YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW EXCITED I AM TO HAVE A MASTER LIST!!
If some of my works seem like parts are missing it’s b/c this app deletes some parts of the story and repeats some as well, I try to fix it but some of them I feel are unsalvageable. So sorry about that, I'm figuring out how to prevent it :(.
(EDIT: so I realized I just have to publish on my computer and my newest works are much better:))
I will be keeping this updated every time I post something ;p requests/asks policies
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(sorry for using the tags but i wanna reach as many people as possible)
Warnings: use of Y/N, unprotected sex (Don’t try at home), light choking and spanking, pet names (kitten, babygirl, whore *affectionate*), oral (m&f receiving), some dom/sub dynamics, aftercare, marking, riding, creampie
**Hellooo my lovelies! 🫶🏻💕 Oh to be a girl passed between Lee Minho and Bang Chan 🫣🫠 This one got away from me, two smutty scenes with Minho and a longer one with Chan, I was drooling by the end of this 🤤 whiny!Chan also GETS to me so he makes an appearance 🤭 Please check out my other fics and leave any and all feedback, I love to hear it! 🫶🏻 This is not meant to represent any persons in real life and is a work of fiction. Please don’t copy or steal my works.**
Ari’s masterlist
One thing.
She’d only asked Minho for one thing and that was to keep her a secret.
Chan standing in front of him now, holding the ancient grimoire he’d promised to keep hidden, was undeniable evidence of Minho’s spectacular failure at granting that one request. His mind scrambled to come up with any lie to the seemingly innocent question Chan had asked him.
“Minho.” Chan grabbed his spiraling attention, asking again, “What is this thing?”
“…a book.” Minho looked at Chan flatly, hoping his face was emotionless enough to not betray his thoughts. Chan rolled his eyes before pushing past Minho into his room. Minho reluctantly turned to follow him, closing the door just in case.
“No shit, I can see that it’s a book, but normal books don’t whisper.” Chan’s voice was laced with his nerves, hoping that Minho would laugh at him and tell him he was being crazy about hearing voices from a book. His anxiety rose as Minho looked at him shocked for a moment before his face morphed into something close to curiosity, folding his arms and leaning against his desk thoughtfully.
“You can hear the book? Like actually hear what it’s saying?” If he could hear her, maybe Minho didn’t have to keep her a secret after all.
Chan stared at Minho, disbelief painted across his face. He believed him? Tentatively, Chan nodded at the question, his nerves not really lessening as he only grew more confused.
“I can’t understand what it’s saying…but I can hear it. Ever since you let me borrow that suitcase I’ve been able to hear it, and I started having these…weird dreams.”
That peaked Minho’s interest most of all, a small smirk decorating his lips as he inferred what Chan meant by ‘weird’ dreams. The deepest fantasies she used to lure people in their dreams were definitely something Minho would remember. She was communicating with Chan then, though Minho couldn’t help a small stab of jealousy at the thought that she didn’t tell him about it. He sighed before moving to sit on the edge of his bed, leaning forward on his knees and motioning for Chan to sit in his desk chair.
Chan sat cautiously, feeling the mood in the room grow a little tense as he watched Minho gather his thoughts. Before he spoke, Minho reached out for the grimoire Chan still held in his hand, taking it from him and gently running his fingers over the cover.
“As you guessed, this isn’t just a book. It’s a grimoire, and it belonged to my grandfather.”
Chan felt like he should wait for the punchline, but Minho looked at him seriously, and Chan was stunned that he wasn’t joking. He knew Minho had been close with his grandfather, the stories he brought back with him always bringing a smile to Minho’s face as he recounted them to the boys. Two years ago had been the hardest time for Minho, his grandfather passed away unexpectedly in his sleep and left his family deeply shaken.
“My mom gave it to me last year with a box of his things, stuff that my grandmother didn’t want around anymore. I put it in the closet and forgot about it for a few weeks. But…I started getting these really vivid…wet dreams.”
Minho smirked again, making Chan realize that Minho was going to believe him from the start. He knew what kind of dreams Chan had been having because he’d had them too. Chan’s ears grew slightly warm, but he cleared his throat and moved on with his many questions.
“So what do they mean? Will I still have them if you take the book back?”
Minho shook his head, “You won’t have them if I keep it in here again, but as for what they mean…”
He looked at Chan carefully, his fingers bridged as he contemplated whether he should risk pissing her off for the potential possibility that she’d actually want to meet Chan. Finally he took a deep breath, sitting up straight as he undid the top few buttons of his shirt.
Chan watched in ever mounting confusion, about to yell at Minho to get to his fucking point, when the sight of black ink froze his words on his tongue. At the base of Minho’s throat, just above his collarbones, appeared an intricately woven black seal.
Minho’s eyes were half closed as the mark seemed to move on his skin, Chan watching in a mixture of fascination and fear as a black shadow crawled from under the other side of Minho’s bed. Darkness swirled around it like fog as it glided across the bed and settled behind Minho, the form shifting and solidifying. Minho relaxed on an exhale, his eyes coming open fully as he turned to look over his shoulder.
“Come on, kitten, don’t be shy. Chan won’t hurt you.”
Minho’s soft words were meant to soothe, but Chan heard him as though he were far away. His eyes were locked on the figure hiding behind Minho, shock at their sudden appearance written all over his face. He was more shaken as he saw a hand perch on Minho’s shoulder, the fingers delicate and ended with sharp looking little fingernails.
All of his apprehension and fear vanished, however, the moment the little shadow finally looked up. Peeking over Minho’s shoulder, the prettiest pink eyes Chan had ever seen looked back at him. Her face was hesitant, but Chan could see a curiosity in her that seemed to call to him.
Minho smiled at her when she came out of hiding, reaching back to gently brush his fingers over her cheek in reassurance before he pushed the hood of his hoodie off her head. Two little black horns poked from her hair, her ears pointed when Minho brushed her hair behind them. Chan was so distracted by her face that he did an embarrassingly fast double-take as he caught sight of the sleek barb-ended tail that ran from under her hoodie and wrapped around Minho’s wrist.
“Chan-hyung, this is Y/N.” Minho smiled gently still as she waved at Chan, her glowing magenta eyes looking him over with growing interest. “She’s a succubus.”
Chan wasn’t sure he could be more shocked, but Minho’s words had his eyes almost popping out of his head. A succubus? Like a sex demon? For real? After the initial shock faded, though, Chan had to wonder how this was all connected. Minho seemed to read his mind as he started explaining.
“After I received the book, and after the dreams had started, I was desperate for sleep and the answer behind the vivid dreams. She answered me. In a dream she showed me the grimoire and I recognized it from skimming through the box of my grandfather’s things. Turns out, grandad wasn’t the saint I always thought he was.”
Minho’s face turned stormy, Chan’s brow creasing in worry but stopping with a lifted eyebrow at the sight of her rubbing Minho’s arm soothingly. He noted that she’d relaxed as Minho started talking, her bare legs moving to either side of him as she draped herself across his back with her chin on his shoulder. Her eyes held so much trust as she watched Minho talk that Chan was almost immediately fond of her.
“He summoned Y/nnie years ago,” Minho said lowly, “with unsurprisingly disgusting intent. But she’s special in a way that anyone can summon her, but a contract is only made if she accepts.”
Minho looked at her cheekily then, her eyebrows wiggling playfully as she returned his smile softly. He poked her in the forehead before turning back to see understanding begin to cross Chan’s face, speaking quickly to finish the story.
“I didn’t summon her…exactly. After the first time she rejected a contract with my grandfather, he summoned her again and trapped her inside the grimoire. The dreams and the whispers were the only thing she was strong enough to use as a way to call for help. So…I helped her get out…and she chose to stay.”
Y/n nodded, her head tipping back and forth on Minho’s shoulder. Silence fell in the room as Chan absorbed what he’d heard. He supposed it made sense, even if it did open up a realm of other questions that he now had about the existence of demons. The thing that stuck with him, though, was what Minho said she used the dreams for.
Looking up at her, he said, “So if the dreams and whispers are a call for help, why are you asking for me if he already freed you?”
Minho turned to her, “I would like to know that as well.”
Y/n held Chan’s gaze steadily, her eyes glowing a little brighter before she spoke, her voice oddly soothing to his ears.
“I’m still connected to the grimoire, even if I’m not trapped anymore, but if you can hear my voice from it now that means you’re unconscious mind reached for it, Chan. I have no memory of the dreams you’ve had, which means they’re remnants of my power that were disturbing your sleep, nothing more.”
Minho relaxed slightly at her words, pushing the little weed of jealousy down when he realized she wasn’t communicating with him on purpose. Chan deflated slightly also, but in poorly concealed disappointment. Y/n was amused as she realized Chan was hoping that she was sending him dreams too, her tail flicking thoughtfully against Minho’s leg.
“Oh…well that’s a relief I suppose. At least it wasn’t because you were trapped again.”
Chan internally cringed at his own words, the amused smirk on Minho’s face only making it worse. To his huge relief, Chan’s phone started ringing, startling him so bad he jumped and dropped it. Scooping it up hastily and clearing his throat, he answered to hear Seungmin and Changbin berating him on the other end for being soooo late to their recording session. He checked his watch in a panic, standing hurriedly as he promised to be there as soon as he could.
Hanging up, Chan stopped on his way to the door, turning to see Minho and Y/n still sitting on his bed, watching Chan with mirrored amusement in their eyes.
“Um, it was nice to meet you, Y/n. I have a lot of questions still, but I have to run.”
Y/n smiled brightly then, already affected by Chan’s genuineness. “Don’t worry, Chan. I’m not going anywhere, there will be time for more questions.”
Chan couldn’t help the smile on his face in return, turning to Minho to say he’d see him later, when Minho cut him off.
“Promise you won’t say anything, hyung? I’m sworn to secrecy and the only reason you got to know was because of the book. Please don’t say anything to the others about her.”
Chan nodded slowly, seeing the almost pleading look that Minho gave him. “I promise, I won’t. You know I’m good at keeping secrets, Minho. You’re the member of paboracha.”
He said the last part with a teasing lilt and a giggle as he ducked out of the room, Minho yelling after him. Y/n shook her head softly at the sight of the two grown men acting like children.
She held Minho back from running after Chan, flicking her wrist to shut and lock his bedroom door as she pulled him backwards by his shoulders, climbing over him and pushing him flat onto his back as she held him down. Minho’s eyes widened, his hands coming up to grip her thighs tentatively, afraid for a moment that she was actually upset with him. The glint in her eye had him relaxing as he realized that she was miffed but not really angry. He slid his hands up farther as he smirked at her, his fingers meeting nothing but bare skin underneath her hoodie.
“Naughty kitten, not wearing any thing under this with Chan in the room.”
He tried to tease his way out of his mess, but Y/n gazed at him sternly, her fingers threading into his hair gently before she gripped a handful and pulled his head back. Minho’s smirk turned to a grimace at the sting, his hands gripping her harder as she nipped at the sensitive skin of his throat and jaw.
“I’m naughty?” She scoffed at him, holding her hips higher off him as he tried to grind her down against his swelling cock. “Says the man trying to get off on me after he betrayed my trust and gave up my secret.”
Minho groaned in frustration as she still gripped his hair, his hands running up and down her back soothingly, trying to swallow his instinct to retort harshly against her bratty tone. He knew he was in the wrong here, though, so he stilled his movements and took a deep breath before looking at her sincerely.
“I’m sorry, Y/nnie. Truly. I really am in paboracha because I didn’t even think about the fact that I’d hidden the grimoire in that suitcase before I gave it to Chan. I promise I’ll put it in a better place this time, but is there any way you’ll trust me with your secret again?”
Minho gave her his best boba eyes, massaging her hips and waist like the cat he is as he silently pleaded for her forgiveness. Y/n rolled her eyes but knew she’d already forgiven him. If she hadn’t already been so intrigued by meeting Chan, she could never say no to Minho’s pretty boba eyes. Loosening her grip on his hair and massaging her fingers through the locks, she leaned down to almost kiss him, stopping a hairs breadth away in a way that drove Minho crazy.
“Perhaps I can forgive you,” she whispered, “but how are you going to make it up to me, Min? We’re gonna have to deal with the consequences of telling Chan, so you better make it good.”
Minho smirked dangerously as she handed the reins back to him. He slid his hands back down and palmed her ass, rubbing it gently before landing a firm smack that had her gasping and giving him a mildly irritated look.
“How about this, kitten? You sit your pretty pussy on my face and we’ll see how many times I can make you cum before you forgive me?”
Y/n’s eyes glowed at his words, bringing their lips together in a deep kiss as Minho groaned into her mouth, finally allowed to pull her hips down and grind himself into her bare core. Their tongues battled as she pressed her hips into him harder, pulling back with a gasp as the seam of his jeans caught her clit just right.
“You really want to, Minho?” Y/n rubbed his head where her fingers still rested in his hair, “You know how greedy I can be when you let me sit on your face.” The smirk she gave him mirrored his own, his hands already moving to push her hips up towards his shoulders.
“Yes kitten, I really really want to make it up to you. And don’t pretend like your not greedy for me all the time.”
Y/n rolled her eyes at that, moving anyway to hover over Minho’s head. “Fine, that might be true, but that just gives me the right to add two more orgasms onto the total needed for your forgiveness.”
“You gonna tell me what that total is?” His eyes sparkled up at her deviously, her own meeting his with a challenge behind them, their combined stubbornness being the perfect storm for a long night.
“Maybe, maybe not. I guess you’ll find out.” Y/n’s smirk hid anticipation as Minho returned her eye roll, but slowly began to move.
He ran his hands up the backs of her thighs, squeezing her ass appreciatively and gently stroking the base of her tail before he held her hips to pull her down onto his open mouth.
The enthusiastic way Minho licked into her, and the immediate buzz up her spine that had her moaning already, told Y/n that this was indeed going to be a very long night.
~~~
The “issue” of Minho having a demon girlfriend was pushed aside for a while as their schedules reached a busy peak and Chan couldn’t remember to eat most days, let alone remember that Minho had a succubus under his bed.
Minho didn’t forget Chan knew, however, and he’d been stewing on a question for Y/n since the day they’d met. Chan had obviously been interested in her and had more questions, and Y/n didn’t seem too opposed to Chan…Despite his little seed of jealousy at first, Minho couldn’t help but continuously wonder if Chan would benefit as much as he had if he had a succubus under his bed.
It came to a head one day when they were all exhausted, sore, hungry, and irritated from an extended dance practice. Chan had been missing steps in the choreography, his energy not at its highest in the slightest, and though Minho had been patient at first, his patience grew thin once all the other boys had finally mastered the moves but Chan was still messing them up. Minho didn’t mean to, but his irritation got the best of him, and the result was a heated yelling match that ended in Changbin stepping between them, Chan leaving while slamming the door behind him, and a tense silence filling the dance studio.
Minho rubbed his hands over his face in exasperation, growling at the others to go home and get cleaned up. Everyone dispersed slowly, but Minho still carried the irritated tension, so as soon as he could, he bolted from the building and headed to his room and his solace.
Y/n was used to the scent of an irritated Minho by now, especially when it was near comeback season. She’d helped him through many tough times in the year that she’d been bound to him, so when he practically kicked open his bedroom door with a pissed off look on his face, she was already naked on the edge of his bed waiting for him.
Tension rolled off him in waves as he stalked closer to her, her tail flicking in anticipation when he threaded his fingers through her hair once he stood at the edge of the bed. Holding her head securely, the dark look he gave her had her core clenching already, wetness threatening to leak down her thigh.
“…I need my good kitten today. May I have that?”
His low voice had goosebumps breaking out on her skin, and with the way Y/n found herself drawn to Minho when he was like this, you’d think he was the succubus instead. She nodded softly at his question, her hands already coming up to undress him as she gave him her most pleadingly innocent eyes.
“Yes, Sir. Promise I’ll be your good kitten, m’always your good kitten.”
Minho’s hand tightened slightly in her hair but his heart, and cock, swelled at her immediate submission. The way she always knew what he needed, or needed from her, to make his stress melt away had him leaning forward to kiss her passionately. She accepted his kiss happily, knowing that the gentleness in it was his last reassurance for her before he ruined her completely.
As he pulled back, Minho brushed his thumb across her lips, pushing it into her mouth and pressing down on her forked tongue. Her lips closed around the digit as she gazed at him with lidded eyes.
“You are always my good kitten, aren’t you?” He almost sounded condescending, “Despite how many times I’ve had to punish you for being naughty, hm? And what am I supposed to do with a kitten that lies to me?”
Y/n whined around his thumb as she shook her head, pushing his jacket off and sliding her hands under his shirt to lightly scratch her sharp nails down his chest. Minho growled at the feeling, popping his thumb from her mouth and wrapping his hand securely around her throat, pulling her up higher on her knees.
“No? You aren’t always my good kitten? Or you’re not lying?” Y/n gaped as she tried to respond, but his hand tightened slightly, cutting off her words with a choked moan, her fingers still digging into Minho’s skin. She shook her head again as tears pricked in her eyes, her pussy definitely leaking down her legs now.
“Please…Min…good for you…” Her words were mumbled, but the dark pride in Minho’s eyes made the strain to her words worth it. He kissed her quickly once more before manhandling her around until she was on all fours, pushing her shoulders down so she was arched so prettily for him.
Kneading and smacking her ass to hear her gasps, Minho pulled his clothes off hastily before slotting himself behind her, his already aching cock meeting the wet mess he’d made between her thighs. They moaned simultaneously at the feeling, Y/n whimpering as Minho gripped her hair again to pull her up against his chest.
“Stop me if it’s too much, kitten, but otherwise be good and let me fuck you like my pretty little whore.”
His growl had her pushing her hips back to grind on him, breathy pleas and his name falling from her lips as her tail wrapped around his thick thigh and her eyes glowed in excitement. Minho shoved her chest back down into the mattress, lined himself up, and pushed into her, bottoming out in one harsh thrust. Y/n squealed and squirmed from the stretch, whining as Minho held her hips in place, the blistering pace he started with effectively turning her brain to mush.
Y/n could taste all of his negative emotions being burned as sexual energy, Minho’s mind set on eliminating his anger. Her last coherent thought as he fucked her stupid was how glad she was that she taught him to channel his emotions like this. She really was the winner every time…
Pure exhaustion finally subdued Minho, the sweaty, cum-covered sheets of his bed sticking to their skin as he collapsed over her after his third orgasm. He’d lost track of how many times she’d cum, but the dazed and satisfied look on Y/n’s face told him her insatiable self enjoyed every second of it. He smirked against her skin, kissing her neck then cheek then lips as he carefully pulled out, sitting back to admire the mess leaking from her pussy and onto his bed. Closing his eyes, his head tipped back and he released a sigh that felt like it came from his bones.
“Rough day, Min?” Y/n’s soft voice had him looking back down, her hands rubbing over his thighs where they rested under hers. He huffed a laugh as he moved her legs, “You have no idea, kitten, thank you for letting me get that out of my system.”
“Of course, Minho, you know I’m always a willing participant in your tantrums.” She shot him a cheeky smile as he glared at her, pinching her butt as he climbed off his bed and headed toward the bathroom.
As Minho stood over the sink wetting a towel for her, his guilt over his fight with Chan came back full force. He’d said some harsh things, even when he knew how much Chan was struggling with their schedules and taking care of himself. His guilt stewed as he returned to his room, cleaning Y/n gently before helping her to the bathroom to shower, his thoughts still swirling as he changed his sheets and joined her.
Y/n could sense the tension in him still, different to the anger he’d carried when he got home, so she turned to him as he stepped into the shower, holding his gaze as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Do you not feel better, Minho? What happened to have you so tense still?”
Minho sighed, he should’ve known better than to think he could hide it from her. He held her in return, moving them so his head was under the stream of water. His thoughts were chaotic, the need to ask her about what’s been bothering him now blending into the issue with Chan. Y/n waited patiently, the storm in Minho’s eyes making her slightly apprehensive. Finally he looked at her steadily.
“Would you ever willingly be bound to someone who wasn’t me?”
Shock left her speechless, Minho continuing quickly as he tried to explain. “Not in the future when our contract breaks, but right now, would you be willing to have…two masters?”
Y/n realized he meant to share her not get rid of her, the shock fading slightly as she’d always guessed that Minho would have an open mind about that.
“…I suppose it would depend on the second master. But why are you asking me this, Min?”
He was a little surprised at her answer, but it made sense that she wouldn’t be terribly opposed, especially since he knew her appetite. Taking a deep breath, Minho reached over and grabbed her shampoo. He reached up and lathered her hair, careful around her horns as he answered.
“I fought with Chan today. We haven’t yelled at each other like that in years, but I pushed him too far. I felt terrible and I was still pissed, and that’s why I was so rough with you when I came back.” He massaged her head gently, trying to avoid her eyes as she listened intently.
“I still feel terrible and I was trying to think of a way to help him and make up for the way I acted today, and that brought to mind the thought of how much my life has changed since I met you. You always make me feel better, whether I’m pissed off, tired, can’t sleep, or I just want to lay on your chest. I know you benefit from it too, so…I wanted to ask if you would do the same for Chan. Would you take care of him the way you do for me?”
Minho moved them again, tipping her head back under the water to rinse her hair as he met her eyes. Y/n looked thoughtful, the idea of feeding from Chan and taking care of him intriguing her much like it had when she’d met him. She wasn’t sure she would feel the same way about him that she did about Minho, but the strain she’d sensed in Chan that day was reason enough for him to need some help. On top of everything good she’d heard about him from Minho, and the fact that he was absolutely gorgeous, the first impression she had of Chan was the final straw against her resistance.
Y/n met Minho’s eyes again, but with determination. “You’ll have to convince him to summon me, and I won’t be able to do anything unless he accepts a contract with me, but if that all works out…I think I’d be okay with helping him too.”
Minho smiled at her cheekily, but his relief was genuine. “Thank you, Y/n. I feel like I should be a little jealous, but there’s no one else I would trust to take care of him, honestly. And I know he’ll respect you, even if he’s hesitant at first.”
She looped her arms around his neck as she returned his smile, “Trusting me with your friend and trusting him with me is the hottest and most heartwarming thing you’ve ever said to me, Min.”
Minho rolled his eyes as she giggled at him, pulling her against him with a playful grumble, resolved to finish their shower before the hot water ran out. After he’d dried them both and tucked her into his bed, he confirmed with the others that Chan had secluded himself in his studio since the fight.
Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Minho grabbed her grimoire off his desk and made his way towards the studio to, hopefully, redeem himself.
~~~
Chan really should have grabbed a drink.
A nice hydrating drink would be the perfect thing to help the headache that settled behind his eyes when he cried himself hoarse after fighting with Minho.
Settled in his studio chair now with his sore head in his hands, Chan couldn’t help it as he continued to spiral into his mini breakdown, thinking over and over about what Minho had said. Nothing was a lie. Chan had been sacrificing his time and energy for a long time to help them succeed, but lately it was catching up to him physically. He was slower, his timing off, his opinions on their tracks becoming stagnant…
As he sank deeper into his thoughts, Chan didn’t hear the beep of the studio door lock. Minho closed the door behind him softly as he walked in, setting the convenience store bag on the couch as he stepped up behind Chan. Reaching out, he startled Chan slightly when he grasped his shoulder.
“Hyung? Are you alright?”
Chan turned quickly at the sound of Minho’s voice, his jaw clenching involuntarily before he looked away again to wipe his face. Minho could see that Chan had been crying, his throat closing at the thought that it was his fault. Clearing his throat, he turned and fished the drink and snack he’d bought from the bag behind him, quickly setting them on the desk in front of Chan before retreating to sit rigidly in the chair next to him.
Chan was taken aback for a moment at the sight of Minho’s ‘peace offering’, huffing a slightly bitter laugh as he cracked open the bottle and took a long drink. He turned towards Minho, leaning back in his chair tiredly as he watched Minho fidget.
Before he could say anything, Minho cut him off. “I’m sorry, hyung. I took my frustration out on you earlier and what I said was really uncalled for.”
Chan paused, having convinced himself that he was in the wrong and what Minho had said was true. Hearing an apology from him now had Chan shaking his head.
“Though I would prefer that we didn’t yell at each other, especially in front of the others, nothing you said was wrong, Minho.”
Now Minho was angry. Angry at himself for saying hurtful things to Chan, angry at the circumstances that led to them fighting, but mostly angry at Chan for believing those hurtful things.
“Everything I said was wrong! I know how hard you work for us, Chan, and the toll it takes on you. I also know how much of an ass I can be during dance practice. I had no right to yell at you like that.”
Chan’s face and heart melted into fondness at Minho’s words, his headache seeming to fade slightly.
“It’s alright, Minho. I understand why you were frustrated, but I am sorry for being behind today and off on the choreo. Not taking care of myself is one thing you didn’t lie about.”
Deflating tiredly, Chan scrubbed his hands over his face. Sarcastically he said, “Getting enough sleep would probably be the best place to start. But we all know how well that works for me.”
Minho couldn’t believe the golden opportunity that Chan had just plopped in his lap. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out Y/n’s grimoire. “Hyung…I think I have something that could help you with that.”
The sight of the book in Minho’s hand had Chan pausing again, mostly because he’d almost convinced himself that Minho having a succubus girlfriend had been a dream. He looked at Minho incredulously, though, not really impressed with his suggestion.
“The grimoire? Why would I want something back that interrupted my sleep?”
Minho shook his head, “Not just the grimoire, hyung.” Flipping open the book to the page that held her summoning spell, Minho turned it so Chan could read. Tilting his head, Chan could see a bunch of words in Latin, but the main thing that clued him in was the detailed drawing of Y/n. The pieces clicked as Chan realized what was happening.
“You’re saying your sex demon girlfriend can help me sleep?”
Minho’s brow furrowed angrily at what he called her, snapping the grimoire closed and pulling it away from him.
“Don’t call her that, she’s more than just some sex demon. But if that’s how you view her, then I don’t want her to help you anyway.”
“Sorry! Sorry…I didn’t mean it like that. What do you mean ‘want her to help me’?”
Minho glared at him still, but moved the book back toward him again. “She’s been a huge factor in my health for the last year. By channeling the negative emotions I have into feeding her, I get the release I need and she has a trusted energy source. When you met her, she noticed you carry a lot of that same energy, and now…she’s offering to help you too.”
Chan couldn’t keep the red from coloring his ears. He’d secretly missed the dreams from the grimoire, even if they left him flushed and with a hard problem, but the thought of summoning her himself had him unexpectedly anxious and curious.
“Y/n wants to…help me?” The disbelief in his tone barely hid the hopefulness, Minho smirking slightly as he nodded. He slid the grimoire across the desk towards Chan, opening it to the correct page again.
“Just put your hand on this page and close your eyes whenever you decide you want to talk to her. You had other questions for her too, didn’t you? I’ll let her explain the rest.”
He stood up before Chan could say anything else, patting him on the back as he made his way to the door. Turning around as he opened the door, he said, “And she’ll make you remember hyung, you’re not a burden to her for this, it’s what she lives for.”
The door swung shut at his words, leaving Chan alone in his studio again, the silence suddenly heavy as he studied Y/n’s coy smile on the pages before him and contemplated his next move.
Minho was surprised to see her still wrapped up in his bed when he returned from the studio. Y/n looked up at him as he walked in his room, pausing the movie she had on his tv.
“No luck?” She looked at him curiously, and a little hopefully, but Minho just shrugged as he climbed into the bed next to her.
“I guess not yet. He seemed a little nervous when we talked about you, but I thought he’d at least be too curious to resist by now.” He settled onto his back, pulling her to lay against him as she draped her arm across his chest. “I guess all we can do is wait.”
Y/n laid her head on his chest as he started the movie again, unable to stop the way her tail flicked in impatience. Minho noticed and smirked at her eagerness, running his hand down her back soothingly.
A little while passed, and Minho was almost asleep, when Y/n gasped lightly at the feeling of a warm unknown hand touching her grimoire. She met Minho’s sleepy eyes with excitement, her form beginning to shift and turn into shadow.
“Be good to him, kitten, he might not understand how much he needs you at first.”
Y/n leaned forward and kissed him gently. “Don’t worry, Min. I’ve got him.”
He smiled contentedly as she disappeared, falling soundly asleep as Y/n made her way quickly towards her new master.
Chan had stared at her grimoire, where it sat almost mockingly on his desk, for the better part of an hour. He’d mentally talked himself in circles about going through with summoning her, almost talking himself out of it dozens of times, but Minho’s words always rang in his head and convinced him again, ‘you’re not a burden to her for this, it’s what she lives for.’
Finally, after his latest attempt at talking himself out of it, something else changed his mind. Instead of Minho’s voice in his head, it was Y/n’s. ‘Don’t worry, Chan. I’m not going anywhere…’
His memory of her smile sealed his decision, his hand moving to rest over her grimoire page before his brain could stop him. Warmth spread under his hand, the words on the page almost shimmering as the light in the room dropped slightly. Chan looked around as he felt the same presence that came from his dreams, freezing as he spotted the swirling shadow that appeared from under the door.
The shadow moved towards him, spiraling around him and brushing over his cheek softly, the sudden affection dusting a blush across Chan’s nose. He sat back in his chair again as Y/n’s form solidified in the chair next to him, her legs folded up under her as she propped her chin on her hand with a smile.
“Hi, Chan.”
The warm feeling she gave off had Chan relaxing, his own lips curved in a shy smile.
“Hi, Y/n…it’s good to see you again.”
Her smile widened, her eyes crinkling in adoration. “And you, Channie, I’m glad you didn’t keep me waiting for too long.”
Chan’s blush deepened, his hesitation melting away and his attraction growing as he heard she’d been waiting for him.
“Sorry, I guess I was nervous. It’s not every day one of my members…offers me his girlfriend.”
Y/n laughed lightly at that, the absurdity of their interaction not lost on her, but the fact that he was more concerned about her being Minho’s than her being a demon had warmth and an overpowering need growing in her. She stood from the desk chair, moving slowly to circle around him teasingly.
“It’s okay, Chan, it is strange, I suppose, in a way. But…” She trailed her fingers up his arm and shoulder as she moved behind him. “There exists a level of trust among you and your members that goes deeper than normal, don’t you think? Anyone can see how you all care for each other, the passion you uphold each other with radiating from your every action.”
Goosebumps formed on his skin as her touch brushed across the sensitive hairs on his neck, her voice closer to his ear. “And this…offer, as you say, comes from Minho’s deep trust and care for you. Our offer is only from a place of desire to take care of you, Channie.”
Chan’s eyes fluttered shut as she gently scratched the back of his head, her circle around him ending with him subconsciously catching her around the waist and stopping her to stand between his knees. Her other hand found it’s way to the side of his neck, rubbing her thumb gently against the pulse point below his jaw. Y/n stepped closer, leaning over him slightly as she whispered.
“Will you let me do that, Chan?” He met her warm gaze, breathless from the sudden proximity. “Will you be good and let me take care of you? Please?”
Chan’s brain short circuited and went a little fuzzy at her words, the sight of his pupils dilating causing an excited flutter to curl her tail, her prediction of Chan confirmed before her eyes. She leaned closer still, the hand on his neck pressing her thumb a little harder into his skin as his chair tilted back with them. Practically on top of him now, Chan held her waist tightly as he felt suspended in an indescribable moment, lost in her eyes and the tension of every untold moment that could unfold after he gave in.
“…Yes.” His breath brushed across her lips, a smile curling over them, “…I-I’ll be good, please, Y/n…”
She smiled triumphantly, eagerly climbing into his lap and connecting their lips. Chan melted into her kiss, sliding his grip to her hips to hold her against him more as their lips moved against each other, gently at first, exploring as Y/n tried to get him to relax. She tilted his head with the pressure she had under his jaw, his plump lips opening in a groan that had her pushing her tongue in his mouth almost desperately. To have this beautiful, gentle, plaint man under her had Y/n buzzing, her excitement already wetting her thighs as they parted for air, her eyes glowing as she languidly rocked her hips against his cock swelling in his joggers.
Chan felt like he was on fire in the best way. The heat of her body on him already had him relaxing, her saliva having a strange effect on his sense of motion, his body feeling like it was floating in something soft. He held her hips tighter, helping her move as she kissed across his jaw and down his neck, sucking dark marks on his collar bone as she pulled his hoodie aside. He was fully hard under her now, the path of her kisses slowly leading down.
Y/n sat up and kissed him again, the passion making Chan dizzy. She tugged the bottom of his sweatshirt impatiently, helping him pull it over his head before sitting back to stare at him greedily. Chan blushed deeply under her gaze, his cock throbbing in his flustered state as she ran her hands appreciatively over his stomach, chest, and shoulders.
“So beautiful, Channie…so glad I get to have you too.”
Her mumbled words, combined with the way her lips roughly reattached to his skin, had Chan whining as his head fell back. She sucked sensitive marks and gentle bites into his skin as she worshipped over his body, moving lower and lower until she was kneeling between his legs on the floor. He was panting as he looked down, Y/n palming over his bulge as she slipped her hand to his waistband.
“Y/nnie…you don’t have to-,”
“Shush.” She looked at him sternly through her lashes, pulling his joggers and briefs down in one tug. “I thought you said you were going to be good for me? Let me take care of you my way, Channie.”
Chan blushed at her tone, and the sparkle in her eyes as she stared at his thick cock, nodding as he began to apologize. His words cut off with a deep shuddering groan as he saw her long forked tongue curl from her mouth and flick across the vein under his cock. His head dropped back against the chair again, the feeling of her warm lips joining the sensations from her tongue almost sending him over the edge already. He gripped the arms of the chair tightly as she drooled down his length, slowly working him in and out of her throat as her tongue swirled around him like a sinful lollipop.
“Aaah-wait…mmm-Y/n!”
Chan’s breathy gasps and whines had her preening under the feeling of how much pleasure she was drawing from him. She reached out for one of his hands, threading it into her hair gently as she looked up at him through her lashes again, her eyes glowing as she felt him throbbing in her mouth. He gripped her head hesitantly, but when she took almost all of him into her throat and intentionally gagged around him, his control slipped and he held her down a little longer with a choked moan.
Y/n hummed happily around his cock, her tail waving across the floor behind her and her pussy leaking onto the floor as he pulled on her sensitive horns, her tongue swirling around him faster as he gently face-fucked her. The tension in him was already lessening and she was determined to give him the best orgasm she could, her hands gripping his solid thighs as his thrusts into her mouth grew sloppy.
“Y/n…babygirl, I’m sorry…g-gonna cum…”
She slid her hand up his thigh, intertwining her fingers with his that weren’t holding her head. The gesture of her holding his hand while she forced him into the back of her throat and swallowed around him had Chan crumbling, his orgasm shooting through him like lightning. He didn’t even realize how hard he was holding her down, Y/n swallowing everything he gave her gratefully. He slumped in his chair as he came down from the mind numbing feeling she just gave him, panting and flushed while he watched her pull off his cock gently, her swollen red lips and glossy eyes making his cock jump again.
Y/n licked her lips contentedly, looking up at Chan with a familiar coy smile as she wiped his cum off the side of her mouth. The hesitation in his eyes was gone, replaced with dark lust and gratitude. He pulled her off the floor and into his lap again, pressing his lips to hers in a way that he hoped portrayed that gratitude. She could feel it, it was the same gratitude she felt in Minho and it made her warm inside for a more wholesome reason, a feeling she was told demons couldn’t have, a feeling she would chase forever with these two.
“Feeling a little better, Channie?” She whispered against his lips as she didn’t pull back very far, her arms coming to wrap around his head as he began to grind her hips against him again.
“Amazing, babygirl. I was stupid to ever think this would be a bad idea.” He smirked at her softly, her own smile felt as she kissed him again.
“We could always do this, you know? You could call for me whenever you want. It would be my wildest dream to be bound to both you and Minho.”
Chan looked at her steadily as he registered her words. Having a succubus bound to him sounded like a fairytale, but he’d seen the effectiveness of it with Minho already, and he honestly couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go. Smirking gently, he smoothed his hands up her waist and back as he spoke.
“Sounds good to me, Y/nnie, where do I sign?”
The bright smile she gave him made his slightest apprehension disappear, meeting her eagerly as she kissed him deeply, her hips grinding on him harder as she finally felt his hardening cock against her bare pussy. Her excitement flooded over as she pulled back with a gasp, ripping Minho’s hoodie over her head, sitting naked in Chan’s lap as he groaned at the sight, his hands immediately coming up to knead at her breasts.
He noted that there was an intricate black seal, similar to the one on Minho’s throat, curled across the skin over her womb. His finger traced it softly, goosebumps breaking out on her skin at the feeling as her tail flicked to wrap around his wrist. Y/n moved her fingers to join his, following the curve of runes that spelled Minho’s true name.
“You’ll have to seal the contract, Channie.” Her voice was almost a whisper again, “Leave your binding mark on me, just like Minho did.”
Chan met her eyes, lust and wonder swirling in them as he whispered back, “How?”
Y/n smirked as she moved her hips a few more times before reaching down between them to slide the head of his cock through her folds. They gasped lightly in unison as she started lowering herself, her head falling back at the stretch of taking Chan for the first time. Bliss was the only word in her mind, the feeling of Chan’s cock something that she would crawl from the depths of hell for a hundred times over.
He held her hips with a deep breathy whine as she sat fully, his cock buried in her completely. Y/n shuddered with delight at the feeling of being so full, her eyes glowing as she clenched around him, making them both moan.
“Give me everything you’ve got, Channie. Every stressor, every negative thought, every sleepless night, pour all of it into sealing our contract. Pour all of it into me.”
Chan moaned as she clenched around him again, his hips jumping and pushing his cock impossibly deeper into her. He could feel her power luring those feelings out of him, the urge to give it all to her growing as he nodded and held her hips so he could thrust up to meet her as she started to bounce on his cock.
