone has a very special place in my heart, and I'd like to sincerely thank you for being a part of it. If you feel like asking questions about it, as long as you're kind you're always welcome in my askbox.

I appreciate you.

- R. (CB97%)

«BACK TO GENERAL MASTERLIST»

A given considering I'm pan<33

Euphoria | Lee Minho

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Minho and you definitely do not like each other. No matter what the tabloids say. He’s your friend who argues and bickers like no other but you also crave the taste of him on your tongue. You are people who sling insults at each other from your respective stages, only to find him later painting your skin with sloppy kisses. And that's something you need to work on.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Minho x Reader (female)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 23.2K

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Actors AU, friends with benefits to lovers, explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (both male and female receiving), finger fucking, secret relationship, mentions of past relationship and cheating, angst, time jumps

𝐀/𝐍: Hello! I have no control whatsoever. It's tragic. This fic exists because I woke up at 4 in the morning and promptly died over the idea when someone mentioned 'actors' and 'smut' together. It also happened to be when I was in Minho appreciation hours, and hence this monster. Reblog and share your thoughts if you enjoyed the fic!!

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

then

J U N E

He thrusts into you at an agonising speed, all grappling hands and searing mouth, while your fingers tangle in his hair. Part of you knows that you should not be doing this, not when just seconds ago you were screaming yourselves hoarse at each other, faces hot in anger as you went along with the same old song and dance.

“But I guess things like that are beneath people like you, right, baby?”

You arch into him with a soft murmur when he bites on your bottom lip, sucking it none too gently in his mouth and soothing the sting with his tongue. It sends frissons of pleasure down your spine, and you get to taste his moan, sweet on your tongue, as you pull on his hair.

“You’re just a self serving jackass, you know that Minho?”

His hands are heavy on your hips, gripping them hard as he lets his tongue lick into your mouth, and the two of you are all heat and fire, neither willing to give an inch. You can hear your blood rushing in your ear, blocking out everything but him, the feel of him, the smell, the way he presses his mouth against yours, hard and unyielding, and you have to hold on to him tight.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

And that’s how you ended up here, backed against the cold metal wall of his trailer, because you deliberately came over to pick a fight having been too on edge all morning. Nothing calms you down like riling Minho up, but the tension that’s been coiling tighter ever since you met finally reached its breaking point today, leading to him pining you to the wall.

Or maybe you pulled him to you.

There was want echoed in both of your eyes, that’s for sure.

Either way, you were both equally as guilty even though this was wrong but you just pull him closer, let your hands run over the curves of his biceps straining against those ridiculous wizarding robes and give in, loving the way his teeth bite into your skin, the rasp of his hair on your cheeks. Minho kisses like he talks, confident, demanding and a little rough, and you might have whimpered a little bit when his hand came up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing along the ridge of your cheekbone.

One kiss flows into two, then three, never once losing its intensity, never once losing its harshness and heat and ability to suck the air straight from your lungs. Teeth clack against one another, lips pressed together with a bruising force that makes you see stars, and when he slips his tongue into your mouth it tastes a bit like war and heartbreak, and you want more.

Three turns into four, and he pulls back a little, just the barest brush of lips against yours yet it still sends your heartbeat skittering, and his hand slips to your neck, fingers pressed on your thrumming pulse. Shockwaves seem to originate from that spot, and you let your lips part, just a little bit, in a silent gasp of pleasure.

Five is a whisper of breath, shaky and deep, and you let your hands linger at the nape of his neck, lightly scratching at his scalp in a way that has his nose brushing your cheek, tender and soft. You know how to make him moan with it, how to test that bit of control he never seems to want to let up, and you do it again.

The sixth is a punctuation mark, a full stop at the end of the sentence, sweet and succinct with clumsy lips before you both pull away with wide eyes and harsh breaths.

“Fuck,” he says, running a shaky hand through his hair as he takes a step backwards. It leaves you feeling strangely cold, but you don’t pay too much attention to that, not when fuck seems like the understatement of the year for the mess you have gotten yourselves into here.

Your eyes meet his and you echo his words, because really, what else can you say.

* * *

before: 12 months ago

M A Y

“No,” you say, contemplating, smothering yourself with a pillow just to end this conversation.

On the other end of the line, Liv sighs in a way that you can tell that she’s pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Come on, Y/n. This is a good opportunity.”

“I don’t want a good opportunity,” you say, flopping onto your stomach, “I don’t want anything other than to be left alone. If I go back out there the tabloids will eat this shit up.”

“It’s been six months. Surely people aren’t going to remember that now.”

“Pretty sure people are going to have a hard time forgetting the fact that my ex boyfriend outed me on the red carpet and then broke up with me then and there. In front of the press. On the red carpet,” you emphasise. “My mascara was running down. I was turned into a meme.”

“A lot of celebrities are turned into memes,” Liv points out unhelpfully, and you pull a pillow across your face. “Look, everyone has their ups and downs in this kind of work. Get used to it.”

You scrub a weary hand down your forehead. “You should host a seminar on pep talks, Liv, I’m sure people will learn a thing or two.”

There’s a bit of shuffling around on the other end of the phone and you hear the muffled sound of a door closing. When she speaks, Liv’s voice is the softest you have ever heard it. “You need to start putting yourself back out there, Y/n. These things happen and yeah, it’s mortifying and you want to crawl under a rock, but you’re stronger than that.”

You blink several times, actually pulling your phone away to check the caller ID to make sure, yes, that is in fact Liv, your hardass manager. “That might have been the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips, “Careful, I might cry.”

“Fuck off, Y/n,” she grunts, and the smile widens. “So, will you at least give it a chance?”

Hesitating for a moment, you contemplate the idea. “I could always just move to the countryside and become a dairy farmer instead of going back to acting. I have enough money to do that. You could find a new, competent client who doesn’t have a crisis every other week,” you say slowly.

You can practically see Liv raising a single brow, a look of pure skepticism on her face. “Imagine what the tabloids would say about that,” she says, “Since that’s apparently your basis for making decisions these days.”

“They’d call me a butch, and then let me fade into obscurity with my ten cows,” you answer promptly, and receive a grudging huff of laughter in return.

“Fine, I’ll give you that one,” she says, “Now back to the point at hand, do you agree or not?”

You bite your lip, hugging the pillow close. It would be nice to get back out there, you guess. Despite all the drama, you really do love acting, and while these past few months have been a nice break, you don’t know how much longer you can go without having anything to do. Finally, with a long, drawn out exhale, you relent, “Fine. You can send me the specifics and we’ll see.”

You are not even done with your sentence before you hear the ding of your email notification and you startle out a laugh. “Jesus, were you waiting with your finger on the send button or something?”

“I was confident that I could break you,” she says, smug, and you breathe a laugh again. “It’s just the audition package, but I think you’ll really like this show. It’s a cutesy, no bullshit type sitcom.”

“You know me well.”

“Let me know by tomorrow. I’m giving you twenty four hours to make a firm decision,” she says before hanging up.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at her actions. Liv is a great manager, but she’s definitely got a flair for dramatics.

… And knows exactly what kind of role would be perfect for easing you back into the industry, you grudgingly admit.

It starts off like another one of those generic crime investigation shows where you play a damn good detective who doesn’t play well with others until she meets her new partner, an unknown actress.

Liv was right. It’s the right amount of charming while still keeping with the grittiness that comes with crime shows nowadays, and your character – as well as your yet to be known partner – shuts down at least three instances of perceived sexism in just the first episode.

And you may be reading into things, but you are pretty sure that the two detectives have a thing for each other. A subtextual thing. God, you hope it’s a thing.

It’s a really good show.

Not only is the writing well done but the characters are pretty fleshed out and developed for a pilot episode and you are already tempted to call back Liv with the affirmation that yes, you are willing to go in for the audition. The only thing that’s holding you back is the smug look that you can picture all too well on her face at the news.

You last seven hours, caving after you have had dinner and Liv sounds just as self satisfied as you imagined.

Turns out the reading is in a few days time and Liv says, “I’ll drive you up there myself. I don’t trust you to not run away because of cold feet.”

You sigh, “As always, your faith in me is astounding.”

“We’re driving up the day before and booking a hotel. Start getting your shit together, Y/n.”

And you do, unearthing whatever you think would be suitable enough for being thrown back into the spotlight. If it was up to you you would just wear sweats all day. The morning you were scheduled to leave, you are awoken by an incessant pounding on the door to your apartment at 7:30am.

Not even bothering to throw something over your night slip dress, you stomp over and yank the door open with a belligerent, “What the fuck.”

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Liv demands, placing her hands on her hips. You glare at her weakly through your post sleep haze. Of course Liv would be looking runway ready at 7:30 on a Wednesday, both hair and makeup immaculate as she judges you for looking like an overgrown sewer rat. You are only mildly upset about it.

“You do realise it only takes like two and half hours to drive up to Seoul right? And that the audition is tomorrow?”

Liv merely grunts, and shoulders past you into the living room, though not before shoving a warm thermos in your hands. “Shut up, drink this, and get dressed.”

Unscrewing the cap, you're immediately hit with the scent of fresh coffee, and a strongly brewed one at that. “Seriously?” you ask, eyeing the dark brown sludge Liv likes to drink. She goes through at least four cups a day and you aren't quite sure how she’s still living.

The other woman just gives you a shark-like smile. “Bottoms up,” she smirks as she throws herself down onto the armchair.

You grumble but do as you are told, only to gag at the first taste of it in your mouth. It’s bitter and horrible and you're pretty sure your heart stutters over itself before beating double time.

“That’s disgusting,” you wheeze, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

Liv barely glances up at her phone. “I don’t care. Get dressed.”

You briefly consider drawing out your shower, but you're fairly certain that Liv wouldn’t hesitate to barge in and drag you out herself so you keep it quick. Mostly. You probably could have spent a couple less minutes shaving your legs but oh well. What’s done is done, and Liv hasn’t expressed any desire to harm or maim you as yet so you consider it a win.

By half eight the two of you are trudging down to the carpark, your duffel bag swinging lamely between them.

“If this goes badly I’m going to go back to my original plan of rearing llamas in South America,” you warn, pulling open the door to the passenger side with far more force than necessary. You throw your duffel in the backseat, having it land haphazardly on the floor.

Liv smoothly slides into the driver’s seat and the car hums to life. “I thought you were going to be a dairy farmer?” she asks lightly, passing over one of those heavy bran muffins you like to eat. You make a face but accepts it nonetheless. Asking Liv to stop at a Starbucks to pick of breakfast will only result in a stink eye and another bran muffin thrown your way.

“I changed my mind. Llamas have more personality than cows. Plus the paparazzi will never find me as an obscure livestock owner in the Andes.”

“I’m glad you’ve thought this through,” she says wryly, and you just smile at her, taking a huge bite out of the muffin.

You regret it instantly. It tastes like sadness and despair.

You don’t do much at the hotel, getting separate rooms and Liv leaves almost immediately to… do whatever it is she does on her downtime. Probably making a necklace out of human remains or something.

You dick around for a little bit, channel surfing before landing on an old episode of Charmed and then making the decision to hesitantly open up your Twitter account to scroll through your feed. You don’t go on often, especially because of these last few months, only tweeting when Liv says you need to make sure the world knows you are not dead, and even then it’s just a retweet of something, like one of those cute kitten vines.

You go through the writers’ room account, familiarising yourself with the producer and director before you catch yourself and stop. You could not get the role. You know that this industry is more luck than talent. You shouldn’t get attached.

It doesn’t stop you from looking up the studio though, learning that they’d be shooting on the same block as several other shows including some pretty well known ones. Homeland Studios is home to shows like Star Kingdom, Reign and Rebellion, and The Wreckage, just to name a few. It’s just a subtle reminder that it’s expected to do really well, and you swallow heavily, anxiety settling in the pit of your stomach.

When it’s time for you to go to the actual audition, you are a veritable bundle of nerves, to the point where Liv has to grab you by the shoulders to take you to the studio.

“This is a bad idea,” you say, hands clenched tight enough that yor nails dig crescents in then inside of your palm. “Maybe I shouldn’t get back into this just yet. Maybe we should go back home.”

“Maybe you should shut up,” Liv says mildly, switching lanes to head for their turn off, and you just nod, meek, settling down in your seat and trying not to think of everything that could go wrong.

None of those things happen of course; in fact, the audition surprisingly goes well enough.

You somehow manage to get in the mindset of your character and deliver your lines almost flawlessly despite the fact that you felt like you just came off a rollercoaster. The executive producer, Mr. Jung, is impressed at the end of it, and the room is all smiles when you are done, stumbling back out into the arms of a waiting Liv.

“See?” she smirks, “You did just fine.”

“I’m going to throw up,” you declare, and Liv just rolls her eyes.

Later that night Liv shows up to your room, a bag of Thai takeout in hand while you are aimlessly scrolling through your phone.

“Can you believe that there are articles on this already?” you ask, glaring at the luminescent screen. “I thought this was a closed audition? How do they have pictures of me?”

“Never underestimate the power of the paparazzi,” Liv says sagely as she begins to unload containers. You eat in silence, sometimes a quip here or there about an article that popped up. The pictures are blurry at best, which many say means that it’s just a hoax. That’s a good thing, in your opinion. The last thing you want is to ease back into the water only to have a sea monster drag your down kicking and screaming.

When you’re finished, Liv puts aside her container and looks at you, determined. It’s intimidating to say the least.

“You should start looking into apartments,” she says, blunt as always.

You are taken aback. Out of all things you expected her to say, this wasn’t even on the list. “What's wrong with my apartment?” you frown, “I like it.”

The look you get in return suggests that you are stupid for asking a question like that. “Well for one it's a good three hour commute from there to the studio.”

If anything, that just makes you frown deepen. “You're acting as though I already have the part when I’ve only gone in once.”

At that, Liv is suspiciously quiet and it makes you narrow your eyes. “What? What aren't you telling me?” you demand.

Another beat of hesitation and then, “They specifically contacted me with the role. They want you to take the part.”

That makes you even more confused and you ask, “Why would they do that? I haven't been acting for a while and I doubt that I'm good for press at the moment.”

There's a sigh from Liv before she unwillingly says, “They cast one lead already and she specifically asked for you to be her co lead.”

“Who is it,” you ask, voice flat and eyebrows raised expectantly.

Liv lifts her chin to meet your gaze, as though squaring up for a fight. Well, it’s not necessarily out of the ballpark just yet. “Shin Ryujin,” she says at last, and you are certain you can hear the screeching of brakes as the world stops.

Neither of you speak while you digest this information until you glare at her and almost spit what you have to say, “Are you fucking kidding me? You want me to team up with my ex boyfriend’s ex? The ex who dumped me on the red carpet? What the ever living fuck, Liv?”

She sighs again before saying, “I knew you would react like this, that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

You slump backward into your pile of pillows. “The tabloids are going to come for me, you hear that? They’re going to come and ask me a million different questions and turn me into another meme. The opportunities for this are endless.”

“Relax, you’re making this worse than it needs to be.”

Your voice is muffled through the layers of pillows, but you are certain Liv can hear you when you say, “Tomorrow. I’m flying to South America tomorrow to start my yet to be named llama farm tomorrow.”

now

M A Y

A bottle of lavender and citrus shampoo has never looked that intimidating to you.

You probably spend a good five minutes under the stream of water just staring at the thing since you first noticed it. Your hair is already soaked all the way through, and the bodywash – his bodywash, the one that makes you smell like pine trees and musk – has swirled down the drain ages ago, but you can’t stop staring at the green and purple bottle sitting so innocently in the shower caddy.

It’s the exact same brand you use, the one that only the beauty store a good fifteen minutes from here sells, and you know that it’s stupid to get all worked up over a simple bottle of shampoo, but you can’t help it, not when it makes your stomach flip like that, not when you find yourself swallowing several times.

The shower door clicks open and you jump, almost slipping if it weren’t for the muscled arm that shoots out to grasp you.

“Whoa, careful,” Minho says, voice trembling with mirth as he pulls you into his chest. You feel the hotness creep up your chest, and he notices it too, dropping a finger to your breastbone, tracing it all the up your neck. “You trying to drown in here, baby?” he asks with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“Just got sidetracked,” you say sweetly, thanking every deity you can think of that your voice doesn’t shake. You smirk and let your eyes run unashamedly over his bare form, the sinews of his neck, the hard ridges of his stomach that taper into a sharp vee at his hips. You love to stare at his naked body, love how it’s a study in sharp lines and angles that you wish to trace first with your fingers and then your teeth and tongue.

Minho doesn’t miss the way you are watching him, and he steps near you under the spray of the shower with a halfway smirk, letting it flatten his sex mussed curls.

“Well,” he all but purrs, and you shiver, letting your hands trail across his broad frame. He leans in to bite your ear while his thumbs brush over the tight bud of your nipples. “How about I sidetrack you a little more?”

Your hands spasm on his shoulders at his words, nails digging into corded muscle and he drags his teeth down your jaw.

“It’s your water bill,” you breathe, already rubbing yourself against his hardening cock, and he huffs a laugh into your skin.

Placing a kiss at the hollow of your throat, he mumbles, “It’s worth it,” and the grin that was budding across your face falls flat, stomach twisting awfully again.

You grab his hand from where it’s playing around with your breasts and drag it down to the the junction of your thighs, widening your stance slightly. “Less talking and more of this,” you tell him in a no nonsense kind of voice, his fingers taking their place on your clit, “I’m not getting sidetracked as yet.”

He misses the emotions that played across your face before, for when he finally looks up, it’s to meet a challenging eyebrow and a playful glint in your eye. He laughs again, pressing his forehead against yours and lets his fingers trail across your folds, parting them and spreading your wetness around and your eyes flutter shut, head tilted back.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, and then he’s kissing you, soft and deep while his other finger drums on your clit.

You try to put all thoughts of that damned shampoo bottle out of your head, god you try, and it works for a while, letting yourself get caught up in his fingers and tongue.

His fingers dipped in your heat, collecting all the slick that had gathered there before he dragged them back to your clit, swollen and throbbing in need for him. You allowed yourself to lean into Minho as he kept you pressed close to his body, planting small kisses at the top of your head.

It was intimate enough for you to freak out, intimate enough that it shouldn't come under whatever arrangement you and Minho had. Any rationality slipped from your mind when Minho tipped your head back to capture your lips in his.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your body falling completely into his embrace. His lips felt so fucking soft, gliding against yours smoothly, a little chapped and raw, yet so fucking perfect against yours.

You sighed into the kiss and Minho’s tongue licked your lower lip, the simple sensation sent heat straight to your core when he caught them in between in his teeth, slightly nibbling on them. You craved this feeling more than anything in the world. Nothing could compare.

“Fuck” you breathed, and he bit your lower lip, tugging at it, breaking the skin hard enough to draw blood. All you could do was let out a breathy moan, which came out as more of a whine. Your fingers grazed the nape of his neck, digging crescents into the soft skin and his overwhelming scent completely indulged you.

For a moment you forgot about his fingers until he pushed you against the shower wall, plunging two fingers into your soaking, greedy cunt waiting for him, where he belonged.

"I've barely started, baby," he cooed at you, lips meeting yours again to match the intensity of his fingers.

You couldn’t feel it in yourself to be embarrassed, you just wanted him to touch you.

“Please” you whined, and he increased the intensity with which his fingers were rubbing against your walls, a delicious pace that you were far too guilty to be both indulging in and craving for.

“M-Mnho…” you spoke, faltering at your words as he explored you.

“Feels good?” He asked, out of breath, leaning to press kiss under your ear. His tongue was languidly tracing a path along the side of your neck.

“Yeah…p-please. Fuck, don’t stop…” you moaned as he fucked in and out of you with his finger. The small kisses, the way his fingers owned every inch of you, the way his thumb rubbed circles on your swollen nub, everything was too much for you to take. You threw your head back, trying to contain yourself, unsure if you will ever get enough of this, ever get enough of him.

“Fuck, you’re always so wet for me. Are you close already?” He mumbled, watching you.

“Just fuck me” you breathed, of course, Minho isn't one to make any of this easy for you.

“I know, baby. Your cunt can't be left untouched,” he chuckled.

“Go faster, please” You pleaded, leaning backwards to rest your head against the shower wall. You know for a fact that if it wasn't for his hands steadying you, you would barely be able to hold yourself up.

Minho knew how to push you to the edge, he knew how to curl his fingers just right inside you, his dark gaze on you, hot and determined. It was all too much.

“Please, don’t stop,” you said, knowing very well he won't.

“Don’t worry, baby. I'll make you feel so good,” he said, finding your mouth again with his own. You were far too fucked to kiss him back properly but that didn’t stop him. His fingers moved so fast inside you and his tongue explored your mouth at the same time. “Always so tight,” he mumbled, making you clench around him.

You didn't bother to reply, feeling the pressure finally build up, a tightening coil settling deep in your belly. You could hear how wet you were by how fast his fingers pulled in and out of you.

“Faster…I’m so close” you panted, feeling everything inside you build up and Minho listened to you, increasing his pace, fingering you at an insane speed, his fingers curling inside you so well.

He pulled you in for a kiss, and just then, you came, the knot uncoiling and you let out a loud moan, into his mouth. You came with repeated moans of his name and incorrigible words, and he helped you ride out your high, kissing your neck, his fingers still inside you as your thighs trembled.

"Fuck, Y/n, you have no idea how beautiful you are." You breathed out a laugh, your eyes fluttering close. “I could watch you come a hundred times.”

"You’re that great."

"Yeah? Let me wash all that grease from your hair."

Your stomach twists when he offers to wash your hair for you, an unsettling amount of domesticity in the suggestion, and you move to capture his mouth in a frantic kiss that catches him off guard for a second before he can say something else.

Soap gets in your mouth, but you ignore it in favour of kissing him harder, hands drifting up to grip his own hair, slippery between your fingers, and you stumble back into the wall behind him, his hands flying to grasp your hips.

The water beats down on you fully now that you have his back against the wall, and his hands squeeze your hips, fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass, causing you to groan in his mouth. The soap suds drip down your back, and you try your best to ignore it, focusing on the warmth of his mouth, the hardness of his cock trapped between your bodies, pressing against your stomach, until the water runs clean, and that’s when Minho growls, fumbling to turn off the tap and hauling you up against him, dripping wet.

You shriek a little when he lifts, carrying you the short distance to his bed and dropping you down on the edge of it only to kneel between your open thighs, shouldering them apart.

A hand darts to his hair, grasping it when he nuzzles the crease where your hip meets your thigh, stubble chafing in the most wonderful of ways against your skin, and it brings a smile to your face, all previous worries long gone because this you can do. Sex is just sex. This is what you signed up for all those months ago.

“Insatiable,” you tell him, tapping his cheek.

He noses at you again, this time dangerously close to your centre where you can feel his breath brush against your cunt and you shiver, waiting.

“Your fault,” he mumbles, too busy peppering your mound with light kisses.

“I wasn’t done in the shower,” you say, laying back with a sigh as he licks up your slit gently. “You distracted me.”

“That was my plan,” he says unabashedly, using his thumbs to hold your folds wide open in front of him, everything on display. Minho looks up at you with a boyish grin, “You’ll have plenty of time for that after,” he says, and keeps eye contact with you when he seals his mouth over your clit, and really, what can you say to that?

‘After’ turns out to be nearly an hour later, rinsing the combined stickiness off your skin while he changes the sheets. Your hair is long dried, a halo of frizz around your head, and a cloud of lavender scent following you wherever you go. It still makes you feel uneasy, the level of intimacy you are at now, far higher than when this entire thing started, but you make a gargantuan effort to push it away. You could just be overreacting. You have a tendency to do that sometimes.

You step out into the living room in just a ratty t-shirt of his to find him lounging on the couch in sweats, a documentary playing on the TV while he nibbles on a slice of pizza. His glasses sit lopsided on his nose as always, and it makes your heart swell with fondness.

“Ryujin’s tweeting about us again,” he says, without any preamble, “Apparently she thinks we are going to burn the building down if we are left unchecked.”

You immediately unlock your phone and open up the app, spotting the tweet at the top of your timeline, and you snort. “What an idiot,” you say fondly, “Although I’m somewhat offended that she thinks we’ll destroy the complex.”

“I know right? Come on Ryujin, we’re not monsters,” he says with a dramatic roll of his eyes, “Obviously if I wanted to get back at you for something I’d just trash your apartment. I’m not going to inconvenience the entire building just for our feud.”

“What a gentleman,” you say wryly, slumping down on the couch next to him, and he prods you with his toes.

“We should take a selfie,” he says after wiping the grease off his hands, “To show her that we’re definitely still alive and everything’s intact.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say to take a selfie? You with me? Minho? Please tell me you’re okay.”

“You’re a bit dramatic at times, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Only several times a day.”

He rolls his eyes again and reaches out for your phone, pulling up the camera app. “C’mere,” he tells you, sitting up so that his shoulder brushes against yours. You readily move into frame.

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this,” you say, “I feel like I should being taking a photo of you taking a selfie with me, you know, to record this historical moment-”

You only stop talking when you hear the sound of the camera going off and looks up to Minho, not even bothering to hide his smirk.

“You did not just do that,” you say, shooked just a bit, “I was talking!”

“Well if you won’t shut up and pay attention,” he teases only to have the camera go off once more.

Now it’s your turn to cackle at the look on his face, and you pat his cheek lightly. “Karma,” you say succinctly, and there’s another sound of the shutter that makes you huff. “Alright enough of that. Give me back my phone.”

He holds the phone out of your reach, grinning. “Just one more. And then you pick whichever and post it to um-” he wrinkles his nose as he tries to find the word and you can’t help but giggle.

“Instagram?” you prod him, and he makes a face, nodding in assent. “Honestly, you’re weird. Stop acting as though we would be the first actors to post a selfie together."

“Shut up,” he grumbles, knocking into you with his shoulder before lying back down on the couch. His eyes drift shut. “Just make sure that in whatever you post up, you get my good side.”

“You don’t have a good side.”

“Rude,” he says, though there’s a smile tugging at his lips that causes one to appear on your face. You never thought that the two of you’d get here, even when you started fucking, and now you did, and it leaves you warm and fuzzy inside, this friendship you have developed with him. It also fans the flames of your anxiety, wondering if you should just stop having sex entirely before it permanently screws up your friendship into something irreparable.

It doesn’t stop you from posting the picture though, turning off all notifications and throwing your phone on the coffee table before wedging yourself between the back of the couch and him to watch whatever it is he found on Netflix for them. His arm ends up around you, and you snuggle into it, perfectly content for the time being.

before: 12 months ago

M A Y

Shin Ryujin hasn’t changed since the last time you saw her.

Of course, you have only seen her twice before, once at the afterparty of an awards show where you had possibly the most uncomfortable conversation of your life, and the other time when you found her sitting on your – their? – ex boyfriend’s lap.

She is still the perfect mixture of cute and hot, all cute features and sharp edges that cut a pretty damn beautiful figure. She’s still bubbly and lively, eyes impassively trained on you for the moment you enter the room, and she still makes you feel nervous, mortified and uncomfortable all at the same time.

You get the part, to no one’s surprise, but the actual cast listing hasn’t been released yet, not until they have all gone through a table read.

Unfortunately, as if life loves playing these little, mortifying games with you, you are placed in the seat next to Ryujin and it’s awkward to say the least. It’s still early with half the cast not here as yet and there’s only so much fake texting you can pretend to do before it becomes noticeable.

Finally, you crack, turning in your seat to say, “So. This is awkward.”

She lifts a single perfectly manicured eyebrow. “What, most friendships don’t start with you realising you’re not dating the same two timing scumbag as someone else?” she asks, keeping a perfectly straight face.

“Is that what we are?” you ask, perhaps a bit too quickly, “Friends?”

Ryujin scrutinises you a little bit, as though expecting there to be some sort of alternative motive, and you wonder where all her extraversion energy has dissipated or if she was always like this. Then, Ryujin must not have found any twisted meaning behind your words because she leans back with a half a smile and says, “Yeah, Y/n. We are friends.”

You try to bite back a smile but you probably don't succeed, especially since Ryujin shoots you a sly, sidelong look and gently knocks her elbow into yours. You mimic the motion, knocking back into her in return before frowning as another question comes to mind.

“Why did you request me to be your co-star?” you ask falteringly, “We have only met twice, and one of those times happened to be with you and my ex were naked in bed together.”

“Good times that was,” she says with a wry twist of her lips. She turns so that her whole body is facing you and worries her lip between her teeth. “Honestly, I don't know. I mean, I have seen your stuff Y/n, you’re good at what you do and what happened all those months ago-” You stiffen and you know Ryujin notices as she slows her speech, “-was pretty shitty. But you can get back up again eventually and if this was the opportunity for that, then why not?”

“It was the least pretty shitty thing, it was a pretty mortifying experience,” you point out and Ryujin laughs.

“Yeah I figured. Getting outed and broken up with within the span of seven minutes? Ouch,” she winces and you are pretty sure you end up gaping at her. She leans over and taps your mouth closed with a ‘click.’ “Take it from me,” she says, resting a hand on her arm chair, “One bad experience doesn’t mean you have to hide away forever.”