The moans and gasps from both of them, and the wet sound of their bodies meeting, filled the thankfully soundproof room. Chan slid down slightly in his chair, shifting to thrust into her at a deeper angle as he took one of her nipples into his mouth at the same time. The feeling of his hot tongue and his cock hitting her g-spot perfectly had Y/n arching her back with a cry, her fingers gripping his hair almost too hard, his cock throbbing in her at the sting.
She succeeded in pulling his head up enough that she could crash their lips together again, the way she sucked on his tongue reminiscent of how she’d sucked his cock, their hips both stuttering in their movements as they pushed each other towards their peak.
“Fuck…babygirl you feel so f-fucking good.” Chan was reaching his second orgasm embarrassingly quick, the enormous release that he was teetering on the edge of like a cliff with her waiting at the bottom.
“Mmhmm! You’re being s-soo good, Channie, so p-perfect for me.” What Chan didn’t know was that she was right there with him, the amount of energy he was giving off already leaving her breathless and chasing her own orgasm.
He whined again at her praise, his cock throbbing as he braced his feet against the floor and held her waist tightly as he started to pound into her in earnest. Y/n fell forward against his chest as her eyes rolled back in her head from the pleasure, her nails digging slightly into his back. She latched her lips to the base of his throat as the band in her snapped, her pussy clenching around Chan like a vice as she moaned into his skin, her orgasm blinding her and gushing down Chan’s cock.
The feeling of her cumming around him had Chan pulling her hips flush with his as he came with her and moaned brokenly, his head thrown back at the burning feeling of her lips on his neck. Y/n clenched tighter around him as his cum filled her, the same burning feeling tracing across the skin over her womb. His tension and all of his negative-turned sexual energy flowed into her, sating her deepest thirst. He held her tightly as they both shuddered with pleasure, their bodies slowly relaxing into each other in their post sex bliss.
Gently detaching her lips, Y/n leaned back slightly to admire the fresh seal of runes of her name inked across Chan’s throat. She smiled as she kissed the mark again, slowly sitting up to admire the thoroughly fucked-out Chan beneath her.
Chan smiled up at her, his eyes flicking down to see the new seal that decorated her skin, his thumbs brushing across it almost possessively, even if he couldn’t truly read it. He looked back up at her tiredly, his body felt so heavy, his muscles the most relaxed they’d ever been in his life, his brain so quiet that he could’ve fallen asleep right there. Seems like Minho was right…a demon girlfriend was exactly what Chan needed to get some sleep.
You're a corporate boss, he is your personal assistant. You're his boss by day, but after hours his soft dom side gets you weak.
18+ fanfic // (soft dom) Felix + sub reader // vaginal fingering // oral sex (f rec) // toys // handcuffs // vaginal sex// orgasms // declaration of love // sex where someone might see // boss/subordinate relationship
Approx 1.9k words
The moon illuminates your high rise office just enough that you don’t need any additional lighting. Felix can still see everything as he presses the front of your naked body against the glass window of behind your desk. The glass is cold against your skin making you shudder.
“A little cold is it, boss?” your assistant, Felix says. There is a kindness in his voice even though he is whispering. You can feel his hot breath on your exposed neck. He retreats back for a moment and your not sure where he’s gone.
But then you feel him push against the back of your body. He’s naked. You can feel his hard erection against the back of your ass.
Yes, you both liked to play risky games with each other after hours, happily wandering around naked and "sensually fucking", as Felix likes to call it.
“God Felix you’re so hard.” you gasp as he rubs the head of his cock through your lips, guiding it with one hand. His other hand caresses your ass, sliding it up to follow the curve of your back, and eventually tangling his fingers in your hair.
“It’s all because of you, you know?” He smirks against your neck, and tips your head back to expose more of your skin. "I've wanted you all day."
A small squeak escapes your lips when he bites your neck hard, but still playfully.
“Spread your legs a little for me, gorgeous.” He instructs. As always you oblige, stepping your feet apart to allow Felix access your entrance. How can you refuse your Felix. You may be his boss, but the boy makes you melt.
You’re expecting to feel the tip of his glorious dick prodding against you, but Felix is playful and full of unexpected surprises. Instead, he lets go of his cock and snakes his hand between your legs to find your clit.
You let out a long moan as he sucks on your pulse and applies pressure between you legs.
“You’re so wet for me.” He notes.
You lean back against Felix’s strong body and your head rests on his shoulder. He removes the hand in your hair, snaking around to squeeze your breasts. You’re chest is heaving, as you whimper at Felix’s touch. You close your eyes, losing yourself to the sensations. Felix’s hand makes it’s way down your stomach and down between your legs. With two fingers he spreads your lips apart, exposing your clitoris, and allowing the fingers of his other hand more access to deliver concentrated pressure.
“Fuck.” You cry out. You start to writhe against him, whimpering his name over and over as your climax builds. Felix slides his fingers from your clit to your entrance now, pushing two fingers into your pussy. His other hand now taking over working on your clit.
“You look so stunning right now. Like this.” Felix says in awe.
You can feel the pressure building between your legs, and you start to rock your hips again Felix’s hand. His fingers slide so easily in and out of you. The slick, wet noises from your pussy accompanied with your low moans and sweet whimpers is sending Felix crazy. “I think you’re about to come on my fingers any minute now.” He said. “Can I put another one in?” He said closing his eyes and pressing his lips to your shoulder.
“Mmm hmm.” You muttered, lost in the pleasure.
Felix pushed a third finger into you making you gasp at the stretch. “Yes yes yes… like that.. yes.” you cry.
You are held against him, secure and safe, as Felix directs his fingers into your g-spot. He becomes absolutely relentless, not easing up for a moment as you squirm against him.
“I can feel you’re so close… just let go, love…I’ve got you.” He whispers in your ear.
The pressure inside you explodes, and your legs shake as your orgasm crashes over you. “Yes that’s it…love… good girl… let go. Let go.” He bit his lip as he watches your legs give way, and he wraps an arm around your waist to hold you up.
Felix doesn’t even let you recover from your orgasm before he’s spun you around, lifting you up and pressing you against the glass. You wrap your legs around his waist and he pushes his cock inside you with a groan.
“Felix… you’re hitting me so deep”. You protest.
“Oh my God am I hurting you?” He stops and looks at you with concern, but you shake your head. “It’s fucking incredible.” You pant.
His mouth attacks yours, biting and tugging your lip, then kissing and nibbling your neck. His breathy moans letting you know how much you’re driving him crazy.
“Arms up.” He says gruffly. You do as he says, raising your arm above your head, and he uses one of his hands to pin your arms against the glass. His other hand supports your ass while he fucks you slow and deep.
All you can hear is yours and Felix’s heavy, laboured breathing and your wet pussy as his cock moves in and out of you.
Eventually, Felix peels you off the glass and carries you over to your desk, laying you down and thrusting into you a few times before pulling out entirely.
“Felix,” you whined “where are you going?” You close your eyes, your neediness overwhelming you.
“It’s okay. I’m still here.” His face appears over yours and he kisses you deeply. “I’ve got a surprise… something I want to try. If that’s okay.” He smiles brightly.
You smile back and push a strand of hair out of his face. “Okay.” You say, and he scurries off and switches on a lamp. Then he is back a moment later dangling a pair of black fluffy handcuffs and grinning deviously.
“I want to restrain you.” His grin turns into a cheeky smirk, making your heart melt.
“Fuck, Felix. Have you had these hiding in your desk drawer all day. You're so bad.” You squint at him.
Felix raises and eyebrow “Yes? And I've been imagining this all day.” He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue.
“Legs up.” He suddenly demands. A rush of excitement courses through you and you fold your legs up towards your chest.
“Wrists around the back of your thighs, love.” He instructs you to hook your legs over your forearms, and to hold your arms around your thighs. Your feet dangle up around your ears.
“That’s it.” He says as he handcuffs your wrists, securing you in just the way he wants you.
“One more surprise.” Felix then holds up a butt plug with a black fluffy tail attached. “Can you wear this for me?” He asks with a feigned shyness. “I think you’ll look adorable with this in your pretty hole.” His naughty words are arousing you immensely and you nod your head “Yes, Felix… please… I’ll wear that for you. Can you help me put it in?” You coo.
Felix tries his best to hide his eagerness and it makes you bite your lip to try and hide your stupid grin.
You feel the cold metal against your vagina entrance, as Felix gathers your wetness to use as lubricant. “I’m feeling a little impatient,” he meets your eye, “so you’re going to have to take it in one go for me?” He decides.
You feel a burning stretch as Felix pushes the plug into you in a slow but continuous motion.
You cry out. It hurts for a moment but then the stretch feels incredible.
Felix stands back and admires you. “Such a pretty little kitty.” He smirks satisfied with his idea.
Then his head disappears and you feel his wet tongue lick a stripe up from your entrance to your clit.
“Felix! Please just… I need your cock…” you toss your head around in frustration, all you want is for him to be inside you again.
“You want my cock, do you baby?” Felix tries to taunt you, but he’s lining himself up with you in a heartbeat, and sinking back into you.
“God you’re extra tight with that in your ass.” He chokes.
You desperately need to see his face so you try to move your legs slightly to one side as you tilt your neck to look around your legs.
You watch Felix as he watches himself moving in and out of you. His pace is steady. He might have been impatient to be back inside of you, but now he’s where he wants to be he doesn’t want it to end.
He feels so big. He’s pushing into you further than you thought was possible. The stretch feeling more intense too, thanks to the plug up your ass. You were slowly falling apart.
“Please, please… faster.” You whine desperately.
Felix catches your eyes and smiles. “I’m not in a hurry, sweet-pea”. He’s so cute, but frustrating.
He doesn’t change his pace, just continues the long, slow thrusts, keeping you on the precipice of your second orgasm.
He keeps you there, right on the edge for a good five minutes, until you are sobbing and begging him to take you over. Felix is loving it. You’re so wet for him, responding just the way he likes. The way the tears are running down your cheeks, the way your eyes are unfocused, the way you crying his name. He fucking loves it. And then he’s ready for you to come. A finger lands on your clitoris and his hips snap faster, harder, giving you that friction you need. “That’s it beautiful. Come on my cock.”
Your orgasm makes you scream, the release the most intense you’ve ever felt before. Your legs shake and your walls clench causing Felix to let out a long growl as he comes inside of you. Your still pulsing around him as his breath slows back to a normal rate.
He pulls out and removes the plug, then releases you from the handcuffs.
“Felix!” You sob as he holds you close. You feel safe in his arms.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He soothes. "You did so good, boss babe." he chuckles.
You take your time dressing, kiss each other goodbye. "See you tomorrow, Felix. Don't forget you have a performance review tomorrow." you remind him and head off in the direction of your car.
"Oh, I thought we just had the performance review?" he calls after you.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner. Doing so will result in a legal takedown per the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and is subject to legal action.
Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader
W/c: 26.5k
Warnings: accidental nudity, hospital visit, mention of masturbation, use of pet names, breast/nipple play, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, bulge kink, sexual asphyxiation, breeding kink, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), brief mention of pregnancy
Synopsis: The older brother of the boy you babysit is an enigma, in every sense of the word- and you’re determined to figure him out.
[this work was based off a request by @antoniorhinothethird - thank you for requesting!]
18+. Mdni!
•
The idea of babysitting isn’t some brilliant proposal you conjured up in a day- but it’s not exactly a choice, either. The idea isn’t even yours, in fact, the advertisements you published on the colorful inquiry site at your mother’s behest. But “college courses are virtual these days” and “you’ll be a mother at some point in your life,” according to her. So two months into the semester, you’ll now spend the majority of your time in a new place you’ll call home, just 30 minutes out at the Lee Household.
The Lee household is considerably larger than you’d originally anticipated it to be, spanning a sizable amount of grassland and standing nobly tall at 2 stories high. The exterior of the flashy home is surrounded by paved gravel driveways, lining the neat rows of bushels and vines that surround the off-white architectural build. Giant glass windows reflect sunlight in nearly every room of the house, with the exception of the dimly-lit library on the second floor, which flaunts colossal cherry wooden bookshelves that line the walls and cover most of the smaller windows.
“Joon is usually very mellow in the daytime,” Mrs. Lee tells you as she walks you through a tour of the garden. “You’ll only have to worry about his feeding schedules, which I’ve already written and posted on the refrigerator.”
She pivots in front of you, stopping for a moment and gesturing to the stone fountain by the rose bushes. “Do you like it? It was a gift from my husband. When he’s not running the furniture business, he works in restoration a lot. This was his first project.”
“Wow,” you say, your lips parted at the sight of the koi fish and the cascading waterfall from its lips. “It’s very beautiful.”
Mrs. Lee smiles at you in response, turning on her heel and continuing to the iron gates in the front.
“Do you have any other questions?” She asks, clasping her hands together and shooting you a saccharine smile. She’s intimating, not because of her personality, which you quickly clock as rather warm and inviting. But rather, because she’s so elegant, her navy silk dress perfectly complementing the chunky pearl earrings she wears, making her look like a character from an old film. You’re not sure you’ve ever crossed paths with such an interesting woman before.
“I think that covers everything,” you say finally, giving her a small bow. “I’ll be sure to provide updates throughout the day.”
“Oh, no need,” she says quickly. “Unless it’s an emergency, l know you’ll have your hands full doing your work while watching Joon. Feel free to just give us a little summary when we’re home for the evening.”
She shoots you a little wink when she finishes speaking, clasping her hands together again and smiling down at you.
“We’ll see you tomorrow for your first day!” She exclaims warmly, opening gate doors as you make your exit out of the garden. When you begin down the paved road, Mrs. Lee suddenly gasps, calling out to you again in a frantic manner.
“Oh! Y/n, wait please!” She calls, pulling the skirt of her dress up to her ankles to jog over to where you’re standing.
“My other son will be home from school in the afternoon tomorrow. Don’t be alarmed if you hear him moving about the house. He’ll just keep to himself.”
You ponder the words for a moment, a little frustrated when you realize there will be two kids in the household instead of one, like she’d previously mentioned. But you just nod and smile at her, seeing yourself out of the driveway once again and beginning the journey back home to prepare for your first day here tomorrow.
*
This castle-at-end-of-the-road is eerily quiet when no one’s home, a once lively sight of rose bushes and marble statues appearing like something out of a horror movie when you’re by yourself. At every corner you turn, your brain runs rampant with paranoia, placing shadowy figures and silhouettes of people where there are none- except for when you’re in the presence of Joon.
At just a year old, Joon is considered one of the cutest ages, only being able to babble incoherent noises and flail his little hands around when he wants something. His closet is full of matching neutral tones, per his mother’s styling, and his sparse black hair is combed neatly to one side.
Mrs. Lee is right about him- he doesn’t cry. Nor does he ever make a fuss, really. He simply sits quietly, in the comfort of his crib, or his high chair, and he curiously peers at the world around him. You’re certain he’s taken a liking to you already, judging at how he smiles when you spoon-feed him mashed carrots and mimic airplane noises. And he only cries briefly once in the day, stopping almost immediately when you put him down for his nap.
This may be an easier gig than you thought.
While Joon naps, you take the opportunity to get some work done in the library, settling comfortably on the velvet armchair in the corner and running through a few of your online class assignments for the week.
Although you’ll be babysitting here for the next few weeks, you’re also completing your final year at university this year, your last semester being completely remote. Which gives you time to take on the babysitting task as a side hustle, and hopefully save enough money to travel a bit after university like you’ve always dreamt of.
At half past noon, Joon is still peacefully asleep in his crib where you’ve left him, the ambient sound of waves echoing softly from his baby monitor as little snores emit from his curled lips. He looks like an angel when he sleeps, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell to twice its size at the sight of him.
The gentle breeze of the October wind travels through the open windows of the library, sending chills up your spine when you sit down to work again. You get up from where you’re sitting on the armchair to latch the windows shut, making sure to lock them, before turning around to take your seat again- quickly startled by the figure standing in the doorway.
“Jesus,” you yelp, one hand clutching your chest in fear as you nearly drop your laptop.
The figure- or man, rather, says nothing, scanning the room like he’s searching for something, before turning on his heel and exiting the room once again.
He’s tall, with a slim yet muscular build, honey tanned skin complementing his chocolate brown tresses. He’s also dressed rather casually in a pair of light-wash jeans and a black top, a black leather jacket thrown over his broad shoulders and left unzipped.
“Sorry, did you need something?” You call out, perplexed by his demeanor. You can’t remember if the Lees warned you of potential visitors, but you’re suddenly panicked for Joon, remembering you left his door open.
“Nope,” the man calls out over his shoulder, not turning around to face you. And then you see it- a black backpack, slung over one shoulder and seemingly filled to the brim with textbooks.
Their other son.
This must be the son Mrs. Lee warned you would be making appearances in the afternoon. But you had assumed him to be much younger, especially considering he’s definitely old enough to be watching over his own brother.
Before you can gather your thoughts to introduce yourself, he’s gone again, disappearing down the hall the same way he so mysteriously appeared. And you wonder, briefly, how he can be so much colder than his own mother.
*
The first day of your new job is a success. When Mrs. Lee returns home for the evening, she pays you in cash, true to her traditional style, and sends you home with a tin of shortbread cookies as another ‘thank you’, though she’s already voiced it a million times. But the second day is rougher than the first, reminding you of why babysitting isn’t always an easy task despite what it may seem.
Joon is particularly antsy today, flailing his arms around when you try to spoon feed him and whining relentlessly when you pick him up. He needs several diaper changes in just your first few hours of working, and when you finally do get him clean, he’s a crying, screaming mess.
Fortunately, he still goes down for his nap at noon, which means you have a narrow window of time to complete your work for the day and get freshened up. The windows in the library are propped wide open again, a cold breeze coming through as you settle in your new favorite spot and open your laptop.
There are a myriad of assignments to complete today, and you’re briefly panicked that you won’t be able to complete the necessary few pieces if Joon suddenly wakes again. But still, you try, skimming through textbooks and typing away as much as you can to make steady progress. And at the hour mark, Joon begins to cry. Rather he wails, loudly, from the other room, startling you when you’re already in deep concentration working through a practice quiz.
You make your way down the hallway and to the right, where Joon’s room is, approaching the crib and catching a glimpse of his anguished state. His face is a robust shade of red as he wails loudly, bubbles of saliva forming at his nostrils and his eyes squeezed shut. You guide him out of the crib and into the safety of your arms, shushing him gently and rocking him back and forth the way Mrs. Lee taught you. And Joon calms instantly, hiccuping through tears as he locks his gaze on yours and fists at strands of your hair.
“That’s okay,” you coo at him, grazing your finger along his chin and cleaning some of the drool that dribbles from the corners of his lips. “I’m here. Look at you! You’re okay,” you continue, giggling at him when his quivering lips pull into a small smile. He softens in your arms, smiling and babbling with hushed sounds, clutching tightly on strands of your hair as you balance him in your arms.
“You want to come do some work?” You ask, nodding your head as if to coax an answer out of him. “That’s a good baby, huh? Let’s go do some work.”
And you travel back to the library with Joon in your arms, giving him gentle pats on his back as you hoist him tighter into your embrace and balance your laptop with one arm.
When you’re starting on your last task of the evening, you’re interrupted again today by Mrs. Lee’s eldest son, who pokes his head in the doorway and observes as you coo down at Joon’s sleeping figure while working on your computer with one hand.
“Do you want me to take him?” You hear from the doorway, and you crane your neck to look where he’s standing, his hands shoved in his pockets and his backpack slung lazily over one arm.
“I’m okay,” you respond, typing out a word with one hand. He furrows his eyebrows at your failed attempt, approaching you and reaching out his arms to take Joon from your embrace.
“You can’t work like this,” he says, as he peacefully transfers Joon to his own arms. “He won’t wake up if I put him back, I promise.”
“Thanks,” you reply, taking note of his features now that he’s at a closer proximity to you for the first time. He has large round eyes, and long eyelashes that make even you jealous. His nose bridge is sharp and straight, and when he chuckles softly at Joon, you notice his skewed front teeth, ones that make his smile seem sweeter- softer.
As he begins out the doorway, you try to think of what to say to him, not wanting to have another awkward run-in with him like your last one. But nothing comes to mind that won’t be just as awkward as the encounter itself, and you settle on painful silence once again.
As you unlock your laptop, continuing on to your last assignment, you hear the faint noise of Mrs. Lee’s elder son putting Joon back to sleep.
Except he sounds different than he has during your two previous encounters. He’s laughing, babbling, even cooing at Joon as he puts him back to sleep. And though you really shouldn’t intrude, you make your way to the doorway again, where you peer down the hall to listen in on the endearing noises he makes.
“Are you sleepy?” He asks, his voice two octaves higher than usual. “Let’s sleep now, okay? No, you can’t have my shirt. That’s mine, remember? Let’s have good dreams now. I love you!”
You hear Joon giggling from the end of the corridor and you smile to yourself, wholly moved by the tender little moment he shares with his baby brother. He might not be his full-time caregiver, but he certainly knows what he’s doing. As you stay pondering his behavior for a moment, you don’t even notice when he exits the room again, turning to watch you standing around the doorway. Your ear is still leaned into the corridor, clearly having listened in on the private moment.
“Sorry,” you say quickly, straightening your posture, a wave of embarrassment quickly washing over you. “I was making sure Joon got to bed okay.”
He just nods once, looking you over briefly before meeting your gaze again.
“Minho,” he then practically mutters, averting your gaze as he waits for you to speak.
It’s his name, you realize, barely even having registered what he said to you. He’s telling you his name.
“Y/n,” you respond quickly, giving him a small bow and smiling nervously.
And Minho says nothing, pivoting on his heel to exit the corridor and disappear all over again.
*
For two weeks, your job runs smoothly, no glaring problems or hangups. Joon remains fond of you, obedient at mealtimes and when he’s put to bed. And the system of completing your college coursework goes smoothly, being able to get through several assignments a day while Joon takes his afternoon nap. If anything, you might be more productive than you were before this job, despite balancing it between university.
It’s an overcast Tuesday afternoon, and you’ve spent most of your day working in Joon’s nursery on the rocking chair next to his crib. He’s been a little fussy today, but you find that he calms down a little at the repetitive clicking noises of your laptop keyboard. Once you’ve confirmed he’s asleep, little snores emitting from his lips, you gather your belongings and sneak away to the library again. Only this time, it’s not vacant.
Minho sits in your usual spot today, his legs propped up on the footrest in front of him and a book in his lap. He doesn’t even notice you in the doorway, strands of hair hanging loosely in front of his face as he scans the page of his book. He also looks significantly more casual than other days you’ve seen him around, wearing a plain black t-shirt and gray sweats, a pair of round wireframe glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.
He feels your gaze on him, shuffling about suddenly and closing his book.
“Sorry,” Minho says. “I was just… reading.”
He realizes how awkward he sounds, verbally conveying his actions to you like this, but he’s too caught off guard to form a more coherent string of words.
“It’s okay,” you say politely, setting your bag down on the floor and occupying the chair across from him.
“What book?” You ask, cocking your head at the small red novel he clutches in his lap.
“Hm? Oh, uh… it’s Love and Limerence. By Dorothy Tennov.”
You nod in response, studying the cherub painted on the cover, wielding a bow and arrow.
“Big romance fan?”
“No,” Minho says, chuckling at your words. “It’s a required read for my class.”
“How neat,” you reply. “What class requires romance novels these days?”
“My philosophy course,” Minho says, running the pads of his fingers over the raised text on the cover. “The psychology of emotion.”
“PHIL 105,” you say, knowing very well the course he speaks of.
“Yeah- you’ve taken it?”
“No, but I had a friend who did in freshman year. I’m in my last semester now- my remaining classes are virtual, though.”
“It’s my last semester, too,” Minho says with a little smile, fiddling with the lobe of his ear as he talks.
“Well best of luck to you in the final stretch,” you reply, shooting him a small smile back. “I hope it all goes smoothly.”
Minho gives a half nod, and then furrows his eyebrows together, like he’s just remembered something.
“I’ll get out of your hair,” he says suddenly, sitting up and gathering his belongings.
“Oh, I really don’t mind-”
“Catch you later,” He interrupts with a nervous tone, almost jogging out of the library and back down the corridor.
And just like the first day you met him, you maintain the same idea of him- he’s such an enigma. Appearing in and out of the household, not one to voice his thoughts or his opinions, no eagerness to know the stranger sitting in his house watching over his baby brother. But somehow, like the rest of the household, you can’t help but have a lingering curiosity for Minho, too.
*
“My husband and I might be late getting back today,” Mrs. Lee says one morning as you feed Joon his breakfast. His tongue dodges the plastic spoon, dribbling mashed food out from the corners of his lips and laughing when you go to dab his face clean with a napkin.
“That’s alright,” you reply, loading up the spoon with more food. “I can wait until you’ve arrived.”
“You will?” Mrs. Lee asks, a kind of sparkle in her eyes as she speaks. “That would mean the world to us. It’s just that my husband has an auction to attend today. And sometimes these events run longer than they’re meant to.”
“No problem at all,” you say, smiling at her as you turn your attention back to Joon. “Joon and I will just hang out a little longer today. Isn’t that right?”
He babbles something in response, a string of saliva trailing from his lips, and Mrs. Lee laughs at the sight.
“He’s really taken a liking to you!”
As she fixes Joon’s hair, Minho enters the kitchen, dressed for the day with his backpack already slung over his shoulder.
“Minho,” his mother says in a scolding tone. “No gum for breakfast. Have a fruit.”
“Can’t,” he replies curtly. “My philosophy exam is today.”
“What does that have to do with depriving yourself of food?”
“It’s bad luck to eat before an exam,” Minho retorts, coming around the granite island to kiss her on the cheek. “Besides,” Minho continues. “I’m ditching my second class, so I’ll be home a little earlier.”
When he turns around, his gaze meets yours, and he instantly stiffens.
His gaze turns cold again, his hands shoving in his jacket pockets as he says nothing to you. He just bows, once, and then turns to exit like he’s suddenly in some rush.
“Bye,” he calls out, and you’re not even sure who he’s addressing it to at this point.
“I should get going, too,” Mrs. Lee says to you. “I’ll call you when we leave the event tonight. And please, feel free to make yourself comfortable after Joon gets put to bed. There’s cash on the table if you want to order something for dinner, and extra blankets are in the upstairs closet if you get sleepy.”
“Thank you,” you say to Mrs. Lee as she gathers her car keys and handbag. And the house is quiet again when you’re all alone, with the exception of Joon’s heavy breathing as he stares at you curiously.
“It’s like a mansion here,” you say to your best friend as you balance Joon in your arms and crane your neck on your shoulder to hold the phone against your ear. “Mrs. Lee is so nice. I thought she’d be stuck up or something, but she’s like a second mother.”
“You hit the jackpot,” your friend voices on the other end of the line. “Any idea how long they need you around?”
“Not sure,” you reply, wiping the granite counter with a rag as you finish up the dishes. “Probably until their son is done with the semester.”
“Son?” She says excitedly. “Is he cute?”
“Please,” you echo, rolling your eyes. “His looks mean nothing considering he doesn’t say a word.”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly that. He just doesn’t talk. We go to the same university and it’s like pulling teeth trying to figure out something as simple as what his major is. I think he despises having me around.”
“I mean, to be fair, I wouldn’t love someone in my space 24/7. It’s probably a territorial thing.”
“He’s not a cat,” you respond, laughing lightly. “He’s a grown man. I just get the feeling he doesn’t like me.”
“Well I highly doubt that,” she says, and you can hear her shuffling about on her end of the line.
“Hey, I have to go,” she chimes in. “But I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with baby Joon and the cat man.”
“Thanks,” you reply, chuckling to yourself.
As you hang up the phone, you turn around to gather the last of the dishes, stopping in your tracks when you’re met with Minho himself.
He’s standing in the kitchen, popping a bubble of gum with his teeth, his gaze locked coldly on yours as he observes the place.
That’s right- he did say he would be home a bit earlier after his exam today. Was he standing there for the entirety of your conversation? You can’t recall how long the phone call lasted, or even the specifics of what you said. But you do know it certainly wasn’t good.
“Hi,” you say nervously, scanning his expression for a hint of what he’s thinking. But he provides you none, kicking off his boots and making his way up the stairs again.
The guilt is still eating away at you two hours later- Minho hasn’t descended the staircase once since the incident, and you can hardly focus on your school work at the thought of what he’s thinking of you.
Here you are, complaining about him seeming “cold” or “off”- the whole time you’re the one talking about him behind his back and stirring up drama. If he hated you before, he definitely despises you now. And if he's as close with his mother as he seemed this morning, you could be out of a job by tomorrow.
In reluctant steps, you ascend the wooden staircase, clutching a small mug of coffee and a stack of buttered toast. You remember Minho saying he’d have breakfast after his exam, a task he wasn’t able to complete due to your impolite conversation earlier. And while you’re not even sure he’s going to give you the time of day anymore, it’s worth a shot to try.
At the top of the staircase, you realize you’re unsure of which room even belongs to Minho. There are rows of doors down the corridor, which you peer into, looking for any sign of him.
A closet, another closet, the laundry room… it feels like a futile task at this point- not to mention, the sinking feeling that you’re intruding, poking into every room in the house like this.
But at the end of the hallway, just across the staircase from Joon’s room, lies one more closed door you haven’t tried yet, and you’re sure this one has to be his.
With a deep breath, you balance the mug of coffee on the plate you’re carrying, bringing your free hand up to knock, just once.
No answer.
You pause for a moment, debating whether to just leave and drop the idea of an apology altogether. But you don’t, instead forcing yourself to knock once more this time, a little harder than the first.
And after muffled sounds of shuffling about, the door finally opens again, Minho standing with a confused expression on his face. He has a pair of earphones in, one side pulled out to hear you, his glasses sat on his face and a number of textbooks on the bed behind him.
“Is Joon okay?” He asks, looking down the hall in panic as you meet his gaze.
“What? Oh! Yes, he’s fine. He’s sleeping.”
“Oh. What are you…”
“I… made you some breakfast. I know you didn’t have any before your exam this morning. And no, gum isn’t a breakfast food.” You chuckle lightly as you hold the items out to him, and Minho looks down at them, blinking a few times before speaking.
“Oh. Uh, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s no problem. Should I leave them with you?”
“Oh, you can put them on the desk over there,” Minho replies, and it’s then that you notice his hands are full with papers. He steps aside to let you in, gesturing to the desk with a piece of paper, and you oblige, clearing the space of a few scattered items and setting down his breakfast.
When you turn around to look at the place, your lips part in awe at the sight of the grandiosity of it. Minho’s room has bigger windows than any of the others you’ve seen, concave around a crescent-shaped seating area that boasts tall ceilings and large glass windows. There are books lining the floors, the desk space and even the window sills, many of them left bookmarked or lying open where they sit.
His giant wooden bed frame is almost hidden behind a hanging curtain, and his desk is nearly inhabitable at the amount of university paraphernalia that lives on its surface.
“Wow,” you say, craning your neck to look around the room. “It’s really nice in here.”
“Thanks,” Minho says awkwardly, toying with a loose hem on his pants.
“You really like reading,” you comment, taking note of the books he has lying around. When you say this, Minho seems to stiffen a bit, shutting some of the books and lining them on their spines along his shelves.
“Yeah,” he mutters, dropping a few books and kicking them away from him.
You nod at him, pursing your lips, well aware that you’re in the midst of yet another awkward interaction with him, but wanting to fulfill the reason you came up here all the same.
“Listen,” you begin. “I wanted to apologize. I don’t know how much you heard of that, but I assume it was enough to be hurt by it. And you’re justified in being hurt. It was totally uncalled for of me to say those things- and sure, you might be a quiet person. But that doesn’t make it okay for me to go around airing it out like it’s my business. In fact I shouldn’t even be on my phone on the job. I’m here to watch your brother, and I get paid for that service, and it’s completely unprofessional-”
“It’s cool,” Minho says, an unchanging expression on his face.
“Oh, um… I mean, if you want to fire me I totally understand.”
Minho chuckles softly, and then shakes his head. “I’m not going to fire you. I am quiet. It’s cool. Really.”
“I mean, I totally get that-”
“Unless you want to be fired?” He inquires with a half-smile, and you chuckle softly in response.
“I really don’t. I love watching your brother.”
“Good,” he replies. “Then we’re all good.”
And although you want to say something else to him, you don’t, feeling as though you should be satisfied with the state of the conversation. You apologized, he forgave you, and you haven’t lost your job. And he’s still quiet, but that’s just who he is.
When Joon wakes from his afternoon nap, it’s nearly 3pm. He’s a crying mess when he’s up again, flailing his arms around to beg for a bottle, which you promptly prepare for him after a diaper change.
With Joon in your arms, you get some chores around the house finished, including vacuuming the rugs, dusting off the furniture and tidying Joon’s toys that are usually scattered about his nursery.
Doing chores wasn’t an agreement between you and Mrs. Lee- in fact, she usually urges you to focus on your schoolwork and take breaks when you’re not caring for Joon. But you want to, feeling compelled to take care of the space as much as you care for Joon. Although tensions are still somewhat present between you and Minho, the Lee household feels comfortable to you by this point, almost like a second home now.
After chores, the library calls out to you again, evening beginning to fall over the neighborhood and painting the sky with vibrant hues of an autumnal sunset.
The windows are still rolled open from earlier, and your velvet couch looks particularly inviting at this hour, beams of sunset setting it aglow and luring you to choose a book from the cherry wood shelves around you.
So you do, selecting a children’s book about animals, comfortably sprawling out on the chair with Joon in your arms. He eyes the book curiously, spreading his short, chubby fingers over the cover and tapping repeatedly, as if asking you to read to him.
And you do, setting the book on your knee to angle the pages toward him, as you begin to vocalize the choppy sentences to him.
“A is for apple, hanging from a tree,” you say, caressing his stubby fingers as he pouts in focus. “B is for buzzing bumblebee.”
Joon’s lips curl into a smile, making his best attempt to clap as you point out the colorful images to him.
“C is for crab, walking in the sand… D is for dolphin, swimming toward the land!”
Joon laughs hysterically now, clapping his little hands and rocking back and forth in your lap. You laugh, too, at his darling reaction, and give him a little kiss on the head as he fiddles with the cover of the book.
It’s moments like this that reaffirm the notion for you that this job was the right idea, after all. You’re inexplicably happy alongside him like this, seeing the world through his eyes and rediscovering things you would otherwise take for granted, like silly picture books or doing chores with him in your arms. You feel so protective of him, eager to make his mom proud and provide a safe, nurturing environment for him as his babysitter- not because you’re paid to do it, but because he now holds a special place in your heart.
The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from the doorway, and you look up to find Minho standing there, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.
“Did you… want something to eat? I was going to order takeout, unless you wanted something else.”
“Sure,” you reply, propping Joon up a little closer to your chest. “Anything’s fine with me.”
“I’ll get Chinese, then,” Minho says nodding. He averts your gaze a little, but you can tell he’s just a little awkward when he’s face-to-face with you like this. And perhaps your best friend is right- perhaps it’s not unusual of him to feel territorial over his household. After all, you are here almost every hour of the day, making yourself comfortable in almost every room, tending to the chores here and eating food from their kitchen. You suppose you would be irritated at the thought of it, too.
As Minho leaves to place an order, you take Joon back to the nursery, where you gently put him to sleep for the evening and program his baby monitor to play calm ocean noises again. It’s like clockwork- he’s out like a light, and the minute he leaves your arms, you’re exhausted, too. The stress of watching over him while balancing your school work might finally be getting to you now- you’re undoubtedly tired, your limbs aching from sauntering about this big house all day with Joon in your arms. And although you’re on a good track, you can hardly remember which assignment pertains to each of your classes these days.
When Minho returns almost an hour later, he holds a thin plastic bag in hand, his other one clutching a fistful of cutlery and two plates. He gives you a small nod when he enters the library, and you put away your laptop to join him on the floor in front of the coffee table.
For a moment, he says nothing as he prepares a plate for you, sliding a cup of wonton soup toward you and dividing portions of chow mein and tofu with wooden chopsticks.
You watch as he breaks a spring roll in half, holding both sides up and comparing to make sure they’re even.
“You’re very precise,” you say with a soft laugh, and a breathy chuckle emits from his lips, too.
“I’m trying to make sure it’s even.”
“However you cut it is fine,” you respond, pleasantly surprised at how polite he is.
When he’s finished dividing your portions, he slides a plate to you, setting a plastic fork down on the napkin beside you and ushering to the food.
“Enjoy,” he says, shooting you a small smile.
And the two of you eat in silence, the room quiet, aside from the sounds of slurping soup present between you two. Although it’s quiet, it feels comfortable, having him keep you company like this. It’s a change of pace from your usual days babysitting in the Lee household.
“How is your school work?” Minho interrupts your thoughts, and you’re momentarily taken aback by him initiating the conversation first.
“It’s good,” you respond, poking at the vegetables on your plate with a chopstick. “It’s on my own time, so I mostly just have to make sure I’m staying on track. But I’m finding it easy to get through despite watching Joon in the daytime.”
Minho nods in response, keeping his gaze set on the bowl of soup in front of him.
“How did your exam go?” you ask, and Minho cocks his head a little. “I got full marks,” he responds after a moment of silence.
“That’s great! I guess you were right about skipping breakfast having something to do with your academic success, then.”
And Minho laughs for the first time- not a chuckle or a giggle, but a laugh, holding one hand up to his mouth as he does. His laugh is gentle and melodic, filling the room around him with its sound, and you can’t help but laugh, too.