You stare at her for a beat longer before a shaky smile unfurls itself across your face. “I like you, Shin Ryujin,” you declare and get a smile that’s all teeth in response.

“Good,” she nods, “Because hopefully we are gonna be seeing each other a lot for the next few months.”

And with one last shared grin, the directors and producers enter the room, the room filled with all the actors for script-writing, calling them all to silence to begin the table read.

It goes surprisingly well if you do say so. The cast is fun and quirky, each of them bringing something new to the table and there’s something about firing off quick witted banter with Ryujin, both of you smirking just a little while you do so, that just seals the deal for you. For the first time in a long you actually feel truly at home. Acting has always been something which put you at ease, and despite the bigger picture demanding more than what just interest can fulfill, the idea of associating bad memories to your passion wasn't the best.

“Hey,” Ryujin calls out when it’s all over and she’s walking over to catch a cab, “Wait up.”

You slow to a stop, turning to look at her as she catches up. “What’s up?”

She comes to a stop in front of you, shifting her weight from one leg to another and fingers the end of her ponytail. “Where are you staying?”

“Huh?”

“You’re from Busan right?” she asks, and you nod once, “So you need a place to stay while we’re filming.”

Right now you are still living out of your duffle in the single hotel room. Liv left a few days prior, once she was sure that you weren't going to run, and you have been on your own since, not even sparing a thought about your housing predicament.

“Fuck,” you groan, raking a careless hand through your hair, “I forgot about that. And we start shooting in a week, dammit.”

She smiles at you, the same sharp one as before, but you can see the nervous tightening around her eyes. “Well actually,” she begins, hesitating slightly, “I have a spare room. If you’re interested that is.”

It takes you a few seconds to realise that you’re gaping at her, mouth hanging open just a little and you hasten to shut it. “What – are you sure?” you sputter, “Because you don’t have to; it’s totally fine, I could just-”

“What?” she interrupts with a raised brow, “Live in a hotel room until you find somewhere to rent? Sounds fun.”

“Ryujin, I-” you falter searching for the right words. “Why?” is what you come up with in the end, looking up at her beseechingly.

Her face softens infinitesimally. “You look like you could use a friend,” she says, “A real friend. Someone other than your agent.”

There’s a bit of a sting hidden beneath her words, and you find yourself scuffing the loose gravel with the toe of your shoe. She’s not wrong; you have been in this industry for ages and while you have had acquaintances here and there, none of them had ever been able to quite move into the friendship category.

“You don’t even know me,” you warn, “I could be a terrible roommate.”

She shrugs. “Hey, if that idiot had the balls to date both of us and then cheat, we must have something in common, right?”

It gets a smile out of you. “I guess so.”

“So. You up for it?”

You duck your head for a moment to hide what must be a truly ridiculous grin. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m in.”

The two of you shake on it and two days later you move in with her. At least unofficially.

It’s a bit of a hassle getting everything together; you have to find your way back down to your old apartment considering Liv was the one who drove you up here in the first place, and then figure out what to pack in your car to tote back up to your new place. It’s in doing all of this that you realise the sheer amount of crap you have come to own. Really, you have no idea how your wardrobe didn’t explode before because you have a truly frightening amount of clothes.

At the end of it, everything works out for the best.

You and Ryujin spend the day before you’re scheduled to start shooting unpacking your things in the spare room and it’s… fun. You haven’t had this much fun in a long time, enthusiastically singing along to trashy pop music playing over the radio while the two of you unload box after box. It turns out Ryujin's spare room was a lab of sorts, all sorts of knickknacks and tools spread out.

“They were going to go back in storage when I started working again anyway,” she says, brushing off your concern as she dumps them into her previously empty boxes, “Relax Y/n.”

When it’s all said and done, the two of you find yourselves sprawled off on the sofa, watching some sort of mindless reality TV show while you split a pizza. As far as days go, this one is a veritable success, and, watching Ryujin trying to balance straws on her nose while they lounge around together in their pyjamas, you think that you made a good choice.

M A Y

Your first day on set is… interesting to say the least.

The couple of scenes you do go well, the cast is just as amicable as before and the crew is a riot. Not to mention you are slowly coming around making friends with a handful of other people around you. It makes you feel like you have somewhat successfully navigated your adult life.

That isn’t what makes it interesting though; no what makes it interesting is your run in with some overweening asshole while you were still in your car.

There’s a tap on the glass which causes you to jump, and when your head snaps towards the source, there is a man standing right by your door, frowning. He’s fairly handsome, with caramel skin and bedhead, extremely attractive, and you swear that you know him from somewhere but you can’t put your finger on it. You don’t dwell on it though, because he’s standing outside your car, arms crossed over his – admittedly broad – chest and looking thoroughly put out.

“Can I help you?” you ask, polite, after rolling down the window.

The man doesn’t seem to have any regards for manners however as his upper lip curls into a sneer and he says, “You’re in my parking spot, miss.”

You blink. You're fairly certain that this spot didn’t have anything labelling it as reserved when you pulled into it. So, like any person would do, you step out of the car to check. As you suspected, there’s nothing there saying that it belongs to anyone else and you whirl around to tell him as much.

He just scoffs at you in response. “Listen, I know you’re a newbie and all but that’s been my spot for the last two and a half years, so if you could kindly fuck off, it would be much appreciated.”

“Wow, a real gentleman, aren’t you?” you hiss, and then make a point about pressing the button on your keys so that your car locks with a cheery chirp. “This is the first time I’ve seen you all week so maybe you should be the one kindly fucking off.”

“All week, hmm?” he says, eyebrows raising, “Funny because in my two years of being here this is the first time I’m seeing you so.”

The way he says it makes it seem like you are the one at fault for taking an unmarked parking spot. It causes your hackles to rise and you find yourself sniping, “Well maybe if you spent less time being a diva and more time trying to be punctual, then maybe you’d have your precious parking space!”

His eyebrows seem to have disappeared up his hairline. “A diva?” he sputters, before glaring at you once more, “Please. As if you’re one to talk, miss.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you huff, before stomping your foot and saying, “And stop calling me miss, dammit! You don’t know me.”

“I know your type,” he drawls, and his lips twist into a smirk. The change in his expression is going to give you whiplash, you’re sure of it, what with the way he keeps going from angry to smug. He presses on, “Whiny girl trying to make it big. Thinks that the world has fucked her over and she’s out to show them that she’s more than just a pretty face.” You can’t help but wince as his words hit a little bit too close to home, and his smirk just widens. “If the glass slipper fits, Cinderella. Try not to break it.”

“Are you always this much of an asshole to strangers?” you fire back after a moment of hesitation, “Or am I special?”

“What do you think?”

“I think,” you sniff, hiking your bag up on your shoulder, “That you’re a dick and I hope someone spills hot coffee on that pretty face of yours.”

And with that you turn on your heel, stalking off to stage four where you are set to begin shooting today. He yells something indistinguishable from behind you and you don't even bother to turn around, just flip him off over your shoulder.

You stomp on to the set, seething over the altercation until Ryujin calls you out on it with a, “Who pissed in your coffee?”

“Haven’t had any as yet,” you reply, slamming your bag down on the table and reaching for the pot of the aforementioned drink.

“No wonder you’re glaring daggers at everything that moves. Coffee is essential, Y/n. It’s our ambrosia.”

That gets a smile out of you and you feel the tension slowly start to work its way out of your shoulders. You quickly fix your cuppa to suit – two sugars with the barest dab of milk – and take a huge sip, sighing as it washes down your throat. “I can believe that,” you say and take another sip. “But it wasn’t my caffeinated – or lack thereof – self that brought this on. Just some asshole in the car park.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I feel like I know him from somewhere so he’s probably an actor too, but god, he’s such a dick. I wanted to punch him in the face.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you. We all know you have got a mean right hook.”

You felt the heat creep up your neck and face. “I’m sorry, if that asshole had the gall to try and get back with you at your movie premier you’re telling me you wouldn’t punch him?”

“No, I’d kick him in the balls and take a picture to use as the newest reaction photo. Caption: when you get hit by the feels.”

You snort a laugh and drain the rest of your coffee. “I better head to hair and makeup. I have a feeling they are going to need some time to tame this into some form of neatness,” you say, gesturing to the tangle of your hair thrown together in a sloppy bun at the top of your head.

Ryujin nods, reaching for a peach. “I should probably do the same. After we are done we can raid craft services before Felix and Jeongin get to it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

After that, everything is smooth sailing and you easily push the incident from your mind, getting into character as you call them on set. You shoot three scenes that day, and you and Ryujin learn how to fire fake guns. It’s fun, and when you’re done, Felix suggests that they all head for celebratory pizza at Lia’s around the corner. You feel right at home with them, with all of your co-stars, as you chat and trade stories over weak beer and greasy pizza, and when you and Ryujin stumble back home later, you pretty much just collapse into bed, only toeing off your shoes.

The rest of the week goes by quickly, and on Friday you are the only one who needs to go in, leaving Ryujin at home watching cartoons curled up on their couch with a bowl of soggy cereal. It’s easier than you expected, having her as a roommate. You are both still careful around each other, but by each passing day the walls are slowly being chipped away.

“Want me to pick up anything on my way back?” you ask while slipping on your shoes.

She shakes her head. “Nah. Don’t forget though, I invited Minho over later. I can’t believe you’ve been here a week and you haven’t met him yet.”

“You mean your imaginary friend who lives down the hall?” you tease.

“He’s not imaginary,” she insists, laughter colouring her voice, “I don’t know why you keep insisting he is.”

“Probably because you keep referencing him but I’ve never seen him.”

“Because he’s working somewhere else in the meantime. He left Monday evening.”

“Uh huh,” you say, still sceptical, “Sure. I’m going now. Say hi to your other imaginary friends for me!”

You hear a loud, “He's not imaginary, dammit Y/n!” as the door shuts behind you and you can’t help but grin to yourself as you jog down the stairs.

* * *

Work is a bit boring today with most of the cast not there. You are needed for two scenes with a couple extras, one fake fight where your stunt double is doing most of the work, and then the resulting interrogation scene. It’s nice, but dull, and you take to snapchatting Ryujin various pieces of set equipment until you flip her off, not answering anymore after she presumably switches off her phone.

You get to leave early when your scenes are done, and stop off at the bakery around the corner to pick up some pastries before heading home.

Their voices can be heard through the door as you toggle the lock, and you can't help but bite back a smile when you hear Ryujin bark out a laugh.

“Honey I'm home,” you announce as you fling the door open, kicking your shoes off in the hallway.

There’s a muffled, “In here!” coming from the kitchen as well as the tantalising waft of spices that has your stomach growling.

The first thing you notice as you round the corner is the guy standing by the stove all messy yet neat hair and deliciously broad shoulders, stirring the pot while Ryujin goes on about something and your mouth waters for more than one reason. The second thing you notice when he turns a bit, giving you a glimpse of his side profile, is that he looks shockingly familiar. That one is fleeting however, only to be replaced by the third and final thing, when Ryujin finally sees you standing on the edge of the kitchen.

“Y/n!” she yells out in greeting, and when the man turns around, giving you a good look at his face, your jaw actually drops.

Because standing there in the middle of your kitchen, looking surly as ever is the parking space asshole.

Seriously, what the fuck.

“Y/n,” Ryujin says again, sliding off her perch on the counter, “This is Minho. The one who you thought were imaginary.”

“I wish he was imaginary,” you mumble under your breath.

“What was that?”

“I said we have met,” you correct yourself with a tight smile and that’s when his lips curl up in a lazy smirk.

“That we have,” he drawls, shoving his hands in his pants pocket. He nods at you in acknowledgement. “Miss.”

“Douchebag.”

Ryujin is looking between the two of you, perplexed. “How–” she falters, eyebrows creasing together.

“He's the carpark asshole,” you say, flat, and that’s when Ryujin laughs, loud and bright, bouncing off the kitchen cabinets.

“Nah,” she smirks, patting him on the shoulder, “Just a regular asshole.”

“Thanks Ryujin.”

She whirls around to face him, smacking his bicep lightly. “I can’t believe the girl you were complaining about was Y/n. And Y/n,” she says, cutting a glance back at her, “Why didn’t you tell me it was Minho? I would have helped come up with some more colourful insults for him.”

“Again, thank you Ryujin.”

You feel your cheeks get warm and you duck your head, saying sheepishly, “I uh, I didn’t exactly recognise him at first.”

You don’t have to look up to know that the pair is gaping at you. Well, Ryujin is gaping at you, that is. Minho on the other hand is still trying to be cool and pretend that he’s not bothered by your admission.

“...Seriously?”

“It’s not like I watch the show okay?” you defend yourself, “I only know about it in passing.”

“Yeah, but he was on like every news outlet for the first year of it because of his fuck ups.”

“Why am I friends with you again?” Minho asks to no one in particular and you both ignore him.

Ryujin is still frowning at you, looking at you a bit suspiciously. “You really didn’t know?”

“Trust me, if I knew who he was and that he was your friend, I wouldn’t have said half of those things,” you sigh, using both your hands to push your hair back. You look at Minho properly for the first time since you realised who he was, and he’s just as stupidly hot as before. It makes you frown. “So does being friends with my roommate mean that I’ll have to see you around here often?” you ask, and his grin turns wicked.

“Something like that,” he shrugs, being deliberately vague, and turns back to the stew bubbling away on the stove.

Next to him, Ryujin rolls her eyes and says, “He lives down the hall and he’s usually over most nights if our schedules permits it.”

You feel your eyes flicker close of their own accord. “Great,” you sigh, and then they snap open almost immediately. “Wait, he lives here?” You look between the two of them before pinching the bridge of your nose. “What, is there some sort of celebrity quota the complex needs to fill or something? Is James Franco gonna pop up downstairs while I’m getting my mail?”

“Why James Franco?” Minho butts in mildly as he turns the gas off, “Why not Dave? He’s obviously the better Franco.”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up,” grouses Ryujin, stretching up to get the bowls from the top cabinet. The floor squeaks as she moves and you all wince.

“Need wheels for walking, Ryujin?” he asks, elbowing her out of the way to grab the bowls and he starts ladling the food into them.

“Nah. I just forgot to see about it this weekend,” she says, setting the table. You remain standing there in the kitchen, awkwardly holding the box of pastries. “Got sidetracked with a new show and all, this floor is still irritating though.”

“Uh huh,” he says, before his eyes drift over to you and he lifts an eyebrow, “What, you just gonna stand there all day, sweetheart?”

You jump, startled, and throw a weak glare at him. “No. Shut up,” you reply, placing the box on the counter and grabbing the cutlery from the drawer. Ryujin pops open a bottle of wine and soon enough you are all sitting in silence, eating. You have to begrudgingly admit that whatever it is he made ('Galbi Jjim,’ he had said, and the word sounds clumsy in your mouth) tastes amazing. Of course, you’re not going to tell him that; he’s already got a big head and you don't need to feed his ego even more.

You do however need him to feed you and Ryunjin more; his cooking is leagues better than whatever you and Ryujin can manage to put together.

When dinner is over and you have suffered through the appropriate amount of smalltalk, you finally give in and ask, “So how did this,” you gesture between them, “Happen?”

Ryujin cackles and it unnerves you just a bit.

“We hooked up after the incident,” Ryujin shrugs unashamedly. Minho shrugs but you notice a hint of redness creeping up his neck. “I woke up to this asshole sitting in my kitchen drinking my coffee–”

“Your shitty coffee,” he interjects and she elbows him in the stomach.

“–going through my apartment plans–”

“She wanted to move to the south side,” he snorts derisively, “Can you imagine? She wouldn't survive a week down there with the health junkies.”

“This is my story shut up,” Ryujin says without any heat behind her words, “But yeah, there we were, the random guy I hooked up with giving me real estate advice while he stood half naked in my kitchen, and the next thing I knew, I was signing the lease and he was helping me move in here..”

“Do all your friendships begin this weird?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to hide an amused smile.

She winks at you. “Only the good ones,” she says, and that gets a laugh out of you.

You offer to do the dishes after while they set up shop in the living room, bickering goodnaturedly over whose turn it is to pick something to watch on Netflix. You can’t stop your eyes from straying though, looking over at him ever so often for some strange reason.

* * *

Minho is an enigma.

On one hand, he seems like the type of person you wouldn’t mind having as a friend. His humour isn’t quite as dark as Ryujin’s but it’s drier, and he says almost everything with his lips curled up in a smirk, not to mention they have most of the same views on certain topics. That doesn’t stop the two of you from arguing all the time though; at the studio, at the apartment, it doesn’t matter where, you always find something to disagree over.

“You guys are ridiculous,” Ryujin says, rolling her eyes. You were running through lines on your break when Minho appeared, immediately throwing himself on the couch next to you, despite the fact that there were several other seats available.

“You are ridiculous,” you sulk, jabbing him in the ribs with your elbow just because.

Minho reacts like the mature adult he is by sticking his tongue out at you and swatting your thigh easily. “I’m just here to say hi to my friend Ryujin while I’m on lunch,” he says, loosening his tie, “Dunno what the princess’ reason is though.”

“I work here,” you reply, flat. “You’re literally on set where I work. Where else would I be?”

“Jesus, you guys are a headache,” sighs Ryujin when you and Minho start bickering once more, although you can hear the love peeking through. Somewhat.

“It’s his fault,” you mumble, and he tugs on your hair.

Ryujin groans again, swatting you both with her rolled up script. “The two of you are children,” she announces, ignoring your indignant yelps of pain.

It doesn’t help that Minho always seems to be around. He spends most of his lunch breaks on your set, dragging Hyunjin over with him, and then spends most of that time antagonising you. When you’re not filming, he’s over on your couch, needling them into watching the most boring movies ever, and you’re certain that the only reason Ryujin hasn’t kicked him out yet is because he makes them dinner most nights.

“Don’t you have your own apartment?” you somewhat grouse as soon as you spot him lounging on the couch one Sunday morning. You have just woken up, still squinting suspiciously at everything, and it’s not fair that he still manages to look so good that early in the morning. It accounts for about 30% of your bad mood.

Minho just gives you a quick up down, a hint of smirk making itself known and you refuse to fidget, refuse to pull down the shorts you know are riding high on your thigh, refuse to brush back the tangled snarl of hair partially obscuring your vision. “But if I was in my apartment then how would I see your beautiful face, sunshine?”

You don't even dignify that with a response, just trudging your way across the room into the kitchen where Ryujin is already sitting at the table, gulping down coffee like it’s her job.

“Does he ever go home?” you ask, rummaging around the fridge for some milk. “How’d you even put up with him before?”

She just shrugs. “He’s been around more often now that you’re here” she says offhand, and you glance sidelong at her, stopping mid stretch for the cereal box.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs, but she can’t quite hide the smug little smile pulling at her mouth. “Nothing at all.”

You are fairly certain that it’s something, so you press on, “Come on. Obviously you meant something with it. What aren’t you telling me?”

Ryujin slumps back in her chair with a roll of her eyes and pitches her voice low so that it doesn't carry. “Look, he used to visit before, yeah, but since you’re living here now, he’s coming over every day and actually leaving his set to come to ours. What do you think might have caused the change of heart.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “What are you insinuating, Ryujin?”

“You know damn well what I’m insinuating, Y/n.”

“I know that it sounds like a load of bullshit because-”

“Because it’s so implausible that Minho might like you?” she cuts in with a raised eyebrow, “I’ve known that boy for a while. There’s something going on with him. There’s something going on with both of you, and when it finally happens, I’m going to say I told you so.”

“Please,” you scoff as you drown your cereal in milk, “Nothing is going to happen between us.”

J U N E

“Fuck,” he says stumbling back. His eyes are wide and frenzied, lips red, and you're fairly certain you look the same way.

You run a shaky hand through your hair, possibly making it even messier but you don’t really care, not when you have bigger things to worry about like the fact that you just kissed Lee Minho while in the middle of arguing with him.

“Fuck.”

He breathes out a shaky laugh, fidgeting with the tie around his neck. “Pretty sure I just said that.”

“It deserves to be said again because – fuck.”

“Eloquent aren’t you?” he mutters, looking everywhere in the room but at you and you feel a frown tugging down the corners of your mouth.

“This never happened,” you tell him, taking a step closer and forcing him to look at you. “And this is never going to happen again. Got it?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw, eyes hard when he finally meets your gaze. “Whatever the hell you want, Y/n,” he says with abit of an edge, and you nod once before stalking out.

It’s only once you’re out of sight- of him, the trailer and everything else – tucked away in a dusty corridor that leads between studios, do you lean against the wall, breathing shakily as you brush the pads of your fingers across your lips, still tingling.

“Never again,” you mutter, already feeling the migraine building at the base of your skull.

now

M A Y

There’s sunlight streaming through the blinds, and you groan, throwing an arm over your eyes as you move further away from Minho. It’s warm, even with the air conditioner on full blast, and your body is sticky with sweat underneath the light linen blanket. You kick it off with a huff, hoping that maybe you can finally lapse back into a state of blissful unconsciousness, but it’s to no avail.

The bed vibrates with unheard chuckles and you crane your neck to throw a glare at him from over your shoulder.

“Shut up,” you groan. He's ridiculous, lying spread out on the bed without a stitch of clothing to his name, skin all pale and carmel smooth while his hair is a tousled mess. It's upsetting how good he looks, and you shove your face in your pillow so that you don't have to watch him a moment longer.

He just laughs again, this time louder and shuffles closer, ignoring your mewl of displeasure as he pulls his body flush against yours. “Good morning baby,” the coos in your ear before placing a line of sloppy kisses down the side of your neck.

You squirm in his arms, trying in vain to bat him away, but he just laughs again, letting his hair chafe against your skin as he grabs both your wrists and pins your hands above your head, sending a pang of want through you.

“Asshole,” you mutter, even as you tilt your head back to let him suck softly on your pulse point. The hand holding your wrists together applies a bit more pressure to them and he presses more firmly against you until you whine. “It’s hot,” you complain.

His teeth grazes your earlobe when he shifts, and you sigh, relaxing into him. “Mmm, that you are,” he says into your skin, free hand moving to palm your breast. Your lips part in a silent moan when he squeezes it, thumb flicking over your nipple, and he ruts against your ass, letting you feel him, already hard and hot.

“I’m all sweaty and sticky,” you warn, though your protests are getting more and more feeble by the minute, especially when he nips at your jaw gently, hand leaving your chest and moving south to brush across your clit.

His responding hum reverberates through you and you whimper as his fingers tease your cunt. “Well, let’s see if we could make you sweatier and stickier,” he says, and you have to huff out a laugh, startled and bright, because he’s ridiculous .

“What an – oh,” the rest of your sentence is replaced by a moan when he easily lifts your leg, hitching it over his hip, and slides in, all hot and heavy and perfect.

You whimper again when he grunts into your neck as he bottoms out, and you stay like that for a moment, just basking in the feel of each other before he finally starts to move.

He can only give you short, shallow thrusts like this, but more than makes up for it by using the pad of his thumb to rub gentle circles on your clit. You grind back against him, wrists straining against his hands, but he doesn’t let up, no matter how much you ask.

Then he’s hitching your leg up higher, changing the angle inside of you that has you seeing white, almost choking on your tongue as you spasm against him, wanting him to reach you deeper.

“Fuck, Minho, right there,” you beg, turning your head blindly in search of his lips, and he obliges you, giving you a kiss that’s more tooth than lip, but you still whimper, teetering on the edge.

Sweat gathers across your bodies, and you can feel your hair sticking to your temples, to the back of your neck, and he makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat when you inadvertently clench down on him. He finally lets go of your hands, only grabbing hold of your thigh, keeping it in place as he repeats the motion from before that has you seeing stars.

“Better?” he asks, voice strained, and all you can do is nod, too busy panting to string actual words together. You clutch on to the pillow when he does it a third time, free hand darting back down to pinch your clit, needing something to anchor you to reality.

“I’m so- I’m so,” you almost sob, thrashing, and his laugh is low and gravelly behind you, lips fastening to your pulse point and causing you to cry out. “Minho.”

He soothes you with sweet nothings muttered in your ear, but it does nothing to quelch the burning need inside you. Only when his fingers bear down on your clit too, thrusting in as deep as he can go, do you keen loudly, walls fluttering around him as you come.

It takes both of you by surprise, the sheer intensity of it, and for one brilliant, mind numbing moment, everything goes blank, and you just feel as though you're blissfully floating in space, electricity pulsing beneath your skin.

You come back slowly, your harsh breaths mingling with his as he softens inside of you, and he squeezes the fleshy part of your stomach gently before rolling onto his back. You go with him, twisting so that you now lie on his chest, sweat soaked skin sticking together, too lazy to actually go and clean up.

Minho pets the hair away from your face and pecks you on nose, laughing when you wrinkle it in response. “Morning,” he drawls again, hand trailing up your spine. “We should probably get up.”

You hum noncommittally, letting your head droop forward on his chest with a sigh. “I’m not moving for at least another hour,” you tell him, and he chuckles again, brushing his lips across the crown of your head. “Don’t let it get to your head” you tack on when you notice him crowing, and he pinches your thigh in response.

* * *

It’s Friday.

You have spent almost an entire week at his apartment, shirking your responsibilities in favour of playing house with Minho.

The intimacy should be too much: staying several nights in a row, cuddling with him after sex while he does things like that, but you can’t find it in you to muster up the energy to care, not when your blood is still roaring in your eyes and sheets have yet to cool.

“We've got time,” you think you hear him say through the fog settling in your mind, squeezing your hand, before you finally drift off.

before: 10 months ago

J U L Y

You get a late invite to the Seasonal Con.

Only Ryujin and you are going, along with the producer, and it’s not even a real panel, just a screening of the pilot episode to a group of maybe fifty people, and then fielding whatever questions the crowd might have.

It’s your first major event ever since you stumbled back on the scene two months ago and you're equal parts excited and terrified.

“Hey,” says Ryujin, nudging you gently as you turn out the sheets. You are both staying at your apartment instead of renting a hotel, since it’s only a half an hour drive from the convention centre. “Relax,” she says, “It’s not like we are going to be dealing with a lot of press or anything. Just smile and look pretty.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mumble under your breath, and this time there’s nothing gentle in the way Ryujin elbows you.

* * *

The morning that you are scheduled to go to the Seasonal Con, you are mostly fine. You get up and help Ryujin make pancakes for breakfast, then you shower and do your makeup, donning a cute sundress, and even going as far as to make sure your hair is in some semblance of order and that your makeup perfectly suits your dress.

You are fine.

Ryujin has to press her hand against your thigh to stop you from shaking your leg.

You throw her a thin smile in return. “What, you’re not gonna buy me dinner first?” you try to joke, but even you can hear how weak it sounds, and Ryujin gives you a meaningful squeeze.

“You got this.”

And she’s right. Mostly.

The screening is fine, the audience seems to be genuinely interested in the show, and they even garner more than a few laughs which probably made you disproportionately happy, but whatever. You are glad people are liking something that you helped to make. You do get asked a few questions later on, just a handful of things about the show that your producer answers mostly, and afterwards, a couple fans ask for pictures and autographs.

It’s all very textbook, but you breathe a sigh of relief once it’s all over, wringing out your shoulders.

“See?” says Ryujin with a grin as you walk out of the hall. The adjacent hallway is mercifully empty, free of any onlookers for a few moments. “You made it through.” You have got the rest of the day to yourselves and while you would rather go home immediately, Ryujin convinced you to stay a little while, just an hour or so.

“I guess it wasn’t that bad,” you concede, and Ryujin nudges you until you duck your head in a grin. “Fine, okay, it was fun. Jeez, you have pointy elbows.”

She just smiles angelically at you, and ducks out of the way before you can tug on her ponytail. “Everything’s better with Shin Ryujin around,” she announces.

“That is your new tagline, Ryujin?” a voice drawls from behind the two of you and both of you come to a stop.

You immediately recognise the speaker and your eyes fall shut as you take a calming breath, tilting your head heavenwards. You do not need this right now, especially not when your day was actually starting to look up. Ryujin on the other hand has no qualms about whipping around with a grin, saying a cheery, “Hey Minho,” in greeting.

He nods in acknowledgement before sidling alongside you, and you still have your eyes wrenched shut. “Y/n,” he says, lightly hip checking you.

That’s when you open your eyes, giving him a clinical up and down. He looks good as always, wearing a leather jacket over a soft tee with a faded Hogwarts insignia on it, and his cap is lurched lopsided in a way that is certainly not adorable. You think it might be a Pokemon one, but you don't want to spare him the extra thought.

You purse your lips. “Asshole.”

Minho chuckles, holding the door open for you as you enter the main part of the convention centre. People are swarming all over the place and while no one outright stares at them, you begin to feel the anxiety creeping back up your spine and quicken your pace, Ryujin right at your side.

“Hey, I’m just being nice,” he says, jogging to catch up with them.

“Fuck your nice.”

“Someone’s hostile today,” he frowns, staring down at you. His eyes flit over to Ryujin and he asks, “What’s up with her?”

“I’m right here you know,” you snap, “You don’t need to ask other people when I’m literally standing right in front of you.”