“I suppose,” he responds. “I also go nowhere without those philosophy books, so I have them memorized like the back of my hand.”
“Philosophy major?” you voice back, and Minho nods.
“So Love and Limerence is like second nature to you at this point.”
Minho gets a little awkward at this, his smile fading a little as he pokes around his chow mein. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “You could say that.”
And fearing you’ve somehow offended him, you change the subject again.
“Well I’m a business major,” you chime in. “So we don’t get interesting reads at all. And I’m not lugging around a six-pound textbook about returns on investments in my backpack.”
He laughs again, and you feel satisfied at the motion. Making him laugh feels like an exciting feat, like you’ve succeeded at something after trying so hard to. And considering how hard you’ve been trying to break down his walls these days, maybe it is an exciting feat, getting to know the stranger you’ve been sharing a home with for one month now.
“Business is a great field,” Minho says, slurping down the remainder of his soup. “Your parents must be really proud of the direction you’re headed.”
You shrug in response. “They’re indifferent. I don’t have a great relationship with them. They mostly just want me out of their hair once I graduate.”
“You have any post-college plans?” Minho inquires.
“I finished an internship before this whole babysitting gig, actually. I want to travel a bit after graduation, and then I’ll really settle down for the whole 9-5 working life.”
“Where are you hoping to travel to?”
There’s a glint in Minho’s eyes as he presses you for answers, like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. It makes you feel all warm inside- not many people usually care what you’re up to these days, your family trying their hardest to send you away to work another job and your most of your friends having drifted apart when you began university. Even the friends you do have are more distant these days, considering their classes are still in person, and you don’t have a need to be back on campus anymore. It’s a bit of a lonely life you lead, so being here beside Minho feels different, but pleasant.
“I’m not sure,” you say with a smile. “I’m not really sure where I belong yet.”
“Hey, I don’t know where I belong, either,” Minho echoes. “So that makes two of us.”
When the two of you are finished with dinner, Minho takes your plates downstairs, despite you offering, and you’re briefly left alone in the library. It’s much later than usual now, nearing 9:00, when you’re usually home by 7. The house also has a different vibe to it this hour, many of the rooms feeling much dimmer despite the same lamps being on, and the corridors feeling much quieter and more haunting. You feel a wave of sleepiness wash over you, and though you don’t want to be asleep when Mrs. Lee arrives, you can’t help but shut your eyes for a few minutes. You can still make out the shape of the bookshelves behind your heavy eyelashes, trying your best not to close your eyes completely, but your mind has already wandered off to slumber, and inevitably, your body follows shortly after.
You’re somewhere between sleep and consciousness when you feel Minho enter the room once again, looming over you like he wants to ask you something. But he says nothing- instead, he unfolds a knit blanket above you, sprawling it out over your legs and pulling it up to your torso. And you hadn’t realized how cold you were before he did, because you’re almost instantly with a wave of warmth and comfort over your listless body.
It feels almost uncharacteristic or Minho to carry out an action this polite- but as he takes his seat across from you, watching as you doze off peacefully, you think he may finally be coming around to you.
*
“I’m ditching my second class again today,” Minho announces the next morning at breakfast. He doesn’t eat much, you notice, as he bites into a single apple and hoists his backpack further up his shoulders.
“I’ll be home a bit earlier,” he then continues, eyeing you a little, and you give him a little nod.
“Then help with lunch,” Mrs. Lee says, gathering her own briefcase for work. “Y/n shouldn’t do it all by herself when you’re here.”
“Oh, it’s no worry at all,” you quickly chime in, not wanting to be the reason Minho refutes his mother’s words. “It’s what I’m here to do, after all.”
“No worries,” Minho says back to you. “I’ll be home around noon and we can prepare something together.”
For some reason, your heart flutters a little at the implication of doing something alongside Minho- something so planned and seemingly intimate. You normally just take the days as they come, so having a commitment hanging over your head like this is a little nerve-racking. And in all your worrying, you don’t respond to Minho, realizing only as he’s exiting the house with his apple in hand.
“I might be late again today,” Mrs. Lee turns to you, snapping you out of your trance. “But Minho can stay for the remainder of the time. I’ll still pay you the full amount like I did yesterday-”
“I’m happy to stay again,” you reply to her. “Like I said, it’s what I’m here to do.”
She smiles in return, clasping her hands and gesturing to the food on the table.
“I can’t get Minho to eat for the life of me, but help yourself to whatever you’d like. And thank you again, for staying.”
You’re reading to Joon in the living room when Minho arrives home from school. He kicks off his shoes dramatically, tossing his bag on the floor and breathing out a heavy sigh while you thumb through the pages of a new picture book.
“Hi,” Minho says first, his expression remaining stoic and unchanging.
“Hey,” you reply, hoisting Joon a little further up in your arms. “How was school?”
“Terrible,” he responds, making his way around the granite island to collect another apple.
“Why’s that?”
“Professor Kim,” he says curtly, polishing the apple on his button down shirt before taking a generous bite. “A three hour lecture on a Friday really wasn’t a smart choice. ”
You chuckle a little to yourself, adjusting your position on the floor and trying to balance Joon in your embrace. Minho takes notice of your struggle, abandoning his apple on the counter to come take Joon from your arms.
“Thanks,” you say, dusting off your legs as you stand again. “I’m going to get started on something for Joon to eat if you want to wait around. Unless you’re sticking to this exclusively-apple diet.”
Minho chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “I’ll help. We don’t have much prepared right now and I really need to go grocery shopping.” He secures Joon in his high chair, cocking his head toward the fridge.
“Could you just grab his orange juice? It should be the blue bottle on the right.”
And you comply with his request, promptly locating the blue sippy cup and handing it to Minho.
“Thank you,” he says, setting it down on the white tray in front of Joon and twisting it open. “This should be enough to hold him off until we can whip something up with the few ingredients we have. I want to do something with those sweet potatoes, they’re reaching the end of their time.”
Joon is a little fussy as he reaches for his sippy cup, flailing his arms around and sliding the cup across the tray to the edge. The cap seems to loosen as he does, tilting dangerously to one side.
“I got it,” you say to Minho, as you approach Joon. You retrieve the cup from the edge of the tray, twisting off the cap again to secure it properly. And as you do, Joon lets out a particularly loud yelp, knocking his hand toward you and letting the bottle fall off the tray entirely.
As you realize what’s happening, you bring two hands up to push it away from you, but you’re too late- the entirety of the bottle’s contents are spilt onto your shirt, completely soaking you and dripping onto the floor with loud, wet noises.
Minho doesn’t see what happened, but he turns around at the sound of your loud gasp, his eyes widening at the sight of you. Even your hair’s gotten wet, stringy pieces falling into your face, damp with the tangy scent of orange juice and dripping down your shirt. His mind races with guilty thoughts, feeling as though he should have stayed watching Joon, being the one to have been caught in the crossfire of his tantrum instead. Joon’s always fussy before meals- he knows this very well. As his mind races with the urgency to grab a towel, a rag- something, his eyes graze to your t-shirt, and he practically freezes.
Your thin white t-shirt is soaked like the rest of you, painting a clear outline of your black bra as the cold contents drip down your chest and torso. The see-through fabric sticks to your body like a cellophane wrapping, outlining every inch of you, every curve and every raised goosebump as you shudder at the sensation. Minho’s eyes remain locked on your dampened breasts for an embarrassing amount of time, taking careful note of the way your hardened nipples practically protrude through the thin white fabric, almost appearing increasingly noticeable with every passing second. The delicate curves of your stomach are accentuated with your skin-tight shirt, even your navel now visible.
A shake of your hands finally snaps him out of his trance, and you wrap your arms around yourself in a futile effort to cover yourself.
“I’m sorry,” you utter to him, at a loss for words at the notion of being so exposed to him. And Minho is quick to shake his head, now scrambling for a towel.
“Don’t apologize,” he says, pulling a towel off the oven handle and sliding it to you. “Here, use this and I’ll go get a larger towel from upstairs and a change of clothes.”
You want to deny the offer, feeling shameful for having already intruded this much on the Lee household and still needing more from them. But as you look down at your t-shirt, you know you don’t have a choice, the fabric now feeling cold and uncomfortable as it sticks to your flesh.
“Thanks,” you say to him, giving a small nod and not moving your hands from your chest.
And Minho retreats upstairs quickly, trying his best to avert his gaze as you remain in the kitchen.
As Joon babbles incoherently next to you, you can’t help but feel stupid, a sense of shame and embarrassment replacing the excitement you had to be preparing lunch alongside Minho for the afternoon. You’re in disbelief he’s practically seen you half naked like this, and you feel inadequate at not being able to stop Joon from committing the incident in the first place. As you run your hands up and down the raised goosebumps on your arms, you do your best to hold back tears, hoping Minho won’t think less of you for being caught in such a humiliating accident.
Minho is gone for a little while, and you blot at the wet patches on your shirt as you wait, Joon now laughing at your messy state. You can’t help but laugh a little, too, admittedly amused at what a disaster the afternoon has been- and you haven’t even begun the cooking part of it yet.
When he returns, he tosses you a large white bath towel and a gray t-shirt, still keeping his gaze on the floor instead of on yours.
“Here,” he says simply, his veiny arm scratching the back of his head. “I can also get a sweater if you’re cold.”
As you observe the t-shirt, you realize it’s one of his, not one of Mrs. Lee’s. For some reason, you’d assumed Minho would opt for a woman’s clothes as your change, but the t-shirt has clearly been pulled from his closet, and you blush a little at the idea of wearing his clothes.
“This is fine,” you reply, wrapping the bath towel around your body and excusing yourself to the bathroom.
You peel the sticky clothes off your body, crumpling them into a pile and changing into Minho’s t-shirt. It’s a bit large on you, but it’s much more comfortable, hanging loosely off your body and covering every bit of you that was previously exposed. His shirt smells like him, too, a pleasant scent of laundry detergent and his musky cologne.
When you exit the bathroom, you gesture to the change of clothes, your wet crumpled clothes balled in your hand. “I kinda look like you now,” you say, and Minho chuckles.
“You can keep it,” he responds, giving you another once-over and nodding shyly. “It looks better on you, anyway.”
He holds his hand out to you for the wet clothes, which he kindly takes from you to put in the wash. As he does, you go to the fridge to retrieve more orange juice for Joon- except there is none. You desperately search for milk, orange juice- any form of a snack that will keep him busy until his mealtime. But the kitchen is void of anything he can consume, and you begin to panic a little, knowing Joon hasn’t eaten in a good while now.
“That was the last of his orange juice,” you say to Minho when he returns. “And there’s not much else for him to snack on.”
Minho searches the kitchen too, digging through cabinets and moving around jars in the fridge to check for expiration dates. But he quickly realizes you’re right- the fridge is even more sparse than he’d assumed it to be.
“I guess we’ll have to make a trip to the store, then. How do you feel about strapping him into a car seat?”
“I’ve never done it,” you reply nervously.
“I can show you,” Minho says, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter and spinning them around his index finger. “We can do it together.”
*
The nearest grocery store is just 20 minutes out from the Lee household. Minho drives a fancy black SUV, and he guides you through how to strap Joon into his car seat, which you carry out with no issues. He drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the center console as you chat with him about your university courses. For the first time, you notice how Minho seems much more comfortable around you now, cracking jokes occasionally and smiling at your stories about your afternoons alone with Joon. When Joon chimes in from the back seat with his excited babbling, you and Minho babble equally in response, sharing laughter at the ridiculous exchanges among the three of you.
You opt to carry Joon inside the grocery store while Minho walks alongside you, checking off a list he routinely uses to stock up on all of Joon’s favorite foods. And the atmosphere around you is homely, instilling the same sense of comfort in you as your afternoons alone with Joon. One that reminds you why you’re doing this job in the first place- you feel respected here, like your efforts don’t go unnoticed, and like you belong. It fills the lonely void inside of you with the sounds of Joon’s laughter, Minho’s tales of his classes and the trivial tasks of grocery store runs and learning to maneuver a baby car seat.
“I think that’s it,” Minho says as he checks the list one last time. “Milk, juice, bread…” he reads the items one by one again, and then nods affirmatively when he’s ensured they’re in the basket.
“That’s it,” he repeats, shooting you a small smile. “Let’s go pay.”
An older cashier gestures you to her lane at the registers, beginning to scan your items as Minho places them down on the conveyor belt. And then she gives a little wave to Joon, who curiously stares back at her.
“What a beautiful baby,” she says, pausing from scanning with a jar of mashed carrots in her hand.
Joon smiles in response, a trickle of drool escaping his lips.
“And what a beautiful family,” she continues, looking back and forth between you and Minho. “It’s not easy being young parents, but I can tell the two of you are doing a fine job at it.”
“Oh,” you say, chuckling lightly. “We’re not-”
“Thank you,” Minho interrupts, placing an arm around your waist and pulling you a little closer to him.
“We don’t get told that very often.”
You almost freeze at the contact, butterflies erupting in your stomach as he keeps his hand on the small of your back. This woman thinks the two of you are a couple- and worse, Minho is playing along with it. You can’t figure out why he’d entertain such a blatant lie, but you don’t interrupt him either, curious to see where he’s taking this little bit.
“People can be so unfair,” the cashier replies, shaking her head. “As long as the child is cared for, your status shouldn’t matter.”
“Exactly,” Minho replies, throwing his hand in the air like she’s making a point that pertains to him. “You know, when we got married, everyone told us it would never work. And now look at us- our child just turned 1 and we’re already making plans for a second honeymoon.”
“That’s amazing!” The woman says, clasping her hand over her heart like she’s touched by the bogus story.
“It is, isn’t it honey?” Minho says, turning to you.
Thoughts swirl your mind about this performance he’s putting on, but you’re undoubtedly entertained by the whole thing, stifling laughter as you nod in response.
“It is amazing,” you say finally. “We eloped and had a shotgun wedding- booked it to Italy right after and now we’re thinking of taking the little one to Paris for a real ceremony.”
The older woman removes her glasses now, wiping her eyes and shaking her head in disbelief. You can’t help but feel bad for her, seeing how easily she’s falling for your blatant lies, but Minho shows no remorse, grinning ear to ear and keeping his hand on the small of your back.
“Well I’ll tell you what,” the woman says, putting her glasses back on and shifting her eyes around the store.
“Since you guys just made my day, I’m going to provide you with our senior discount. It’s not everyday I see a young couple so beautiful raising such a darling little child.”
“Oh, you really don’t-” you start to say, and Minho interrupts you before you can finish.
“That would mean the world to us,” he says in an exaggerated voice, giving the cashier a little bow. “It would help us out a ton.”
You want to protest, to slap Minho in his pretty little face and ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing lying for a discount like this, but you’re afraid the cashier will see right through your whole stunt and reprimand both of you. So you just nod and let Minho take the lead again.
“Thank you,” you echo back to her,” holding Joon’s stubby little fingers as the woman types a lengthy code into the computer.
And Minho smiles at you, shooting you a little wink as he gathers boxes of cereal and jars of food in his arms.
“What was that?” You practically yell as you exit the store, balancing Joon in one arm and a bag of groceries in another. “You totally lied to her.”
“I didn’t lie,” Minho says. “I told her a different reality.”
“That is literally what a lie is,” you echo back to him, securing Joon in his car seat and lining grocery bags on the floor. Minho slides into the driver's seat again, putting his keys in the ignition but not yet starting the car as he waits for you to get in, too.
“I mean, that was like a 10% discount,” you continue, huffing frustratedly as you wait for him to speak. “How is that worth telling someone a whole list of lies?”
“You know, there’s this really cool theory called the anthropic principle,” Minho begins, looking straight ahead through the windshield. “Suggests the existence of a multitude of universes.”
“What?”
“So,” he continues. “Philosophically speaking, maybe in one of those we're married, and we have a child, and our honeymoon was in Italy.”
You stay quiet for a moment, pondering his words, completely unsure of if he’s flirting with you or teasing you right now.
“And maybe,” he chimes in again. “In one of them, we robbed the store and killed the cashier. And in another, we don’t even know each other.”
“What are you getting at?” You say, narrowing your eyes in confusion.
“It’s not lying,” Minho says with a smile as he finally starts up the car. “We just told her about a different reality.”
“So it’s lying,” you say with a smile, unable to hold back the giggle that escapes your lips.
“A little,” he finally says. “But it was fun, right?”
And you start to say no, but you can’t get the words out, aware you’ll be lying twice today if you do.
Minho takes your silence as confirmation, a grin plastered on his face as he rests one arm behind your headrest to pull out of the parking lot. And you can’t help but smile, too, the spontaneous thrill of lying to the cashier admittedly being some of the most fun you’ve had all week. And the conclusion stands- Minho’s a little odd. But he’s great company.
*
Mrs. Lee is late again tonight, the second hand on the clock ticking in slow intervals as it nears 10pm. You yawn for the umpteenth time tonight, exhausted from having done so much today, wanting nothing more than to sleep in the comfort of your own bed at home and mentally recharge for another day of this tomorrow. But you’ve promised to wait for her, always eager to wait it out until the last second, because Mrs. Lee always expresses her sincerest gratitude when you wait for her.
“Sorry, she’s really late today,” Minho says as he lowers the volume on the television. You completed a few more chores around the house after dinner while Minho powered through his schoolwork, putting Joon to bed before settling on the sofa and watching old cartoon reruns. Now you’ve been in and out of sleep for the better part of an hour, Minho remaining close by watching infomercials again, peering at your tired figure and feeling guilty that you’ve been here so long.
“It’s okay,” you reply quietly, letting out another yawn. You cross your arms over yourself, still dressed comfortably in Minho’s t-shirt, and do your best to keep your gaze on the television.
Tonight Minho is stuck on an infomercial for artificial plants, the dull narration lulling you to sleep even further as he checks the time on his watch and glances nervously at the front door.
Minho cranes his neck at your figure again, not missing the way gray bags hang heavy below your eyes, your lashes half-lidded as you feign sleep and force your gaze onto the infomercial.
“Don’t you have an early exam tomorrow?” You say to Minho, another yawn escaping your lips as you speak. “Don’t wait up on my account. You should get some sleep.”
Minho shuts off the television, standing up from where he’s sitting and dusting off his pants.
“I’ll take you home,” he announces, fishing around on the table for his car keys.
“It’s okay,” you reply, not wanting to inconvenience him anymore than you already have today. “I can walk to the bus stop.”
“You’re not walking,” Minho retorts, scoffing as you sit up and rub your tired eyes with the back of your hand. “It’s pitch black outside.”
“It’s fine,” you say, gathering your book bag and rushing to put your shoes on. It’s a race between the two of you now, Minho scrambling to locate his car keys while you get ready to leave for the evening.
“It’s really not a problem- where are my keys?” Minho mutters to himself, patting the pockets on his jacket and rearranging stacks of papers on the coffee table.
“I’m fine, really.”
“No, I’ll drive you,” Minho says, still tossing aside the mess he’s made to locate his keys.
“I’ll walk,” you reiterate again, and Minho finally exhales frustratedly.
“Then I’ll walk with you,” he finally announces, ditching the car keys altogether and stopping to look at you. He looks tired, too, evident bags under his eyes and his hair tousled from running his hands through it frustratedly.
“Minho, I really don’t want to burden you-”
“It’s not a burden.”
As he speaks, you hear Joon’s baby monitor alerting you that he’s awake for the evening, wailing loudly when he realizes that he’s alone. It’s perfect timing, too, Minho already having planned to wake him up so he can walk you back.
“Wait here,” Minho says to you as he begins toward the stairs. “I’ll get his harness.”
The dim street lights illuminate the dark paved roads, a crisp chill in the air as you walk alongside Minho with your hands in your pockets.
Joon sits comfortably in his harness against Minho’s chest, curiously taking in the atmosphere around him as you walk in silence to your bus stop. It’s not a long walk, only 20 minutes from Minho’s, but you feel admittedly much safer with Minho by your side, his and Joon’s presence feeling homely even at this hour. For nearly the entirety of the walk, the two of you say nothing, too tired to engage in conversation, but still comfortable in the presence of each other, and not needing to say anything. Joon babbles saliva every now and then, Minho bringing a finger up to wipe his chin, and the only other sounds are that of crickets and the gentle sway of the trees.
“This is me,” you say to Minho when you reach the familiar blue bench of your stop.
You sit on one side of the bench, slinging your book bag over beside you and crossing your legs. And to your surprise, Minho occupies the other side, one hand resting gently on the back of Joon’s head while the other pats his back gently.
“You don’t have to wait,” you tell Minho quickly, and he just shakes his head silently in response.
The silence between you remains, Joon toying with the collar of Minho’s shirt as you wait for the bus. There’s so much you want to ask Minho, so much you still want to find out from him. You’re well aware that you haven’t quite figured him out yet, but you’re undoubtedly sure that he is a nice guy, after all. From lending you his t-shirt, waiting up for you on late nights, even walking you to your bus stop and waiting for the bus with you. You think briefly back to his little joke at the grocery store, smiling to yourself when you remember he’d chosen to pretend you were a married couple for no other reason than to make you laugh after having had such a rough day. And his innate fascination with looking at everything through a philosophical lens, the passion for his favorite subject so robustly present wherever he goes.
“What’s that theory again?” You ask Minho as your thoughts verbalize amidst the silence.
“Hm?”
“The one about the universe.”
“The anthropic principle?” He questions, and you hum in response.
“Yeah, that one. Do you think there are like, a million versions of us right now, just…sitting here?”
“Sure,” Minho replies. “But the conditions would have to be just right.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the theory states that conditions have to be just right for us to coexist in the universe we’re in right now. It’s sort of like a coincidence that this one evolved so that we could thrive in it. So there might be other versions of us, just not as definitive. We might be rocks, or bugs. Or maybe there’s a more advanced version, where we’re still on our honeymoon in Italy.”
“Or the one where we killed that cashier,” you chime in.
“Exactly,” Minho replies, a small smile tugging at his lips.
You ponder his words for a moment.
“Do they all follow the same timeline?” You ask him.
“What do you mean?”
“Do they all last forever? What if we got divorced? Would we part ways in every universe?”
Minho stays quiet for a moment, thinking back to the philosophical theories tucked in the back of his mind.
“I don’t know,” he finally replies. “I’d like to think some versions have a happy ending, but maybe some of them don’t.”
As silence falls over you again, your bus finally turns the corner, making its way down the street toward your stop.
“That’s me,” you say, getting up and gathering your belongings again.
Minho stands up, too, saying nothing as the bus finally halts in front of you, the brakes screeching to a stop with the loud exhaust of the doors as they open.
“Thanks,” you say to Minho before getting on. “For walking me.”
“It’s no problem,” he replies, shooting you a tired smile.
Minho watches as you board the bus, taking your seat toward the back. He scans the aisles momentarily, making sure you’re sat somewhere safe, away from anyone he might deem sketchy at this hour. And when he feels confident you’ll make it home okay, he brings Joon’s hand up in front of him, giving you a little wave as he watches you smile back through the tinted windows, sending him off with a wave back.
*
From then on, things shift between the two of you. Minho is a constant, always offering to walk you home on late nights to engage in discussions about your university work or his favorite theories. When he’s home early from his classes, the two of you enjoy cooking for Joon together, making trips to the grocery store where the cashiers are now fully convinced you’re a married couple. On late nights, the two of you often engage in lighthearted philosophical debates while you wait for Mrs. Lee to get home for the evening. When he’s walking you home for the night, doing homework alongside you or just passing by, Minho indulges you in all his favorite philosophical questions, and you entertain them, using the opportunity to get a better glimpse into his mind and how he thinks.
It’s exactly this that tears down Minho’s walls, you find- he, in all his philosophically-educated glory, sharing his perspective while you poke holes in his arguments and reach a conclusion together. Sometimes you’ll reach a stalemate, the argument fizzling out with no clear answer. And sometimes he can change your mind almost instantly, the arguments leaving his lips like second nature, always quick to persuade you in the opposite direction and provide clear reasoning. He’s very skilled at his work, and you quickly realize why he’s so passionate about philosophy in the first place.
It’s not something Minho’s used to yet- having a companion like this, one who actually cares about anything he has to say. Someone to come home to, somebody to bask in the simplicities of life with and affirm that he’s not completely incapable of making real human connections. And admittedly, maybe he loves playing house with you, coming home to your home-cooked meals and caring for the baby together.
Maybe this version of the universe deems you a babysitter, and he, just an outcast. But sometimes Minho swears he can see different versions where you’re so much more than that to each other.
In late November, you take your first week off, leaving on a small family trip to a city just a few hours out to go see extended family.
You tell Minho of your little excursion the week prior, and he pretends to be disheartened, but you know deep down he must be relieved to have some space to himself again. Of course you’re not able to watch Joon, and Mrs. Lee has a friend watch him in your absence, but you’re surprised at how much you miss the Lee household when you’re not there. The trip to the city is filled with repetitive questions from family about your major, your internship, your potential salary in an entry-level position and general university questions. And yet all you catch yourself thinking about is Joon, and Mrs. Lee and especially Minho.
You wonder what he’s doing in the comfort of his grand room all by himself, surrounded by books and tall windows. Minho once told you that he can go a whole day without talking when he’s not having philosophical debates with you over coffee. You wonder if he’s talked today, or if he attended his classes or how his exam on Tuesday went. Thoughts of him plague your mind every waking second- whether Minho would like a certain food, if Minho would agree with this statement, even what the people around you would think if you dragged him along and played house with him like you do back home. In this version of the universe, maybe he’s reading a book or watching a movie, but in another, he could be right here, telling his string of lies to your extended family.
On the last day of your family vacation, you find yourself in an old bookstore, and all you can think about is Minho. He’d love it here, you think, grazing your fingertips along the old cracked spines and yellowing pages. And as you scan through the philosophy section, several of the books already piquing your interest, you spot it.
The small familiar crimson book, just barely larger than your hand, delicate to the touch and painted with the same Cupid depiction as the one you know so well. A first edition copy of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence. You can’t help but smile to yourself, scanning the book’s contents briefly before closing it again and bringing it up to the counter. It’s not like you’re trying to worsen this little developing crush you have on Minho, but he seems to be everywhere you go- and candidly, you just want to have him figured out.
*
When you return to the Lee household from your vacation, the atmosphere is calm, sunbeams shining through the large glass windows and illuminating the house with a romantic glow. Joon eats his breakfast well, downing his orange juice and causing you little trouble throughout the day. And Minho arrives just after 3, his backpack slung over his shoulder and a book in hand.
Your heart beats erratically to see him again, trying your best to avert his gaze as he enters through the front door and kicks off his shoes. When he makes his way through the kitchen, you attempt to look busy, wiping down the counters with a kitchen rag and balancing Joon in your arms.
“Hi,” Minho says, a little shyly as you keep your eyesight on the granite counter below you.
“Hey,” you respond, pretending like you hadn’t noticed him enter the room, when in reality, you’ve been well aware of his arrival since he parked his car out front.
“How was your trip?” Minho asks, setting down his backpack and loosening the collar of his sweater.
He’s dressed for the chilly weather outside, a simple black knit sweater paired with blue jeans.
“It was good,” you reply, folding the rag with one hand and setting it aside. “I kinda missed it here.”
Minho smiles at you nervously, toying with the hem of his sweater as he hears you speak.
“It was pretty quiet without you here. I think Joon missed you.”
“Did he?” You question excitedly, poking at Joon with your finger and cooing at him. “Is that right? You missed me?” And Joon giggles excitedly, smiling between the two of you.
When the room falls quiet again, Minho clears his throat like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, instead keeping his gaze fixed on yours. The room is teeming with awkward tension between the two of you, two hearts clouded in desire to act on this conflicting emotion of fleeting lust and a mutual understanding of each other, but neither one of you say anything, letting it die with your silence and circle your minds aimlessly again.
“I got you something,” you say suddenly, and Minho’s heart quickens a little.
“Me?” He questions, pointing to himself as if you need clarity of who he speaks of.
“Yes, you. It’s in my bag upstairs.”
And you begin your ascent to the staircase, motioning for Minho to follow you as you bring Joon with you.
“Close your eyes,” you tell Minho when you‘ve entered the library again.
“Should I be scared?” He asks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
“Close them!” You exclaim, and he finally puts his hands out in front of him, shutting his eyes, a big grin plastered on his face. You place the book in Minho’s palms gently, making sure to position it so that the cover is facing him properly.
“Now open.”
When Minho opens his eyes again, he doesn’t even need to read the words before knowing what it is. He’s immediately familiar with the first edition of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence he holds in his hands, uniquely characterized by the contrasting art style to his, and the much older, yellowing pages.
“My book,” Minho says, biting his lip as he holds back a bigger smile, one that will most definitely point to the incriminating fact that he’s smitten.
“Your book,” you echo, leaning on the wall across from him. “It’s a first edition. The bookkeeper said they’re pretty rare to come by.”
“You didn’t have to-”
“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, fixing Joon’s hair and averting Minho’s gaze. You’re afraid if you make eye contact with him, this whole nonchalant front will crumble down in front of you, because you’re embarrassingly smitten with him, too.
“Thank you,” Minho says, thumbing the raised gold-foiled cover outline of Cupid. “I’ll go put it with the rest of them.”
And he disappears down the corridor, his book tucked in the endeared clutch of his hands.
While Minho adds his book to the rest of his collection, you put Joon down for his nap, gently placing him on the soft blanket in his crib and adjusting the baby monitor. He blinks up at you a few times, his lips pulling into a shaky smile as his lashes finally flutter shut and a wave of sleepiness washes over him. You exit the room quietly, closing the door just halfway like you always do, and then make your way down the corridor to Minho’s room. The door is left ajar, but you hear him shuffling about, and you enter after giving a gentle knock.
Minho seems startled at this, jumping up from where he’s standing, in front of his bookshelf with Love and Limerence held open in the palms of his hands. He shuts it quickly, shoving it on the top with another stack of books, and then almost shields his bookshelf as he turns to face you.
“I didn't hear you come in,” he says, nervously shifting his eyes to more stacks of books on his window sill and nightstand.
“I put Joon down for his nap,” you reply, cocking an eyebrow as he stands there awkwardly. “Is… everything okay?”
“Yes,” he says quickly, blinking nervously when he sees you peer over his torso at the bookshelf.
“Where’d you put it?”
“Can’t remember,” Minho says, a breathy chuckle emitting from his lips as he tries his best to avoid talking about it. But you catch on- and you’re certainly not going to let him evade the subject.
“What are you hiding?” You finally ask, eyeing him with a small smile. Minho’s face drops a little, sighing once as he steps aside and grants you full visibility of his bookshelf. There’s nothing out of the ordinary- books of all colors and sizes lined neatly on the shelves, some of them left open or bookmarked. A good amount of them appear to be philosophy books, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you.
“It’s just your books,” you say flatly, and Minho scratches the back of his head before he speaks again.
“Love and Limerence isn’t a required read for university.” He says in a low voice.
“Oh,” you reply, unsure of why it should really matter to you.
“None of them are,” he continues. “It’s just my personal… collection. Of romance novels.”
And then you finally understand.
Minho- the stoic, otherwise quiet being, in all his philosophical studiousness and awkwardness, is a sucker for romance. Once the cogs begin turning in your head, they don’t stop, everything about him now making a little more sense to you. Why he stays locked up in his little tower all day reading book after book, why he’s so hopeful when he speaks of the human condition and of love, why he loves taking care of people so much. He’s just a big softie underneath it all.
“There’s nothing weird about that,” you chime in. “In fact, it’s really cool.”
“Yeah right,” he retorts.
“I’m dead serious. I’ve never met someone with so many copies of Thorns and Roses before.”
Minho shakes his head, moving to sit on his bed with his palms tucked under his legs. His gaze remains locked on the floor, an expression of shame still visible on his face. And when you see him exhale deeply, like he’s been nervously holding his breath all this time, you feel bad for him. If there’s anything you’ve learned about him since meeting him, it’s that he’s really a bit of a dork. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him look so vulnerable before.
“Which one’s your favorite?” You ask, skimming your finger along the neat row of spines.
He shrugs. “Pride and Prejudice, maybe. But these days it’s Love and Limerence.”
Minho’s voice is trembling, just above a whisper as he reads off his list of favorite novels to you. And you chuckle softly in reply, pulling the little red book out of its respective home on the shelf and tossing it to him.
“Read me your favorite passage.”
He furrows his brows a little, like he thinks you might be making fun of him. But when you take a seat next to him on the bed, wide-eyed and gesturing to the book in his hands, he realizes you’re genuinely asking him to.
“Go on,” you say, gesturing to the book once more.
Minho opens the book to the middle, flipping through yellowing pages with small font. Most of the pages are littered generously with blue sticky notes, Minho’s messy handwriting annotating all his favorite passages. When he finds the page he’s searching for, he eyes you cautiously, as if waiting for permission to begin reading. And with a deep breath, he begins, his voice shaking a little as he finds his footing.
“Now by these presents let me assure you that you are not only in my heart, but my veins, this morning. I turn from you half abashed--yet you haunt me, and some look, word or touch thrills through my whole frame--yes, at the very moment when I am labouring to think of something, if not somebody else.”
At the last words, his gaze meets yours again, eyelashes trembling as he waits for your reaction. He waits for you to laugh, or to dismiss the words, or leave altogether. But you just stare back at him, your heart beating erratically at the poetry he utters, completely in awe with him.
He feels otherworldly at this distance, this intricate fascination with love and human connection. The way his brown tresses fall loosely in front of his big eyes as he speaks, his plump lips pulling into a nervous smile to reveal the row of skewed teeth you find a home in every time. He’s like the passage reads- thrilling your whole frame, consuming you whole and filling your mind with thoughts of him, and his poetry and his kind demeanor. You find yourself a little closer to him, your eyes darting to his lips and then back to his curious eyes, fantasies of him running rampant in your mind.
And Minho keeps his gaze locked on yours, too, leaning in a little closer to you, the book closing on its own as his hand slips away from holding it open and onto the bed beside you. The implications are there, the atmosphere around you heavy with desire and uncertainty, and just as you wield the courage to bring your lips a little closer to his, you’re promptly interrupted.
“Minho-ah!” A voice calls from downstairs. You quickly clock it as Mrs. Lee’s, who must be home early from work.
“I’m home early!” She calls again, confirming your theory, her footsteps getting louder as she makes her way up the stairs.
You sit up promptly, smoothing down your shirt and standing to bow when Mrs. Lee pokes her head in the doorway. Minho stands up too, making the whole situation look unbearably obvious, and you pray she can’t tell what’s going on between the two of you.
“Y/n,” she says with a warm smile. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you I would be home a little earlier today. Joon has a doctor’s appointment.”
“No worries at all!” You voice back, bowing again as she smiles. “I was actually going to leave early today. I have a bit of a headache.”
“Oh, do you want a cup of tea?” She asks, heavy concern present in her voice.
“No thanks, I think I just need some sleep.”
You turn to Minho, who’s standing with his hands in his pockets, looking a little disappointed as you give him a small bow.
“Take care,” you say to him, pivoting to head back to the library and gather your things.
Minho hears his mom see you out of the front door, chatting briefly with you about your trip and sending you off with a little wave.
He shuts his bedroom door and locks it, sprawling out on the duvet of his bed and running his hands over the book still beside him.
He’s not sure what happened- whether you were about to kiss him, or whether it was just wishful thinking. But every way he interprets the encounter, Minho swears he can feel your yearning for him, too. Is he crazy to think you might feel the same? Maybe he, too, finds it laboring to think of something- if not, someone else, besides you.
*
Joon is a particularly picky eater in afternoons, making a big fuss of foods he usually devours in the mornings and evenings. He skillfully dodges every spoon, every bite and feigns his interest in even his favorite snacks and desserts. And while you’re usually patient with him, today you’re frustrated, having mentally scolded yourself several times since yesterday’s events.
A part of you wants to ditch all of this, reminding yourself that you’re here to work a job, not lust after the son of the person who hired you. But the other part of you can’t help but imagine how things would be different if you just let yourself fall gracefully into him- he’s so much more than a fleeting thought to you. You want to understand him, having challenged yourself to figuring him out from the moment you came across him. But maybe you want him to understand you, too. You want him to understand that you feel at home whenever he’s around, his philosophical discussions and this game of house you play making you feel like you belong here. You want him to understand that although you know he feels like an outcast, none of his odd quirks matter to you when he’s reading his favorite love stories across from you in the library, catching glimpses of you when he thinks you’re not looking. And that maybe this universe conditioned itself just right so that you took up this job and crossed paths- and that has to mean something bigger.
There’s nothing different about the afternoon following yesterday’s, except for you spending a considerable amount of time on your hair and makeup, the anticipation bubbling inside you at the idea of seeing Minho again. You have no definitive plan, no script of how it’s going to go when he arrives from school. But you also know there’s something in your throat that wants so desperately to get out, and you won’t let it. As Joon toys with the cereal in his bowl, he looks up at you with big, curious eyes, and you wonder what he’s thinking, if anything. He doesn't know anything beyond the simple tasks of eating and sleeping, living with the comfortable knowledge that he’s being cared for. And although it seems much easier, you can’t help but sympathize. What a gift it is to feel- what a gift it is to carry emotions so deeply they eat away at you like this.
You’re infatuated with Minho- that fact stands true. And whether or not it benefits you to do anything about it, you’re determined to do something with all of this feeling, lest it slips through your fingers like he almost did.
You don’t hear Minho come home when he does, busy in the garden tending to Mrs. Lee’s plants when the usual alert of his car pulling into the driveway passes you by. So when he wanders the corridors searching everywhere for you, you don’t take notice.
Minho’s desperate, hoping to ask you to stay just a little bit longer tonight, having also had the epiphany that he’s completely fallen for you, too. And what he hopes to do with it, he’s unsure- but he does know that every romance novel on his shelf would refute the idea of letting this feeling dissipate. Kiss her, tell her, do something. Anything.
He strides down the halls with purpose and vigor, a nervous smile pulling at his face at the thought of seeing you again. It’s all he’s thought about today, having had just two hours of sleep as he sorted out what to say to you. And while he’s not well-versed in the practice of confessing his love, he feels his whole life has been devoted to the very purpose of being here and finding you. The debates you share, midnight walks to the bus stop, the book- he’d be a fool not to reciprocate what you yearn for. And when he doesn’t find you, Minho feels the familiar pit of worry form in his stomach. He’s not accounted for a change of plans, or even what might happen if you reject his admission. He wants to believe so badly that the answer is yes, risking everything just to say something.
20 minutes after he’s been home, Minho receives a phone call, answering in a rush while he checks the upstairs rooms for you.
“Hello?”
“It’s Sujin from class,” the phone at the other end says plainly. “I’m here for our project.”
And Minho freezes, remembering very well that he has a project due very soon, and his partner is here tonight to work on it with him. He sighs heavily into the line at the change in plans, knowing he’ll have to bottle his emotions another day and act on them tomorrow when he can get you alone.
“Oh, right,” Minho responds, making his way to the stairs and jogging down them. “The door should be unlocked.”
He stuffs his phone in his back pocket, making his way to the door to meet Sujin, and as he passes the sliding door to the backyard, he finally sees you. Knelt on the ground in a white sundress, your hands tainted with soil as you tend to the tomato plants and hum to yourself. Minho smiles at the sight of you, the urge to tell you right now stronger than ever. But before he can call out to you, Sujin’s already made her way inside, peering curiously around the place and clutching her purse in hand.
“Wow,” she says, chuckling lightly. “You didn’t tell me you were rich.”
Minho scratches the back of his head awkwardly as she grazes a marble sculpture with her fingers. His eyes remain on you through the glass door, transfixed by the way you tuck your hair behind your ears and pat your dress as you stand up again. Sujin takes note of Minho’s evident distraction, briefly glancing out the window and back to him.
“Where are we working?” She asks, pursing her lips together.
“We can work upstairs,” Minho explains, as you finally make your way inside.
At first you’re confused at the sight, Minho looming over a girl much prettier than you, her long hair styled neatly over one shoulder and a matching formal two-piece hugging her curves beautifully. And then as you see her begin up the stairs in the direction of Minho’s room, you finally understand.
Of course there’s another woman.
Of course there was a catch to all of this, because why else would things condition themselves so perfectly that you’d win him over?
And suddenly everything feels pointless- confessing to him, feeling any ounce of emotion regarding all of this, even working this job. He has a girlfriend, and she’s much prettier than you are. And he's trailing behind her after giving you a shy nod, likely embarrassed at the fact that you’ll be here tending to his household while he fucks her in his upstairs bedroom.
You can’t help but think that perhaps something got lost in translation, because Minho evidently never liked you, and unless this version of the universe magically conditions to work in your favor just once, it’s going to remain that way.
*
When the tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes, they don’t stop. You can’t feed Joon without hiccuping through a hot rush of tears that fall from your cheeks onto his tray below him. Joon seems to sense something is wrong, pausing the task of dodging his food to observe the way your face contorts as you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. And when you do stop to look at him, all you can see is Minho, his eyes and lips resembling exactly that of his elder brother’s.
The chores feel like a futile task now, and you let them sit there for the remainder of the evening you’re working for. In fact, the only thing you do complete is the task of getting Joon to bed when the sun begins to set, marching carefully upstairs to not interrupt Minho’s time with his girlfriend. And the word makes you sick, to think that he’s been stringing you along all while having a girlfriend- a fact he so conveniently left out.
Joon goes down without a fuss, and when he’s finally asleep, you escape the confines of the second story to lock yourself in the downstairs living room and complete your school work. How much of that is spent crying instead, you can’t quite remember.
It’s just after 9 when Sujin leaves for the evening, but you’re not awake to take notice when she does. You wake to the familiar sound of infomercials playing quietly on the television in front of you, Minho sitting on the floor in front of the sofa you occupy. His head hangs as he holds a book in his lap, probably some cheesy romance he projects onto him and his girlfriend, and his thin wireframe glasses rest on the bridge of his nose.
The dull narration on the television advertises jewelry tonight, and you let out a sigh as you feel your swollen eyes adjust to the bright screen in front of you. At this, Minho turns around, giving you a sheepish smile as you try to shut your eyes again. But it’s too late- he’s already seen you awake for the evening.
“Hi,” Minho says for the first time today, bookmarking his page and lowering the volume on the television. “She’s late again today, but I saved you some takeout.”
“I’m not hungry,” you reply quickly, sitting up and reaching for your bag. “In fact, I need to go home.”
“Oh, sure,” Minho replies, a little hurt at your rushed tone. “I can walk you-”
“No need,” you say to him, pulling on your sneakers and doing everything in your power to avert his gaze. He furrows his brows a little, knowing you never reject his offers to walk you home.
“Is everything-”
“Fine. I just need to get home,” you reiterate, finally sitting down and smoothing down your wrinkled dress.
Every part of him is annoying you right now, your mind teeming with the reminder that you’ve been wasting your time trying to know him better while he’s been entertaining a whole girlfriend these past few months.
“Y/n, wait,” Minho calls, still intent on telling you tonight, while the feelings remain stronger than ever. But you’ve already crossed the room to the front door, where you avert his gaze so he won’t see you begin to cry again.
“Bye,” you call to him, not even looking back before you’re turning the knob and seeing yourself out. “Tell Mrs. Lee it was an emergency.”
And he wants to ask if it was, but he can’t, staring at your rushed figure jogging down the street as you distance yourself from him before he can string you along any further.
*
Thus begins the game of avoidance.
It starts through keeping your conversations with Minho as short as possible, not engaging him when he tells you about theories he’s studied this week or what his days on campus were like. When he asks about your day, you give him one-word responses, muttering a simple “fine” before turning your attention to Joon again.
When Minho asks to go to the grocery store, you pretend you have a headache- for three days straight. So he makes the trips solo, balancing bags on one arm and telling you about how the cashiers have begun to ask where his pretend wife’s been. You give him no reaction, nodding as you feed Joon his dinner and glance at the clock for the umpteeth time, desperate to get away from him.
And the mystery woman remains, marching into the Lee household in afternoons like she owns the place, already having memorized the path to Minho’s room as she makes her way up the stairs and doesn’t acknowledge you. She’s beautiful everyday that she’s here, short skirts and long ponytails you can’t seem to look away from. And she’s even more hypnotic when she’s in the presence of Minho, the two of them as a couple certainly a sight for sore eyes. If they were a married couple, you’d reckon they'd be much more distinguished than you and Minho would.
“Do you want a coffee?” Minho peers into the library one night to ask you. You keep your gaze locked on the computer in front of you, trying your best to keep your guard up as he waits for a response.
“No, thank you,” you say coldly, continuing to work on your essay.
When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, Minho enters the room reluctantly, his hands shoved in his pockets as he leans against the doorframe and gives you a once-over. You say nothing, still, holding back your emotions so as not to cause a scene. And Minho can tell something’s wrong in the way that you shift your eyes to him briefly and shake your head as if scolding yourself for doing so.
“Did I do something?” Minho finally asks, his voice a little shaky.
“No,” you say quickly, skimming the same sentence on your laptop screen over and over again.
“Are you… sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
He fiddles with a loose thread in the pocket of his pants, keeping his gaze on the floor and thinking about your differing behavior toward him the past week.
“We just haven’t talked much. And you never really leave here anymore. I wanted to make sure I didn’t overstep any boundaries-”
“Overstep?” You interrupt, scanning your eyes over the screen of your computer. “There’s nothing to overstep. I get paid to watch your brother, not hang out with you.”
You feel guilty the minute the words leave your mouth, but you feel even worse knowing he’s just been stringing you along with a girlfriend this whole time. The atmosphere feels akin to when you first met him, awkward and cold, and with tensions high like this, you don’t feel at home in the Lee household anymore.
“Sorry,” Minho says, nodding. “You’re right. I guess I’m overstepping by asking.”
You only look up at him when he leaves, his shoulders sagging as he leaves you alone once again- only this time, you have a feeling he’s going to stop making an attempt to rekindle things anymore.
And you’re right- Minho stops trying entirely. There are no more offers to walk you home, no philosophical debates over coffee or grocery store trips where you act as a married couple. You’re still covered in knit blankets when you fall asleep accidentally on the couch, but Minho doesn’t stick around watching his infomercials to wait up for you anymore. And he still saves you his takeout when he orders, but he leaves it neatly packaged for you in the fridge instead of bringing it up to you like he used to.
You’ve gone from a mutual infatuation for each other to complete strangers once again. The house feels lonely and cold like it once did, your only real human interaction occurring in the few minutes you have with Mrs. Lee at the start and end of the day.
Minho doesn’t talk to you at all, locking himself away in his room like he did when you first started caring for Joon. And when you see him in passing at late hours of the night, he looks indifferent, sagging his shoulders as he averts your gaze with a book in hand and disappears down the corridors again. At some point, you begin to see his girlfriend less- in fact, his stoic composure makes you wonder if something’s happened between them. But as time goes on, you start to realize this is less about his girlfriend- and more about you.
What a gift it is to feel- but also what a curse. To let something consume you so entirely you can barely breathe without it. It’s laboring to think of anything else, of anyone else besides Minho and what he means to you. And as you replay your last interaction in your head for the nth time this evening, you think back to the day you started here. You knew the fundamentals of caring for a baby, having trained just enough to land a job doing it. All you wanted was to be liked by Mrs. Lee, and by baby Joon- and by extension, Minho. This household quickly became someplace you felt like you actually belonged in. But your purpose here has completely diverted from its original path, having prioritized Minho’s complexities and his feelings toward you above what you were hired here to do. You’ve experienced a roller coaster of emotions trying to understand him, and just when you thought you’d cracked him, you realized his heart belongs to someone else. So with the comfortable knowledge in mind that perhaps the universe isn’t, in fact, conditioned for you to mean anything more to him than just a babysitter, you understand it’s time to stop forcing any other version of it.
*
There’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary two weeks into your avoidance of Minho.
You still haven’t talked, he still keeps his distance and you get paid to perform the job you’re here to do. But one afternoon before Minho’s even home from school, Joon refuses to eat. It starts with a tantrum he throws at breakfast time, which you consider typical as he knocks his cereal onto the floor and waves his hands around restlessly. You can only spoon feed him a couple spoons of yogurt before he’s put down for his afternoon nap. And when you wake him for his post-nap meal, he’s just as fussy. He seems to be bothered by something, crying loudly as you offer him different snacks and try your best to calm him down. But nothing seems to work, and when he begins refusing his bottles late into the afternoon, you start to panic.
Mrs. Lee isn’t home for a few hours, you’re unsure of when Minho gets home and you don’t have any way of getting to a hospital right now. The guilt and the fear eat away at you as Joon cries loudly, his face turning a bright shade of red as snot dribbles from his nose onto his shirt. He must be hungry, and clearly uncomfortable by something, only you’re entirely unsure what. His pacifier doesn’t calm him, nor does his favorite stuffed animal or his favorite television program. When his crying reaches the 10-minute mark, you feel hopeless, well prepared to drag him onto the bus to the nearest hospital yourself, fully convinced you’re going to lose your job. And as you begin to cry, too, the front door opens, Minho walking in with his backpack clutched casually in one hand and his car keys in the other. His girlfriend is with him this time, her head hanging as she uses her phone, completely oblivious to the atmosphere around her.
“Minho,” you call helplessly from the kitchen, and his head snaps instantly to look at you. Your eyes are nearly bloodshot from crying, your sleeves drenched in tears from wiping your eyes and your voice shaky as you speak. It’s the first time you’ve said his name in weeks, you realize, feeling your heart race as you call for him.
“What happened?” Minho asks when he turns the corner, throwing off his backpack and approaching a very fussy Joon.
“He won’t eat,” you reply through hiccups, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweater again. “I’ve tried everything. He won’t stop crying.”
Minho takes Joon in his arms, rocking him gently back and forth, to no avail; Joon starts crying even harder now, dribbling snot onto Minho’s sweatshirt and hitting his chest repeatedly.
“I’ll have to take him to the clinic,” Minho says in a rushed tone, fishing his car keys out of his pocket and making his way toward the door.
His girlfriend finally turns the corner into the kitchen, putting down her cellphone and huffing frustratedly.
“What’s going on?”
“Sorry,” Minho replies, shoving past her with Joon in his arms. “I have to go. We can work on our project another time.”
Your heart drops at the words- project. Project, as in a project for his university. With a classmate.
You want to cry more now, for being so stupidly angry with him over nothing, but you still have to help Minho take Joon to the clinic. Sujin doesn’t protest, quick to exit without so much as a goodbye as Minho scrambles to fetch Joon’s car seat.
“I’ll get him in the car seat,” you say, pulling your sneakers on as he balances Joon in his arms.
“You’re coming?”
“Of course I’m coming,” you scoff, already taking Joon from his arms and ushering him outside. “Go start the car.”
*
“Lee?” A nurse calls, holding a clipboard close to her chest as she scans the waiting room.
You and Minho both stand up, Minho balancing Joon in his arms as the nurse gestures you to the door.
“Please, follow me.”
Both of you walk side-by-side down the corridor as she double-checks papers on her clipboard, making a sharp right and leading you into a private room.
Minho sets Joon down on the examination table, holding his arms to steady him, and you stand beside him as you wait for the doctor.
“She’s just reviewing the results,” the nurse says, referring to the x-rays Joon took earlier. “She’ll be in shortly to discuss them.”
Minho nods silently as the nurse leaves the room, leaving the two of you alone once again. You say nothing, unsure of how to break the awkward silence as Minho wipes a string of drool from Joon’s mouth and avoids eye contact with you.
You feel awkward, embarrassed and so, so stupid, for having treated Minho like absolute scum because you assumed the worst of him. It breaks you to see him avert your gaze like this, treating you the same way he did when you first crossed paths. He has his guard completely up again, and you’re not sure he’s ever going to let it down around you. As you lose yourself in doubtful thoughts, the door opens, Joon’s doctor sauntering inside and wiping her hands with the strong scent of hand sanitizer.
“Hi there,” she says cheerfully, giving you both a warm smile. “Are we here for baby Joon today?”
“Yes,” you both say in unison, and she laughs a little.
“You two are very synced. They say it happens in the first year of marriage.”
“We’re not married,” Minho chimes in quickly, and you turn to look at him, feeling a pit in your stomach all over again.
“No?” She questions. “My apologies. Is mom here today?”
“I’m just his babysitter,” you say quietly. “This is his brother.”
“I see,” the doctor says, eyeing you both. “Well you may notice I’m fairly calm, and that’s because there’s no terrible news I have to share. Baby Joon is just suffering from a little mucus buildup. He’s probably feeling the impaction, and the discomfort has caused a loss of appetite.”
You feel a weight off your shoulders instantly, relieved that this isn’t a more serious matter. He’s going to be fine, you think to yourself. He’s going to be his normal self as soon as this is over.
“… Just be sure to use a syringe to drain the mucus a couple times per day, and make sure he gets plenty of sleep.”
As the doctor writes Joon a prescription for his saline syringe, you catch Minho’s gaze briefly, shooting him a relieved look. He gives you a small nod in response, as if to say he’s glad you came along. And he is, he just can’t say it out loud.
*
“I think he’s finally sleeping,” Minho says, patting Joon’s back gently as he stands up from his chair. The two of you have been sat in the library for nearly two hours since getting back home, in complete silence as you read your books and wait for Joon to fall asleep. You take breaks every now and then to drain Joon’s mucus, alternating roles between holding his face still and using the syringe on him. And when he’s finally comfortable again, he dozes back off to sleep, little snores escaping his lips.
Minho leaves the room to put Joon to bed, and while he’s gone, you take the opportunity to pack your stuff and prepare to leave for the night. You feel guilty, not having said much to Minho this evening, especially with the newfound knowledge that this mystery woman was just a partner for his project. But you’re not sure what to say, well aware that he’s probably already decided you hate him, and there’s not much else you can do to fix things.
“He’s down,” Minho says as he re-enters the library.
“That’s good,” you reply with a solemn smile, packing your laptop in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.
“I should get going.”
“Do you… need me to walk you?” Minho asks a little shyly, and although the offer is tempting, you shake your head no.
“I’ll be fine. It’s really not as unsafe as you’d think.”
Minho just nods, understanding that you still don’t want to be close to him. And he gives you a little bow, before he exits the room and makes his way up the stairs to his own.
As you begin to leave, an object left on the chair across from you catches your eye.
It’s Minho’s book- the first edition copy of Love and Limerence you gifted him. You take the small book in your hands, scanning its contents briefly and examining the pages. He’s already annotated several of them, despite having read the book numerous times now, and you can’t help but smile at his scribbled notes circling all his favorite quotes and underlining them twice. You know it’s valuable to him, despite coming from somebody he probably despises right now, but you decide to take it up to him anyway, not wanting him to lose it.
When you’re outside his door, you give a small knock as it’s left ajar, and Minho hums in response.
You enter quietly, holding the book out to him and shooting him a small smile.
“You left this downstairs,” you say, and Minho reaches for it quickly, embarrassed you might’ve seen some of his annotations.
“Thanks,” he replies, setting it back on his bookshelf of romance novels.
He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him, and you join him at a comfortable distance as he keeps his gaze on the hardwood floor.
For a moment, no one says anything. And then he sighs deeply, before finally speaking.
“I’m sorry. If I made you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t,” you’re quick to reply.
“I clearly did,” Minho retorts. “And I know I’m quiet, and I kind of shut myself off from the rest of the world. But I never meant for it to affect you.”
“It didn’t affect me,” you reiterate.
He scoffs lightly in response.
“Why won’t you just say it? You haven’t talked to me in weeks. You don’t even look at me. I clearly did something to push you away.”
You don’t reply immediately, pondering what to say. And ultimately, you let your emotions speak for themselves.
“I was jealous.”
“Of what?”
“Of the girl. The one who’s been here almost every night.”
“Sujin?”
“Look, I don’t know, okay? I don’t know who she is or what she is to you-”
“My project partner,” Minho interrupts. “One who hates my guts.”
“Project partner,” you continue. “It doesn’t matter who she is- I like you, Minho,” you finally emphasize, turning to meet his gaze. His lips are parted in shock, his eyebrows furrowed as he hears you speak.
“I’m fucking infatuated with you, and it drives me crazy. I can’t go on vacation without seeing you in the books at the stores, I can’t sleep at night without your stupid theories replaying in my head. And I jump to the worst possible conclusions when you’re even near another girl. I’m going crazy trying to be liked by you- trying to look at everything through the lens of your romance theories or your book quotes, or whatever. But it’s so scary to like someone this much.”
Minho says nothing for a minute, collecting his thoughts as you let go of the breath you’ve been holding. He’s not used to people liking him- let alone being this intrigued by him. And especially when it’s in the form of reciprocation, from the one person he’s infatuated with, too.
“Why is it scary?” Minho questions, facing you now, his eyes darting briefly over your lips and then back up to your worried gaze.
“Because I’m here for a job. I’m not supposed to be feeling all this. You’re not supposed to be part of this.”
“How do you know that?” Minho retorts, leaning in a little closer to you now.
“I just…”
“You’re allowed to feel, y/n. You’re allowed to want this.”
And before you can protest his words, his lips are on yours, kissing you passionately like he’s pacifying the arguments before they can come to fruition. Your heart beats erratically in your chest, your mind racing with a million thoughts about what you’re doing, and what this whole thing even implies, but you shut them out with the rest of your concerns, pressing your thighs together as he brings two hands to your face and cups your chin gently. His lips work against yours so beautifully, so effortlessly, like the two of you have done this several times before. And maybe you have, in all his alternate universe theories- on your honeymoon, on the run from the police- right here in the comfort of his grand bedroom, his hands snaking up to pull off your cardigan as you tug desperately at the fabric of his t-shirt. Minho says nothing between passionate kisses, afraid if he talks you might realize what’s happening and leave. But you won’t leave, especially not when you’ve been dreaming of this, too.
When your cardigan is off, Minho moves a little closer to you on the bed, letting one hand guide itself onto your waist and trace the gentle curve of your body there. He’s delicate with his movements, careful not to startle you with his touches, but he’s also admittedly thought about this for weeks. The thought of you confessing was never something that crossed his mind- he was so sure he’d driven you away after that night. Never in his wildest fantasies had Minho considered the possibility that you were this smitten with him, too. But he did have thoughts of your lips on his, thoughts of your hands intertwined with his and ungodly visions of you under him, right here in his bed. Visions of his mouth on your breasts after you’d accidentally exposed yourself to him in the kitchen and he was forced to give attention to the massive erection that grew in his pants. And after you’d gifted him his favorite book, attentive to the details he’d indulged you in which he never otherwise shared with people, visions of making love to you ran rampant in his mind, filling you up over and over again with remnants of him as a form of saying I’m infatuated with you, too.
Minho’s kisses become needier as your words replay in his head, darting his tongue out to dance against yours with the sounds of exchanging saliva present between your plump, eager lips. He pushes you back gently so that you’re now lying on his pillow, the angle so intimate, the view of his room from here like something you’re not supposed to see. The ceilings appear even larger when you’re flat against his bed, the curtains that drape over his bedpost seemingly miles high.
Minho’s kisses trail down to your neck now, eagerly peppering your flesh in wet kisses as your hands reach up to tangle in his hair, holding him closer to you and letting him graze his lips wherever he desires. You can’t help but feel guilty having him all over you like this when you remember how you’ve treated him these past couple months- criticizing his tendencies to be quiet, intruding on his space and pushing him away because of a girl you’d assumed to be his girlfriend. But you also know most of it has been because you want him to mean more to you- perhaps you’ve just been trying to change things so that in this version of the universe, he’s not just an enigma to you. You want all of this- his lips on yours, his body pressed into you and to give yourself completely to him.
“Just so we’re clear,” Minho says suddenly, pulling away from you to hold eye contact with you. “I’m crazy about you, too. I really like you.”
And you can’t help but smile back in response, pulling him in again to press his lips on yours. He smiles into the kiss, too, satisfied you’re both on the same page. And although your now eager movements imply something more is about to happen, you don’t have to verbalize anything, his fingers snaking up your shirt serving as answer enough.
“Is this okay?” Minho asks, grazing your flesh with his big hands as he toys with the hem of your shirt.
You nod in response, sitting up a little and completing the task of pulling it off over your head and discarding it beside you. You waste no time on your bra, either, reaching around to unclasp it and rid yourself of the fabric without him having to ask. His eyes widen again at the sight, having remembered every curve of your body since that incident in the kitchen. But now in front of him again, he feels his cock swell in his pants, desperate to act on the urge. In nimble movements, his hand cups the mound of your breast, kneading it gently and sighing at the sensation of your soft skin against his. His mouth finds yours again, indulging you in a slow, passionate kiss, and then he trails down until he meets his hand at the mound of your breast, pressing a chaste kiss to your flesh before finally latching his lips around your nipple.
He starts with gentle kisses while your nipple rests between his lips, a string of saliva dribbling down to coat your hardened bud. And then he takes it between his lips with more force, beginning a gentle sucking motion as he gives your other nipple attention with his free hand, circling the tip with his thumb in tender movements.
You sigh beneath him, the sensation sending a shiver up your core, your nipples hardening even more in his touch, now eager for him to give your soaking core some attention. But he takes his time stimulating you, moving to your other breast to take your nipple in his mouth and leave a trail of saliva. Your body shivers when the cool air grazes your wet nipples as he pulls away, and he meets your lips again to kiss you passionately.
While he kisses you, your hands now toy with the hem of his shirt too, signifying for him to take it off. And Minho reciprocates with a little nod, finally pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his bare chest to you. It’s a marvelous sight to see more of his honey-tanned skin, his toned muscles and his broad pectorals practically begging for you to touch them. And just above his stomach, a horizontal pale pink scar, one that he eyes momentarily and then gives you a shy shrug.
You run your fingers along the scar briefly, tracing it in its entirety and bringing your hand up to caress his face.
“I didn’t think I could be any more attracted to you,” you say to him sheepishly, tracing the scar again. “You look like the poetry you’re so obsessed with.”
Minho feels an involuntary smile pulling at his face as he leans in to kiss you again, this time intent on giving himself fully to you the way you deserve.
Your kisses both grow hungrier, needier, as your bodies tangle into each other, and Minho loops a finger into the hem of your panties, tugging them down so that he has access to your sopping cunt. As your hands tangle further into his soft brown hair, his finger traces down the length of your stomach, dipping into every curve and over every inch of flesh he only got a brief sight of. And when he finds your mound, you arch up into him, parting your legs slightly to give him access. Minho doesn’t waste another second, attaching the pads of his fingers to your clit and working you in circular motions as he kisses you. Little gasps escape your mouth as he does, breathing heavily into his kisses and grinding your core closer to him as he quickens his pace, smearing your arousal around your aching clit and circling two fingers around to massage you gently. His cock is now fully erect against his abdomen, prodding into your upper thigh as he trails his kisses down your neck again, but he’s patient, forgiving with his movements, eager to pleasure you first.
As his kisses graze your neck, you tug his boxers over his cock, pulling them down so you’re equal parts undressed. Minho winces a little at the sensation, a bead of precum already dripping down the head of his cock, and you feel yourself clench around nothing at just the sight of him hard for you.
When he takes note of your anticipation, he glances down at his own erection, locking his gaze with yours again as if to confirm again that this is okay. You nod in response, reaching your hands around to loop them behind his neck and pull him a little closer. And then your gaze falls to his cock again, waiting for him to make the next move.
The two of you say nothing as Minho’s hand finds the base of his cock, pumping himself gently before leaning in to kiss you. He lets himself hover closer over you, until his cock is kissing your entrance in the same gentle, wet movements as your lips. You lift your leg up slightly to grant him access, and then in gentle movements as your eyes remain shut, you feel him push his tip inside of you, stretching you out around his girth and causing you to gasp. He’s bigger than you anticipated, even the dripping arousal of your cunt having trouble taking him wholly. But he brings his fingers down to your clit again, massaging you slowly to ease the pain. And it works, your body relaxing around him as he pulls back a little and thrusts in again, this time pushing further until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you. You let out a fervent moan at the sensation, his cock pulsating inside of you as he holds it there, feeling every inch of you clench around him and take him so well now. And then with a gentle kiss to your lips, he begins to move, his hips pulling back slowly to thrust back inside of you.
You feel so full of him, having him exactly as you’d always imagined him- circling your thoughts, hovering over you and finally inside of you, his cock brushing against your cervix so delicately with every thrust. Your labored breaths become one as you pant into each other’s mouths with overwhelming pleasure. Minho steadies himself with one hand on the mattress beside you, quickening his pace a little as he feels his cock twitch inside of you in response to a particularly pornographic moan of yours.
“Fuck,” he breathes, shutting his eyes as he continues to slip in and out of your soaking cunt. “You’re so full of me, aren’t you?”
He brings his lips to your neck again, nibbling the flesh between his teeth and letting it bruise as you moan beneath him.
“I’ve thought about you everyday,” you respond, angling his lips to yours again as he fucks you. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”
“Yeah?” Minho says with a satisfied smile, working circles back onto your clit.
“Yes,” you breathe back, toying with his hair as your arms wrap around his neck. “I wanted you to fuck me like the characters in your romance novels.”
Minho feels his cock twitch again, wincing and slowing his pace so as not to finish just yet.
“I can’t help it,” you whimper underneath him. “I think about you all the time. I think about you fucking me all the time.”
Minho intertwines his hand with yours, pressing it down on your abdomen and letting yourself feel when his bulge fills you up at every thrust, the motion visible beneath your palms.
“Feel that, baby?” He asks between kisses to your drooly lips. “Feel how good I fuck you? Is this what you imagined?”
You gasp at the sensation once you feel it, the bulge of his cock protruding against your palm with every pump inside of you. You nod breathlessly, almost unable to reply to his words now.
“I imagined it, too,” he says, picking up his pace now. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to bend you over the couch and fuck you right there the moment I met you.”
He groans a little as you clench around him and moan in response.
“Minho,” you say breathlessly, not missing the way his cock twitches inside of you once again. “Will you finish inside of me?”
He pauses for a moment, scanning your expression for a sign of whether or not you’re being serious.
“Please,” you beg, as if reading his thoughts. “I’m on birth control. Just want to feel your seed inside of me.”
He shuts his eyes briefly as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in a little closer.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” Minho asks, locking his gaze on yours again. “I want to, but I want you to be sure about it.”
“I’m sure,” you say quickly, the last syllable hitching in the back of your throat as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “Please, just wanna feel you fill me up.”
He thrusts harder into you now, the room teeming with the squelching noises of your pussy taking him so effortlessly.
“You like it when we play house like this, huh?” He says, wrapping a hand gently around your throat. “You like imagining me as your husband, don’t you? Fucking you like we’re married?”
And it doesn’t take you more than a second to think before you’re nodding desperately at his words. You do love it, this sense of belonging when you’re in the Lee household. But you also get aroused at this second life you lead alongside him, caring for the baby like it’s one of yours and being fucked by Minho when no one else is around to hear your lewd moans.
“Yes,” you reply, your response muffled by his grasp on your throat. “You make such a good dad.”
“We’d make such good parents,” he emphasizes, kissing you breathlessly. “What do you say I fuck a baby into you and we find out for real?”
You feel yourself contract around his girth at the words, not having considered it seriously, but turned on at the idea of carrying a child just for him.
“Is that what you want?” Minho asks, nearing his orgasm as he thrusts even faster into you now, panting into your mouth above you.
“Yes,” you reply with a whimper. “Want you to fill me up so bad.”
“Yeah?” He cuts you off, pressing your abdomen harder with his hand. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Want you to feel it.”
Your senses hone in on the feeling of your palm over his bulge, pulsating rhythmically as he nears his orgasm.
“I’m cumming, fuck, I’m gonna finish,” Minho says, shutting his eyes in pleasure as he moves at his fastest pace now, his grip around your throat holding you steady as you lose yourself underneath him. He’s never finished inside someone before, but he has no intention of pulling out now, the conversation of impregnating you sending him over the edge as he reaches the cusp of his release.
You contract around his breathlessly now, eager to take his load, never having taken someone’s either, but desperate for Minho to be your first.
And with a few more harsh thrusts, Minho’s cock twitches once inside of you, finally letting out a generous load of his cum inside of you, the gush of his release filling you up so fully, the warm sensation of his milky white release thrusting deep inside of your pussy as he fucks the rest into you.
He feels his head spin, his eyes shutting instinctively at the sensation as he lets go fully inside of you, no urgency to pull out or stave off his release like he usually has to. And it takes a while before he’s begun to soften again, the knowledge of giving you his cum almost rousing him again and lengthening the period of his release inside of you. Minho already knows he’s going to be addicted to finishing inside of you from here on out- and he doesn’t want it any other way.
The warm feeling is all it takes for you to finish in mere seconds, contracting around him as he fucks you through his orgasm, your release mixing with his and dribbling down the side of your thighs as he begins to slow down. Minho doesn’t pull out immediately, instead caressing your face to gauge your reaction as he softens inside of you.
“Was it okay?” Minho queries, tucking sweaty strands of hair behind your ears and loosening his grasp on your throat.
“It was more than okay,” you say breathlessly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he smiles down at you. “I feel so full of you.”
Minho kisses you sweetly, rubbing his thumb along your hand soothingly as he pulls out of you, a string of his cum connecting to you still and dribbling onto the sheets as he rolls over to lay on his side.
For a moment, the two of you say nothing, your chests rising and falling as you catch your breath and ponder the day’s events. It’s not what you expected was going to happen when you saw yourself up to his room again, but it is what you’d hoped would happen eventually. And the atmosphere feels much lighter around you now, completely void of the lingering sexual and emotional tension that’s plagued you for so long.
“Minho?” you say quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Philosophically speaking, how many versions of us do you think are lying next to each other like this, right now?”
Minho thinks over your words for a moment, and then he chuckles lightly.
“Well if the universe was conditioned right, I’d hope for an infinite amount. But considering how long it took us to get here in this version, I’d say just one.”
And he sits up, leaning in for another kiss as two fingers tuck his arousal further into you, holding his release inside of your still-sensitive body.
*
“Have some bacon, honey,” Mrs. Lee says to you as she scrambles to get her things together for the day. “I made a lot, so help yourself.”
“Thanks,” you reply, strapping Joon into his high chair and smoothing down your skirt.
Ever since that evening, you and Minho have been inseparable. The two of you wait until Mrs. Lee is gone for the morning, desperately grabbing at each other and giggling between kisses until Minho has to leave for his classes. And when he returns, it’s much of the same, the two of you helping put Joon down for his afternoon nap before escaping up to his bedroom and making love until Joon wakes again.
Minho is completely and utterly obsessed with you, the same way you are with him, but you both know this game of house you play can’t go on forever. Mostly because you feel the guilt eating away at you day by day, every waking minute you’re tending to your duties as a babysitter or conversing with Mrs. Lee. It’s hard to be in the same room as Minho when she’s around, the urge to just confess even more present when she attempts to facilitate conversation between the two of you and you’re forced to act like he’s still a mystery.
But you have him more figured out than you ever have before, memorizing the freckles on his body like the back of your hand, reciting his favorite quotes like prayers and replaying the melodic giggles that escape his lips. You don’t want to be apart from him, but the point still stands- it’s scary to like someone this much. He consumes you more than he ever has before, filling every waking second of your life with remnants of him. You love when he reads romantic philosophical theories to you, or when he cooks you and Joon dinner after a long day. But you feel guilty when you’re alone with Joon again, hoping he can’t somehow tell that you’re only thinking of his brother when you’re preparing his bottles or feeding him. You hope Mrs. Lee doesn’t notice when your hair is a little too tousled to have just been from a nap, or the time you had to cross your legs to keep Minho’s release inside of you when the two of you had finished just in time for her to make it home. It’s selfish, and it’s unfair. And with no sign of this fling stopping anytime soon, you don’t see any other option to be fit.
“I’m leaving,” Mrs. Lee finally says, grabbing her car keys off the kitchen table and pulling her heels on. “Make sure to get Joon his medicine!”
The two of you watch as she shuts the front door behind her, and then you wait until her car starts, holding your breath as she pulls out of the driveway and begins down the street in what feels like an agonizing amount of time.
The minute she’s gone, Minho turns to you again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you lean back against the counter.
“Morning,” he says with a shy smile. He wastes no time leaning in for a romantic kiss, which you reciprocate, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling into him.
When he pulls away, the two of you say nothing, holding each other in a comfortable embrace as he rubs little circles into the small of your back.
“I guess it’s just mom and dad home right now,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck. “I’ll ditch class right now if you want me to fill you up again.”
And his offer is tempting as he presses his erection into you, working more kisses down the nape of your neck and trailing his hands up your skirt.
“No,” you finally say, pushing him away and collecting your thoughts. “You need to get to class. I have a lot of stuff to do. I’m working, in case you forgot.”
“Okay, okay,” Minho says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I digress.”
He pulls back to caress your face with a visible smirk as your eyes graze his thighs, so beautifully sculpted under the fabric of his jeans. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so sinfully tempted by somebody before, like Eve to the apple, like a moth to a flame- he’s intoxicating, but you know you shouldn’t be indulging this while you’re here to fulfill your role as a babysitter.
“You should go,” you say to him, swallowing nervously as his hands trace the outline of your lips.
“Yeah,” Minho replies, a hint of disappointment present in his voice.
And without another word, he gathers his car keys off the table, sending you off with a little wave as he disappears for the day.
You may have Minho mostly figured out now- his fascination with romance and philosophy, his soft interior under the stoic exterior he presents everyone else with, his astounding levels of emotional intelligence and unwavering kindness for the people he loves. But now that things have become a little more complicated between the two of you, you fear all of this will come to an end as fortuitously as it all began.
The reality is, this isn’t one of Minho’s romance novels- you’re both real people, with emotions and convictions and reservations. And though you want this fleeting thing to last forever, you’re well aware that things don’t work that way, especially when you’re just a babysitter at the end of it all. Sure, Minho sees you as much more than that- but you were hired to be here in the Lee household, paid to fulfill your role here, and once this comes to an end, your relationship with Minho likely will, too.
… and thus, the decision to quit your job isn’t one you take lightly. It succeeds hours of thinking, weighing your options and planning out exactly what you’re going to tell Mrs. Lee when she asks why you’re leaving so suddenly. You want to do another internship, you decide on telling her, hoping she doesn’t poke enough holes to get the truth out of you- “I think far too much about your eldest son and it’s eating me alive.”
*
All day long, you try your best to shut Minho out of your thoughts, focusing on your online courses and caring for Joon like you used to. But it feels futile, this task of pretending things are the way they used to be. They’re not- you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back and hooking up with her eldest son. When all’s said and done, you’ll be right back in your own home, with your parents desperate to send you elsewhere once again, and your own life to tend to. This double life you romanticize isn’t real, nor is it attainable anymore.
Your phone call with Mrs. Lee to announce your decision doesn’t set anything in stone yet, her words urging you to speak with her later this week when she has some free time. But you know once you do speak with her, you’ll only have a few evenings left with Minho until this is all over. And you don’t have the heart to tell him just yet, but if things go anything the way they did when you first brought it up to him, you know he’s going to be heartbroken.