“Easy baby,” he soothes, a hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. There’s still a dip between his eyebrows as he appraises you carefully, and you look away, feeling a flush of hotness creep up the back of your neck. Behind you, you can feel Ryujin shaking with silent laughter.

“Leave me alone,” you say, shrugging off his arm and stalking off. You don’t get very far before the other two catch up to you, Minho catching you by your wrist this time.

He opens his mouth to say something – no doubt another snide jab at you – but is interrupted by a girl, clutching her phone tightly and staring at him in wide eyed amazement.

“I’m sorry, but can I get a quick photo please?” she says in a rush, “I’m a huge fan of your show!”

He presses his lips together in a line, giving you one last look, before turning to the girl with a charming smile. “Sure,” he says, posing for the selfie, and the next thing he knows, there’s a whole crowd around them, asking for autographs and pictures, blocking them in.

Honestly, the only thing that stops you from taking off then and there is Ryujin’s hand resting on the crook of your elbow through the entire ordeal. Besides, almost all of them are for Minho anyway. Hardly anyone spares them a second glance.

They must have been standing there for over five minutes before he says, loud and clear, “Sorry guys, I have to get to lunch, but I’ll be doing a signing at two if you want to come over.”

There’s general murmurs of disappointment from the crowd and they start to thin out. But, before they leave completely, Minho curls his arm around your shoulders with a, “Come on, love,” that sends a hushed whispers throughout the crowd and the tingle that was prickling under your skin moments before slams back into you, full force, no doubt faltering your public image.

Ryujin is all out cackling behind them and the moment you are all out of the public eye, you plan on ripping her a new one for her betrayal.

“You’re such a dick,” you hiss at Minho, trying to escape his hold. He just pulls you even further into his side and ducks his head to whisper,

“I’m doing you a favour.”

You try to ignore how warm and solid he is, how he smells like cinnamon and pine trees, but it’s proving to be difficult. “Yeah, well, you can shove your favour up your ass,” you mutter, and he throws his head back, barking out a laugh.

“You’ve got a real gratitude problem, you know that?” he says, almost bitterly.

“No, just a you-problem,” you retort in a saccharine voice.

“Easy kids,” says Ryujin , not even bothering to hide her smirk. “Be careful. You never know what this is going to look like to the outside eye.”

“There’s only one way murder can look to the outside eye, Ryujin,” you say, and he just scoffs.

“I try to do one nice thing for you and what do I get?” he says, mostly to himself, finally letting his arm slip off your shoulders as you near the end of this hall. “Not even a thank you. Last time I will try to help you.”

“Good I don’t want your help,” you snap, pretending that you don’t miss the heat and heaviness of his arm around you. Your fingers brush together when you walk though, and neither of you make any attempt to create some space between yourselves.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Oh my god, you’re like an old married couple,” says Ryujin exasperatedly and you both turn to glare at her.

“Shut up, Ryujin,” both of you chorus before snapping your glares over each other.

“Jesus,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes. “I’m just saying, keep acting like that and people are going to assume things.”

Minho makes a derisive sound in the back of his throat. “Please,” he says, leading them down the corridor, presumably where the rest of his cast is hanging out, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

* * *

Your phone barely even rings once before you’re swiping accept, not even sparing a glance at the caller ID. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she deadpans, voice scratchy with disuse.

On the other end of the phone, Liv sighs, a common reaction to dealing with your mishaps. “What happened yesterday?” she asks again, already sounding tired. That’s how you know this is a big problem, because Liv never sounds tired in the morning.

“Nothing!” you say, flailing wildly, “Seriously, we were arguing as usual. That’s it. Nothing about that screams romance.”

“So he didn’t call you ‘love’?” she asks dubiously.

You hesitate, biting your lip. “Well, yes,” you relent, “But he always calls me something ridiculous. It’s meant as an insult not a pet name!”

Liv seems to ignore you. “And did he put his arm around you?”

You hesitate again. “...Yes.”

There’s another sigh coming from her end of the phone, and you screw your eyes shut as you wait for the verbal smackdown.

“Come on Y/n,” Liv starts, “You’ve been in this business long enough, you know how the public perceives things. Especially things like this.”

You swipe a hand through your tangle of hair – damaged from all that damn hairspray – and toss it up in a slipshod bun. “Can’t you skew it?” you ask, “I’m not involved with him, I do not want to be involved with him. At all. Forever. Never in my life.”

There’s silence on the other end for almost a full minute before she says slowly, “We could just let it all blow over. Dating rumours crop up everyday.”

You lift your eyebrows. “Are you suggesting that we just leave it alone?”

“It should disappear by itself. After all, this is the first time someone alluded to your relationship with Minho as anything but professional. A lot of people are probably going to flat out deny it,” she tells you. “Let the internet work it out for itself. You’ll be old news by yesterday.”

“One can only hope,” you say, shoulders slumping. “Why did I come back to this hell hole? Why didn’t I start my hopefully lucrative llama farm?”

“Goodbye Yn.”

The phone goes dead and you pull it away to glare at it. “See, my llamas would put up with my bullshit Liv. They wouldn’t abandon me because of it.”

It’s only a few minutes to eight, but you can’t go back to sleep so with a disgruntled full bodied sigh, you roll out of bed to get started on breakfast. They have only been here for three days so far, driving back up tomorrow, so you are fully aware that the fridge is woefully scant, even with the groceries they picked up on the way. There are some eggs left over though, so you scramble them, and makes some toast to go with it.

You have given into temptation, scrolling through your Twitter feed as you wait for Ryujin to wake up, sipping on your coffee. It’s not terribly bad; it’s the most notifications you have had in a long while, and most of them happen to be the same question repeated over and over in a multitude of ways: Is there something going on between you and Minho?

Your fingers itch to answer them, or maybe even just vaguely tweet something but you resist, thinking of what Liv would say if you somehow made matters worse. You are saved from being a torment to yourself only a few moments later when Ryujin stumbles in the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee pot.

“What?” she asks once she’s inhaled half a cup and is now awake enough to notice you glaring at her.

You just groan and slide your phone across the table to her, before dropping your head onto your arms. When Ryujin reads the headline she snickers, absolutely delighted.

“You called this upon me,” you say, your words muffled by the tabletop. “You fucking called this on me.”

Ryujin pets your hair aimlessly, doing more harm than good. “Look on the bright side; it’s Dispatch. No one takes it seriously.”

“My Twitter feed is like 99 per cent of people asking me if Minho and I are dating. Or having hate sex.”

“Obviously it’s the latter.”

“Obviously it’s neither.”

“Oh come on,” she says, throwing her hands up, “You’re telling me that a little bit of hate fucking isn’t going to fix this-” she makes some sort of weird gesture with her hand that you can’t even begin to comprehend, “-this whatever it is going on between you two?”

Your traitorous mind jumps to the kiss, the way he felt so hot and solid beneath your hands as he pushed you against the wall, the way you let your fingers tangle in his hair, and a shiver runs down your spine.

Never one to miss anything, Ryujin narrows her eyes at you. “Unless you already did that,” she says slowly, taking in every bit of emotion that flits across your face.

“I didn’t,” you say, dropping your gaze to the worn and scarred tabletop. “But I did kiss him.”

“I knew it!”

“It was a one time thing that we both agreed to ignore,” you’re quick to point out, and Ryujin just snorts.

“Yeah. Right. Okay,” she says, “You can miss me with that ‘one time’ bullshit.”

“Ryujin!”

“What?” she shrugs, “It’s true. There’s obviously something there.”

“There’s nothing but hate and animosity there.”

“Again, I point you towards hate sex.”

“How about I point you towards the door instead. God, you’re worse than the internet.”

Ryujin holds her hands up in surrender. “Alright, let’s not get too crazy,” she says, although her smile is still far too smug. She takes another sip of her coffee. “But, just let it be known that I still reserve the right to say I told you so when it does actually happen.”

You just groan, letting your head fall against the table.

A U G U S T

Still though, you can’t help but think about Ryujin's words.

It’s not your fault okay? Ryujin just managed to make your mind conjure up some very…interesting scenarios for you over the last couple of weeks.

You can no longer look at Minho for, every time you do so, you can only picture the feel of his mouth on yours and wonder if it’s just as good at other things as it is as kissing, can only wonder what else those hands of his can do, can only wonder if he is as good as Ryujin slyly told you he was.

It’s turning you into a mess to be honest, which is why, a few weeks after they returned from Season Con, you find yourself blurting out, “Ryujin thinks we should fuck,” as soon as you are left alone in your trailer with him.

You wait until he’s taken a sip of water to say it, and you’re rewarded by him hacking his lungs out.

“Pray tell,” he wheezes, “Why does Ryujin think we should fuck?”

You shrug. “She says that it will help us get along better. You know, once we get rid of all that unwanted sexual tension. Purely platonic fucking and we can actually stand to be in the same room as each other.”

“Right,” he says, and there’s something a bit off to his voice. You look up almost immediately, frowning, and catch the tail end of some unknown emotion flitting across his face. He hitches an eyebrow when he catches you looking. “And what do you think?”

“What do you mean ‘what do I think’?”

He shrugs. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

You don’t understand how he can be so blasé about discussing it, not when you are already three steps closer to looking like an alarmed porcupine.

“I think it could be worth a shot,” you say, as casually as possible with your chin held high.

Across from you his mouth curves into the most sinful of smiles and he looks at you through hooded eyes. “You wanna fuck me, Y/n?” he murmurs, voice dropping several octaves, and it’s all you can do to not squirm in your seat, warmth settling heavy and wonderful in your stomach.

“It’s just a thought, okay? Ryujin might have definitely been onto something and who knows maybe it could work if we just fucked once and got it out of our systems I mean-”

“Hey Y/n?” he says, interrupting your steady stream of nonsensical babble, and you exhale shakily.

“Yeah?” He’s much closer than you remember him being, and when you look up, almost to the point where you can count each individual eyelash, you look elsewhere.

“Shut up,” he murmurs, and then his hand is wrapping around your jaw, bridging the gap between the two of you.

His mouth is just as you remembered, hard and warm, tongue flickering against yours as he pulls your body to him. You make a soft sound of surprise in the back of your throat, and your hands immediately dart to his hair, feeling the silky strands sift through your fingers. His thumb traces your cheekbone as he sucks on your bottom lip, and when your nails scratch at his scalp, he lets it go with a soft sigh of pleasure, kissing you even harder.

“Just to be sure,” you pant once you break apart and he starts sucking kisses down the column of your throat, “We’re doing this right?”

“If science says it’ll work then there’s no harm in giving it a shot,” he rasps against your skin, moaning a little when you pull on his hair.

“Ryujin said it, not science.”

He mutters something too low for you to hear as he kisses his way down to your cleavage. “Ryujin is basically science,” he tells you, looking up from your chest, “I’m taking this off,” he tugs at your camisole.

“I’d be more pissed if you didn’t,” you say, helping him pull it off. You arch up into him with a whimper when he suckles your breast through your bra. “Fuck, Minho,” you moan as you reach behind you to undo the clasp, needing to feel his mouth against your skin now.

His other hand skims across waist, leaving a trail of warmth in its path as it heads towards the snap on your jeans, and he deftly opens it with a twist of his fingers, wriggling his hand inside. “Hope this is alright,” he says, fingertips just ghosting across your underwear as he leans down to swirl his tongue around your nipple.

It takes you three tries to formulate words in your head, and even then all you manage to say is, “Very alright,” trying to tilt your hips to get more friction, feeling the heat of his palm through the thin scrap of fabric.

Only once you have said so does he dive right in, fingers slipping beneath the flimsy material of your underwear to stroke you and you both swear.

“Fuck Y/n,” he swears, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses from one breast to the other as his fingers trace up your slit, “You’re dripping. How long have you been thinking about this?”

He sinks blunt teeth into your sternum until you whine. “A – a while. Ever since Ryujin brought it up the first time. And then you show up today – fuck ,” you cry, hips jerking up when his index circles your clit, “Do that again. Please Minho.”

He chuckles, pressing a smacking kiss to the outside of your breast, and repeats the motion, rubbing his thumb on your clit until you whine again.

“You have been thinking about this for what? The past half an hour while I have been sitting right next to you?” he asks, accidentally butting you in the chin as he tries to bite at your collarbone. “Shit babe,” he flicks your clit again, “Bet you’re all worked up, huh?”

“Minho, please.”

“Were you thinking about this the whole time?” he presses, rising up so he can get a good look at your face, your mouth just slightly parted while your eyes keep on fluttering, struggling to stay open. He slows his motions until you make a soft plaintive sound in the back of your throat and he can’t help but bend down to kiss you, sweet. “Come on, Y/n, tell me what you were thinking about,” he lets his teeth graze over her earlobe, “I wanna know, baby.”

“Your hands,” you whine, trying to get him moving again. He has to pin your hips to the couch to stop you from wiggling all over the place and it sends another flare of want through you. “I was thinking about your hands and – and–”

“And what?” he coaxes, letting his fingers ghost across your entrance. You jerk with it, pleasure curling at the base of your spine. “And what else Y/n?”

“Mouth. Your mouth, Minho.”

His lips curl up in a halfway smirk, pleased, and he presses a single finger into you, just barely. “You want my mouth on you, baby?” he asks, “You want my mouth on your sweet pussy?”

You clench down hard at his words, eyes screwed shut, and you feel the warmth flood your face as he laughs lowly.

“Please,” you murmur, and you feel his lips just barely brush across yours before pressing down more firmly in a soft exploratory kiss. He removes his hands, and you whine at the loss of contact, until he breaks the kiss, sinking to his knees before you.

“Whatever the hell you want, baby,” he says as he slowly peels your jeans off. He litters featherlight kisses up your leg, mouthing his way across the crease where your leg meets your hip. And then, without warning, he leans forward, nuzzling his face against your lace covered pussy, and you squeak in surprise. His hands come up to grab your hips, steadying you, and he repeats the motion, this time letting his teeth graze against your clit through the pathetic excuse for underwear, letting you moan.

“So fucking wet,” he mutters again, a hint of awe colouring his voice, and you flush hot, trying to get him to put his mouth on you for real.

He does away with your underwear quick enough, leaving them in a sad little crumpled heap on the table next to the couch, before ducking back down to lick a fat stripe straight up your centre that sends your pulse skittering.

One of your legs hooks behind his shoulder as he steadies himself, and the hands pinning your hips flex, lifting you closer to his mouth as he laps at you with long licks, making an enthusiastic sound in the back of his throat. There’s nothing slow and gentle about it, very little finesse to be found, but it still has you curling your toes and keening loudly, especially when he slips one, then two fingers in, scissoring you wide open so he can truly fuck you with his tongue.