When Minho arrives home that evening, he can already sense something is wrong. You’re sat in the garden, where you typically don’t go, your legs crossed neatly over one of the sunlounger chairs as you let your thoughts consume you. Mrs. Lee’s koi fish fountain stands nobly in front of you, a robust stream of water trickling from its lips and into the concrete bowl below. You’re mesmerized by it as you always are, the steady sound of water coupled with the birds chirping in the sunny greenery around you as peaceful as ever.
“Hey,” Minho says, sliding open the screen door and stepping outside to meet you.
“Hi,” you reply, holding a hand up over you to shield your eyes from the sun. You’d forgotten how divine he looked today, his white button up now folded up at the sleeves and exposing his veiny forearms to you.
“How was your day?” Minho asks, pressing a small kiss to your temple as he occupies the spot beside you and stares at the fountain.
“Okay,” you respond, though you’re lying through your teeth. “Joon went down about an hour ago.”
Minho nods, and then he furrows his brows together as he speaks again.
“Why are you out here?”
You shrug in response, keeping short with your words as he pushes you for answers. And you want to tell him it’s because you made the most painful decision to call Mrs. Lee and forfeit all of this, but you know it’ll only hurt more, so you divert from the truth.
“It was stuffy inside,” you voice back, shooting him a small smile.
Minho seems to relax beside you, his shoulders sagging a little as he takes notice of your calm demeanor. He doesn’t have reason to believe anything’s wrong, judging by the way you converse so casually.
“You want me to cook you something?” Minho asks, placing his palm up next to you, and you let your hand intertwine with his.
“Will you read to me?” You ask, eager to indulge in your favorite activity alongside him.
“I can read to you,” Minho echoes back, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of your hand. “Which book?”
You’re both in the cozy atmosphere of the library later that evening, Minho sat on his favorite velvet armchair as you occupy a spot in his lap with his arms wrapped around you. The book is positioned in front of him so you can both see, his fingers holding open the thin pages as the poetry leaves his lips, pausing in between lines to press kisses to the crook of your neck when he’s reminded of you in his favorite characters.
And you hold back tears in the moment, wanting so badly to tell Minho that you’ll be letting go of all of this, running back to the monotony of your old life, one where Minho doesn’t exist and you don’t have to balance the complicated feelings of liking someone to this degree. But you bite back your words, careful not to ruin the intimate moment you share while he loves you in an ignorant state of bliss.
“The pleasures of love are always in proportion to the fear,” Minho begins a new chapter, grazing your neck with his lips.
He trails a bit lower to graze your shoulder now, pressing a small trail of kisses as he pauses his reading. You giggle softly in response, feeling his fingers find the strap of your tank top to pull it down your shoulder so he can pepper kisses there, too.
“Minho,” you say softly, writhing in his embrace as he tickles every inch of your skin with his kisses, now shutting the book and setting it on the arm of the chair.
“Can’t help it,” Minho responds, shutting his eyes as he snakes his hands up the back of your tank top. “You look so beautiful right now.”
As you adjust in his lap, you can feel he’s now rock-hard in his jeans below you, his thighs flexing underneath you as he wraps two hands around your waist and runs them up and down your sides. You take the hint, turning around in his lap to face him, and let your arms wrap around his neck to steady yourself.
“What are you thinking about?” Minho asks, bringing his lips to yours as he feels his hardened cock graze against the fabric of his jeans, eager to pleasure you.
You want to express your fears, your doubts, to tell him the truth about what you spoke about on the phone with Mrs. Lee earlier today. But you can’t, not when he looks so tantalizing in front of you like this, his bulge perfectly outlined in his tight jeans and his veiny arms flexing below the fabric of his collared button-up. You’ve been roused for him since he left in the morning, his offer swirling your mind coupled with his appearance, like something out of a wet dream.
“You,” you voice back, whimpering pathetically into another kiss and rocking your hips gently over him so that he’s practically whimpering for you, too.
Neither of you have to say much, knowing already where the evening is headed, as you unzip his pants and palm his erection through the fabric of his boxers. Minho watches as you slide off his lap, dropping to your knees in front of him and tugging the fabric of his jeans. He complies with your urges, pulling them down to his knees and freeing his erection from his boxers, exhaling deeply as the cool breeze of the room grazes his leaking tip.
Without a second to waste, you take him in your mouth, letting your saliva coat his shaft as you kiss his tip tenderly and then guide him down your throat, the base of his cock just barely meeting your lips as you struggle to take him fully. Minho groans at the contact, bucking his hips off the chair to guide himself further into you, feeling his cock twitch when you gag a little at the contact. You stay like that for a good while, bobbing your head in rhythmic motions up and down his hardened length, your saliva allowing you to graze his shaft with ease.
Minho’s thighs contract desperately below him, trying his best to stave off the orgasm he’s been longing for since the moment he saw you this morning. His hands find your hair, pulling your locks into a makeshift ponytail and gasping as you take him a bit deeper now, pulling back again to pepper the tip of his wettened cock in drooly kisses.
“Fuck,” Minho breathes out, clutching the arm of the chair so desperately. “Baby, stop, I don’t want to finish yet,”
And you release him with a gentle pop, knowing exactly what it is he wants so badly. You never deny it, sitting back up again to position yourself over his cock you intertwine his hands with yours. He uses one hand to tug your panties to the side, and then in one swift motion, you guide his cock inside of you, sliding down the slick of his length and bottoming out with ease. You take him so well now, always able to adjust to his girth instantly as your cunt is always dripping in anticipation when he’s near.
Minho’s hand moves to push your tank top up, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly as you begin to bounce on him with gentle movements. The room fills with sounds of panting, sucking and desperate moans as his cock fills you fully with every thrust, brushing against your cervix as he moves to your other nipple and kneads your breast desperately.
“What was that quote again?” You ask in labored breaths as he comes back up to kiss your lips.
“The pleasures of love,” he begins, breathlessly working his lips against yours as you clench around his length. “Are always in proportion to the fear.”
Minho feels his cock twitch inside of you, always nearing his finish much faster when you make him recite all his favorite quotes and book excerpts to you.
Except this one speaks much louder to you, directly aligning with your present-day emotions, circling your mind relentlessly as he fills you. Maybe this is what his book speaks of- the pleasures of love, being filled so fully and lovingly by Minho, two pieces of one whole like you’re both made for this, to make love into the late hours of the night while he recites poetry to you.
And all of this in proportion to the fear- this constant fear that he’s just a fleeting entity, that you’re both naive to play house like this and pretend it’s anything more. The fear present while you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back, letting him fuck you like he’s married to you and indulge you in all of his deepest secrets, as though you’re the only one allowed to know him this intimately.
The love and fear and indeed in proportion to one another- you love him as much as you’re afraid of loving him.
“I love you,” you say suddenly, bringing him in for another kiss before he can respond. But the way his kisses work against yours, hungry and passionate, there’s not a hint of reluctance in his response when he pulls away to speak again.
“I love you,” Minho breathes back, working his kisses against yours as his cock pulsates inside of you, desperate for release. “And I hope every version of the universe is conditioned for us to be right here.”
You smile into him, slowing your movements as you feel him contract inside of you, and then his thighs flex as he finally finishes inside of you, shooting hot white ropes of his cum into your still-clenching cunt, his release already beginning to dribble back down his length as he feels you slow down over him.
You bring a hand between the two of you, gathering his cum on the pads of your fingers to circle your clit in gentle movements, stimulating yourself to your release, too, as you contract desperately around him and breathe labored kisses back into his mouth. Your juices mix with his as you catch your breath, keeping him inside of you as your chest rises and falls with gentle movements. But the two of you say nothing, pressing your lips together to indulge in more passionate kisses for the few minutes you have left before Mrs. Lee makes it home for the evening.
*
The garden is particularly beautiful the next afternoon, teeming with the sounds of birds chirping and trees swaying in the gentle autumn breeze. Mrs. Lee let you know she’d be home a little earlier to have a chat about your decision to leave, and when Joon is put down for his afternoon nap, you receive the call that she’s in the garden waiting for you. You enter hesitantly, worried Minho might catch you and question what you’re doing out here. But he’s not home from school yet, you remind yourself, glancing around the tall grass and neat rows of potted plants for Mrs. Lee.
“Y/n!” A voice calls from one of the patio chairs. “Come, sit!”
Mrs. Lee sits with her back facing you, a large white sun hat atop her neatly styled hair and complementing her matching white jumpsuit. Her gaze remains locked on the koi fountain you’re always transfixed by, too.
“Hi Mrs. Lee,” you say, giving her a small bow as you take the seat next to her. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
She nods with a smile. “So good to see you when we have a little more time. I’m sorry I’m always such a mess in the mornings.”
You shake your head quickly, brushing off her words. “Not at all! It’s always nice to greet the family before I start my day.”
She just smiles in response, turning to nod at you, and then she turns back to the fountain.
“I was a little surprised when you called the other day. I hope things are going okay.”
“They are,” you interrupt quickly. “They absolutely are. Joon is so pleasant, and the job is great. I really love it here.”
“I hope everything at home is okay,” she moves on to say, and you quickly reassure her.
“Yes, everything is fine! Everyone is doing great.”
“I understand,” Mrs. Lee says, eyeing the ground before turning to face you now. “You’ve done so much for us, I’d be lying if I said I’m not going to miss having you around here in the mornings.”
You shoot her a sympathetic look, feeling a pit form in your stomach, too. You feel the same, probably tenfold, at the idea of leaving behind the household you’ve called home for so many days.
“I’m going to miss it here, too.”
“And I know Joon is going to be heartbroken,” Mrs. Lee says with a chuckle.
You chuckle too, giving her an understanding nod.
She pauses briefly, furrowing her brows together, before continuing her speech.
“You’re such a bright young woman, and I know you’re destined to do amazing things. If there’s a way I can help in this transition, please don’t hesitate to let me know, okay?”
You nod at her words, and watch as she smooths down her top before standing up. She seems to wait for a moment, as if hoping for you to say something, and when you don’t, she begins to make her way back inside.
“Well, I’ll let you go for the evening. Thank you again, for everything. And you have my phone number if-”
“Mrs. Lee?” You call out suddenly, catching her before she can get much further. She turns around at the worry present in your voice, her face shifting into that of concern.
Without having to voice anything else, Mrs. Lee sits down again, waiting for you to continue. But you can’t, your heart beating wildly in your chest at the thought of even bringing up the topic of Minho. I’m in love with your son, you want to say to her. I’m so in love with Minho and I hope you understand I don’t have a choice but to leave this all behind me.
“You know,” Mrs. Lee interrupts your thoughts, breaking the silence that fills the air. “This koi fountain was my first gift from Mr. Lee.”
You nod at her, remembering when she introduced it to you on your first day here.
“We weren’t married yet. It was his first restoration project, and my dad hated him. So he had a lot of trouble getting it over to me.”
You chuckle lightly, amused at her story which seems to calm you down a little.
“Luckily his parents adored me,” she continues. “And they offered to house it in their backyard until we married. For the 15 years we dated, my koi fish lived in their garden. And when we did marry, they rented a big truck to help haul it over. It was such a project! But it’s my favorite part of the garden.”
You shoot her a saccharine smile, well endeared at the way she speaks of Mr. Lee. You can tell she’s in love with him, even this many years later.
“Sometimes I wondered why they would do something so nice for me. But as I grew closer to them, I learned not to question what was meant for me. They loved me, as did Mr. Lee. And I wasn’t going to run from any of that, no matter what I felt I deserved.”
Your head snaps in her direction at her last words, realizing how they apply to you. But she doesn’t know about Minho- at least not to your knowledge, or Minho’s. She gives you a sheepish smile as you furrow your brows, and then she takes your hand in hers, giving it a little squeeze.
“I hope you won't run from what you deserve, either.”
You nod a little bit at her words, finally understanding the weight of them, and then you look back at her with a confused expression.
“Mrs. Lee, are you talking about…”
“Minho?” She finally says, with a warm smile. She takes your other hand in hers, too, tilting her face to yours so that she’s making proper eye contact as she speaks.
“I had wondered why he was so happy these days. Minho’s always been a bit of an outcast. But I haven’t seen this spark in him since he started his obsession with all those romance novels and philosophy studies of his.”
You chuckle lightly, a weight off your shoulders as she finally speaks of what circles your mind so heavily.
“But how did you…”
“I knew it when I saw it,” she says. “I knew it, because he had the same look in his eyes as when I met his father.”
You feel your heart swell in your chest, your shoulders relaxing as she continues to speak.
“He speaks of you like poetry,” she tells you. “And for that alone, I’m thankful for you. Now what you choose to do is your decision- but I hope you know you will always have a home here with us. Not just as a babysitter, but as family.”
When Mrs. Lee finishes her speech, she gives your hands a little squeeze, smiling at you and back at the koi fish fountain. It feels much more sentimental to you even now, the beautiful waterfall that cascades serving as a reminder of its permanent restoration rooted in the infatuation Mr. Lee had for Mrs. Lee. And watching it stand so beautifully like it did all those years ago, you’re reminded that love can be a lasting thing, no matter the circumstances. The universe can condition itself to make things last, affirming the philosophical notions Minho’s always told you. And that perhaps you do deserve this, a sense of belonging here in the Lee household, right here alongside Mrs. Lee and Minho, and even baby Joon.
As you watch the fountain together, the sound of the sliding door makes itself known behind you, and you turn around to find Minho entering the garden, baby Joon sitting comfortably in his arms as he makes his way over.
“Hi,” Minho says, coming around to give Mrs. Lee a kiss on her cheek. “What’s going on here?”
He looks visibly worried, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Mrs. Lee, as if to silently ask you what she’s told you.
But Mrs. Lee just smiles at him, as she gets up from where she’s sitting and smooths down her jumpsuit.
“We were just having a girl chat. I’ll leave you two alone.”
And she disappears behind the screen door again, shooting you a little wink as she does, her anecdote circling your mind, still.
“What happened?” Minho asks, settling down next to you and balancing baby Joon on his knee. Joon fists at the fabric of his shirt, babbling incoherently as you smile down at him.
“Nothing,” you say, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. You refrain from saying anything about leaving, not wanting to interrupt the tender moment you share with Minho and Joon in the sunlight of the garden.
“You have a really cool mom,” you settle on saying, smiling at Minho as he chuckles softly in response.
*
The afternoon sun beams through the glass windows of the library as you lie comfortably in Minho’s lap, his book positioned in front of you as he presses a small kiss to the back of your hand before turning the page.
Outside, the birds chirp songs of early spring, the steady stream of Mrs. Lee’s koi fountain audible as you peer down at the garden.
Mr. and Mrs. Lee sit in the tall grass, fiddling with a box of tools as Mr. Lee repairs a new project for Mrs. Lee. This one’s a much larger fountain, one he’d told you would take several months, perhaps even years. But Mrs. Lee sits beside him, relishing in stories of his restoration process and laughing with him as he works. You can’t help but smile at the sight, her stories about him playing in your mind whenever you catch a glimpse of them together.
“Do you think they could be us in another universe?” You ask Minho, turning to face him as he peers out the window, too.
“I hope so,” he says with a smile.
You settle closer to him in his lap, pressing a small kiss to his hand as he continues reading.
“And think not that you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.”
At his words, you hear baby Joon cry out, having woken from his afternoon nap.
“I’ll get him,” Minho says, shutting the book and setting it aside to go tend to the baby.
And as you peer back out the window, the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s laughter filling your ears, baby Joon’s voice calling to you, Minho’s philosophy book perched on the chair beside you and the sun beams shining their light through the windows, you know that this is belonging, this is love.
requested by anonymous: you keep your hands where they are or i'll tie them up. ❜ w Jeongin? 😩 please 🥰.
requested by anonymous: I.N AND ❛ do whatever you want with me, i'm yours. ❜ ❛ you taste like heaven. ❜ PLEASE IF YOU CAN BEGGING YOU
pairing: yang jeongin/reader
content info: friends to lovers. reader asks jeongin if he has ever made someone squirt and if so please show her hehe. reader mentions a bad date with a rude guy who called her high-strung. squirting, pussy-eating, riding, just a good time lol. explicit sexual content.
word count: 4000 words.
masterlist.
part of the valentine’s day stories series.
credit to prompts. requests are closed.
enjoy <3
-
Jeongin is finally awake when you return to his apartment. You visited this morning but he must have had a late night because the flat was dark and silent when you let yourself in. You went for a stroll, hoping the fresh air would clear your mind, but what you really needed was him. A conversation with Jeongin always improves your mood. Just thinking about those deep dimples brings out your own smile.
“Hi there,” you say sweetly. You close the door and replace your shoes with the slippers he keeps for you. You bound up to the kitchen counter. “Can I ask you something?”
Jeongin clearly just rolled out of bed. Far from glamourous, your nonetheless very handsome friend is wearing a hoodie and sweatpants and his black thick-rimmed glasses. He has the hood pulled over his head, his dishevelled black hair peeking out. A bowl of ramen sits in front of him, though his sleepy gaze is on his phone, long ringed fingers curled around the device.
You look at those fingers thoughtfully, your mouth a little drier than before. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all…
It’s too late. Jeongin emerges from the slumped cavern of his hoodie, lifting his bespectacled face. He dutifully puts his phone facedown on the counter. Pushing his sleeves to his elbows, he says, “Of course. Hi. How are—” He yawns before he can finish. The yawn breaks into a wheezy little laugh.
You take the seat across from him at the kitchen island and watch him twirl his chopsticks. Nimble fingers flip them around before he digs into his noodles, slurping a little ungracefully. He swallows almost half the bowl in a scoop. Your eyes are still on his hands.
“Jeongin,” you say. “Have you ever—oh, no, thank you.”
He is holding out a clump of noodles on his chopsticks. When you decline, he shoves it in his own mouth.
“Jeongin,” you say again. “Have you ever made a girl squirt?”
He chokes on the noodles. It gets ugly quick. You emit a little squeak of your own when he thumps on his chest so hard that his hood falls back and his glasses fall off. He hacks up the noodles and spits some across the island.
“Are you okay?” you ask.
“I’m fine,” he says in a rough voice, squinting hard like a beleaguered puppy. He fumbles with his glasses, blinking quickly once they are back on his face. Then he reaches for his water bottle and unscrews it with a flick of his fingers. He rubs his chest while drinking.
You purse your lips, watching him. His profile is so defined, his jaw so sharp and cheekbones high. He really is ridiculously handsome. And those hands. You look at the prominence of the veins running down his forearm, the subtle strength in his slender form, the long easy grace of his fingers. If any man is turning women into waterfalls, it must be him.
“So,” you say, “have you ever done it?”
He chokes on his water, but not as dramatically as the noodles. It’s a messy hiccup and he dribbles water down his chin, barely catching it in the cup of his hand. He puts the bottle aside and wipes his hand on his thigh.
“I don’t think I understand the question,” he finally says.
“What? ‘Have you ever made a girl squirt?’” you ask, tipping your head. “Sorry, what’s confusing?”
“Um.” He looks at you in bewilderment. “The part where you are asking me it?”
“Oh.” A little – okay, a lot of embarrassed heat explodes in your chest. It radiates out with rapid-fire speed, scalding your neck and your face.
You lower your gaze. His dark eyes and expressive brows are now too intense for you. You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, thumbs pushing at each other.
“Well,” you say, slowly. You look anywhere but him. “Something sort of happened.”
When you chance an upward glance, he is looking at you very studiously.
“Sort of…” he says, looking more confused by the second. “Did you… sort of… squirt?”
You cover your face, suddenly embarrassed beyond words. Why did this seem like a good idea again? You were so convinced a few minutes ago that this was a totally fine conversation to have with your friend. Now you want the floor to open up and swallow you whole.
You make a miserable little sound into your palms and Jeongin finally laughs. His whole face crinkles with delight and he laughs so hard that it sounds like he can barely breathe.
“Don’t laugh at me!” you wail.
“I’m not, I’m not,” he lies, because he is laughing his ass off while he says it. “Come on, it’s fine. Stop hiding.”
He reaches across the counter for you. You jerk away, mewling pathetically, which just makes him laugh again. He eventually uses both hands to peel apart your death grip. You still avoid his gaze, staring down at the counter, but he dips his head to chase your eyes.
“There you are,” he says when your gazes meet. “Crazy girl! Ask me again.”
“I forgot the question,” you say, petulant.
He snorts. “I didn’t,” he says. “You wanted to know if I ever made a woman—”
“Yes, I know what I asked!” you say, shaking your head. You see him smile, a giant grin of immense amusement as you tug at your cheeks in distress. “I’m sorry I asked. It’s just that…”
“Something sort of happened?” he supplies when you trail off.
“Technically,” you say, “something sort of didn’t happen.”
“Ohhh.” He returns to looking bashful, rubbing the back of his neck. “Were you… with… someone?”
“Mhm.” You both look at the kitchen counter while you speak. “I had a date. I planned the whole thing out. You know me, I like a plan.” You try to laugh but a flood of humiliation washes over you, the recollection of last night and how everything went so, so wrong. You close your eyes and sigh. “Ugh. It was going well so I brought him back to my place. Things got heated. He said he was really good at… doing that… I said I had never done it before and he got excited and said I would like it. I think I just… thought about it too much. You know me! I like a plan! That wasn’t the plan! Anyway, we put a towel on the bed which is why it was even more embarrassing when I couldn’t… when he couldn’t make me… ugh.” You flop forward, pressing your forehead to the cold marble countertop. “He called me high-strung and left.”
You lift your head slowly, looking at Jeongin for his reaction. His expression is all scrunched up like he smells something bad. Then he gestures as if he is vomiting, making the noisy hurling sounds to match.
You laugh in spite of yourself, nodding.
“I know, I know, you’re right,” you say. “He sucked.”
“High-strung?” Jeongin says, the word tumbling out like a curse. “He said that? Pffft—”
You are glad you came to him. Your other friends would have been protective and encouraging, which is nice, but Jeongin’s helpless laughter is more reassuring than anything. That other guy was so pathetic that all Jeongin can do is laugh.
Even so, you do feel a little sensitive about the whole thing. You are smiling now but your gaze stays low. You trace circles on the counter.
“I know he… he was just embarrassed too. He was rude to me, but… he wasn’t totally wrong.”
“No,” Jeongin says, shaking his head. “No, no, no—”
“Yes, yes, yes,” you insist. You let him take your hands and squeeze, but you talk before he can interrupt. “Look he didn’t exactly handle it well but I… I am a little… um, overly thoughtful at times. I’m not good at doing things in the spur of the moment. It scares me and I think too much and once I start thinking I can’t stop.” You let go of his hands, giving them one last friendly pat before you neatly fold your hands on the counter. “Anyway, I asked you what I did because I was hoping you could instruct me so I can practice. That way next time it happens, I won’t get scared and think so much.”
You smile at him.
He slowly takes his glasses off, his mouth open.
“Oh,” he says. “Okay. Um.”
“Soooo… have you?”
The tips of his ears turn a vibrant red and he puts his reading glasses aside. He takes a second to rub his eyes with an incredible amount of vigour. You wait patiently and politely, watching him tug down the sleeves of his hoodie then push them back up. Those long fingers swipe through his hair once, twice. Finally, he crosses his arms and nods sharply.
“Yes,” he says. “I have.”
Oh.
The subject of your abstract thought suddenly becomes a tangible reality. You cannot get the unbidden mental image out of your head: Jeongin, knuckle-deep in the very wet, very soft heat of someone lucky, wringing every last bit of pleasure out of them. It is unexpectedly easy to imagine yourself in their place, his dark head between your thighs and his steady arm at work.
You cross your legs. He notices.
“Would you mind showing me?” you ask.
“Showing you?” he repeats, his thick eyebrows high on his face. “Showing you?”
“Yes,” you say. You are so preoccupied with your mental image that it takes a moment to realize your phrasing might be misconstrued. “Not like that!”
He jumps in surprise.
“Oh my god.” You put your hands over your face again. “I meant… abstractly. Draw it. Or tell me. I didn’t mean—oh my goodness.”
His ears are still red but Jeongin dissolves into giggles again. Your mortification works wonders on his dimples.
“I’m not very good at drawing,” he teases, patting you on the head.
“Oh my goodness,” is all you manage.
His laughter is infectious, overpowering your embarrassment until you are giggling with him.
“I’m sorry,” you say when the laughter finally slows. You smile, chagrined and apologetic. “It was a stupid question in the first place. I’m really embarrassed.”
“No, don’t be,” he says, waving his hand. “You can tell me anything. I was just… surprised.”
“Yeah, so was he,” you say, making both of you laugh again.
When the laughter subsides a second time, Jeongin sighs. He puts his discarded glasses back on, blinking his vision into his focus and smiling at you. After the last few minutes of conversation, that smiles gives you butterflies. You touch a hand to your stomach as if to still them, but they flutter away.
“I have an idea,” he says, holding out his hand.
“Oh no,” you say but take that hand without hesitation. “Am I about to regret so many things?”
“What? No. When have I ever had a bad idea?” he asks while laughing, no doubt in recollection of every combined bad idea your friendship has conjured.
You can hardly judge him for any bad ideas, though, seeing as you waltzed in here today asking your friend if he had ever made someone squirt. It sounds very ridiculous in hindsight, but you truly do trust Jeongin so much that the idea seemed reasonable at the time.
Now you are in his bedroom, hovering by the bedside while he plops down on his bed with a sigh. He adjusts his glasses and the neck of his hoodie, like this is all protocol and not remotely unusual. He takes a pillow and lays it gingerly across his lap, then looks up and beckons you forward with the come-hither crook of two fingers. His smirk is suggestive but playful, just teasing you, but it awakens those butterflies again.
“Come on,” he says. “Sit. I’ll, um, show you.”
“Show me?” you say, eying the pillow in his lap. “Yang Jeongin, are you… about to defile that pillow?”
“Yes,” he says, nodding solemnly. “We’re gonna make it squirt.”
“You know when I asked if you had ever done it before, I meant on a human…”
“Wow! I’m helping you with a visual demonstration and you insult me—!”
“Aha, I’m sorry!” You burst into laughter at the incredulity on his face. When he pushes the pillow off his lap with a show of dramatics, you wave your hands just as theatrically. “I mean it, I mean it,” you say, though your laughter contradicts the sincerity of your words. “Please help me. I’m sorry, hahaha, I was just teasing, I need your help, please!”
He tries to stand up but you block him, shuffling every time he leans. He finally grabs your hips to move you but you grab his shoulders. Your wrestling is a light-hearted tussle, but then he starts tickling you and you stand no chance of survival. You turn into a flailing, yelping mess, laughing as you spill across the bed with your arms around each other. He tortures you another second, forcing another apology out of your mouth.
When it is over, you lay there, panting. He is leaning over you, his hands on your waist, yours on his shoulders. Your friend likes to laugh but a very serious look crosses his face. He looks at you like he is studying you, discovering some detail for the first time even though he has known you for years. It is like you can feel his stare, a caress across your cheek, across your lips. You take your bottom lip into your mouth, wetting it.
He takes a slow, deep breath.
“That man was crazy,” he says. His voice is lower than before, scratching above a whisper. “You’re perfect. He just didn’t care about getting to know you. And that sucks for him because you—” His voice breaks, the little squeak making him laugh, a small embarrassed sound. The tips of his ears are red and he avoids meeting your gaze. “You’re beautiful,” he says, “inside and out. Any man would be lucky to be with you.”
“Jeongin,” you say softly, because what else can you say?
He meets your gaze. His mouth is open like he wants to say more but he can only stare at you. Eventually, he laughs. He rubs the back of his neck as he sits up straight. You sit up as well, staring at him while he adjusts his glasses.
“Right,” he says. “The, uh, the pillow. I, um…”
It might have been amusing, watching him poke a pillow suggestively. But you no longer care about that. The energy in this room has changed, the whole world melting under the power of his words, changing the very shape of this space. When you take a breath, all you smell is his cologne, masculine and smoky, all you see is your friend, in his hoodie and glasses with his blushing cheeks, and all you want is him. Like this. Right now.
He reaches for the pillow and you reach for him. You take his hand and he looks at you, blinking with surprise.
You turn his hand over. He really does have nice hands, long fingers, deft and strong. You measure it against your own. Then you guide his hand to your lips and kiss the tips of his fingers. You look at him, making your eyes big, your lashes fluttering.
“Oh,” he says. “Oh.”
You laugh. He cups your face and draws you close and you are both smiling when your lips come together. Despite his blush, the kiss is ravishing. You find yourself gasping for a breath, whimpering when he sucks your bottom lip.
“Lay down please,” he says, speaking against your mouth.
You nod. Those butterflies are wild inside you. You are certain you already look like an unravelled mess, laying on your back and breathing hard.
He leans over you, catching your hand when you reach for him. He kisses your palm, your fingers bumping his glasses, making you giggle. He smiles too, the kiss lingering. Your whole arm tingles even when he stops. He guides your hand above your head, curling your fingers around the bars of his headboard.
“You keep your hands where they are or I'll tie them up,” he says, but laughs at your surprised expression before the words can settle. “You said yourself, you think too much,” he explains. “Just lay there. Don’t move. Don’t think. Let me take care of you.” He puts a leg between yours, pushing forward with his hips to guide yours apart. He fits there perfectly, pressing his body against yours. Your breath catches. “You can trust me,” he says, and somehow that gets you going more than any sexy come-on.
You trust him more than anyone. You did not hesitate coming to him with an embarrassing story. You ran to him before anyone else. You always seek him out first.
You know you are safe in his hands.
“Do whatever you want with me,” you say. You never make that sort of offer, but it feels so natural here and now. With him. “I’m yours.”
“Whatever I want?” he says, his smile big and dimples deep. He leans down, kissing your cheek then under your jaw. When he kisses your throat, it is hot, open-mouthed kiss, all teeth and tongue. It sends sparks shooting down your whole body, your hips bucking. He is strong, the weight of him between your legs pinning you to the mattress. You feel him, firm, hard, his whole body riding the rhythm of yours.
He has not even undone a single button.
“Whatever I want,” he repeats. “That’s a big offer.”
His hands, those gorgeous hands that had you captivated, slide up your thighs and under your skirt. He stares down into your face while lifting the material, leaving a trail of goosebumps all the way up your thighs. You feel yourself clench, a sharp pulse of need in your core. Your body is thoughtless in its hunger and it feels so good to give into it.
“Sometimes,” he says, “all I think about this… nothing extreme… just you like this… just us together…”
Every breath of a phrase is punctuated with a kiss, down your chest, your stomach, your thighs. You are not expecting him to kiss you through your underwear, your hips bucking when he opens his mouth and ravishes you regardless of the barrier. When you have soaked through the flimsy material, he finally hooks his pinkies into the fabric and tugs it down.
You do not have time to be shy, just desperate to get them off. He pushes your thighs back, folding you in half, then goes back to eating your pussy like he has all the time in the world, like there is no where he would rather be. Your legs shake, your toes curling, body held firmly in his capable hands as he licks you hungrily.
“Jeongin,” you gasp.
“You taste like heaven,” is his reply.
It is so cheesy but it makes you laugh, a happy sound that rumbles in your chest, that couples with pleasure and leaves your whole body singing. You feel like you could float away.
You are pliant, soft and malleable in his hands. He really can do anything with you. It does not scare you one bit. You trust him, following his direction when he rolls you onto your side. You gasp at his hand sliding under your shirt, squeezing your breasts, finding every sensitive nerve as he feels you up.
“Don’t think,” he says, one arm around your chest and the other sliding down between your legs. “Just feel, okay?”
“Mmm,” is your only reply.
You are so ready for him, wound up from his dirty kisses, taut with tension. By the time those long fingers are inside you, it feels like completion rather than intrusion. He fits like he belongs there, curling his fingers against places you never knew were sensitive. It is like your body gives way, revealing all your secrets to his searching touch.
“That’s it,” he says when your breathing gets erratic.
You did not even realize he had found somewhere extra sensitive, not until he is already fucking it slowly. By the time you realize just how soft you are there, it is too late to brace yourself. He adds another finger and your body tightens around him. Your eyes close and you see stars, gasping and rocking and almost crying at the dizzying swirl of sensation.
“Oh, Jeongin,” you say. His name is all you say for another minute. It is the sound on your lips when he moves you, when he turns his hand just slightly, when the new angle sets off a chain reaction of feeling. You cry out, clenching sporadically around his rapidly moving fingers. You yank a corner of the bedspread right off the mattress.
Your orgasm seems to go on forever, pulsing and aching and clenching. Your whole body feels boneless by the time it settles and he slips his fingers free.
“Oops,” he says, adjusting his skewed glasses with his clean hand. “Should’ve put a towel down after all.”
You look down and whimper at the obvious wetness on his bedsheets. You would apologize but he does not look sorry at all. In fact, he grins, looking very satisfied with himself.
You are in a state of utter disarray and he is still fully clothed, having shattered your world with just one hand. It makes you laugh, giddy.
Your arms finally drop. Though it takes a minute, you find a little strength and push yourself up. He is smiling when you climb into his lap. He even winks at you when he puts his wet fingers in his mouth.
You open your mouth too. You hold his gaze while he puts his fingers in your mouth, his breath catching when you suck them eagerly.
“I want something more,” you say.
“Do whatever you want with me,” he echoes your words back to you. “I’m yours.”
He is right about the simplest fantasy making for a wonderous reality. There are no expectations of any over-the-top actions; it is enough it is you and him, together. Clothing ends up scattered around his room, then you are in his lap and he is holding your waist, and you are holding the bars behind his head as you ride him where he sits against the headboard.
His glasses get askew but you fix them, laughing against his smile before kissing him again. It is for nothing because they fall off a second later, when he grabs you and moves, putting you on your back to fuck you at another angle. He slides a hand between you, rubbing at you, working you up. Your head falls back, your whole body tingling with the approach of another orgasm.
“Yes, yes,” he says, no doubt feeling you get tight around him. It is his moaning that sets you off, your legs around his hips, pulling him in close as you come together.
He kisses all over your face, both of you laughing when he slightly misses your lips. You find his glasses and put them back on him, meeting his re-focussed gaze and smiling.
“Was that an okay demonstration?” he teases. “Like I said, I’m not very good at drawing.”
“Maybe so,” you tease back, running your fingers through his hair. “I might need another one. Just to be sure.”
“Just to be sure,” he says, nodding very sagely. “Good idea. Maybe after that, I’ll take you out to dinner. Then we better come back here and try again.”
“Just to be sure,” you say.
“Just to be sure,” he agrees.
You are already smiling when he kisses you.
You have never been more sure about anything in your life.
♡ Summary - You haven’t seen Hyunjin since the CamStar convention but he’s been on your mind and you’ve been on his. Today’s the day of your collaboration with him, a spicy show for hundreds to watch but the cam is the last thing on your mind.
♡ A/N: I started this as soon as I saw that gif of Hyunjin on live. I wrote this based on one of the many thoughts that gif brought me but it took me FOREVER to complete this. I'm glad that I can at least post it on his birthday! This is the longest fic I've written on this account and I'm proud of it. I hope that you enjoy! 💕+ reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ MDNI
♡ Warnings: Use of marijuana and alcohol, Foot worship/play, unprotected piv, exhibitionism? - That should be all, let me know if I missed any!
You’ve had a month to prepare for tonight's plans. Everything around you is perfect, your sheets are soft and clean. Your set is lit to perfection and the new matching co-ords that you're sporting for tonight's show were picked out carefully by you and your best friend, Felix, who happens to be a close friend of tonight's guest. You’ve confided in your friend for weeks about your guest's preferences to try and calm your nerves but he didn’t tell you anything that you didn’t already know.
You would think that maintaining a spot as one of the top five creators on CamStar for two years would make you feel more like a seasoned professional but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Every time that you think about the fact that you’re about to collaborate with Hyunjin, one of the top three male creators on the site, you want to scream and kick your feet like a flustered school girl. Hyunjin is the epitome of beauty, that might sound a bit extreme but it’s true. He’s captivating and shameless with what he does, always begging the chat to let him cum and making such intense and sexy eye contact with the lens that you feel like you’re right there with him. You’ve gotten off to his cams more times than you’d ever admit to him and according to Felix his friend has done the same to yours.
The mirror would be sick of seeing you if it were a person because here you are standing in front of it for the hundredth time tonight brushing off your short shorts and pulling up your tube top. The deep golden yellow fabric is nearly see through against you and you can’t help but to think that maybe you should change. Maybe this is too much? I mean yeah you’re about to be naked on camera for others across the internet to see and you’re more than comfortable in this outfit but what if Hyunjin doesn’t like it? Felix said that he thinks that his friend will go speechless when he sees you but what if he’s wrong? What if - oh fuck, he’s here.
The echo of the doorbell through your living room leaves you frozen for a second too long before you break into a soft jog over to your front door. You slide across the hardwood with your fuzzy pineapple print socks and take a deep breath as you twist the knob. There he is. Your eyes meet his for a second and you both smile as you take each other in. He’s chosen his usual laid back attire for tonight's show as you expected. His oversized Hilfiger t-shirt and black cargo sweats don't surprise you one bit but you seemed to have caught him a bit off guard with your choice of threads tonight.
“Hey, you’re early.” Hyunjin stares at you, wide eyed and silent for a second too long before he’s clearing his throat and lifting his gaze from your bare thighs to your eyes.
“Yeah, I uh - roads were clearer than I thought.” You step aside, inviting him in and you can feel the nervous pit in your stomach deepen as he brushes past you.
“I told you they would be.” Once he slips his shoes off and drops his bag at the door the two of you stand in awkward silence as you steal glances and open and close your mouths for what feels like an eternity.
“It’s uh- good to see you.” He leans in for a hug, wrapping his arms around your waist and you follow his lead, lacing your arms around his neck as you sigh.
“We’re being such losers right now.” The vibration of his chuckle as he pulls away brings a smile to your face.
“Can you blame me? I haven’t seen you in what? Five months? Maybe six.” You hum, making your way over to your couch and plopping down onto the soft cherry red cushion.
“Six months, yeah. I mean, we’ve kinda kept in touch since the convention.”
“Commenting on instagram photos and retweeting posts do not count as keeping in touch and you know it.” A blush creeps across your cheeks as he sits next to you, elbows resting on his knees and that damned smirk on his lips. It’s the same one that he uses during his livestreams, the same one that you’ve cum to over and over again.
“Yeah I know, I know.” You cross your legs underneath you, turning towards him. “You dyed your hair?”
“Yeah, wanted to do something different. I haven’t gone live with it yet so tonight will be the debut for this look.”
“I’m honored that you’ve chosen to debut it with me.” Your fingers rake through his soft locks as you take in the new cut.
“Of course, Princess.” The fact that you aren’t gasping for air right now and appear to be keeping your cool is actually magic. Pure witchcraft, honestly. How can someone make a pet name sound so good? “I need to get used to calling you that so I don’t say your name on cam.”
Your blush deepens as you stare down at his lap. Right, you forgot that you go by Princess when you’re on cam. He’s only calling you that cause that’s what you go by, gosh are you that down bad already?
“I don’t have to change much, Jinnie.” You sing his name a bit and he smiles at the sound of it.
“You’re lucky that I go by my name or else you’d have to moan something outlandish like Your Majesty or something.” You fall into a laughing fit, falling onto his shoulder dramatically for support. “Maybe I’ll have you call me that since you seem to enjoy it so much.”
His laugh mirrors yours as he watches you, your head resting on his shoulder with your eyes shut and your mouth hung open as you try to catch your breath. He’s never heard a prettier laugh in his life, he swears it. “Please do not make me call you that I won’t be able to keep a straight face.”
“You already won’t be able to do that though.” He grins as your laughing dies down and you take a final deep breath. Your previous laughter has started to turn into something else entirely. You can feel the heat start to surround the two of you but you’re not even on set or in front of the camera yet. This is what happened last time that you and Hyunjin were together. Everyone at the convention swore that you two had undeniable chemistry.
“I would say that you’ll have to get used to moaning Princess but something tells me that you already have experience with that.” His eyebrows raise as he leans back into your couch.
“What gives you that idea?”
“Word on the street is that you watch my shows.” There goes that smirk again. He lets his head fall back against the back of your couch as he sighs a bit.
“Is that right?” He lifts his head, inspecting your matching smirk as he licks over his bottom lip. “Well what if I told you that I heard that you are a big fan of my shows too.”
Your blush is back as you tongue your cheek. Damn Felix and his big mouth! Why would he tell him that? Just play it cool. “Where did you get that information?”
“From the same street that you got your information.” The eye contact that the two of you hold is strong and hot like a steady flame. You watch as his eyes trail from your lips and down the curve of your neck for just a second before rushing back up to meet your gaze but instead of his honey pupils meeting yours he’s met with the view of your own lustful gaze trailing down the slope of his toned arm.
You’ve done other collabs with people that you're close to and some that you’ve only spoken to for a couple of hours at a convention so you can confidently say that you have never felt as titillated as you do with Hyunjin right now. To be fair, you didn’t have a crush on any of those other people.
You may not talk to Hyunjin as much as you desire to but you’ve watched every single one of his cams and SFW Q & A’s as well as his YouTube vlogs that you only just found out about days after you asked him to collab with you. He’s mentioned his art to you before but it wasn’t until you came across his channel that you saw just how good he is with a brush or almost any other medium. That mixed with being able to enjoy his everyday lifestyle content and his breathtaking dance covers has made you feel closer to him than you felt before. Though you do find it kind of embarrassing that you’ve gotten close to him through a screen instead of real life.
Little do you know that Hyunjin is no better than you when it comes to consuming an unspeakable amount of your content. Every single cam that you’ve ever done has been viewed by him at least once and he’s not ashamed to say that he’s even paid to view the premium content.
He found out about your lifestyle and mental health blog around the same time that you found out about his YouTube channel and he proceeded to scroll all the way down to your first post and back up again. He watched each and every one of your advice videos on the site and has read every word that you’ve ever written and posted. He found himself falling in love with the way that your mind works. He loves the way that you look at life and how you’re able to transform your feelings into breath-taking statements. He nearly forgot about your cams when he found your site.
“So you think that I’m used to moaning your name?” His question pulls your attention back up to his gaze.
“Maybe you moan it in your free time.” You shrug with a wink, turning away from him quickly but luckily you don’t miss the smile and blush that he tries to hide from you.
“I could say the same for you.” He grumbles under his breath as he lets his head fall back against the couch again. You both sit silently, trying your best not to smile like an idiot in front of the other. “Did you pre-game?”
“Uh no not yet, didn’t know if you wanted to join.” You stand, raising your arms to stretch a bit and shamelessly giving him the perfect view of your ass in your shorts. “I know it’s not really your thing.”
“Mm.” He must be enjoying the view. “I’m your guest, I follow your vibe. I don’t mind joining you.”
You hum, making your way over to the black box on your TV stand. “You smoke?”
“Yeah, casually, mostly just with Felix or at parties and shit like that.”
“I didn’t know. Do you have a favorite strain? I have just about everything.” He falls into silent thought as you take your seat next to him, setting the box in your arms on the table and starting to set up.
“Purple Runtz, I think. I smoked that one before a cam once and I felt ten times more sensitive.” He sits up, leaning forward to watch as you open your box which basically serves as a mini dispensary. Your interest in weed goes way beyond just getting high for the fuck of it. It’s been the best remedy for your anxiety since you tried it but then again you don’t owe anyone an explanation on why you always have a blunt rolled and ready.
“Ou, I love that one, I think I have some of that. My favorite is Apollo 11, it makes me feel so relaxed and fucking brainless. My anxiety evaporates as soon as I hit it.”
“Are you anxious tonight?” You don’t look over at him. You simply grin as you continue to search for your favorite pipe. You actually aren’t too nervous about tonight's show, something about having Hyunjin here is grounding.
“Not really but I still wanna take a hit or two.” He nods, reaching for the pipe that you laid out on your coffee table.
“How the hell did you get your pipe so clean?” You giggle as you finally find the strains you both mentioned earlier and take a bit out for the both of you.
“That’s a secret, your majesty.” You erupt into your second fit of laughter for the night when you look over and get a glimpse of the most wicked side eye you’ve ever seen.
“Fuck you.”
“You will soon.” You pick out your favorite grinder and close your box. “Want anything else?”
“Got any soju?” You pause, turning around slowly to face him with a raised brow.
“You want to get cross faded?”
“Not really, I don’t drink much just up to the first line of a solo cup. That’s more of my thing than smoking, really.” He shrugs, placing your pipe back down onto the table.
“I mean, if you think that you can handle it. I do want you to remember the night, you know?”
“I’m not a teenager, I can handle it. I’ve done it before and it’s not like I’m smoking an entire blunt by myself.” You proceed grinding the buds as he stands from your couch.
“Your kitchen is…” He walks towards the archway of your living room and mumbles a small ‘there’ when he spots the dark kitchen right across the narrow hallway.
“Soju is on the top shelf of the cabinet next to the fridge.” You call out as you start to fill the bowl of your purple glass pipe.
“So high up for such a little person.” He calls back as you hear the cabinet close.
“Solo cups are on top of the fridge and fuck off tall person.” You can hear the faint echo of his chuckle as he fixes his drink. You take the couple of seconds that you’re waiting for him as an opportunity to light the bowl and take the first hit.
“A yellow solo? Really? You know that the red solo cups are the sexy ones.” You stifle a chuckle in a desperate attempt not to choke on the smoke in your lungs. He brings the cup to his lips quickly before taking the pipe that you're offering him.
“Sexy?” You question following your exhale. “What makes the red ones sexy?”
“The sense of mystery.” He mumbles as he exhales over his shoulder. “I just never see the yellow ones.” You hum, taking the pipe back and peaking into his cup.
“Hyunjin, that’s way more than just the bottom of the cup.” The corner of his mouth twitches as he offers you the cup.
“That’s because I got just a bit more to share with you.”
“I didn’t say that I wanted any.” You tease.
“True, you don’t have to have any. Just thought of you since I came to your house and started drinking your liquor.” You set your pipe down and take the cup from Hyunjin’s hand silently before turning to him completely and holding your pinky out.
“I’ll have some but I just need us to promise something first.” He turns to face you completely, glancing down at your finger with a faint grin. “I get high before almost every cam and I know that you’re aware of that but I’ve never really done it with anyone else. Well, not on cam. I just want us to be comfortable.”
He holds his pinky out to you, wrapping it around yours without question. “I promise that I’ll be fine and that I’m more than okay with everything that will happen tonight. If I’m uncomfortable I’ll tell you, you’ll do the same, right? I only want to make you feel good, nothing else.”
“I promise that I’ll be fine too. I’ll tell you everything. I’ll communicate so much that you’ll want me to shut up.” The two of you had already discussed your limits beforehand and you’ve both done your research on the other person - whether it be for business or personal benefits varies - but you feel yourself relax further now that you’ve heard him say that he’ll be fine. Pinky promises are like a contract after all.
“Impossible, I could never want such a thing.” You let go of his finger and he follows, a grin on both of your faces as he reaches for his cup but you beat him to it. “We’re sharing the bowl and the drink anyway, It’ll literally just be the tip of the iceberg.” He’s right, this isn’t enough to fuck you guys up, not with the tolerance that you have. It’s just enough to make you both melt and feel loose enough to drop your masks a little faster.
“You know what we should do?” He takes the cup as you pass it to him, drinking from the same spot on the cusp that you just did. Did he mean to do that? Was that like an indirect kiss? Or are you really that down bad for him already? Fuck, get a grip. “We should start a bit early, maybe just sit and talk to set the mood?”
“You can’t smoke on cam though.” He takes another sip as you finish your second hit.
“Let’s start after the bowl then. We can share the drink and just chill? Get a feel of everything and vibe check the chat.” He hums, choking a bit on his inhale but recovering pretty quickly, he must do this more frequently than you thought. He clears his throat taking a sip of soju to substitute one burn for another.
“That’s fine with me, Princess.”
“You never told me if I look okay.” The two of you finished smoking maybe fifteen minutes ago and decided to move to your office to start getting comfortable on set.
“That’s because I didn’t trust myself to say something that didn’t sound lame.” Hyunjin makes himself comfortable on your sofa bed, yellow solo cup in hand while he pushes his hair out of his face.
“That was then, what about now?”
“Now I can confidently say that you look absolutely breath-taking.” The soft sound of R&B music playing across the room fills in the silence after his answer. Your content giggling and smiling while you set up your camera and adjust your laptop is enough feedback for him. “What’s the second cam for?”
“Oh, collabs aren’t available in my archive to try and encourage more people to watch them. So if anyone misses this they’re assed out but I do like to record collabs for myself to watch back later.”
“Yeah? Gonna get off to me fucking you later?” The weed and soju are definitely doing their job for him. His playful and teasing nature has been on full display since the two of you finished smoking. Your mask is dropped too so you have no problem matching his energy.
“Maybe, better put on an unforgettable show.” He tongues his cheek, eyeing your glossed lips. He can’t wait to smear that red tint across your cheeks, he’ll definitely give you an unforgettable show. You settle next to him, draping your bare legs over his clothed lap.
“You’ve seen my cams.” His eyes meet yours slowly. “So you know that I will.”
“Then let’s do this.” You lean forward to hit ‘Go Live’ but Hyunjin stops you before you can press it.
“Hold on, I wanted to do something first.” He takes your hand gently as he leans forward to sit the yellow cup on the table in front of the both of you. You hum, staring at him with pinched brows but when he pushes your hair from your face and runs his thumb over your cheek bone you can’t help but to let go of the tension in your face.
“I don’t really want our first kiss to be on cam, if you don’t mind.” A grin creeps up on you as he searches your eyes, leaning in so closely that you can feel his breath tickling your lips.
“Can I kiss you?” You answer him by leaning in and pressing your lips against his. He sighs into you as his lips move against yours. Soft, gentle and only for you. His other hand finds your waist and he pulls you closer to him until your racing heart is nearly against his own. You let out a soft moan as you feel his tongue trace the seam of your mouth. Once he hears that sweet sound he knows that he has to pull away or else the two of you will never turn that camera on and he’ll keep every inch of you to himself. You notice his reluctance as he pulls away but the look in his eyes once they flutter open and meet yours makes you forget about everything except the feeling of him against you.
“You’re smiling.” You turn away at his comment trying to hide your face from him but he turns your head back, a matching smile on his lips.
“You kissed me, of course I’m smiling.”
“Does that mean that you like me?” You turn away from him, groaning playfully as you avoid his gaze.
“Are you ready now? Or are you going to keep flirting with me?” His chuckle brings back the smile that you’re fighting to get rid of and it excites the butterflies in your stomach all over again. Luckily for you Hyunjin is just as down bad as you are, his stomach is doing somersaults right now and he swears that his heart is beating out of his chest.
“I’m ready.”
The chat went from being chill with just about ninety people watching to absolutely overflowing as soon as your usual air time hit. You’re used to having a large audience but the number on your screen is nearly more than double what it usually is thanks to your special guest.
Jinnie! You dyed your hair.
They look so hot together omg
I’d do anything to be between the two of them right now
Can he handle our Princess?
You and Hyunjin skim through the buzzing chat, responding to the comments that catch your eye.
“So many comments about my hair. I just did it because I wanted to impress you all, did it work?” He winks at the camera, his signature smirk on his lips as he brings the cup up to take a sip. He tilts the cup towards you once he sips from it but you bring your hand up to play in his hair instead.
“It’s so soft, like, you all would not believe it. I really like the black on him, don’t you?” His eyes meet yours as he licks his lips.
“Are you impressed?” It’s your turn to smirk as you take the cup from him, brushing your fingertips over the back of his hand in the process.
“Let’s save the reviews for after the show.” You offer a quick wink as you sip from the cup. He tongues his cheek as he focuses back on the chat but his hands are only focused on you.
His fingers are having a field day as they trace sensitive circles and lines into your calves and thighs. He kneads at the flesh softly as he makes conversation with the viewers that he recognizes, but you can’t seem to focus on chat right now. Not when your crushes' big hands are massaging every inch of exposed skin he can reach.
Hyunjin notices that you’re a bit spaced out, so he asks you a question to help you refocus. The conversation kind of turns into an impromptu story time that consists of you and Hyunjin telling the viewers and each other about the other collabs that you’ve done. The further that you get into the show, the closer you and Hyunjin get. You’ve gone from just having your calves draped over his lap to moving closer and putting your arm over his shoulder. That has led you to how you are right now, his arm around your waist with your legs draped over his lap and your head on his shoulder. Your breath is tickling that sweet spot on his neck, and he’s trying desperately to focus on the timbre of your laugh instead of how eager he is to touch you. You’re laughing about something that probably isn’t that funny - thanks to the weed - when Hyunjin reads a comment out loud.
“Looks like you got a tip and a request.” He leans a bit closer to the screen, pushing his hair out of his face and licking his lips as he reads the request to you. “Your socks are cute but I want to see your pretty toes.”
“Mm would you take them off for me, Jinnie?” He sighs at the way that you make his name sound so sweet yet sexy at the same time. He’s already rock hard in his sweats from how close you are to him, he can’t possibly handle your pretty voice saying his name like that too
“Ask me again.” Actually, he can take it. He’ll definitely explode later but right now he wants to take all that he can get. “You sounded so sweet the first time I just need to hear it again.”
“What if I'm not sweet this time?”
“Indulge me, Princess.” A mindless giggle escapes you as you lean in and run your fingers through his hair. You stop right when your lips brush the shell of his ear and whisper.
“Will you please take them off for me…” You suck in a slow breath and Hyunjin’s eyes flutter shut for just a second. “Your majesty .” His eyes squeeze shut and he folds forward in a fit of laughter that you quickly reciprocate.
“You’re so fucking stupid.” He sits up, trying to catch his breath the best he can so that he can fulfill your request.
“Then you should have no problem fucking me dumb.” You fake a pout at him through your laughter.
“Come here.” You bend your knees, bringing your feet to his lap to give him better access. Your laughter quickly dies down when you get a feel of his hard cock under the soles of your feet. It would be a shame not to help him with that. As Hyunjin removes one of your socks you press the ball of your naked foot against his clothed shaft lightly, just enough for a delicious hiss to escape him.
He moves to remove your other sock and you repeat your previous actions, pressing against his hard cock with the other foot and then following with both. Hyunjin's hands run over the tops of your feet as he watches you massage his dick over his pants. It’s too subtle for your mic to catch but you can hear his breathing start to pick up as you work against him. “Pretty.” He mumbles, his voice thick with desire. You grin at him lazily, the effects of both strains of weed is starting to hit you a bit harder now that the heat between you and Hyunjin is starting to pick up.
“You think my toes are pretty?” He nods, his eyes darkened with lust. One of his hands runs up your calf, his grip gentle but firm. You arch your back, pushing your hips forward and inviting him closer while he leans in, bringing one of your feet up to his mouth with a feather light grip on your ankle and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your foot. A shiver runs down your spine as you watch him.
“So pretty.” His voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough for your mic to pick up but quiet enough to know that he’s talking to you and only you. It’s like he’s forgotten about the chat and if he is to be completely honest, he did, just for a moment. The feeling of your foot pressed against his dick is so intoxicating, how could he not? “Can I suck them?”
“I’ve never done that before.” The wide nervous smile and breathy chuckle that follows your confession leaves Hyunjin smiling too. He presses another kiss to the top of your foot, this time it’s sloppier and it sends another chill down your spine, are you into this?
“Do you want to try it?” You’ve never felt shy when doing a cam before. Not even when you first started, so why are you covering your eyes and giggling like a drunk teenager at the mention of having your toes sucked? “Aren’t these feet just too pretty, chat? Shouldn’t they be worshiped appropriately?”
I’d give anything to be Princess right now
Such pretty feet need to be praised
Hyunjin’s question received more than a few comments back and nearly double the amount of tips but truthfully, you were already sold the minute that he asked to do it. Who in their right mind would say no to having those beautiful blushed lips on them?
“I’ll try it.” Your bright eyes meet Hyunjin’s for just a second as he silently asks for confirmation. You nod your head, a goofy smile on your face as you lean back on your palms. He presses soft sloppy kisses to the top of your foot, adding more pressure and tongue as he trails down. His eyes stay on yours when he kisses your pinky toe, adding so much tongue that he’s practically licking it into his mouth. Your smile drops as he does the same to the next toe, you watch with parted lips and bated breath as he sucks on the digit, swirling his tongue over your purple pedicure and effectively making you gush between your thighs.
“Why the fuck does that feel so good?” Your question comes out as more of a quivering moan than you meant for it to but you’re way too entranced in this pleasure to give a fuck about how you sound.
He smirks, his eyes twinkling with a soft desire to unravel you further. “Because I'm good at it.” His lips and tongue leave a trail of wet heat as he continues, his slow and deliberate movements build you up perfectly.
Something tells you that this is going to be a good show.
You can't help but let out a sharp gasp as his lips close around your big toe. Why is that one ten times more sensitive? “Oh fuck.” Your eyes flutter shut and you throw your head back with your lips parted in a euphoric smile. You puff out a small sigh of relief followed by a mindless giggle as he continues to lavish attention on your toes. “This is my new favorite thing.”
“Having your toes sucked?” He plants a sloppy kiss on the top of your foot as he lowers it back to his lap. “Or having me suck them?” He moves his hands to your thighs and parts your legs he sinks the tips of his fingers into your thigh as he pulls you forward into his lap. You gasp at the sudden shift, trying your best to stifle a giggle.
“You can answer that when it’s just you and me if you want.” His hands move to grab at the curve of your ass and you smile down at him, we can’t let him have all of the fun can we?
The moan that escapes Hyunjin when you wrap your hand around his throat and pull his face towards yours is enough to make your ego explode. It’s only now that he’s so close to you that you can see how his eyes have a faint red tint from the weed, they’re droopy and have the tiniest fucked out glaze to them as they stare back into yours.
“You sure are talking a lot for someone who needs me on their cock.” You swirl your hips against him, pressing your soaked core against the tent in his pants. You can’t help to resent the clothes keeping you away from each other, you much rather be grinding on his bare length right now. “Shouldn’t you be begging for me instead?”
"Make me beg for it." His words huff out in a shaky breath, his large hands swiftly and mindlessly gripping your plush hips as you grind against him slowly.
"Show me how much you want it." He attempts to lean forward and catch your lips with his but you dodge him a bit before he can reach you. “Use your words, baby.”
The second that you call him baby Hyunjin swears that he could melt in your hands. He’s no stranger to the sweet name but hearing it fall from your lips makes every other time someone has called him that feel bitter. “You’re gonna drive me crazy.”
You halt all movement and he whines in protest. He attempts to buck up into you but you press down to stop him. “Let me hear you beg for me.”
“Please let me kiss you, let me taste you.” His pleading voice is barely above a whisper. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, his pounding heart is all that he hears as he awaits your response. Your hand slides up the back of his neck, lacing through his raven locks and pulling lightly. “Please, I need you.”
“You sound so pretty.” You lean in and kiss him, smiling against him as he cups your face with both hands and deepens the kiss. His lips move over yours with a hunger that you’ve never experienced before.
His rhythm is gentle yet desperate like he’s savoring the taste of you. Your hands run over his strong shoulders and trail down to explore each curve of his bicep. You brush your fingers over the muscles, moaning when you feel them flex beneath your fingertips, the simple reaction prompts you to grind into him a bit harder earning a pleased groan to vibrate through him. Your hands are caressing the smooth skin of his forearms when his tongue swipes across the seam of your mouth and you promptly grant him access.
Your hands fall to rest on his chest, balling the fabric of his shirt into a fist and your brain blanks out, there’s not a single thought going through that pretty head once the taste of him floods your tongue. He tastes more like Soju than he does weed and there’s a hint of mint from the gum that he was chewing beforehand.
“Chat…” Hyunjin pulls back, his eyes stay on you while he talks to the audience that you completely forgot about. Forgetting that you’re live with hundreds of people watching seems to be a running theme tonight. “You think I should take her top off?” His eyes trail down the curve of your neck until they reach the hem of your strapless top that’s leaving very little to the imagination.
“It’s so tiny how the fuck does it stay on?” You laugh a bit harder than intended at his question causing your top to slip down a bit. “Oh, fuck can you do me a favor? Bounce in my lap, I wanna see your top fall down.”
“You want me to bounce in your lap?” You coo with a sweet yet teasing tone. “Like this?” You bounce lightly, grinding down on his pulsing erection each time you come down.
“Shit, baby, please.” You continue to bounce in his lap lightly, feeling your top slip down little by little.
“Is this how you want me to ride you, Jinnie?” You bat your lashes at him, his hands find a home on your waist, digging his fingers into the flesh.
“Such a fucking tease.” The smile on his face quickly dissolves once your top finally gives way, you continue to grind against him slowly as he takes in the sight. “ Gosh, you’re gorgeous.”
One of his hands slides up the curve of your waist and cups at your bare breast, kneading the mound slowly while pinching and twirling your nipple. It doesn’t take long for his other hand to follow suit. “Shit, they’re sensitive.” You moan at the contact, whining a bit when he pinches harder.
“Yeah? Can you cum from this, Princess? Gonna soak my lap from getting your nipples pinched?” You whimper, arousal flooding your - already ruined - shorts as you arch into his touch. “ Her shorts should come off next, shouldn’t they, chat?”
“Nuh uh, Your shirt is next.”
“Can’t wait to get me naked, huh?” He reluctantly moves his hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion and revealing his beautifully built body to you. Hyunjin doesn’t usually get completely naked for his cams, eighty percent of the time he’ll keep his shirt on or just pull down his jeans enough to free his cock but he agreed to do it with you when the two of you were talking about your limits. “Happy?”
“Very.” You mindlessly run your hand over his chest, taking in every bit of him. You’re interrupted by the warm feeling of his hands snaking up your thighs and messing with the hem of your shorts. He taps your outer thigh twice, his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth as he waits for you to follow his silent command. “Can't wait to get me naked, huh?”
You mimic his previous statement and he offers a dark and airy chuckle in return. The banter between you two is not helping how hard he is right now. He’s always liked that about you, he likes that you always have something to say back. “Damn right.”
You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts, keeping steady eye contact with Hyunjin as you remove them. He moans at the sight of you bare before him, the previous petting your thighs has turned into him digging into the soft flesh in an attempt to control himself. “No panties, Princess?”
“They’d just get ruined.” You grab at the hem of his sweats, fumbling with the drawstring and trying to not make your desperation too obvious. Once you undo the bow he helps you pull his pants off of his hips only to find him bare underneath. “No underwear, Jinnie?” He smiles, chuckling a bit with a shrug.
“You’d just rip them off of me anyway.” You laugh loud, hitting his arm and throwing his sweats to the side.
“I would not!” Hyunjin follows up with a joke that you only half laugh at, you’re way too busy taking in the sight of his dripping cock resting against his toned abdomen, how is this man even real? Hyunjin catches on shortly after, taking a chance to enjoy the flawless view of you.
His cock jumps once his eyes land on your glistening core, wet and ready for him to ruin, he has half a mind to just turn off the camera and carry you to your bedroom where he can enjoy you without the prying eyes of your viewers who you both forgot about the second that you got undressed, or maybe it was sometime before that, when was the last time that you looked at the chat? A familiar text tone pulls you out of your thoughts and hurls you back into reality. This is a cam show.
You don’t even need to look at your phone to know who texted you. You’ve got Felix’s text tone memorized. He attends every one of your shows and watches the chat to make sure that no one gets out of hand and you do the same for him when he goes live. Tonight he’s accompanied by Hyunjin’s stream mod and roommate Changbin.
You assume that Felix texted you to tell you just what you were thinking a second ago, you need to look at the chat. You force your attention over to your laptop screen, trying your best to focus on the comments and tips flooding in left and right.
“Jin is distracting me from the chat.” You tease, leaning in to read some comments.
They are in their own world
Princess is going to ruin him
I want him to look at at me like that
“You’re distracting me too.” He pulls you towards him by your hips so that you're straddling him with his cock pressed against your core. “Are you guys enjoying the show so far?” He asks after you send him a playful glare.
The chat lights up with comments and requests. Hyunjin knows that he should pick a request to entertain the audience. He knows that some people want to see him do specific things to you and you to him but he can’t help but to feel a bit selfish right now. He’s been dreaming about being this close to you for weeks. He doesn’t want to spend his time doing things that others request. He wants to savor you.
“I know I’m enjoying it.” You turn your attention back to Hyunjin, your eyes run over his features, taking in his soft lips and his shining droopy eye. He licks over his bottom lip as he looks you over too. Your eyes are barely drooping despite being high, your lips are kiss bitten and barely glossed but the red tint is still visible and it’s smudged onto your cheek ever so slightly. Just what he wanted.
“I’m sorry…” Hyunjin mumbles as he switches focus between your lips and your lust glazed eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t pay attention to chat right now.” His lips are on yours in an instant, punctuating his sentence with a heated kiss. You gasp at the sudden impact, your heart racing as your tongue tangles with his. Hyunjin pulls away for just a second, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “Can I fuck you now, baby? Can I fuck you like nobody’s watching.”
“You wanna play with me, Jinnie?” You whisper back as your arms wind around his neck.
“Until you break.” He dives back in, moving one of his hands to cradle the back of your head as he tastes you. You pull him closer until your chest is flush with his and you can feel the vibration of your shared moans rattling between you. You reach between your bodies with whatever space is left, lifting yourself up just enough to position him without breaking the kiss. He groans once he feels the head of his cock brush against your dripping slit, he breaks the kiss and leans back to take in the sight of his cock stretching your cunt. “That cunt is so fucking sloppy.” His eyes roll back as you sink down on him and he drinks in every second of your cunt swallowing each thick inch of his throbbing length.
“O-oh, fuck.” He closes the gap between the two of you again with his hands on your hips to help guide you down. He leans his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes as he fills you to the brim. Once you take him to the hilt you pause to catch your breath but Hyunjin has other plans. You cry out when you feel the tip of his dick kiss your cervix just right. The stretch of him is unlike anything - or anyone - you’ve ever felt before.
“Tiny fucking cunt taking my cock so well. ‘S fucking made for me isn’t it, Princess? This cunt was made for me to fuck.” You move in tandem, timing when to swirl your hips so that he feels impossibly deep. You know that Hyunjin is the type to talk dirty during sex, you’ve watched enough of his cams to imagine what he might be like. You’re usually no different but the way that he feels inside of you is so dizzying that you might not be able to keep up with him tonight. The sweet buzz of the weed and soju makes everything feel like it could have you floating at any second. Even just trying to remember his name or your own for that matter is a full time job that your brain keeps clocking out of.
“J-just for you baby… god, this pussy is yours just please don’t stop.” Your fucked out eyes stare into his as you start to take more control, the sound of your skin colliding echoes as you bounce in his lap. His hands stay on your hips, periodically squeezing the flesh when you clench around him just right. Sweet whines and chants of ‘ah ah ah’ fall from your lips but you become muted when Hyunjin sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and lightly bites it. He plants broken kisses as you arch into his hand tracing the length of your spine. He had to get you to be quiet, if you keep moaning like that this show won’t last very long.
“You know I could have you however I want, right?” He groans as he practically melts beneath you. “I could pick you up and ruin this pretty cunt but I want you to use me. I want you to use my cock in front of all of them.” His hands fall from your back and settle on your ass. The soft flesh in his hands has him holding on for dear life. What the hell are you doing to him? He’s never felt this good before. He needs you off of him now or else he’s going to explode.
“Fuck, baby.” He lands a firm smack that draws a whimper from you. “Come here, show that pretty ass to the camera.” He lifts you up mid stroke and turns you around, your ass and dripping hole on display for more than a hundred people to see. The thought of it makes you bite your lip as Hyunjin reaches over you to jiggle your ass for the camera, leaving a bruising slap on either cheek as he pleases.
“Beautiful isn’t she?” He spreads your cheeks and leans over with puckered lips. Letting a stream of spit fall from between them and onto your asshole. He watches as it runs down and mixes with the sticky arousal of your pussy then drips down to pool on the sofa. A curse escapes him when he brings a finger up to tease your tight hole, rimming it gently then trailing down to tease your fluttering pussy.
“Jin.” A mindless whimper escapes you and Hyunjin hums a moan in response. He wants nothing more than to taste you, he’d make you cum while he plays with both of your holes but he wants to take his time with that. He can’t give you rushed head, you deserve better than that so he’ll settle for sinking his finger into your pussy with his thumb rubbing at your pretty puckered hole. “Oh my god.”
“Think I should add another finger chat?” Tips flood in as soon as the question leaves his mouth. You wiggle your ass at the camera earning a chuckle and a light ass slap from Hyunjin. “My eager princess, want another?” You nod, drawing out an excited hum that promptly fades into a moan once his middle finger slips into you. He fucks into you, pressing against your walls and sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. His other hand trails up your back and you arch for him, pushing your ass into his hand. Your moans echo through the room like a porn site on loud speaker.
“Jinnie I'm gonna - gonna -” He slaps your ass, sending you into a broken moan.
“Go ahead and make a mess for me, baby.” You’re coming undone before you can process it. He fucks you through it, massaging your sweet spot and drawing out your climax. You collapse onto his lap, eyes closed as you try to catch your breath. “I’m the luckiest guy alive.” A smug smirk pulls at Hyunjin’s lips as he repeats the comment that he was able to catch before it went zooming by in the messy chat.
Your eyes flutter open with the intention of looking up at him and throwing a smart remark his way but his throbbing cock resting against his stomach is too close for you not to pay attention to. Hyunjin is running his fingers through your hair as he’s still trying to read the chat. He’s so engrossed in that that he only half notices when you move closer to his cock, sliding it into your mouth with a content hum
“Oh baby, oh fuck” His hand rests on the back of your head, instinctively guiding you as you take all of him and allow his tip to abuse the back of your throat. He marvels at the stretch of your pretty lips around him, taking every single inch of him until his tip makes your throat bulge and your mouth water. “Please don’t stop, don’t stop.” He pants above you, his eyes are glued to your watering ones as you blink up at him and bat your thick lashes. You swallow around him with each bob of your head and use your free hand to pay attention to his balls. You massage them gently, covering them with the spit that dribbles down from the hilt of Hyunjin's cock.
“You have no idea how good you are at that. You have no fucking clue, do you? I’d give you anything, I’d do anything just to feel this pretty mouth on me all of the time. Holy shit, Princess.” You choke around him when he pushes your head down a bit, holding you there for a second to indulge in the way your throat squeezes him. A tear rolls down your cheek and Hyunjin wipes it away with his thumb. He brings the finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean, keeping his eyes on yours as he swirls his tongue around the digit. You whimper around him and he throws his head back at the sensation. “You’re gonna make me nut if you don’t stop. I don’t wanna bust in your mouth, I wanna fill your pussy.”
He makes a fist around your ponytail when you don’t stop, pulling your head back with a grunt. “Don’t fucking listen.” You offer him a messy smile, sticking your tongue out in an attempt to catch his dick in your mouth again. He takes the base of his dick between his fingers and slaps the tip on your tongue. “Filthy girl, so pretty. Look at me, Mhmm keep those eyes on me, fuck you’re unbelievable.” He groans, pushing into your mouth and moving his hips in slow circles. You gag slightly as he pushes deep, his grip around your ponytail tightening as he fucks your face.
“You’re gonna drive me insane.” He pulls your head back again, a single string of spit keeps the two of you connected but it’s broken when he turns your head to the camera. “You liked being dirty for me in front of them? You see how many people are watching you suck my cock.” Arousal gushes between your thighs and you press them together as the intoxicating feeling of embarrassment creeps up and paints a blush over your cheeks.
“I love it.” You hum and he smiles down at you sliding his thumb into your mouth “You’re a dream.” You smile around his finger, swirling your tongue around the tip then releasing it with a faint pop.
“Wanna lay down for me? Let me fuck you dumb?” You’re pulling yourself into position before he even finishes the question. The sudden urgency in your actions earns you a faint chuckle and a quick kiss to your forehead as you get comfortable. He gets up on his knees and slots himself between your legs. You bring them up to rest on his shoulders and he plants sloppy kisses along your calf while he strokes himself against your entrance, teasing your clit with his tip.
“How ya feeling, Princess. You got a bit quiet on me earlier.”
“I’m literally seeing stars.” Your loud laughs echo through the room and rumble through the mic in front of you. “I’m good, just on cloud nine.”
“Am I your favorite collab?” The answer is yes but you’ll never admit that to him, especially not while you’re live. Truthfully this barely even feels like a collab. It just feels like you and your boyfriend fucking in front of a camera. Wait, boyfriend…? What are you even thinking? Are you catching more feelings for him right now? Ugh, okay, you gotta sort that out later.
“Are you trying to get me in trouble?” You lightly push his chest with your foot before resting it back over his shoulder. He chuckles and kisses the inside of your ankle. “Just fuck me.”
“My pleasure, this is what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna slip into this pussy nice and slow.” He runs his pointer finger between your slick folds and your back slightly arches off of the mattress. “Then you’re gonna cross your ankles over my chest and I'm gonna hold them.”
“Is this supposed to be some type of forbidden position?” He rolls his eyes, laughing at you as you smile up at him. “It’s gonna make that tiny cunt of yours feel even tighter.”
You take a shaky breath in as he starts sinking into you. It feels like there can’t possibly be enough air in your lungs. They’re burning but you willfully ignore it. “Oh, come on baby, this messy cunt takes me so well.” His voice is thick with aroused exasperation as he fills you. He halts his movement for a second to allow you to adjust. “Breathe for me.”
You suck in a slow breath but that’s all in vain when he starts rocking into you. “Hyunjin” Your eyes roll back as you moan his name repeatedly. It’s amazing how perfect he feels, like he was made specifically to be inside of you.
“Cross your legs, baby.” You do as you’re told, moving slowly as you adjust to his languid strokes “That’s it.” His gentle pace only lasts another second or two before he starts getting more reckless. He brings his hand up to his mouth and bites on his bent finger while your mouth hangs open in a silent scream.
“Oh what the fuck, Jin. What the fuck.” The moan that escapes you is desperate and nearly has a primal ring to it. The pressure on your clit for your legs being crossed mixed with him feeling as deep as he does is a recipe to blinding orgasm.
“You’re so fucking - Oh my god, you’re the only person I ever wanna fuck. This cunt is mine, can it be mine Princess?” He settles into an unrelenting tempo, he grips your thighs with both hands to steady himself while his desperation sets in. “Tell me it’s mine please, please please.”
“Y-yours, all yours, fuck me like I’m all yours.” A deep groan rumbles through him, That’s exactly what he wanted to hear. He wants to be yours and he wants you to be his. He wants to be the only one who gets to feel like this. The only one who makes you cream on their cock. You look so pretty, you sound so pretty, fuck you’re so pretty.
You turn your face towards the camera so that they can get a better look at you, eyes crossed and drooling onto the sofa.
“My brainless baby is drooling?” A broken moan interrupts him. “My cock really got you fucking dumb, huh?”
“I wan’ your cum, Jinnie, please. Need it. Need it inside.”
“You want it? Baby’s gonna milk my cock, huh? Gonna make me creampie that cunt. Shit - I’m close.” You clench around him and he swears that he can feel his soul leaving his body. He pushes all the way in, hitting spots that you could never reach alone. Your orgasm comes into sight when he hits your cervix just right. “You gonna take it, baby? Gonna take all my - fuck, I’m gonna cum.”