It doesn’t help that Minho seems just as into it as you are, low groans pressing into your flesh, the vibrations of it doing all sorts of things to your body.

His mouth is even better than you thought, and within minutes, you’re pulling on his hair when he sucks your clit in his mouth, high pitched whimpers crawling out of your throat as you clench down hard on his fingers, coming with a broken gasp of his name that has him grunting into the side of your thigh.

He groans when you pull him up, and you lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth while tugging on his stupid robes. He’s still fully dressed in costume while you are laid out wantonly before him.

“Off,” you command, nibbling on his lip.

Minho pushes you away gently, stealing one last kiss before starting to undo the million and one clasp that holds his costume in place. “Condom?” he asks, voice pitched low in a way that makes you shiver. He can’t seem to look away from you, eyes dark with want and you bite your lip.

“I’m supposed to have one in my bag,” you say, stretching for it, “Hurry up."

“You always this bossy?”

“You always this slow?”

Your fingers quickly find the foil packet, and you rip it open as fast as you can. He’s finally naked by the time you turn back around, and you push him down roughly on the couch, climbing onto his lap. He’s all lean muscle, broad and firm beneath you, and you can’t help but run an appreciative hand down his chest as you fix him to your liking.

Minho chuckles, palming your ass as you settle on him. “You are bossy, huh?”

You smile at him sweetly, wrapping your fingers around his cock and feeling him twitch in your palm. “I just know what I want.”

There’s a muscle ticking in his jaw that you just want to bite into as he nods, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Then by all means, Y/n.”

In another time you would taste him, drop to your knees and take him in your mouth, but right now you just want him, already too keyed up from before to do nothing else besides give him one last squeeze and then roll the condom on, quickly sliding onto him in way that has you both groaning.

“God, Y/n,” he shudders, already sounding wrecked. He squeezes your hips again, leaning up to mouth at your breast, and you gasp, rocking down on him.

It takes you a few moments to find the rhythm, and even then it’s still sloppy and hot and oh so good in a way that you find yourself digging your nails into his shoulders. He keeps his mouth on your breasts, and each tug of your nipple sends a shock wave of pleasure directly to your cunt, and you throw your head back with it, moaning.

As you both near climax, your moves get more and more frantic until Minho grabs hold of your hips, pulling you down forcefully, your clit catching on the bump of his pelvis each time, and you come with a broken moan, slumping against him. It triggers his own release, and he thrusts up into you, once, then twice, before tensing up beneath you, coming with a low growl as he sags into the couch.

For a moment there’s nothing but the sound of your harsh breathing, and you sigh into his neck as the sweat cools on your skin.

“We should probably clean up,” he mumbles, eyes still closed and you nod, slowly sliding off of his dick, moaning a little when your cunt gives a feeble little flutter. He just groans unashamedly, staying right there slumped on your couch, arm thrown over his eyes, until you throw his pants at him.

“Get dressed,” you tell him, slipping into your bathroom to clean up. Your skin is coated with a thin layer of sweat and he made a total mess of your hair, but you pay no attention to it, giving yourself a perfunctory rub down with a washcloth before slipping back into your clothes.

When you return, he’s almost ready, fidgeting with his tie. He didn’t bother to do anything with his hair, but it’s not like anyone would be able to tell the difference.

You take a deep breath. “So.”

“So.”

“Think we got it out of our systems?’

He shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. Only time will tell I guess.”

“Right.”

You stand there awkwardly for a moment, neither of you willing to meet the other’s eye until Minho blurts out, “I feel like I’m supposed to shake your hand or something. You know, properly close the deal.”

It gets a giggle out of you. “Didn’t realise we were making a business deal here.”

“Well, you never know,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets with the barest glimmer of a smile. “The handshake makes sure you know that it’s one and done.”

“Oh, of course it does.”

Another bout of silence falls over the two of you during which you just stand there, smiling at each other like a pair of loons until Minho clears his throat.

“I should, uh, probably get going,” he says, raking a hand through his curls as he squeezes past you to get to the door, and you nod.

“Right.”

“Right.”

He turns around just before he leaves, mouth open to say something else, but he ends up just shaking his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “See you around, Y/n.”

now

M A Y

You should have left already. Instead you are lying on the couch, spooning with one Lee Minho as some mindless cop drama plays out on TV. It’s becoming a habit.

“Can you do that with your gun?” he asks, voice dripping onto your skin like honey. One of his hands has found its way under the sweatshirt you stole from him, resting heavily on your stomach.

You barely even glance at the screen. “I can barely even keep a good grip on my gun,” you confess. “It’s always falling all over the place.”

He hums in response before you lapse back into comfortable silence for the rest of the show. You are more than content to lay there, feeling his warmth all around you, his breath stirring your hair, his heart beating against your back.

It’s nice.

Eventually you do have to leave, glancing at the clock on the wall before saying, “I should probably go. It’s getting late.”

Minho makes a soft, plaintive sound in the back of his throat and pulls you closer. “Or you could stay. Ryujin’s flight doesn’t get in for another three hours. You have some time to kill.” His hand skims across your stomach, light, and you actually find yourself considering it.

With a shake of your head you sigh, “No, I really need to get going. I still need to pick up dinner before you get here. And make it look like I was actually living in the apartment these past few weeks.”

He chuckles at that, nosing the nape of your neck. “Point,” he says, even as he tightens his hold on you, reluctant to see you go. “Or we could take a nap, order pizza and forget about cleaning in the first place. You know, like what we’ve been doing everyday for the past week and a half.”

You snort, batting his hands away and finally sitting up. “Right. And then what will I tell Ryujin when she asks why the apartment’s been abandoned for a month?”

He’s silent, causing you to glance at him while you stretch out your arms. Minho is never one to shy away from telling you what he really thinks, and his sudden apprehension has you tilting your head quizzically. Eventually he looks back up at you for a brief second, and then sets his jaw, fingers trailing across your skin distractedly.

“You could always tell her the truth,” he hedges, hand tightening on your waist and you freeze mid stretch.

“Why?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

Minho shrugs, still overly casual and unable to meet your gaze. “I mean, we’ve been sneaking around for a while now. Aren’t you tired of it?”

“No,” you say, slowly, “Because we both said that this was a one time thing, and when it wasn’t, we both agreed not to mention it to anyone. For both our sakes.”

“Well, things have changed now, haven’t they?” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, “We’ve been doing this for nine months, Y/n.”

“We’ve been doing this on and off for nine months, Minho.”

He ignores you, pressing on, “You can’t tell me everything's the same, especially not after December,” and when he finally looks up at you, your stomach drops.

Ever so slowly, you stand up, stepping away from the couch and out of his reach. The TV is nothing more than white noise in the background.

“Actually, I can,” you say, voice brittle, and he freezes.

You never used to hook up at home, you never used to stay over, you never used to share inside jokes and smiles, tweeting and subtweeting each other, posting selfies together for the world to see.

“Because this has been kept separate from the rest of our lives in a neat little box.”

He sneaks kisses from you sometimes when he comes over to spend the evening with you and Ryujin, holding your hand under the table. You get asked questions about each other at cons, and you distinctly remember that one time he told a fan that you were ‘only a fucking amazing and a phenomenal actress who he’s glad to know.’ You have a drawer of your clothes in his wardrobe, but you still choose to steal his.

“Nothing has changed, Minho, not for me. Not between now and last fucking August.”

You think about the shampoo bottle he keeps in his shower for you, the herbal tea he stocks in his cupboards. You think about how you have memorised his favourite songs, can rattle off his favourite passages from any book to the way he won’t eat ice cream unless it’s in a cup with the cone crumbled into it.

Minho sits on the couch, unmoving except for the clench of his jaw that has the muscle popping. “So I guess that’s that then?” he asks quietly, looking up at you, face blank.

You nod once, your chest feeling too tight. “Yes,” you reply, just as quiet and weak as before, and then turn on your heel to leave. He doesn’t say another word, not even when you shove your feet in your shoes and walk out, the door closing behind you with a soft snick.

You fumble with the key to your own apartment, the too long sleeves getting in the way and you end up swiping furiously at the frustrated tears that have inexplicably gathered in your eyes. Once inside, you brace yourself on the counter, taking deep breaths as your vision blurs for one startling moment, trying to ease the pain in your chest.

Your eyes are still too bright when you pull away, but you steady yourself, pulling off his sweatshirt and throwing it in the dark recess of your closet before starting to clean, trying to get your mind off of things.

It works, somewhat, but later, once Ryujin is home and safely bundled in bed, you sit with your phone in your lap. Minho is the second person in your inbox, right under Ryujin’s flight confirmation, sending you a stupid pick up line a few hours ago. You open up the chat and slowly types out your message with shaking fingers.

Y/n: i think we should stop seeing each other

His response comes seconds later.

Minho: fine.

The words from before have left a bitter taste in your mouth that, no matter how hard you try, you can’t get rid of it. It’s the taste of a lie and heartbreak all rolled up in one, and this time you can’t rid of the tears with just a few swipes.

before: 5 months ago

D E C E M B E R

“What,” you say flatly, still staring at Ryujin, with your arms crossed.

The other girl just smiles at you. “You heard me.”

“What I heard was that you want me to take your place at the award show next week because your dislocated disc is giving you trouble. The very same award show that you were attending with Minho,” you say, still terribly unimpressed, “Surely I heard wrong.”

“No, you heard correct. And I already cleared it with Liv. She thinks it’s a good idea, especially since the show is doing so well.”

“You talked to Liv ?” you sputter, “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Ryujin shrugs, looking entirely too innocent from where she’s laid spread out across your couch. “Because I know that you wouldn’t do it if I didn’t bring in the big guns. I’m covering all my bases.”

“Goddammit Ryujin.” You scrubbed a weary hand across your face.

“So is that a yes?” she asked, phone already in hand, “Because I can’t wait to let the internet know about this. Your shipper fans are going to lose their minds.”

You can just imagine, and you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. Liv’s solution of ‘letting things blow over’ had backfired stupendously and you are certain that at this point everyone and their mother wanted to see you date Lee Minho.

“I fucking hate you.”

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

* * *

That’s how you find yourself a week later, being ambushed by a team of make up artists as they help get you ready for the night while Ryujin sits off to the side with an oversized bag of crisps, flat out cackling at you.

“I really fucking hate you,” you grit out, trying to at eye her while one of the make up hands fix your eyebrows.

Ryujin just laughs again, wincing a bit as she shifts herself on the chair. On one hand, you know that her back has been giving her trouble these past few days, especially because of the cold weather and shooting, but on the other, you really hate her for making you do this.

“You should see your timeline right now,” she snorts, “Everyone is so frenzied.”

“I’m going to beat you to death with a curling iron.”

She just blows a kiss at you, continuing to chortle while you scroll through your phone. “The general consensus is that you’re either going to tell the world you’re finally dating, or let everyone know that you’re pregnant and Minho’s the baby daddy.”

“The only thing keeping me sane right now is picturing stabbing you multiple times with a mascara wand,” you hiss, yelping when someone pulls on your hair a bit too roughly.

“Look on the bright side,” says Ryujin , “At least you too get along now. Somewhat. And I can promise that Minho is an absolute joy to be around during these things. He’s almost better than a hip flask.”

You’re glad that Ryujin’s not paying attention to you, for she would have caught how you can’t maintain an eye contact at the mention of Minho and your relationship.

Turns out that sleeping with Minho couldn’t be a one time thing.

Who knew?

It’s not a regular thing, but you still do it often enough that you’re no longer snapping each other’s heads off, but instead engaging in playful banter.

It’s nice. Somewhat.

You would just like everyone to know that it only started up because he’s just really, really good with his hands.

And mouth.

And…everything else.

You are jerked out of your reverie by a knock on the door, and Ryujin practically flounces over to open it, a massive shiteating grin spread across her face as she does so.

“Minho!” you hear her say, bright and happy, “Come in. She's still not ready yet; give her a couple more minutes.”

“You’re awfully perky for someone who claimed to be in debilitating pain,” he says, sounding suspicious.

“It’s the painkillers. Come sit!”

You catch a glimpse of him as he passes in front of your door and well. Your jaw doesn’t quite drop, but it certainly comes close to doing that, and your cheeks just heat even further.

Minho looks really good in a suit.

Like insanely good.

Ryujin darts back into the room, and, after taking one look at you, she bursts out laughing again, even as she throws herself on the bed. She’s having far too much fun with this, and you kind of want to throw something at him.

“You so want to hit that,” Ryujin whispers, smug.

I am already hitting that, you almost say, the words on the tip of your tongue, but you easily swallow it down, schooling your face into a scowl.

“If you mean take a frying pan to his face then yes,” you nod, and then wince again as a hair pin digs into your scalp.

“All done,” says the girl, before spritzing perfume on you. You almost choke on a cherry blossom scented cloud, and when it passes, Ryujin is standing by the door, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. You may or may not have deliberately stepped on her good foot.

“Come on Cinderella,” she says, linking your arm through yours once you stand up, “Let’s get you to the ball.”

“I hope a spider crawls in your mouth when you’re sleeping tonight.”

You do manage to school your face in a pretty neutral expression when you enter the living room, and it seems as though Minho was preparing himself beforehand, as he barely reacts to your appearance, only giving you a cursory look up and down. The only tell is the bob of his adam’s apple when he swallows, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from looking too smug.

“Do I meet your standards?” you can’t help tease him, and his eyes snap up to yours, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I guess you’ll do,” he sighs dramatically, and offers you his arm.

“Have her home no later than eleven, Minho!” Ryujin calls out as you are both walking out the door.

He flips you off behind his back. “Fuck off, Ryujin,” he bites out, succinct.

Her laughter follows you all the way down the hallway and you grumble, “She’s a goddamn menace,” while hiking up your dress to walk down the stairs.

“That she is,” he nods before looking sidelong at you. “You look nice.”

Your heart picks up pace on its own accord. “Thanks. So do you.”

“Thanks,” he says, and you can’t mistake the the humour in his voice. You elbow him in the rib and he laughs. “What? What did I say?”

“You’re a dick,” you huff, still trying to calm your traitorous heart, and that just makes him laugh louder.

“The car should be here in a moment,” he tells you as you come to a stop in the empty lobby. You just hum in response, glancing around aimlessly until he says, “Hey, Y/n?”

Before you can turn to look at him, he’s cupping your jaw, pushing you up against the wall and kissing you sweetly. You make a sound of surprise in the back of your throat, but then you’re kissing him back, just as slow, one hand tangling in the hair at the base of his neck, while the other fingers his tie, and he breathes a soft sigh of relief, pulling you flush against him.