“Don’t.” He groans, slowing down a bit but you whimper in protest. “Keep fucking me like that, p-please please. Deep like that, you’re so deep like that, fuck - please.”
“Pri-princess, I can’t - fuck, I can’t” He whines and buries himself deep into you, hips stuttering as he gets closer and closer to losing control.
“Don’t you d-dare cum, Jinnie. Don’t.” You press your thighs together in a desperate attempt at reigning in your orgasm. The pleasure build inside you, slowly creeping up your spine before it hits you all at once. Your body tenses as shockwaves rush over you and your walls spasm and contract around him.
“Holy shit, baby I can’t fucking take it.” His movements become erratic as he tries to help you ride out your high but the feeling of you flooding his cock throws him over the edge. His orgasm hits him like a freight train and he throws his head back and practically screams above you. He bites his lip in a desperate attempt to quiet himself but his efforts are not enough to keep his moans of euphoria at bay.
He empties himself inside of you until his seed is spilling out in a helpless attempt to escape your plugged pussy. You uncross your legs from his chest and let them plop against the sofa once he releases his death grip on your thighs. With the lack of support Hyunjin falls forward but he catches himself before he collapses on top of you, his hips shake as he comes down from his high. Sweat drips down and runs along the valley of your breasts as he hovers above you and tries to catch his breath. You stay still, your body still trembling as the aftershocks of pleasure course through you. You stay like that until he finally pulls himself out and collapses next to you.
Only your labored breaths can be heard throughout the room as you try to fill your lungs but that’s easily drowned out by the sounds of your hammering heart pulsing in your ears when you feel Hyunjin move next to you.
He’s holding your hand.
His fingers intertwine with yours, giving you a light squeeze and you smile at the gesture, the butterflies in your stomach erupt into a clumsy swarm as the two of you lie in silence for a while longer..
“So.” Hyunjin breaths out, propping himself up onto his elbow so that he can look down at you. “Are you impressed?” You push him down with a laugh and roll over on top of him.
“I am impressed.” You lean down and catch his smiling lips in a slow and soft kiss. You both sigh into it, his hands tracing up your sides as yours run down his chest. You break the kiss with a smile and whisper. “Your majesty.”
“If you’re the Princess what does that make me?” Hyunjin teases with a smile and you stare down at him with a surprised blush. You attempt to hide your face in his neck and roll off of him but he pulls you in for another kiss before you can make your escape. The two of you melt into the exchange, getting so lost in each other that you don’t hear Felix’s text tone going off. Actually, you haven’t heard it go off for the past ten minutes that he’s been texting you. Changbin has been texting Hyunjin for the same amount of time if not a bit longer but the two of you have been so deep in your own world. Right now nothing and no one but the two of you exist. You’re both completely and totally enamored with each other and you have no problem with everyone knowing that…Except no one will know that. Why?
Because the livestream disconnected twenty minutes ago.
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hyunjin x fem!reader. childhood best friends to lovers. slowburn, pining. fluff, angst. suggestive. a hyunjin birthday special.
wc: 12.9k words.
warnings: reader often referred to as "girl," suggestive. mentions of sex.
note: this fic is my baby. it might be one of my favourite things i've ever written so far, please treat it well <3 feedbacks are very much appreciated.
playlist.
Hyunjin promised you that he'll be wherever you are. What do you do when your best friend of years — the only person you've ever loved disappears without saying goodbye? Especially when you've spent your entire life with Hyunjin, you didn't know of life without him.
one.
“Happy Birthday, Hyunjin.”
It was Hyunjin’s 10th birthday.
Despite already singing him a happy birthday song, you muttered the wish once again in the comfort of his tree house. He sat adjacent to you, feet dangling over the platform, the large leaves hovering over the tree house’s roof providing shelter from the blinding sunlight.
He hummed in gratitude, eyes busy watching Kkami running around below the tree house. Afternoons with Hyunjin were often spent like this — hanging out in the tree house as Kkami played around on the grass, its barks mirroring its happiness. For years, you’ve spent enjoying the fact that your afternoons were spent like this — were spent with Hyunjin, in childish innocence.
After letting the silence take over for a while, Hyunjin turned his head towards you, a little surprised once he saw that you were already looking at him. He tried his best to not let his surprise show.
“Why did you want to come up here? I thought you were enjoying the party inside.”
Indeed, you were enjoying the birthday party, a little too much for Hyunjin’s liking. The boys from Hyunjin’s school came to the party, and you seemed to get along with them quickly, despite being the only girl at the party. Hyunjin hates to admit it but he was a little envious. He told himself that he’s jealous because he’s your number one best friend, so you should pay more attention to him. It was true, but only partially — he was jealous because they were all boys. Not that he would ever admit that to himself.
To Hyunjin’s question, you responded by extending your arms to him, revealing a white box in your palm. He took it, quickly recognizing it as a jewellery box. He’s received one of them after purchasing a Mother’s Day gift. Quietly, he examined the engravings on the box, and the pristine look of it. Honestly, he was impressed by how clean you have kept it. You had always been one to dirty your white clothes.
“What’s this?” he asked, answering his own enquiry by opening the box with you sitting close, peering over his hands.
Hyunjin’s heart skipped a beat.
In the box laid two necklaces, black strings with Lego pieces as pendants. They were matching necklaces. The Lego piece of each necklace formed a heart when joined together. His brown eyes widened, in disbelief of the gift. He’s never received something like this — something matching. It made his heart flutter — no, it beat faster than it does while playing soccer. Hyunjin turned to look into your eyes, and it was as though he had found a new revelation in yours. The more Hyunjin looked at you, the more the realization seeped in, until it overtook his senses.
You’re a girl.
You weren’t just the kid from next door, you weren’t like his other friends — you’re a girl. You like Disney princesses, you have a pretty face, you like Sanrio characters, you have soft hair, you like painting nails, you have pink lips from your strawberry lip balm, you like matching necklaces — you’re a girl.
A very pretty girl.
It felt like a revelation after having been friends with you for over five years. As though the necklaces in the box held some sort of power to snap one from a trance. Hyunjin realized that you were different from his other friends. For one, you have softer hands. Moreover, you’re someone he can develop a crush on — or whatever girls call it.
His finger traced the pendants, feeling the bumps of the Lego pieces. He smiled, one that reached his ears. You felt yourself releasing the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
“I love it soooo much. Thank you.”
Unlike other boys (the stinky ones from your school), Hyunjin didn’t cringe at the gift. The way he gently examined the necklaces mirrored the appreciation he felt towards it. If he was any other boy, he would’ve probably laughed at the gift, then poked fun at you.
Then again, Hyunjin had never been like the other boys you knew.
He was different in the way he spoke softly to you (softer than he would to his guy friends), and how he would let you change the TV channel from Snoopy to Totally Spies. He had always been different, that being the reason why you were so fond of him.
“You like it? Really?” you queried, staring at him. You watched his expressions carefully, trying to sense for any lies.
“Really! Which one do you want?” he answered, absolutely no hesitations. He wasn’t lying.
Hyunjin panned the box towards you, prompting you to pick which necklace. One was in black, the other in white. As always, he gave in to you, letting you be the one to choose.
“White!”
The sun was setting when you both swayed your legs, wearing the matching necklaces. Hyunjin was genuinely happy, one of his hands wouldn’t stop fiddling with the pendant. The party was still lively inside, but he much preferred sitting with you — his one and only best friend.
“Yn,” your best friend’s voice broke you from your trance. “What do you want for your birthday?”
“Hm,” you pondered, tapping your pointer on your chin in a cartoonish manner.
He was looking at you, an expectant expression on his face. You pulled up your legs to cross them as you thought.
“I think…” your voice trailed, “I want to be the best ballerina in the world and move to Paris!”
Hyunjin rolled his eyes, “at least make it something I could give you!”
You pouted, “but that’s what I want!”
The boy sighed, laying back on the rough surface of the tree house. He looked up, observing the little glow-in-the-dark stars plastered onto the tree house ceiling. He recalled putting them up with you. You were impossible to deal with. Hyunjin desperately wanted to know your wish — something he could give you for your birthday. Your gift to him made him really happy, and he wished to return the favour.
“Then, I’ll be the best artist in the world and move to Paris with you.”
It was such an innocent, child-like answer — straight from a 10-year-old’s desire. Untainted by the boulevard of broken dreams. As if anything in the world was possible, and that the universe was kind all the time.
“Really?” you chirped, looking at him with disbelief in your eyes. You giggled in glee and plopped yourself down beside him. “Really really? You really really really mean it, Hyunnie?”
At that point, Hyunjin could only giggle and nod. “Of course! I’ll be wherever you are.”
The manner in which you hugged him expressed your excitement. You were practically suffocating him, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing tightly.
“You’re my best friend in the world!”
Hyunjin felt like he could die.
His heart continued beating rapidly, worsened by you nuzzling your face into his neck. Hyunjin knew, it was just you being your usual self. However, the revelation he experienced minutes earlier made the tips of his ears turn red.
“Hyunjin! Come down here! Your friends are about to leave!”
At that very moment, Hyunjin silently thanked his mother for saving him.
two.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
A question which had you staring into space — the walls of Hyunjin’s bedroom for a while. The blue walls were plastered with posters of numerous musicians and self-made artworks.
It wasn’t that you didn’t know the answer. You knew. Ballet had been a part of your life since small, it was your everything. It wasn’t that you were unsure if you wanted to do ballet, you were unsure if you should be doing ballet.
Uneasiness settled into your stomach, but you tried to keep them in. You were in no mood to be going through an identity crisis.
“Ballerina,” you stated, matter-of-factly. Your eyebrows furrowed when Hyunjin chuckled.
“What?”
“Your answer hasn’t changed,” Hyunjin laughed, but not in a humorous way. Rather, it was in an expectant way, as if he knew that’s what you would answer.
You straightened your posture and tilted your head. Hyunjin laughed even more, making a comment that you looked like Kkami.
“Have you asked me the same thing before?”
He nodded, “sort of? Kind of. On my tenth birthday, I asked you what you wanted.” Hyunjin cleared his throat and took a deep breath, mimicking the voice of younger you. “I want to be the best ballerina in the world and move to Paris!”
“Oh, shut up!” you rumbled, hitting him with his bolster repeatedly. “That’s not how I sounded like!”
“It so was!”
Truthfully, you couldn’t quite recall the memory. You didn’t doubt Hyunjin though, it did sound like something you would’ve said.
You queried again.
“What did you answer then?”
Hyunjin turned silent. He didn’t like where this was going, not fond of recalling the cheesy answer he gave you. As he looked away from your gaze, you pressed him further. Even threatened to dog-nap Kkami.
“Fine. I said… I said I’ll be the best artist in the world and move to Paris too…” his voice trailed, getting smaller, “said I’ll be wherever you are…”
Your eyebrows raised, scooting closer to him in mock confusion. “Sorry? Didn’t hear you.”
A pillow hit your head, and you burst out into peals of laughter. It was hilarious, the cheesy answer little Hyunjin gave, but what amused you even more was his face turning red.
Touches of laughter echoed in the room, and Hyunjin found himself praying the moment would last forever. The conversation quickly escalated into a pillow fight, ending up in Hyunjin leaning against his headboard, exhausted, and you laying on his lap.
You looked up at him, eyes fleeting to the stubble growing. Mindlessly, you grazed his cheek, feeling his sideburns prickling against your thumb.
He was growing, you realized it then. You were growing too. Neither of you were little kids anymore.
A fact you didn't want to accept.
It’s the softness of your fingers that froze Hyunjin in his tracks. He held his breath, as if you would stop if he moved. He didn’t want you to, wanted to let your fingers linger, to etch the sensation into his memories.
In a soft tone, you spoke, “Did you really mean it?”
“Hm?”
“Would you be wherever I am?”
Hyunjin’s breath hitched, a lump growing in his throat. If he spoke, he feared his feelings would become too real. For as long as he could, he wanted to bury his feelings deep down. Life was already risky as it is, he didn’t want to take any more.
It’s platonic. It’s platonic. It’s platonic.
They repeated in his brain like a mantra. Maybe if he chanted it, it’ll manifest to life.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin swallowed, “of course I will. You’re my best friend.”
Like magic, your worries about the future disappeared into thin air. Would it be foolish to trust Hyunjin so much, that you believed life would be fine as long as he was with you?
Dear universe, be good to me.
You smiled, one that Hyunjin swore could light up the entire sky. The stars must envy you, for the way you could brighten up darkness effortlessly.
“I’ll be wherever you are too.”
Yeah, Hyunjin would love it if time froze.
three.
Don’t be a coward.
Four words Hyunjin told his reflection as he got ready. He was dressed in a basic tee and a pair of jeans, hair slicked back like the one time you told him it looked good. He spritzed his cologne behind his ears, on his neck, and on his wrist before repeating the four words again. This time, he whispered it, letting it soak into his brain, in hopes his heart would have courage.
It’s been too long. The feelings he harboured for you piled overtime, the crush he once thought was temporary transforming into fondness. It was becoming too much for Hyunjin’s heart to bear, he needed to let it out. If he didn’t, he felt like his heart could burst. And if it did, it would be confetti-shaped memories of you.
Chatters echoed outside your ballet academy, Hyunjin watched through the lowered window for your face among the sea of people. He had a plan in mind — he’d open the door for you, put the seatbelt on for you, and tell you about his feelings. In front of your academy wasn’t the most ideal place for a confession, he knew, but God — he couldn’t bear sitting in silence with you as a storm raged in his head. He couldn’t do it. He wanted to say it as soon as he could.
Hyunjin’s eyes were still busy looking for you when suddenly, your face came in his peripheral vision, along with another face. The other person was lean, jet black hair with bangs and puppy-like eyes. The boy opened the door for you before Hyunjin could.
Okay, step number one failed.
“Hey, Hyunnie!” your voice chirped, getting into the car. Your hand moved to buckle your seatbelt before Hyunjin could. He was too busy analysing the stranger in front of the door.
“Hey,” Hyunjin replied nonchalantly, looking at the boy from head to toe. “And this is…?”
“Seungmin. And you?” the boy said, tilting his head. To Hyunjin, he was being challenged. Seungmin’s tone was more daring than he liked, so he felt an urge to one-up the guy.
“Hyunjin. Been friends with Yn since were in diapers.” he replied, the extra detail a pathetic attempt at one-upping Seungmin.
Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows, nodding as he shut your door, “Uh. Cool? Bye, Yn. And the friend since diapers.”
Oh, Hyunjin really didn’t like him.
“Wait, Seungminnie!” you called out just as Seungmin was walking away. He looked back at the car, raising an eyebrow. You turned to Hyunjin with puppy eyes. “Can you give Seungminnie a ride? He takes the bus and I think the next one’s in an hour.”
Hyunjin clenched his jaw, eyes fluttering from your pleading eyes to Seungmin’s figure outside the car. If it was all up to him, he would probably run the guy over. But God knew how much he cherished you, how he would rather cut his tongue than tell you “no,” so he agreed.
“Mm. Sure,” he replied, swallowing back a scoff.
Your eyes brightened, “Seungminnie! Come, we’ll give you a ride!” you yelled, tempting Hyunjin to mock the nickname you’d given him.
It was going to be a car ride straight out of hell.
Hyunjin’s knuckles were white against the steering as he pulled up to Seungmin’s residence complex. The building standing in front of him definitely belonged in a gated community, ritzy and luxurious. Somehow, that pissed Hyunjin off even more. He glanced at the unwanted guest sitting in the back seat through the rear-view mirror.
“Want me to drive you to the lobby, or what?”
Seungmin looked back into the mirror, peering at the reflection through his bangs. “Nah. They don’t let random cars in. Here’s just fine,” he mumbled, unbuckling the seatbelt. “Thanks, dude. Appreciate it.”
The car door closed behind Seungmin, leaving the two of you in the car. Hyunjin sighed, feeling the nerves creeping up him again. Now that it was only the two of you, it was time for Hyunjin to confess his feelings.
Before he could, you spoke, “Seungmin’s my friend in the academy. He’s really smart,” your eyes didn’t leave the crossroad before you, watching as Seungmin walked.
Hyunjin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He tapped on your thigh, trying to gain your attention. It worked as you looked at him, batting your eyelashes. “Hm?”
He licked his lower lip, mustering all the courage in him. It was now, or never. “Look, I have something to tell you.”
“Yeah?”
You shuffled in your seat, tilting your body slightly towards his way. Now that you had your full attention on him, Hyunjin felt even more nervous. He scratched the skin around his thumb, tongue-tied as his brain tried to form coherent words. He’s never done this before, always made fun of his friends for struggling to express their feelings but now that he was in the same place, he wished he could take back all the insults. The brown eyes looking deeply (and anxiously) into yours were profusely blinking, as though he was at the brink of tears. You grew worried.
“Hyunjin, what’s up?”
He scratched at the back of his neck. Why did his tongue feel so numb? Why did his brain feel empty yet so full at the same time? His heartbeats were so fast, he couldn’t quite catch up. Hyunjin was on a rollercoaster — you were waiting at the end of the ride.
Finally, he managed to muster words. “Look, I’ve pondered over —”
Two knocks on the window at the back. They’re followed by the door opening, an exasperated Seungmin popping his head into the car. Immediately, you both looked back, utterly bewildered.
“Sorry. I left my bag. Thank God you’re still here,” Seungmin said, grabbing his messenger bag and slipping it onto his shoulder. “Thanks and sorry!”
The door closed, thus silence blanketed the atmosphere once again. This time, with unresolved tension. You looked back at Hyunjin, tilting your head in curiosity.
“You were saying?”
Dazed, the raven looked at you. His face was a mixture of exasperation and confusion. His head? There was a storm raging, along with curse words aimed at Seungmin.
“Um…” He licked his lower lip, racking his brain to find back the words he wanted to say. They were all lost. He was already at the end of the rollercoaster, the bumps along the way forgotten, and the thrill subsided. All that’s left was the remnants of anxiety. He couldn’t do it anymore, not when he’s forgotten the things he wanted to say, and the moment disturbed by your dear friend Seungmin.
So, he put the gear on to drive. He shook his head and made up a white lie.
“I think I want to try a new ice cream place today.”
four.
The taste of cookies and cream could not beat the bitterness on Hyunjin’s tongue.
It may be because the bitterness has seeped into his head.
“I’m going to your room,” you announced, swinging the front door of his house open. “Hi, Mrs Hwang!” you cheered, running up the stairs after.
“I’m going to talk to my mom a little bit,” Hyunjin said, hanging both your coats on the coat hanger.
Nothing could’ve prepared Hyunjin for what was to happen next.
Both his parents were crowding the kitchen countertop when he walked in, skimming through a piece of paper. They were beaming, eyes crinkled as they smiled. A reminder that Hyunjin resembled both his parents. He blinked in confusion as to why his parents looked so happy. He didn’t think he'd seen them this happy before.
“What’s going on?” he questioned, peering over their figures to look at the paper.
On the paper were words he’d only seen in his dreams. Never in a million years he would’ve thought it’d manifest to life. His heart skipped a beat as he read the words over, and over.
“You made it, sweetheart,” his mother’s soft voice spoke, confirming his suspicion. “You got accepted. Beaux-Arts de Paris.”
“Eomma,” he mumbled, as if he was pleading. Pleading for this dream to stop. Somebody’s got to wake him up from this nightmare of a day. “There’s no way.”
Hyunjin picked up the letter, inspecting it closer. As though if he looked any closer, the words on the pristine white paper would change. Reject him. Or maybe, the logo of the prestigious school would magically transform into a logo of a school in Seoul. Anything, anything, that would keep him here. In Seoul. With you.
“You did it, sweetheart. Your dreams are coming true,” his mother keenly said, pulling him into a side hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
His dream? It was his dream, and, yours. No, scratch that — it wasn’t truly his dream. It was yours. His dream had always been to be wherever you are.
He didn’t think he would be accepted. When you told him you were rejected from the Paris Ballet School, he told you that he was rejected, too. He didn’t tell you that he was waitlisted, under the impression that he was never getting out of the waitlist. What was he to tell you now?
Hyunjin hid his sadness, wanting to make his parents proud, “Yeah. I did it. I’m so happy, eomma, appa.”
A series of praises left his parents, and he allowed for them to engulf him in a hug.
“Don’t tell Yn, ‘kay?” he muttered, before excusing himself to go upstairs. The acceptance letter was neatly folded, tucked into his pocket.
When he swung his bedroom door open, you were standing in front of his full-length mirror. Clad in only his t-shirt, you inspected yourself.
“Hey, Hwang Hyunjin,” you muttered, turning your body. “Your clothes are bigger than me now. You used to be so small.”
You looked at him, mock dismay in your face. “I was so much taller than you before. You were a dwarf.”
How was he meant to tell you about Paris?
“I was never a dwarf. You were just too busy looking down on me.”
Giggles left both of you. Silently, he observed the way you were examining yourself. You had the mannerisms of a ballerina, each gesture as gracious as your dance. Hyunjin adored the curves of your body, but God knew he loved that of your smile even more.
Later, you were both laying on his bed, you in a starfish position. Hyunjin was at the edge of his bed, trying his best to not fall.
“Ballet was so hard today,” you sighed. You turned your body sideways, burying your face into Hyunjin’s chest. He could smell you in this closeness.
“Are you wearing my deodorant?” he queried, bowing to clasp his nose onto your shoulder. It felt like a kiss to him. “This is literally the smell of my deodorant.”
You shrugged. “Yeah? What about it? You should’ve gotten used to me taking your things by now, Hwang Hyunjin. I’ve been doing this our whole lives.”
Touché. The boy sighed, letting you fill in the silence with your babbles. Wordlessly, he listened to your words, letting it be the white noise to his thoughts.
His head was clearly not there. Unbeknownst to him, you knew of this. He’d been off all day. You’ve picked up on each signal, knowing him like the back of your hand. As much as you wanted to know what was wrong, you knew not to pry. You resorted to comfort instead.
Your fingertips met at the back of his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He was never one for physical touch but sometimes, it helped. You leaned your head into his neck.
Gingerly, you whispered the words you thought he would need.
“You’re always here, around me. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
The exact words he did not need to hear that day.
How was he meant to tell you of his feelings now?
Especially when he was leaving — oceans away.
five.
Hyunjin had always loved soccer.
Whether it be being in the bleachers, or playing in the field. He loved doing both. There was something about the thrill of watching people play, and the adrenaline as he chased around the field.
Sitting in the bleachers, Hyunjin watched as his soccer team played. The sounds of his teammates laughing made the blazing sun a little more bearable. He lowered his cap to prevent the sunlight from getting in his eyes, chuckling when he saw Beomgyu falling face-first onto the grass.
He loved his soccer team. Every time he observed them play, Hyunjin’s heart always got overwhelmed with pride and joy. At that moment, he felt melancholy taking space too — the thought of not being able to play with them anymore hurting him more than he thought it would.
Hyunjin allowed for the melancholy to take space, allowed himself to feel — so much so that he didn’t feel Minho’s presence. Not until the older cleared his throat.
Minho sat beside him, “Why the long face, Hwang Hyunjin?”
“Huh?” startled, he looked up, face softening when he saw Minho. “Oh. Nothing. You’re not playing?”
“Nah,” Minho replied curtly. He silently analyzed the younger’s facial expressions before speaking up again. “For someone who’s going to Paris in two weeks, you sure don’t look too happy.”
Of course, Minho out of all people would notice the change in his mannerisms. Always the analyzing one, quick to notice changes in demeanour. There was no point in lying, not with Minho — so he let out the sigh he didn’t realize he was holding.
“It’s bittersweet, you know?” he mumbled, fiddling with his fingers.
“It’s Yn, isn’t it?”
“Huh?”
“You don’t want to part ways with her. It’s what’s holding you back.”
Right on. It was as though Minho was a mind-reader. A heavy weight pulled on Hyunjin’s heartstrings, made his heart even heavier than a few minutes prior.
“Yeah,” he didn’t lie, again. He looked at Minho, and the older could clearly see the uneasiness written all over his face. “If you were me… would you tell her about your feelings?”
“The fact that you like her?”
“Yeah.”
Minho fell silent. He pondered over the question, looking at the sight before him. The sun was setting, orange hues painting the sky. Hyunjin wondered if Paris sunsets would look the same.
“I think…” Minho turned towards the younger. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t tell her.”
“Why?”
“Won’t benefit you, I don’t think.” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Listen. If you were to tell her, and she accepted, do you think you could get into a relationship with her?”
“I mean —”
Minho cut him, “Realistically, do you think the relationship would succeed? I mean, the time zone between Seoul and Paris is pretty big. The distance, too. I don’t think it would work out. And that’ll be bad, you know? You’ll both be left wondering what could have been.”
The truth hurt. The distance, the time — none of them were on Hyunjin’s side.
“And, if, God forbid, if she were to reject you… do you really want your last memory with her to be the hurt you’ll feel?”
Hyunjin shook his head. The other sighed, and patted him on the back.
“There are things better left unsaid. You should take her out. Spend your last time with her nicely.”
Despite Hyunjin’s stubbornness, he took Minho’s advice. It took him a lot of contemplating (and crying), but he followed it anyway. Whether he liked it or not, Minho’s advice had a lot of truth in it.
Bitter truths, but true regardless.
six.
“Where are we going?” you whined, trailing behind your dear friend. The sun was setting in two hours, orange hues were beginning to paint the sky. “Hyunnie, if you don’t tell me where we’re —”
“Please, stay patient. Will you?”
Hyunjin looked behind. He was wearing a blue knitted vest. In one hand, he held a picnic basket. The other, is your handbag. You never have to carry your own with him.
“But we’re literally in the middle of nowhere!”
“Please just trust me,” he pleaded. One hand was stretched towards you, a silent offer to hold his. “Come. If you’re too tired, I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”
Ever the opportunist, you took up on the offer. Alas, Hyunjin was left walking the remaining distance, you happily singing road trip songs while clinging onto his back. To butter him up, you told him that he must’ve been a blessing sent to you by God. Although he groaned at the remark, you couldn’t see the small smile on his face.
After a few minutes, you understood why Hyunjin was adamant about going out that day. Before you, green plains stretched as far as your eyes could see. Scattered across viridian shades were wildflowers. Some yellow, some pink.
Hyunjin had brought you to a flower field.
The picnic basket, and the Polaroid camera finally made sense.
Without any more words, you jumped off his back and ran into the field. The yellow sundress you wore matched that of the wildflowers. In Hyunjin’s eyes, you blended right in.
You were as pretty as the flowers.
“Careful, Yn! Don’t fall!” He called out, his voice echoing in the space. He watched you from afar. There was an urge to run among the flowers too, but he was much more content with watching you.
From a distance, in silence, he observed your every move. He couldn’t help the giggles that left his lips. The smile that lingered on his lips. He wanted this memory to last, to be ingrained in his brain forever. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to witness your happiness.
“Hyunnie, you need to come here! It’s so nice!”
Chuckling, he carefully placed the picnic basket on the ground. Hyunjin was done with setting up the picnic spot. He ran towards you, lifted you off the ground and twirled you around. You broke out into giggles and held onto his arms.
Among the flowers, two silhouettes danced with each other. Swaying to the same melody as the peonies. Despite being a ballerina, you kept stumbling onto Hyunjin’s feet, giggling each time he elicited an “ow.”
Like a scene from a movie.
Like he wasn’t going away soon.
Before the sun could set, Hyunjin convinced you to sit on the picnic blanket. He wished to dance with you longer, but alas, time awaits for no mortal.
“How do you want me to pose?” you asked. You were facing him, legs tucked sideways.
Hyunjin scooted closer to you, and wiped breadcrumbs off your lips. He commented on you eating messily. “You can pose however you want.”
You nodded, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Okay. Make sure you get my good angles, yeah?”
“You look good from any angle.”
Crimson crept up your face. You hadn’t expected that remark. You hoped he wouldn’t see you blush, you would just tell him it’s the sun then.
“Okay…”
Two clicks, then a flash went off. Your eyes widened, caught off-guard.
“You didn’t even count to three!”
Your whines were responded to with a giggle. The camera whirled, apprising you of a Polaroid developing. Hyunjin took it, fanning the Polaroid with a grin. He was excited to see it.
“I wasn’t ready!”
“Candid photos are better,” he sighed. “Don’t you know? Everything’s prettier when it’s genuine.”
“So you’re calling me pretty?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Have I ever said you’re ugly?”
Right. He has never.
You prayed to God the heat on your face was from the sun and not from blushing.
Once the Polaroid fully developed, Hyunjin made sure he was the first to see it. To your dismay, he held it close to his face, shielding it from you. His cheeks dimpled, illustrating his happiness. You looked so pretty, the sunlight on your face giving you an angelic glow. If he looked closer, he was sure he’d see a halo.
Hyunjin wanted to keep this forever.
If he couldn’t freeze the time, he figured he’d trap the memories in photographs.
“Let me see!” you whined. “It’s a picture of me! I have the right to see it.”
Scampering towards him, you waved your hands, trying to get the photograph off his hand. To no avail, Hyunjin had quick reflexes much thanks to his soccer experience.
“No! You can’t — it’s for my eyes only!”
“Ridiculous! That’s my face, Hyunnie!”
“It’s my camera film. So it’s mine!”
Neither one of you would let up, legs entangling against each other as you fought over the photograph. He was determined to not let you even see the picture. One of your palms pressed against the picnic blanket, the other reaching up towards his hand. Hyunjin used his free hand to push you gently but alas, he underestimated his own strength. In one swift move, you lost your balance, toppling over him.
“Ow,” he fell back and winced in pain. He looked up, and all the back pain was suddenly replaced by shyness. There you were, on his lap — face just as flushed as his.
Hyunjin didn’t know what to do now.
Pathetically, he just stared into your eyes, finding himself getting caught in them. He could feel your hitched breaths against his chest, he was very aware of your trembling fingers on his arms. There was a strong urge to kiss you as his eyes fell onto your lips. He wondered how they’d feel on his lips. He imagined it in his head — missing the way your eyes stared at his lips too.
If you were a flower, Hyunjin would be a bee. He desired you, eyes tracing the shape of your lips. Over, and over. If he kissed you, would your lips taste like honey?
He ought to find out. Hesitantly, he inched his head closer to yours. The warmth of your breath against his skin marked the closeness between you.
Numerous scenarios flashed in Hyunjin’s mind. Of him kissing you senseless, then whispering a love confession in your ear. Of your cold fingers pressing into his skin as he tells you each perk of yours that he loved endlessly. The more he imagined, the closer he was. You shut your eyes, waiting for his lips to finally press onto yours.
Paris. The one-way plane ticket to Paris.
Against his heart’s desire, his fingers cupped your chin instead. Subtly, he pulled back, eyes trailing back up to your eyes. He ignored the look of confusion in your eyes.
Reaching down, he pocketed the photograph. His heart clenched as he spoke, but he did anyway.
“I win.”
The two words pulled you from your trance — they tore off your heart like paper. You blinked, watching the playful smirk that graced Hyunjin’s porcelain face.
“Oh.”
The whole journey home, bitterness sat on Hyunjin’s tongue like the aftertaste of tangerine pulp. Did you want the kiss too, or had his libido fabricated things?
Nevertheless, he couldn’t kiss you. Not when he had suitcases packed for Beaux-Art de Paris. Not when it’s all his parents could talk about.
Minho’s words played in Hyunjin’s mind like a broken record. They served as a reminder of what could not be. For the sake of his heart, he told himself that it had all been a figment of his imagination.
Tension cloaked the front door of your house. Neither of you made a noise, save for the jingling keys in your carabiner. You observed Hyunjin, who was busy looking at his shoes. Once again, his mind wasn’t in his head. It had been that way for a few weeks.
“See you soon?” you mumbled.
Hyunjin looked up, nodding at your words. He pulled you into a hug, one that almost crushed your bones. Shakingly, he nuzzled his head into your neck, burying his face into the skin like you would dissolve if he didn't. It must’ve hurt his back but you made no comment, instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, in hopes it'll give him solace. By the front door you held him, so tight that it was as though the two of you were one, the curves of his fingers burning through your skin.
You didn’t know that it was a goodbye. It had to stay that way.
Once more, his heart clenched in his chest. Two hands cupped your cheeks, as gentle as he could be, like you would break. He engraved this version of you into his memory — kind eyes boring into his with a soft smile plastered across the face he'd grown to adore. He vowed to always remember this face.
Deeply, he inhaled his breath. Preparing the next words — lies to say to you, no matter how tight his chest felt.
“Yeah, see you soon.”
The last words Hwang Hyunjin muttered to you.
seven.
One day before your birthday.
It had been two days since Hyunjin brought you to the meadow. You hadn’t seen him much, just glimpses of him as he played around with Kkami in his backyard. You figured that he was busy.
“Hello, I’m home!” you said in a sing-song voice as you stepped into the Hwang household. Kkami who’d usually greet you wasn’t in his usual spot, so you trudged straight to the kitchen, where Hyunjin’s mother was sitting. “Hi, Mrs Hwang.”
She looked up, lips twitching into a smile, a cookie-cutter of Hyunjin’s. Under the kitchen light, you don’t miss the dried tears by her eyes. You pursed your lips, wondering if she was watching a sad drama. Hyunjin inherited his trait of easily crying from his mother, after all.
“Hi, sweet girl,” she looked at your outfit from head to toe. “Why are you all dressed up?”
“Oh,” you muttered, giving her a little twirl. “My birthday outfit! Is it pretty?”
“Of course.”
You smiled at her, fiddling with the hem of your blouse. Keenly, you looked around the kitchen for any traces of Hyunjin. You realized that the house seemed much quieter than usual, emptier than normal.
“Where’s Hyunjin?” you asked. The reason why you’d come over was to show your best friend your birthday outfit. Now that you were there, he was nowhere to be seen. “Is he home?”
Sympathy materialized in the mother’s old eyes. She tilted her head at you, lips pursing as she thought of the correct words to say.
“My girl, did he not tell you?”
Confusion would be an understatement. Hyunjin told you everything, everything — from pointless thoughts to his deepest, darkest secrets. You were his secret keeper, his companion — there was nothing he wouldn’t tell you.
Was there?
It had to be something unimportant, right? Perhaps he was off to an art workshop and forgot to tell you. But looking at his mother, it felt like something big. You grew anxious under her sympathetic gaze.
“Tell me what?” you questioned, letting out a nervous chuckle.
“We just came back from Incheon Airport. He’s on a plane to Paris,” the lady replied. She stood up, inching closer towards your trembling figure. “Did he not tell you, Yn? I thought he did.”
“Paris?” you asked, blinking. “Like. For a vacation?”
“No, sweetheart. Beaux-Arts de Paris. He got into the school.”
The words felt like bullets on skin, penetrating and chagrining you deeply. It felt unreal — a hoax.
You scoffed, “What? He wouldn’t go without telling me.” Your eyes searched for humour in his mother’s eyes. “Is this like, a birthday prank?”
Her eyes saddened even more. “No, sweetheart. He really went.”
Another betrayal came in the form of tears cascading down your eyes without warning. The emotions hit you faster than your brain could process things. Speechless, you took steps back from his mother, before running up the staircase to his room.
He had to be there. Sitting in his swivel chair and laughing at your face. He’ll tell you it was a prank and wipe away your tears.
Hyunjin was your best friend of a lifetime. He wouldn’t do this to you. He had to be there.
When the door to his room swung open, a sob was knocked out of your mouth.
All traces of life in the bedroom were gone, save for the soft purrs of Kkami sleeping on the bed. The bed was stripped of its bedsheets, and the towels hanging behind the door were gone. The laundry bag was empty.
All traces of Hyunjin were gone.
The realization hit harder than his mother’s words. If the words hurt like bullets on skin, the sight of Hyunjin’s lifeless room felt like a knife twisted in your gut. It felt like sanguine dripping from wounds, and Hyunjin’s holding the knife. It felt like a betrayal.
“Hyunjin,” his name slipped from your lips like a plea. “Hyunjin.”
More choked sobs escaped your windpipes as you searched around the room. First, it was his wardrobe. The oak material was practically empty, all that remained were a couple of sleep tees and the shirts you’ve left over the years. You rummaged through the hangers, finding that he had brought one of your sweatshirts along.
The confirmation of his departure was the emptiness of his study table. Each nook and cranny of his table used to feel like Hyunjin, from the stacks of sketchbooks to eraser dust. Everything was Hyunjin — but at that moment, there was nothing. There was only a void — that of his desk and your heart.
Your best friend was truly gone.
“Hyunjin,” the name wrestled its way past your lips again. This time, it was out of longing. “Hyunjin.”
The manner in which you walked to his bed echoed your feelings. Quivering, like a toddler’s first time walking. Your body fell onto the bed, earning a soft whine from Kkami. Gently, you held Kkami in your arms, letting a stream of tears cascade down your cheeks. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to cry, to feel, to mourn.
If someone were to tell you that Hyunjin out of all people would make you cry that much, you would’ve laughed. Never in a million years, you’d say. The only times he had made you cry were from laughter.
“Kkami,” you cried. The chihuahua nuzzled its head into your arms, as though it could feel your sorrow. Perhaps it could. “I miss Hyunjin.”
The dog whined. It looked up to you, placing its paw onto your arm. You cried even more.
“I wanted to tell him about how I feel today,” through sobs, you managed to speak. “How could he make me feel so many things in one day and disappear the other? He didn't even say goodbye.”
It felt like the chihuahua was mourning with you — the way it nudged its head onto your arm, letting out soft whimpers. As though it was telling you that things will be okay.
You weren’t sure that it would. You spent your whole life with Hyunjin by your side, you had never known life without him. Now that he was ripped from your grasp, you didn’t know how to go on. No — he voluntarily released himself from your grasp, without warning. It was worse.