When you pull apart, he rubs his nose against your cheek gently, mumbling, “You look really nice,” and swipes a quick peck to your cheek before pulling away, slipping his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels.

You are fairly certain the whole neighborhood can hear your heart stammering at this point, but you still reach out for his arm, looping yours through it as you say, “You look really nice too, Minho.”

The boyish grin he gives you makes your heart stutter in your chest, and then he glances at his phone. “Come on; car’s here.”

He helps you into the backseat before slipping in himself, and then lets his arm rest on the small area of your back the entire drive there. You take advantage of it, leaning into his warmth, and you feel him trace mindless patterns on your waist in response.

“You have some lipstick,” you say, noticing the smudge of it on his mouth. He swipes at it with his hand, but misses the spot completely and you reaches up, thumb rubbing the corner of his mouth. “I got it,” you mutter, getting it out completely, and he presses a kiss to your temple in turn.

“Thanks love,” he says, looking at you impossibly soft and you feel warm all over, very different from the first time he called you "love".

You don’t have time to dwell on it though, because soon enough you are pulling up to the venue where the event is being hosted and you are being blinded by the flash of cameras.

The whole walk down the red carpet is a blur in your mind, filled with cameras and questions and the warmth of his arm hooked around yours as he leads you through. You stop only once or twice for pictures, and you paste on a wide grin for those, posing next to him until his arm hooks through yours again, pulling you inside.

The awards themselves are boring, intended mostly for crew members, but Minho keeps you from nodding off with his hand on your thigh the entire time, tracing maddening patterns that you feel even through your layers of skirts.

“Stop that,” you hiss while Chan continues to drone on onstage. You catch his wrist and he flips his hand over, linking your fingers together.

“If we sneak out no one is going to notice,” he mumbles under his breath, “This thing is boring at fuck, and I haven’t had you in over two weeks.”

Despite the flash of heat his words send through you, you say, “And who’s fault is that?”

“Hey, what am I supposed to do? Tell them not to shoot offset because then I wouldn’t get to fuck you?”

“Don’t be crass.”

“It’s true,” he mutters, glaring up at the stage. “Chan doesn’t know when to shut up. I could make it worth your while instead.”

“You know, Ryujin told me that you made these things fun and I needn’t bring a flask, but I’m starting to think that I should have smuggled it in anyway.”

Even in the dim light you can see the shine of his teeth as he grins. “Hey, I’m offering to make things fun and you’re turning me down.”

You turn to run a critical eye over him and he stares back, unflinchingly, his irises more black than brown, and positively irradiating lust. “Hmm. Fine, maybe later. Now behave,” you hiss.

The grin just widens and he leans in close, letting you feel the warmth of his thigh as it presses against yours. “Oh baby,” he sighs, untangling your hands, so that he can go back to teasing you. You manage to repress a shudder when his fingers press against the dip between your thighs through your dress. “You don’t want that.”

Miraculously, you manage to get through the entire programme without drawing too much attention to yourselves, though you do go through quite a few glasses of champagne, especially when you show him that two can play at that game, palming him through his slacks in a way that almost made him choke the first time.

You get out of there as soon as it’s done, escaping fairly unnoticed through the throngs of people, and he goes down on you, quick and messy, in a cramped utility closet, far enough from the hall that you can be as loud as you want. After you repay the favour, giving him a lazy handjob before switching to your mouth when you realise that you have nothing to clean up with.

Neither of you remember to stagger your entrances back into the hall, and slip in with your fingers still tangled together, your dress obviously crumpled and a telltale redness blooming on the apples of Minho's cheeks. To anyone paying attention, it would be clear as day what you were up to, but you are lucky enough that you only garner one or two looks in passing. Minho stays glued to your side, hand heavy on your hip the rest of the night, and when it’s time to leave, he slings it around your waist, keeping you close.

You make out for a while, trading soft sloppy kisses in the back of the car all the way home. He tastes a little bit like champagne, all bubbly and sweet, and you melt into him, carding your fingers through his unruly hair.

“Had fun?” he mumbles against your cheek, exhaling heavily when you bite his jaw. He gropes you in retaliation, and you squeak.

You pull back far enough so he can see your truly outrageous smile. “I guess you made it worth my while after all,” you muse, and he chuckles, pulling your mouth back to his.

He walks you up, arm slung around your shoulders, holding your heels in the other, and you bury your nose in his bicep breathing him in. When you reach your door, Minho lets his arm fall, reluctantly, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. It’s chaste and sweet, and starkly different from any other kisses that you have shared these past few months during your on and off hook ups, and even though you’re somewhat drunk, it still feels like a turning point.

“See you later, Y/n,” he says, with a slight wave of his hand and by the time you gather your bearings to tell him the same, he’s already clicking his door shut.

Ryujin is still up when you walk in, face illuminated by the blue light of her phone screen, and she grins like a shark that’s caught blood.

“Don’t,” you say, slumping against the door. You try to tamp down on the giddiness to avoid suspicion, but Minho left you feeling like you are floating on air.

Her grin just widens and she turns the phone towards you. “There is going to be so much fanfiction written about you two tonight,” she snickers, “You two have been trending on Twitter for almost an hour now,” and you just flip her off, heading to your room.

You throw yourself on the bed with a contented sigh, grinning into your pillow.

later

J U N E

Despite being back in the spotlight for well over a year, you still don’t do very well with interviews.

Most of those in the beginning were what you expected: what happened between you and your ex boyfriend, where did you go for six months, and are you sure you are not in any relationship right now?

Then Minho started getting incorporated into your interviews as well.

If you had a nickle for how many times you have been asked if you were dating, you’d have enough money to buy a small island where you might be able to escape him once and for all. If you wanted to, that is.

It took you a while, but eventually you managed to accept interviews, no longer panicking at the sight of one, but for some reason today you’re on edge, trying not to fidget as you sit on the lime green sofa opposite an annoyingly peppy interviewer.

When she deviates from the script however, you realise that you have had good reason to have been tense all morning.

“So what’s happening with you and Lee Minho? It’s been quite a while since we have seen any interactions between you two.”

It’s been four weeks and three days to be exact, the numbers jumping to the forefront of your mind almost immediately.

Next to you, Ryujin stiffens, all but baring her teeth at the interviewer in a snarl, vastly different from the times when she used to kill herself laughing.

You don’t know exactly what happened between you and him, but you figured out enough when Minho stopped coming around as much, and you started making excuses to avoid seeing him.

You take a shaky breath and flash the peppy woman a tight smile, the closest to a ‘fuck you’ you can give and says, “We’re just friends, that’s all. And we’ve been busy these past few weeks. Not as busy as Ryujin though. She just did this amazing movie…”

Thankfully no one questions your completely unsubtle segue and Ryujin is more than happy to take the pressure off of you.

What’s happening between you and Minho? Well, you still have his sweatshirt crumpled into a ball and hidden in your closet. You have exchanged maybe five words a piece at most, and he still has a drawer filled with your things over at his place. You ran into each other on the last day of filming, your cars parked next to each other, and it reminds you of that first day when you almost had a yelling match right there in the parking lot. Instead, he just nods and gives you a wide enough berth so you wouldn’t even brush against each other as he gets in his car.

You miss him, something which shocked you to the very core when you realised it a few weeks back, and you have never wanted to kick yourself as much as you did then for throwing everything away.

What’s happening between you and Minho?

Who knows; you fucked it up.

later

J U L Y

This year, Seasonal Con is more eventful for two reasons.

The first being that your show has an actual fandom now – a real, honest to god following, larger than you would have thought possible, who are so involved with the show that it’s both amazing and a tad bit scary. Not to mention those who want your character and Ryujin’s to get together.

“We have shippers,” Ryujin had informed you gleefully one night, and you distinctly remember groaning out loud before cursing to high heaven because you have had enough shipper madness to last a lifetime. Possibly even two lifetimes.

The second reason is a bit of a harder pill to swallow.

You got invited to the fan favourite panel on the last day.

And so did Minho.

Who the event supervisors thought would be nice to put next to you for an hour in front of hundreds.

If you get out of this weekend alive, you are going to thank every god and deity you can think of.

Ryujin is understandably worried once you get the news, immediately coming up with a variety of ways to get out of it. “You could fake sick, or pretend to lose your voice,” she rattles off, “Or maybe you fell down in the shower the night before and broke your hip-”

“It’s fine,” you interject, squaring your shoulders. You try to smile at her but you are pretty sure it falls flat. “What’s the worse that can happen?”

She doesn't seem impressed by that answer because she replies, “You and Minho air your dirty laundry for the entire world to see.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you say resolutely.

“At this point I don’t put anything past you two,” she mutters, and you nudge her with your toes.

* * *

The day of the actual panel, you take Liv’s advice and try to meditate in the morning in hopes of calming yourself. It helps a bit; you are not quite as jumpy as you could be, but you are still definitely on edge, clutching your purse like a lifeline as you navigate the halls on your own.

The waiting room is mostly empty, with just a few people here, but that’s not what you pay attention to, eyes immediately landing on Minho, hunched over his phone in the corner.

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

You really, really miss him, didn’t realise just how much of an impact his presence alone has on you.

Before you know it, your feet are taking you to him, and you carefully sit next to him on the loveseat, wiping your palms on your skirt several times.

He doesn’t notice you until you clear your throat, to which he stiffens, very slowly looking up, eyes guarded.

“Hi,” you say, quiet, tucking an errant curl behind your ear.

“Y/n,” he nods, impassive as ever and you feel your throat clog up.

You worry your bottom lip for a moment and see his hand twitch, as though he was about to pull it free. “I, um – can we talk?”

Minho just stares at you for a good minute or so, to the point where you’re struggling not to fidget. Finally he just scrubs a hand down his face and hisses, “Now? You want to talk?”

“I-”

“It’s been an entire month, Y/n,” he says bitterly, shifting away from you, “What could you possibly have to say after an entire month, that we won't work out anything that was between us?”

Your eyes burn and you stare at your hands clenched tightly in your lap. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice catching on the end of it. You can feel him staring at the side of your head, and you press on. “I’m sorry I was so abrupt with everything, and I… I miss you, Minho.”

When you finally muster up the courage to look back at him, his eyes are squeezed shut, pained.

“Don’t,” he manages to croak out and you jerk back as though you have been hit.

“Min-”

“We’re gonna talk about this later,” he tells you after taking a deep breath, “You don’t get to do this right before we do a panel together.”

You nod meekly. “Okay.”

The next hour is the longest hour of your life. You slip on your public persona mask easily enough, smiling and laughing, and answering your questions as coyly as possible, but on the inside you are a mess. A shaking, confused mess.

After the panel is over and all requisite photos have been taken, Minho grabs hold of your wrist and pulls you along behind him. You follow without a word, barely sparing a thought for the shutters you hear going off as you weave through the crowd. That’s a bridge you will cross when you get there. Or you might just avoid it all together. What’s one more thing to the whole ‘Y/n and Minho’ story, right?

Only when you end up outside at the pick up area do you ask, “Where are we going?”

Minho doesn’t even glance over at you. “My hotel I'm staying at. It’s only five minutes away, and a lot more private than a spare room at a convention centre.”

You stare down at your feet, “Okay,” you say, and then follow him in the cab that pulls up.

The short ride to the hotel is tense, and you find yourself biting on the inside of your cheek to keep from speaking after firing off a quick text to Ryujin. Minho still doesn’t look your way, choosing to glare at the window instead, jaw clenched tight, even when you are dropped off, he just jerks his head in the general direction with a gruff, “Follow me.”

Once the door to his room has clicked shut, he turns to look at you, face impassive and arms crossed. “You wanted to talk? Then talk.”

You take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry about before,” you start, “I – you’re one of my best friends here, Minho, one of my only friends here besides Ryujin, and I was so fucking scared when you – I don’t have the best track record when it comes to relationships, and you – you’re too important to me to lose, so I’m sorry, and it was my fault we got in this whole mess in the first place, and if you forgive me, can we still be friends at least? I miss you.”

You say all of it in one go, and by the time you are through, you're heaving. Still, when he opens his mouth to speak, you hold a palm up and continue, voice wavering, “I just- I really fucking miss you and I’m so, so sorry.”

The words just hang there for a moment while you lean against the wall.

“You through?” he asks with a quirk of an eyebrow. When you nod, he says, “You’re a pain in the ass–”

“Charming.”

“–who’ll argue with me about every fucking thing under the sun no matter what-”

“Oh stop it, I’m swooning, Minho.”

“You gonna be a little shit the whole time, or can I say my piece?” he asks mildly, and you feel stupid. When he’s certain you are no longer going to interrupt, he throws himself back on the bed with a groan, throwing an arm over his face. After a few seconds of silence, he confesses, “Ryujin called me out in like two weeks,” voice slightly muffled by his bicep, “Apparently my crush on you was painfully obvious.”

What?

You must have said it outloud because then he’s craning his neck slightly to glance at you, and you just feel like a dense idiot even more, picking your jaw up off the ground. “But you,” you sputter, “You were such a dick!”

He’s groaning again, hiding his face, but if you look closely you can see the tips of his ears tinged red. “I was into you. Am. And terribly so.”

“You never said anything.”

“I didn’t want to fuck it up. Which, I realise is what I might have done the moment we agreed to continue having sex with each other, but I was just…so eager to have you in any way I could, even if it meant pretending that I wasn’t pinning away.”

“But…why?”

“Why what?”

You bite her lip, scuffing the toe of your sandal against the carpet. “Why me?”

Minho just gives you a little shrug, smiling helplessly. “Because you are you,” he says, easy as nothing, and those four little words make all the air in your lungs leave with a whoosh, causing you to stumble back against the wall in order to stay upright. “You had me on my ass within seconds with your no bullshit type attitude and I just…I don't know. You threw me for a loop.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he says, messing with his hair. “You – God, Y/n, didn’t you realise? You had me. Every single thing you did just bewitched me, I couldn’t look away, and then I started to get to know you, all of you; the bossy little you who likes to order me around and sleep until noon, and prefers green tea to black, and I…I fell in love with you,” he breathes, tearing his eyes away from yours to stare up at the ceiling, “I don’t know how, or when, but I just- I’m in love with you.”

If his previous statement made the air leave you, then this one makes you feel lightheaded and faint hearted all at the same time. The word ‘love’ echoes throughout your head and you feel a bubble of happiness growing in your chest, and you slip down the wall a little as you try to make sense of the rest of his words.

He chuckles nervously when a few moments pass and you haven’t said anything as yet. “Please tell me if I just fucked up this whole new ‘friendship’ thing so I can take it back. Five second rule applies here, right?”

It startles a faint laugh out of you. “It’s been more than five seconds.”

“Five minute rule then?” And you laugh again, this time louder, and then you are crossing the room to meet him, clumsily climbing on top of him and bracing your hands on his chest.

“You goddamn idiot,” you huff as he grabs your hips, steadying you, “I’m in love with you too.”

The smile that unfurls across his face could crack it in two, absolutely blinding, and you shriek when he sits up suddenly, one hand moving up to cup the back of your neck while the other pulls you into his chest, lips ghosting across yours.

Then he’s kissing you soundly, lips chapped and eager, and it’s messy, the two of you grinning far too widely to make anything work.

“Oh, thank god,” he rasps into your skin, forehead pressed against yours, and then he’s kissing you again, slower this time, and deep, and you just hug him tighter, licking the joy from his tongue, or maybe having yours intermingle with his because you are just so fucking happy, you feel like you are going to float away.

“Hey,” he mumbles against your lips, caressing your cheekbones when you make a move to get you and him to lie horizontal, “Slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

You squeeze his forearm. “I know, I just,” you drop your head in the crook of his neck, and he pets you, letting his fingers tangle in your hair. “I just missed you a lot, that’s all.”

His responding smile is achingly soft, and a little shy, and he slowly presses you into the bed, kissing you sweet once more.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs again, and your heart is bursting at the seams at this point.

“Good,” you sigh happily, trailing a hand down his back, feeling the movement of his muscles as they tense and flex beneath his shirt. You hold his face between two palms and look him dead in the eye when you say, “I’m not going anywhere either.”

Minho grins, soft, and when he leans back down to kiss you, you can feel the love bursting from every cell in your body, flooding you with warmth and sunshine from the inside out, making your toes curl.

You are in love with him, and he with you, and nothing on this earth could ever top that.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

---

Bestie, truly,i would DIE for good ryujin links,sending hearts to you❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hi anon! Unfortunately i only post links for two groups right now 😭 I would make an exception if i knew how she acted but i know nothing about ryujin except that i think? She is an itzy member. There are other accounts like mine that do GG links but since I'm not interested in them i never saved the accounts</3 maybe if you search around they would do that for you❤️❤️ Sending hearts, sorry to disappoint you.

SKZ Hyunjin Link Masterlist

Hyunjin sobers up in you after getting quite tipsy.

Hyun punishing you after being a brat <3

Hyunjin taking u against a wall

4 hyunjin Links (requested) 18+

More to come...

(If links are missing that were there before sadly they do not work anymore, for the Twitter account has been suspended)

---

Something about this dynamic makes me go absolutely insane:')

♡ promises with felix

↳ pairing: felix x reader ↳ word count: 2.3k ↳ genre: smut ↳ summary: you shouldn't make promises you can't keep aka felix wants his reward now ↳ warnings: smut [unprotected intercourse, use of a butt plug, mentions of pegging, creampie] ↳ masterlist ♡ updates ♡ read on AO3

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

Don't make promises you can't keep, you tell yourself once more when your phone vibrates, the screen showing yet another text from your boyfriend.

Felix: when am i getting my part of the deal?

You kind of hate this deal you’ve made, mostly because you’ve played yourself like a fool with it. You thought you were being smart when you gave him the butt plug and asked him to wear it tonight when you hung out at his friends’ place.

“What’s in it for me?” Felix mumbled into the kiss, not even protesting about the toy.

“You get to come inside of me,” you offered so confidently. “How does that sound?”

You did it thinking the toy inside of him would make your boyfriend stutter and squirm, which would only turn you both on. But, instead of that happening, you’re the one squirming in your seat, pussy clenching around nothing at the texts Felix is sending you. That’s the thing—you should be the one in control now. In fact, you are the one in control, as per your initial agreement when entering the relationship.

Control is a fickle thing. When you first started having sex, you thought the one who fucks gets to set the tone and steer the whole thing, which was never you. Then, you suddenly realized that was kind of unfair and that you want to exert control, so you sought out guys who enjoyed letting go, who let you do whatever you wanted and make them beg.

That only happened twice before Felix, and he turned it all around for you. You’ve never seen someone be so snarky and in control while getting their ass rammed by a toy—no one but Felix. To him, letting you play with him, letting you finger and peg him, calling him your pretty baby were rewards, not punishments. He saw nothing emasculating about letting you fuck his ass or call him pretty. In fact, he loved it, which is what confused you so much.

You’ve never had a guy talk back to you while you fucked him, never had someone who sounded so in control while keeping their cheeks spread so you can push your strap further into their hole. But that always happened with Felix. You’d fuck him and ask him if it feels good, or something similar to that, even though it was clear he was feeling amazing—his cock would be hard and leaking, body twitching under yours, toes curling as he kept his knees in the air. So, you’d tease him about it, “Ah, you’re so hard... Must like being a slut for me.”

And yet, he’d chuckle and mutter in that low tone of his that got you going, “Feels perfect... Hard enough for you?” he’d look down at your hand wrapped around his leaking cock. “Bet you want to feel it in you while you fuck me, huh? I’m sure you’re so fucking wet I’ll slide right in once you’re done fucking me. I know you want me to fuck you just as hard as you’re doing me right now.”

And poof, any semblance of control would slip through your fingers, Felix leading conversation from then on, praising you for fucking him instead of you praising him for taking it so well.

You’re not sure why you thought tonight would be any different, though. The butt plug was a new thing—you wanted him to wear it in public and maybe squirm a bit. Yet, Felix was making you get wet and act awkward, so much that Jisung asked you if everything was fine.

You started it, though. Earlier, an hour into this hangout, you texted Felix, wanting to check how he was doing:

You: how does that butt plug feel in you, baby?

You thought you were doing something with it, that Felix would look at you with widened eyes and look away in shame, giggling with pink cheeks. To your misfortune, he wasn’t ashamed at all.

Felix: it feels good. not as good as your fingers in me, though

The second you read the text, you had to press your thighs together to alleviate the pressure bubbling between your legs. Fuck, he knew what to say to get you going. 

Getting to massage his prostate while jerking him off or sucking his dick was a favorite of yours, mostly because you got to see Felix fall apart. He always did it so readily too, never trying to spite you or be bratty. No, if you wanted him to beg and even cry, he would. He’d do anything to please, yet he also enjoyed teasing you.

He’s been texting you similar things since then, pausing for five or ten minutes, letting you relax and talk to people before telling you something nasty again, something that would get you going.

Felix: i bet it will feel so fucking good to fuck you with this thing inside me

Felix: i’ll give you such a big load, baby, i promise

Felix: that’s what you want, right? that’s why you promised me i’d get to do it here

After that text, Felix gives you a smirk that makes you clench your jaw and look away. You want him and you are sure people will notice if you keep looking at him like you are ready to devour him.

Felix: you want to feel me in you even after i pull out

Felix: you’re so dirty it’s hot

Felix: when are we doing it

The texts keep coming, and you tell yourself never to make a promise like this again. You rarely let Felix come inside of you, but that’s not the issue here. You’re on birth control, so you’re not afraid of pregnancy. You two are exclusive and clean, so you’re not worried about that either. It’s that you’re at Jisung’s place, surrounded by Felix’s friends, and you can’t just go to one of the rooms and fuck. You thought the idea was kind of hot back home when you made the deal, but now that you’re here, you’re worried someone’s gonna hear Felix fucking you stupid.

Yet, you promised, and he held up his end of the bargain, still is. At one point, your boyfriend walks over to you and sits down, hand wrapped around your shoulder as he pulls you in for a kiss, mumbling into it, “Can’t wait to feel you.”

“Can it wait until we get home?” you whisper back, hoping he’ll give up on the deal.

“Baby,” he whines into your ear, nose nudging your cheek, hot breath fanning your face and neck. “I’ve been so hard all this time, my underwear is all wet... Want to come in you so bad. Will you let me, hm? Want to have my cum in you?”

“God, Felix,” you grunt, even though your walls clamp around nothing in desperate need of him.

Twenty minutes later, Felix gets you to give in and go to the bathroom, following quickly behind.

You’re excited to have him but terrified of getting caught, so you mutter at him as soon as he locks the bathroom door, “You have to be quick, though.”

“Oh, I will,” Felix mumbles, the sinister chuckle telling you he’s got something in mind.

Before you know it, he’s turning you around, pushing your hips into the sink as his hands work on your zipper. The next second, your underwear and jeans are pushed down your thighs as Felix’s hand sneaks between your bodies and to your crotch, fingers immediately finding you embarrassingly wet.

“Oh, I knew you were loving it,” Felix grunts, getting his cock out of his jeans with his other hand, but you can’t focus on that, not when he’s running his fingers across your slit, getting you even more worked up. “Can I fuck you?”

“Yes,” you say, knowing it can’t last long, knowing you can’t come this time, knowing there’s no time. If it were up to Felix, he’d eat you out to get a couple of orgasms out of you before he even puts his dick in, but his friends are in the other room, and he’s just getting his reward. “Just... Quick.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I can be quick when I want to,” he says sweetly as he positions his cock at your entrance, mouth pressing kisses into your neck. “I wanted to fuck you all night.”

“Does the toy feel good?” you ask him, even though you’re sure he’s ecstatic over it.

“Like I said, great but not as good as you.” With that, Felix pushes his cock into you fully, eyes rolling to the back of his head. The butt plug is applying pressure inside his ass while your walls are clenching around his cock, making him get weak in the knees instantly. “Fuck! Damn, this feels good.”

“What is it, baby, too much already?” you tease, even though you’re not immune to the feeling of his cock in you either, especially when he moves it so nicely, slowly fucking into you, letting you adjust. You're sure the double stimulation feels even better.

“Teasing, are we?” Felix asks with a cocked-up eyebrow and a tinge of playfulness in his voice.

The next second, he’s grabbing your leg and making you place your knee on the sink so he can enter you from a different angle, one that immediately gets you to arch your back into him. It's deep, and you weren't ready for him to start fucking you like this, not in Jisung’s bathroom, so you moan loudly, taken by surprise.

Realizing you forgot where you are makes Felix go even harder. “Yes, that’s right... Let me hear you... Love to hear how good I fuck you.”

“Almost as good as I fuck you,” you tease again, clenching around him on purpose, your hand flying down to play with your clit.

When Felix sees that, he tsks at you, swatting your hand away. “Baby, you have me for that,” he tells you as he spits on his fingers and moves them down to your clit, wet and ready to touch you. His other hand keeps your hip in place, fingers digging into the skin.

“Felix!” The second his glistening fingers make contact with your skin, you moan again, kicking your head back. It’s early in, but you’re already done for, and you want Felix to get you off.

His cock just slides right in and out every time, coated with your juices. You’ve been wet for hours now, imagining how good Felix feels with the toy inside of him, thinking about how much you wanted to finger him and suck him off while he moans and becomes putty in your hands.

It’s funny how he’s in control again, even though he’s the one with a toy in him. “Gonna come for me already?” he asks you as the fluttering of your walls gives you away, eyes staring into his reflection in the mirror, glued to the way his plush lips fall open as he moans into your ear. “My cock makes you feel that good?”

“Perfect,” you mumble, hand placed over his. You’re not helping him touch you—you just want to touch his hand and feel like you have some sort of control still. “Wish I could fuck you too.”

Felix snorts at that and starts moving his hips faster, slamming himself into you, your juices dripping down your inner thighs because of the way he pulls all the way out. It’s too much when paired with his nimble fingers on your clit.

“Be good and come for me now,” Felix hums in your ear gently, his voice in stark contrast with the sharp movements of his hips and hand. “I'll come right after you, and we can go back... You'll fuck me when we get home, I promise.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep,” you grunt, face frowning as your body clenches, orgasm closing in.

“Like you?” Felix quips, smacking your clit, which doesn't do anything to ruin the moment—it only makes you hornier, if possible. By now, Felix's cock makes a wet sound every time it moves in and out, revealing how embarrassingly wet you are because you're fucking him in his friend's bathroom. “You will keep your promise, pretty, won't you?”

When you hum in response, Felix starts rubbing you again, this time applying more pressure. At the same time, he opts for pushing his cock deep inside of you and moving only a couple of inches back before plunging into you again, knowing he hits all the spots that feel good that way.

You notice beads of sweat along his hairline, one dripping down the side of his face, brows scrunched as he focuses. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm coming—”

It's a quick but powerful orgasm, one that makes you grab the sink so you don't fall onto Felix. But, he doesn't stop even though he usually would have. Instead, Felix wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his frame and pumps his cock into you from behind. His thrusts are sharp and fast, grunts getting deeper, low voice struggling when calling your name.

“You're gonna fill it up for me, hm?” you ask sweetly, knowing how much Felix loves coming inside you. “Give it to me.”

“Yes, yes,” he keeps mumbling into the crook of your neck, breath tickling your skin. Unprompted, you reach back and grab his ass, giving it a light squeeze before finding the end of the toy that's sticking out of his hole a bit from all the thrusting he's been doing. “Oh, fuck, fuck! Baby, I, fu—aaah!”

With you pressing the butt plug into his ass, Felix releases inside of you, overwhelmed by the feeling of your warm walls milking him dry, of you obediently taking his cum even though you're at Jisung’s, even though it will probably keep trickling out of you and onto your underwear, make you sticky and wet, remind you that Felix owns it.

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

GENIUS writer. Genius I tell you!

Sunset

Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, non idol

Warnings: Unprotected sex (Wrap it up, guys), Cheating (Married reader/ Chan is dating someone) , Strangers to One night lovers, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Oral sex (M receiving) Slightly rough, Uh.. that’s it really? It’s just Smut, Sorry if I missed any tags. Explicit content so MDNI please.

Word Count: 2677

Note: First Person POV + This was something that I just whipped up real quick and wanted to share. It’s short compared to what I usually like to write but I thought you’d enjoy it! Just a quick smutty Chan fic to entertain ya.

Summary: The Sunset diner is your go to place to retreat, it allows you to meet new people while immersing yourself in the arts. It’s become your routine to relax at the diner every night and seek some...company. One night a new customer arrives and you just cant seem to keep your eyes off of him. You have to have him.

Y/n’s Pov

The Sunset studio and diner has always been a safe haven for me, ever since I was thirteen years old my step dad would bring me here and buy me a hot chocolate and two cookies before letting me roam around the studio and stare at the artwork in awe. It bought him enough time to smash whatever girl he picked up along the way in the bathroom then come back and act like he was never gone. I never cared, I was too fascinated with the artwork and the soft melodies of the guitars that the customers brought from home, or the grand piano by the entrance being played by whoever thought they were good enough to have the entire studio hear them. I was always amazed by those people, by their confidence, it was different from the kind that I possessed and I enjoyed being in its presence. No one has dared to play the piano in months though, not in my visits to the diner. 

Keep reading

---