Physical traces of Hyunjin in his room were gone. There was only his scent — the smell of his shampoo, and his cologne. It lingered in the room, mocking you.
In your melancholic state of mind, you could only weep.
eight.
“Coffee, or tea?”
A female voice broke Hyunjin from his trance. He looked up at the stewardess standing by his seat, the sweatshirt doused in your scent crumpling in his tight grip.
“I want to get off this plane,” sat on his tongue and dissolved. He took a deep breath.
“Um,” he looked at the cart, “Plain water, please?”
Coffee would only force Hyunjin to stay awake, forcing him to listen to his own brain’s torments for 14 hours straight. Tea reminded him too much of you, of the times when you were little and would make him play tea party with you. He’ll think about the times you’d cheekily kiss his cheek, an attempt to woo him into playing with you. It worked each time.
The stewardess nodded, handing him a water bottle branded with the aeroplane’s logo. He muttered a thank you, yet the stewardess still didn’t walk away. She looked nice, her eyes analyzing Hyunjin told him that he must’ve looked like the epitome of a wreck.
“First time flying?” she questioned. It wasn’t his first time, having gone on many vacations before yet he nodded. “I see. It’ll be fine, just sit back and relax.”
The woman, whose name tag said Chaewon flashed Hyunjin a hospitality smile — one he didn’t think he deserved — then walked away. Hyunjin pursed his lips, wishing that she hadn’t walked away. He didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts, he didn’t want to be awake, he didn’t want to be in this plane — there were a lot of things he didn’t want to do, but had to do.
Hyunjin wanted to turn back.
Silently, he looked out the window, watching as the landscapes of Seoul grew smaller, slowly becoming covered with clouds. He desperately wished to get out, praying to God that the plane would miraculously turn back and the tableau of Seoul would become bigger. Had he told the stewardess named Chaewon he wanted to get off, would they have let him? Had he told his parents he didn’t want to go to Paris, would they have understood?
If he tells you he’s sorry, would you forgive him?
Regrets and memories clouded his mind, tears making their way down his cheeks. Each thought strangled his heart, and he could feel it physically aching. In a melancholic state of mind he sat, clinging onto your sweatshirt like it was his lifeline, allowing slumber to slowly take over.
The break from his own thoughts did not last long enough.
Seven hours later, Hyunjin woke up to dried tears on his cheeks. He straightened his posture and glanced at the window, feeling a wave of emotions at the change of landscapes. Hyunjin wasn’t sure in which city they were flying over, but he could say with certainty that it did not look like Seoul. It did not feel like home, it did not feel like you.
Unable to fall back to sleep, he couldn’t help the thoughts that poisoned his mind. Looking over the landscapes, he came to a realization much too painful for his heart to bear.
You and him — you were the Sun, and he was the Moon. Two people of different circumstances, who’ll never meet, ripped away from the merciless hands of time. For your timezones were different — horizons even more.
As a wave of new tears descended, Hyunjin wondered if he would ever forget about you.
The answer came to him one afternoon three years later, as he laid on the couch in his Parisian apartment.
No, he’d never forget about you. At least not in three years. Maybe not even in five.
Sunlight seeped in through the balcony, providing Hyunjin the warmth he wasn’t able to receive from a person. His roommate was a French guy who was always out and about, leaving Hyunjin to soak in his own company for hours on end. Sometimes, for days. Hyunjin loved and hated it at the same time.
His limbs stretched across the burgundy couch, a yawn eliciting past his lips. Brown eyes stared at the canvas in front of him, black and white hues scattered on white, forming a half-finished painting of you.
Years later, and you remained at the back of his mind — his muse.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
nine.
There are five stages of grief.
Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, then acceptance. Denial was the hardest for you, having spent your entire birthday staring at the front door of your house, praying Hyunjin would walk in. When your friends sang you a Happy Birthday, it sounded like a morose ballad playing from a broken record. Without Hyunjin, gloom sat at the centre of even the happiest things.
Then came a sixth stage — one that seemed to exist for you.
Motivation.
After coming to acceptance that your best friend had gone, without any farewell, you spent many hours a day in the ballet studio. Pirouette, arabesque, plié — you managed to polish each move with the amount of time you spent cooped up in the studio. You weren’t born with ballet feet, but the times spent in pointe shoes had somehow moulded you into having them.
Perhaps, it was distraction, disguised as motivation.
Nevertheless, the tireless hours of practice granted you a position in the Paris Ballet School.
Paris felt bittersweet when you first landed. It was the city of your dreams, but the reminiscence of the person it took from you made you loathe it.
Withal, life had to go on. To cope with the Parisian lifestyle, you managed to get a job at a cafe near your academy — Desir Cafe. You worked night shifts as a kitchen crew but if traffic was overwhelming in the afternoons, your shitty excuse of a boss would make you come in anyway.
Unfortunately for you, it was one of those days. Clinks and sizzles reverberated in the kitchen, the peg board overwhelmed with sticky notes of orders. You were everywhere in the kitchen, from piping icing on cupcakes to sprinkling chocolate rice on pastries.
“Yn,” the main baker yelled, “Tell Double C’s we can’t stock up on macarons! We’re out of almond flour!”
The Double C’s — Charlotte, and Colette. They were a duo who worked as waitresses, always gossiping. Birds of the same feather, attached by the hip.
Exasperated, you headed to the front, swinging the kitchen door open to see the duo gossiping. Charlotte was leaning in towards Colette, whispering into her ear, earning giggles from the other. You sighed, wondering what the topic was that afternoon. Curious as to who they were gossiping about, you looked towards the direction they were looking.
Seated alone at the corner of the cafe was a guy, blonde hair gleaming golden from the sunlight seeping through the big window. His utmost focus was on the sketchbook in front of him, frail fingers dancing across paper, entrancing any eyes which fell upon him. You couldn’t help but stare, your face gradually contorting into disbelief.
He resembled too much like Hyunjin — your Hyunjin.
Your gaze lingered on the man, analyzing each crease of his face, matching it with the one you had in mind. He looked just like Hyunjin, from the shape of his nose to the mole under his eye. The only difference was the hair. Hyunjin’s hair was raven black, but the person in the cafe had golden blonde hair. You felt your throat tighten. If the man sitting at the corner was him, then time had done good on him. He was beautiful, face sculptured beautifully by time’s gentle hands.
“Ooh, look who’s ogling!” a high-pitched voice interrupted you. You looked up to see the Double C’s looking at you, wiggling their eyebrows mischievously. Charlotte smirked, “Think the guy’s cute?”
“Huh? What guy?” you lied, feeling your cheeks heat up.
Colette rolled her eyes. “The dude over there! Don’t lie, you think he’s cute.” The brunette wiggled her eyebrows even more, subtly pointing at the man.
You didn’t say anything else, but your eyes travelled back to the familiar silhouette. The sense of familiarity tugged on fragile heartstrings the more you looked at him. Colette could sense your curiosity, so she parted her lips to speak.
“That’s Hyunjin. He’s a student in Beaux-Arts de Paris,” she muttered, unbeknownst to her the mixed emotions that dawned upon you. “He comes here almost every afternoon. Maybe that’s why you’ve never seen him before. He’s cute, isn’t he?”
Excitedly, Charlotte nodded her head. “A total heart-throb, honestly.”
“I mean…” your voice trailed, “He’s quite alright.”
How were you supposed to react to finally seeing the one who got away? Were you supposed to feel excited, or upset? It was like the moon had suddenly dropped down onto your lap.
You were confused.
Charlotte continued speaking, not realizing the mixture of emotions in your face. “Sometimes, the students have exhibitions about ten minutes from here. His artworks always make it to the exhibitions. I’ve seen them, and they’re really beautiful.”
You turned towards her, “Exhibitions?”
She nodded, still naive as to your shift in behaviour. “I think the school has an exhibition every three months or so.”
Unfaltering, your eyes bored holes in Hyunjin’s back. He was in his own little world, evidently absorbed in whatever piece he was working on. Just like that, the memories you spent years suppressing came rushing back.
It was unfair, the impact he had on you. There he was, lounging in a corner while your heart grappled in your chest. He looked older, better — and you were still the little girl in the tree house. Swaying your feet as they dangled, as though you had all the time in the world.
Charlotte and Colette exchanged looks as you stared at him. To them, you were simply developing a crush on a stranger. They wouldn’t understand the conflict brewing in you, they wouldn’t be able to comprehend the ache that stirred in the depths of your heart.
“What? You’re interested in him?” Charlotte spoke, breaking you off your trance. You looked at her, blinking. “Don’t even try. I’ve tried. I think he’s gay.”
Your eyebrows furrowed. “What?”
“He’s not gay — oh my god, Lottie!” it was Colette’s turn to speak. Playfully, she smacked the other’s arm. “I asked that guy he’s always with, the songwriter — Felix. Cute guy, that one. Felix told me that he’s got a secret lover or something.”
“Secret lover?”
“Yeah. Apparently, he likes to draw this one girl. His sketchbook’s filled with her,” Colette murmured, glancing at Hyunjin. “Felix asked her who she was, and he said it’s a girl of his dreams.”
Your heart dropped. You weren’t sure to which news you should react first, either Charlotte hitting up on your Hyunjin, or that he has a secret lover. Either way, it made you pathetically jealous. Your heartstrings thrummed in anger as you imagined a beautiful French girl spread out on his bed, and Charlotte hitting up on your Hyunjin.
How could he go on with his life when you spent years mourning him?
Crimson tainted your lip as you bit on it hard, the taste of metal at the tip of your tongue.
Perhaps, you never made it past the anger stage of your grief.
ten.
You truly tried to be happy for Hyunjin.
For days, weeks — you spent convincing yourself that you had to be happy for him. Sure, he hurt you three years ago. Sure, you spent years in agony, regretting not telling him how you felt earlier, wondering what could’ve been. Sure, you hoped that you’d see him in Paris and he’d tell you that he’s in love with you and kiss you senseless — but those were just desperate prayers, weren’t they? Those were simply hopeful scenarios. You hadn’t expected them to come true, had you?
Hyunjin was your best friend of years. He deserved happiness, even when you didn’t feel happy. You had to let things go. You had to be happy for him.
Clearly, you failed at convincing yourself.
In front of a building you stood, the sound of people walking past becoming white noise. You stared at the banner standing in front of you, the words Autumn Exhibition displayed, with the logo of Beaux-Arts de Paris at the top. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat.
A week ago, Charlotte told you that the university would be holding another exhibition, and Hyunjin’s artworks most likely made it into the exhibition. You knew then, that you had to go. If you didn’t get to see him, then you at least wanted to see his pieces. To not be a part of his life was devastating, you wished to at least witness glimpses of it.
9:45 p.m. was displayed on your screen, people were beginning to leave the exhibition. There weren’t many people around, which was what you were hoping for. Visiting the exhibition in daylight meant potentially bumping into Hyunjin, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that.
One day you ought to meet him, but not today. Not when the fragments of your heart have yet to be mended.
After taking a deep breath, you willed yourself to step into the exhibition. A gust of wind hit your face, and you shivered, clutching your coat tight. The art display seemed to be painting-themed, the way frames of canvases were scattered around the building. Baroque paintings were displayed all over, each piece as beautiful as skies at dusk.
The tapping of your heels against the ceramic tiles sounded as you walked, the romantic lighting of the room providing you with a sense of comfort. Wildly, your eyes observed each piece, letting your heart be swayed by the beauty.
They were all beautiful — but they didn’t feel like Hyunjin.
Until your eyes trailed to a certain piece.
It was the centrepiece, the piece — little bulbs of lights were installed above the frame, making the piece feel alive. The moment your gaze fell on the artwork, you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, taking hurried steps towards it. You stared, unable to take your eyes off the hues on the canvas.
There weren’t many hues, just black and white. It depicted two figures on swings. You couldn’t see the figures clearly but you could tell they looked happy. You could see through the strokes of paint that they were happy — though the artist not so. There was a certain sadness in the painting, one that screamed nostalgia.
The longer you looked at the piece, the more you realized.
It was a fragment of your memory.
Your breath hitched. In came a memory of you and Hyunjin — running around the park before playing on swings. It was a particularly memorable day, you could recall falling off the swing and Hyunjin kneeling in front of you, kissing the bruises on your knees with the tenderness of a feather. It was the first time you felt so protected, and so loved.
A rush of emotions overcame you, you wondered if that was how Hyunjin felt when he painted it. Had he thought of you, and wept by his easel? Had he stained his cheeks with charcoal as he wiped stray tears off his face?
You wondered, so much so that you failed to realize a silhouette entering the display.
Hyunjin didn’t enjoy art exhibitions in daylight. They felt pompous. The people who visited the exhibitions would usually walk around casually, and took photos. They didn’t harbour any sort of deep appreciation towards art, they didn’t sit and admire.
Therefore, Hyunjin loved revisiting exhibitions in the comfort of twilight. When the expositions were empty, he enjoyed revisiting them, taking his sweet time to admire each piece.
When he spotted a figure standing before his piece — his most vulnerable piece, he felt his heart drop. He watched from afar as this person observed the artwork, body as still as a mannequin. He had never witnessed someone admire a piece this intensely, especially with it being one of his pieces. He felt flattered, his heart swelling in pride and joy.
Silently, Hyunjin approached the figure. Usually, he was shy, not the type to approach people first but somehow, he felt the strong urge to this time. Fate was pulling him by his heartstrings.
“That’s my painting,” Hyunjin spoke, ensuring his voice was as soft as possible.
The sudden voice startled you. You whipped your head towards the source of the noise, eyes widened in shock. They widened even more at the sight before you.
Hyunjin’s breath hitched. His heartbeats escalated, taking in the figure standing in front of him. His fingers dug into the skin of his thumb, lips quivering. Brown doe eyes mirrored yours.
“Wh — what?” he spoke again, breathless. “Yn?”
A few steps were taken, inching closer towards you. His eyes scanned your face, lips quivering even more when he realized that it was you — you were real, and you were standing in front of him. You looked the same as you did three years ago, except more beautiful. How’d you get more beautiful? The passage of time had seemingly been good to you, the way it had carved your face into one Hyunjin could imagine himself filling his canvases with.
“Hyunjin,” you willed yourself to speak. You ignored the way your eyes watered. “It’s you.”
“It’s you, too. You’re here.”
Another few, brave steps were taken. You, on the other hand, didn’t move an inch.
“I hate you,” the words spilt past sanguine mouth before you could stop them, its venom contrasting the hushed tone of your voice. They crushed Hyunjin’s heart, though he knew he deserved them. “But I missed you.”
“I’m sorry,” was all that he could say. Hyunjin meant it. He really was sorry. He was sorry as he sent you back from the meadow, too cowardly to bid you goodbye. He was sorry when he packed his bags, stealing one of your sweatshirts for solace. He was sorry when he was on the plane, wishing he could turn back time. He was sorry when he painted numerous portraits of you. He was sorry as he stood before you, watching tears flow down your cheeks because it was the least he could do — a form of punishment for what he had done to you.
You shook your head, palms rushing towards your face to wipe away tears.
“It’s not enough, I know,” he mumbled, moving closer towards you to wipe your tears, like it was instinct, feeling his heart clench when you took steps back. “But I truly am sorry.”
“You didn’t even say goodbye,” you sobbed, vision blurry. “You didn’t even contact me.”
“I know, Yn, I know — I’m sorry. I wanted to call you, but I couldn’t,” he rambled, cupping your cheeks and rubbing on the skin. You allowed him to. “I swear, I wanted to write to you, but I was too embarrassed, and by the time I had enough courage it was already too late.”
Sobs wrestled their way past your lips, barely able to form coherent words. You kept shaking your head, blurting out the words you’ve kept for years.
“You just left me, Hyunjin — you left me. A day before my birthday,” your whimpers got louder, “I wanted to tell you I’m in love with you, on my birthday. Hell, three years later and I’m still in love with you.”
Hyunjin’s face paled. He had expected curses, and cries — but he hadn’t expected that. Anything, but that. His limbs moved before his brain could process things, lifting your chin to meet eyes. Your eyes were tinted with tears, but you were still beautiful. You’re always beautiful.
“What?” he squeezed your cheeks, “Yn, what?”
“You heard me. I’m not saying it again. It's fucking pathetic.”
“Fuck,” he exhaled. Hyunjin knew he was supposed to feel remorse, but God — his heart bloomed at the words you had whispered to him. You’re in love with him. You’re in love with him, the same way he was in love with you. “Fuck, Yn. You can't just say shit like that.”
Feather-like touches grazed your lips. There was a certain look in Hyunjin's eyes, one that you couldn't quite figure out — they were a look of longing. How could you know it was longing when you had never bear witness to them? You could feel his breath against your face, warm like his fingertips.
“You have no fucking idea how long I've been in love with you. You have no idea how much I missed you. Fuck, I think about you every fucking day,” he whispered, “You have no idea how much I regret getting on that plane.”
At that moment, all you could feel was Hyunjin. His deep, brown eyes staring into yours and his thumb pressing onto your lip.
“Kiss me,” you whispered back, “Kiss me, Hwang Hyunjin.”
And kiss you, he did. His lips crashed against yours with fervour, moving his lips to the same beat as his racing heart. You kissed back in the same manner, letting out the emotions you had bottled up.
I love you, I love you — each movement of his lips was a love confession, etching his adoration onto the curves of your lips. You caressed his cheeks akin to holding stars in your palms — careful, precious.
Finally, you pulled apart to catch your breaths, bodies heaving against each other.
“Please, give me a second chance.”
It’s odd the way human minds work, because at that very moment, you were reminded of Colette's words. Ones that mentioned a rumoured secret lover.
“But,” you felt silly for saying it, “Your secret lover?”
“My secret lover?” the boy's eyebrows furrowed. He then chuckled upon realization. The rumour must've spread to you. “Ah, that secret lover. It's you, idiot.”
He smiled. You didn’t think anyone could look as beautiful as he did.
“It's always been you.”
eleven.
“Careful — come on, get under here.”
Giggles echoed in the alleyways as two shadows lingered in the darkness of midnight. It was raining, the pavements darkening with wetness and the wind howling a sweet melody. At that particular hour, under the moonlight, Paris looked like the city of love.
You rushed out of the exposition hall, getting under Hyunjin’s leather jacket. He’d promised you the date of your lifetime that night, and he wasn’t one to break his promises.
Hyunjin’s back was damp from the rain, but it didn’t matter as long as not a droplet landed on your body. It only took a few minutes (and a lot of giggles in between) to reach Hyunjin’s so-called secret spot.
Streetlights shone on a bench, and clusters of flowers surrounded a little pond. The spot overlooked the city, you could see the city lights from all the way up here. You gasped in awe, it’s no wonder Hyunjin insisted on coming here.
“So beautiful,” you whispered. Hyunjin smiled softly, moving closer towards you on the bench and wrapped an arm around your waist.
While fondly looking at your visage, he muttered. “Yeah, it’s pretty.”
“How’d you find this place?”
“I found it while I was walking one night,” he explained, resting his head on yours. You could smell his shampoo in this closeness. “I was sad. This garden reminded me of the one we used to go to when we were kids.”
Your heart swelled at the confession.
“It does resemble that one a lot.”
The skies were still drizzling rain, but you were both a little sheltered much thanks to the oak tree above you. Only droplets dripped, falling onto your head but it was a nice sensation. Besides, you couldn’t feel the cold when you’re nuzzled in Hyunjin’s arm, blanketed in his familiar warmth. You allowed silence to third-wheel you, eyes busied with observing the sight. Silence was always comfortable with Hyunjin. The time spent apart hadn’t changed that.
He wouldn’t leave you alone, his skin constantly touching yours. It burned against you. You didn’t mind it. Instead, you basked in his love, listening to the sounds of his heartbeats as your head rested on his chest. He intertwined your fingers together, his thumb rubbing against yours. He wouldn’t let go of you, not even when he bent down to pluck a flower, slipping the daffodil onto your ear.
“I missed you,” he murmured. You weren’t sure how much he’d repeated that phrase but you liked it. “I truly did.”
For the thousandth time that night, you responded. “I missed you too.”
The conversation changed into one about your lives, catching up on each other’s shenanigans. It was comfortable, being with Hyunjin. Topics changed seamlessly. You didn’t have to put much effort into talking to him, you just had to be there.
Softly, his hands moved towards your feet, taking off one of your shoes. He held onto your ankle, tracing his pointer across your sole. You giggled, the feather-like touches tickled.
“You still have the feet of a ballerina.”
“Of course, silly,” you scoffed, “I am one after all.”
“I’m so glad that your dreams came true,” he whispered, putting your leg down. He cupped your cheek, showcasing a fond smile that stretched to his ears. “I’m really happy that you’re here.”
“Of course,” you repeated. “You told me you’d be wherever I am. It’s only fair I returned the favour.”
The words knocked out Hyunjin’s breath, and it filled his soul with so much adoration, he felt like he could burst. A pleading expression was written all over his porcelain visage, the way in which he squeezed your hand expressing his feelings even more.
“Please,” he pleaded. “I need to be yours.”
You kissed him, for the second time that night.
“I’m already yours, Hyunnie.”
twelve.
Things with Hyunjin had been going exceptionally well.
After the fated night, you carried on with so much happiness that you practically beamed everywhere you went. One time when you clocked into work, the Double C’s made kissy noises at you, and Charlotte had whispered, “You must’ve had crazy good sex last night.”
You couldn’t deny it, of course.
Date nights with Hyunjin happened thrice a week, with coffee runs in between classes. The Paris Ballet School and Beaux-Arts de Paris weren’t that far from each other, allowing you to sneak lunches together almost daily. Though you had to admit that even if the universities were far, Hyunjin definitely wouldn’t mind spending extra time just to see you. Sometimes, he’d watch you dance, and sometimes, you’d watch him paint.
It was like you were both making up for the lack of each other the past three years.
After just two weeks of your relationship, you were acquainted with the comfort of Hyunjin’s home. His roommate was barely home, so you felt comfortable with coming over often. Most weekends, you’d spend the night over.
Morning birds chirped a jolly ballad, waking you from your slumber. You stretched, feeling the heat of Hyunjin’s skin against yours. You couldn’t help the smile that grazed your face when you looked at him, fast asleep under the duvets beside you. Sleepily, you pressed a kiss onto his bare shoulder, then traced the memories of last night, tattooed on his skin in the form of bruises. It pulled a whine from him, moving under the duvet to press himself impossibly closer towards you.
“Flower,” he mumbled, morning voice husky, “I'm cold.”
“Then come cuddle.”
He did as told, wrapping strong arms around you. You felt his fingers ghost against your naked spine, sending heat straight to your core. You couldn't help the whimper that left you, earning a playful grin from your boyfriend.
“It's too early to get in the mood, no? Baby?”
Flushed, you smacked his arm. “Shut up.”
Hyunjin giggled, leaning towards you to press kisses onto your face. Mornings with him were often spent like this — limbs entangled, as if you were one.
“Need to shower, baby,” he sighed, “Have an exhibition today.”
To your dismay, he slowly pulled away from you, missing the warmth of his body.
“You coming to the exposition?”
“Of course,” you hummed. “Go shower. Can I borrow your laptop while you're in the shower?”
“Yeah, baby. The password's your birthday.”
He got up from the bed, and you flushed as you looked at his bare body. Unluckily for you, your boyfriend quickly noticed your flushed face, taking it as an opportunity to throw a pillow at you and call you a pervert. You rolled your eyes, watching him enter the bathroom before getting up, wrapping the duvet around your naked body.
You walked towards his study to retrieve his laptop, smiling at the artworks displayed on his peg board. One was of you — a painting of the Polaroid he took of you back in the meadow. The Polaroid itself sat at the back of his phone case. He had never taken it out since the first time he put it in back then.
Whilst humming to a melody, you kicked in the digits of your birthday. The laptop unlocked, showcasing the unclosed tabs.
Your eyes widened at the words written on the screen.
Congratulations, you've been chosen for a student exchange programme to Rome.
Your heart skipped a beat. Repeatedly, your eyes skimmed the words on the screen. You didn't mean to pry but you scrolled through the email, feeling your heart sink upon seeing the date it was sent.
Over a week ago.
Yet Hyunjin hadn't told you anything.
After all these years, he was still keeping secrets from you. You couldn't handle it, and so for the sake of your heart you exited the tab, and shut down the laptop. Careful as to not make much noise, you got dressed.
“Hyunjin,” you knocked on the bathroom door. “Need to be at the academy now. Bye.”
You needed to be away from him — you needed to clear your head.
thirteen.
You hadn't seen Hyunjin for a week.
The texts from him you didn't avoid, responding each time he sent a message. However, you'd been dodging his requests of meeting, under the guise of practice when in truth, you hadn’t gone for classes in a week. You spent your days moping in your apartment.
Perhaps it was a little childish of you to do, but you couldn't bear the thought of going through what you did before. You'd tasted a life without Hyunjin, and you were certain you didn't want to live through it again. This was your way of mentally preparing for that life again.
Your limbs lazily stretched across the cotton duvet as a vinyl played in the background. A melodramatic song played, matching the current tune of your heart. You weren't entirely sure what time it was, but the sound of the apartment bell ringing hinted that it was afternoon. It must be the takeout your roommate ordered.
“Reine,” a familiar voice reverberated in your apartment. “Where's Yn?”
“In her bedroom,” your roommate, Reine replied in her thick French accent. “She's been in there moping all week.”
Damn you, Reine.
Quickly, you buried yourself in your duvet, anticipating the footsteps which approached your room. Soon, your door swung open, and you could smell the white gardenia in his cologne.
“My flower,” his voice tempted you to look, “What’s going on, sweet girl?”
It didn’t help that each syllable that slipped past his lips felt like honey.
You felt his hands pull down your duvet before you came face to face with your boyfriend. He stood before you, hair slicked back and the white blouse he wore accentuated his shoulders. In his hands was a bouquet of flowers, patches of peonies and daffodils peeking from the wrapper.
You didn’t utter any words, simply looking at him with watery doe eyes. He didn’t miss the glint of tears, immediately setting the bouquet on your nightstand to get onto the bed. Tenderly, he pulled you onto his lap.
“You look so sad,” he mumbled, “Can my sweet girl please tell me why she’s so sad?”
Damn, him. How were you supposed to stand a chance when he was so ridiculously handsome and sweet?
Trembling, you parted your lips to speak.
“You’re hiding things from me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What things, baby?”
Your eyes shot daggers at him, bottom lip forming into a pout. Hyunjin had to stop himself from leaning in and biting it.
“You got offered to an exchange student programme,” you finally bit the bullet. “You’re planning on keeping it a secret and just leaving me again, aren’t you?”
Ah.
Hyunjin’s eyes softened. He sighed, caressing your cheek in his hand. He shook his head as his free hand rested on your thigh, massaging the supple skin.
“No, I’m rejecting it,” he answered. “I didn’t tell you because I thought there was no point in telling you if I didn’t even want to go.”
“What?” you responded, voice a little higher than you intended it to be. Your eyes scanned his for any lies. “Hyunjin — it’s a good opportunity.”
“What, you don’t want me here anymore?” he joked, raising an eyebrow at you. “Baby, Paris is already enough for me. I don’t really want to move again.”
You nodded at his words. A huge part of you felt relieved — and you felt awful for feeling that way.
Love, sometimes, is about being selfish after all.
“Were you sad because you thought I was going?” your boyfriend queried, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.
You shrugged. “A little. I was more mad that you didn’t tell me.”
“Oh,” he nodded, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, I just didn’t mention it because it felt insignificant.”
“I want you to tell me things,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck. It left goosebumps in its wake. “I want to know these things.”
“Okay," he mumbled. Something about his compliance made you feel fonder of him. "I'll start telling you these things."
A sigh of relief left your lips. You had known Hyunjin for years, but being with him was different. A good kind of difference. It would take you a while to adjust to these changes — but it was the kind of changes you'd want to adjust to.
Hyunjin's fingers trailed to your hips, ghosting over your skin until they reached your thighs. He traced the stretch marks there, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You couldn't help the whine that left your mouth, and the heat that arose, tainting the tips of your ears in crimson. Hyunjin enjoyed this — flustering you with his ministrations. He allowed you to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, whimpering as he felt your lips litter kisses on his most sensitive spots.
"I love you," he confessed, like honey dripping from lips. "Promise I'll be wherever you are."
If you're here that means you've read "Awkward". If you haven't please do read that story which I just linked and come back to cast your vote!
Anywho, this is a poll to vote on if "Awkward" should turn into a mini-series. Don't know if you can tell, but I wrote it so it has the potential to become one. Please keep in mind I am not a consistent writer. If this were to turn into a series it would be updated on my time. I like to really take my time with my work so I can put out the best outcome. Therefore, you would have to turn on post notifs or I'd make a tag list. If this ends up becoming a series I will update you all on all the details. Thank you!!
Note: hi guys, this is actually a music series (more info linked) bonus. I usually write multiple versions of a smut per song and choose which one fits the vibe the most. this one was actually supposed to be for SYNERGY (linked), but I reworked it and made it better for "Awkward". I haven't been here for a while and decided that I'm the kind of writer that likes to pop in randomly lol. I'm thinking about turning this into a mini-series separate from the music series. After you read this, please follow the link at the end and vote on the pole if you think this would be a good mini-series!
ps. word count of 4,783... get a snack.
Disclaimer: I have decided not to no longer put any tags in my works to avoid unneeded spoilers. I will only warn when there are extremely triggering aspects in my work. Read at your own discretion.
Synopsis: You've been single for years, it's sad really. coming up with excuse after excuse as to why you should be okay. Then society introduced the appearance of 'soulmates', and somehow everything got worse. But then there's your boss, what should you do with him...
this is a mature work of fiction (18+), this does not represent any real-life figures, this is just for entertainment.
Music series bonus <masterlist>
You tilted your head back, gulping down the rich red wine as the brisk night air glided across your naked arms.
What was love? It was stupid, at least that’s what you always told yourself. Love is dumb, for the weak; and you weren’t weak. You wished you believed your thoughts, but you couldn’t help but crave love. What it felt like, sounded like, what it smelled like, what it tasted like.
Jealousy was a disease and you hated to admit that you were practically hospitalized and in a coma from said disease.
However, solidarity was alright sometimes. It was rewarding, no arguments, no having to worry what your partner was up to if they were taking care of themselves properly. You only had to worry about yourself… is it bad that was your biggest con to single life? Only having to worry about yourself.
You told yourself this for years. That was until early last year, when the CDC came out with a new phenomenon. They called it, soulmates. You thought it was corny. You watched as scientists explained the symptoms, and how it starts. How it feels, how you can differentiate your feelings blah blah blah, it was bullshit in your eyes. But not many felt the same.
The day after the news of soulmates reached the public, your office became littered with pairings. Mia from accounting and Felix in your branding apartment paired up instantly. Everyone saw that one coming. They were frauds, had to be, the CDC said their research is still new, meaning they’ll need long-term volunteers that they’ll compensate. That's when fake soulmates started appearing. You called bullshit when the news stated authentic soulmates are now being deemed rare. The CDC just wanted to cover its tracks, hiding another economic decline. Soulmates weren’t real.
Your loneliness grew worse because of your slight rebellion. You didn’t put yourself out there, scared someone would falsely claim you as a soulmate. It’s nights like this where you want to let yourself fall in line. Here you are, alone at the Valentine’s Day company party for another year, this time due to self-sabotage. You already hated this holiday, but of course, science had to make it worse. On the balcony sipping expensive wine your boss bought for everyone, you tried your best to drown out the jazz music and giggles as coworkers showed off their engagement rings.
Minho watched you through the glass door of the balcony with hesitancy. He tuned out the conversation he was dragged into. “Mr. Lee, what are your opinions on soulmates.” He looked at the second department secretary, taking in her inquiry, “I’m not quite sure.” He was telling the truth, he didn’t think much of it, if it was true great, if it wasn’t, it didn’t really affect him in any way, probably just another pity thing. The marriage statistic was getting low, he read it in a paper. Minho took one more sip from his whiskey glass before setting it down and excusing himself.
Everyone in the office knew that Minho, the COO of this company, took a liking to you; everyone was jealous in fact. The kind, extroverted, unmarried, painfully attractive man… liked you. The seemingly cold, work-a-holic, introvert of a woman. He’s liked you since before the news came forth with their studies, yet you were oblivious. Your self-esteem is so low that you wouldn’t dare to even think a man like Minho would see you in such a way, not when people are trying to claim the bachelor every day.
You looked over your shoulder as the balcony door opened. You smiled politely, “Mr. Lee, how are you?” You asked gently. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your voice, not even trying to hide the shivers that trailed down his spine at your tempt voice. “I’m doing well, but I couldn’t help but feel bothered when I saw you out here alone. Are you not cold, Ms. L/n?” You watched as he made his way next to you, leaning against the metal railing. He gazed at the city skyline, awaiting your answer.
You took another sip of wine. “It’s a bit chilly, but I can manage.” Short and simple, polite. That’s all Minho got from you. He's never wanted a person to rant to him for hours so badly, but that would be seen as unprofessional. He clears his throat, standing up straight. “Are you not having fun?” He asked. Maybe it was the wine that compelled you to answer him differently than you normally would. “To be honest, Mr. Lee,” He raised his brows, turning to you fully. “What is it?” You let yourself answer. “I don’t really favor office parties.” You chuckled before downing the last bit of your wine.
Minho frowned before biting his lip. “I hope it’s okay that I call you by your name,” He started, “Sure.” He gulped dryly before giving you an offer. “Would you like to get out of here, y/n?” You finally faced him, brows furrowed as your eyes lingered across his figure, taking him in.
White button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, black slacks, dark auburn hair fallen into his eyes, the eyes that were surveying you softly. It would be strange, to ride off into the night with your boss on the night the company is rumored to rename the festive party ‘soulmates night'. But you’ve had about 3 full glasses of wine, and you’re bored plus inquisitive.
“Where would we be going?”, he smiles.
After bidding an awkward goodbye to your coworkers, and avoiding questioning looks about the two of you leaving together; you finally made it to Minho’s car.
“Wanna catch a late movie?” Your head tilted in question, he drove out of the parking lot the humming of the engine fills the silence. Smirking to yourself in disbelief, you agreed.
The ride was filled with conversation, the longest non-work related conversation you’ve had with this man. He spoke of everything you didn’t think he’d speak of. How he missed home, how living in a bustling city was fun, but the sound of waves beat the sound of honking horns. You couldn’t help but ask him questions, you didn’t care if they were the right questions. You were comfortable, too comfortable. Was it the wine you downed? Maybe the grand looking air freshener in his car. It hurts your pride to admit that it might just be him. He smelled nice and spoke to you gently in that voice he would use to remind you of your lunch hour.
You took in a breath as his hands on the steering wheel came into view, “Oh sweet jesus”. You pressed yourself into the black leather seat. It’s the wine, it has to be the wine. Minho turned to you as he finished parking, “You ready?”
-
No one was there in the theater, no one but the two of you. You couldn’t focus on the movie, all you could focus on was how you were alone with Minho, completely alone with him.
You were zoned out until you were pulled back to reality. “Are you enjoying the movie?” He whispered, not looking in your direction, his eyes glued to the projected screen. You couldn’t help but ask bluntly, “What are we doing?”
Minho looked at you, you felt his gaze so you looked back. “Mr. Lee, it’s soulmates night.” He frowned, chewing on his popcorn. His heartbeat quickened, were you implying something?
It was dark, but you could see him like there was the light of a halo above him. “What do you wish we were doing, Y/n?” Why did he ask you that? Why did he ask like he wanted to fulfill a wish?
You looked away, parted lips and furrowed eyebrows. He couldn’t see your face properly, he took your silence as rejection, and maybe he read you wrong. “I don’t mean to upset you, I apologize. Let’s finish the movie, then I’ll take you home?” You didn’t want to finish the movie, you weren’t even watching the boring movie.
Your heart was pounding, was this what proper desire felt like? It felt different from your crush on the Grey’s Anatomy guy. Was this what being wanted felt like? But he’s your boss… You felt a surge of warmth, a shallow buzzing feeling accumulated in your fingertips, must be excitement. Your conscious almost coming alive, fuck it, give in. You did just that.
Biting your lip you breathed in deep, “I don’t want to continue the movie.” You stated in a whisper. You couldn’t see it clearly, but Minho grew worried, worried he scared you off completely.
“Oh- would you like to, would you like for me to take you home now, Miss. L/n?” He didn’t want to use your first name, afraid of abusing his power. It made you flinch, “I thought you said… you were gonna use my name from now on?” You whispered. Finding his eyes in the slim light provided by the screen.
He licked his lips, although it was out of his nervousness, the action made you gulp. “My apologies, Y/n.” you weren’t aware of it yet, but you held all the power at this given moment. He’d do anything you told him to with no question.
“I do want to get out of here, but I don’t want to go home Mr. Lee.” You said, standing up, and grabbing your purse. Minho stood up as well, eyes never leaving your form as he studied you for unspoken answers.
“I would like to see where my boss lives, I’ve always been curious.” your lashes fluttering, as you peered up at him with a quick pulse and sweaty palms. What if you read him wrong, what if he dismissed you and fired you on the spot? What if this whole ordeal was just because he pitied you for being single for every Valentine’s Day party?
“Well, I should let you overcome your curiosity, shouldn’t I Y/n?” He said with amusement. “After you.” He moved out of the way, letting you lead the way out of the theater.
You continuously asked yourself what you were doing on the drive to his house. Well, you knew what you were doing. You were lonely, and tired of it, taking up a messy offer that could end up in you getting scammed by this man. You’ll apologize in the mirror later. Hitting rock bottom was something you would worry about tomorrow. Your hazy mind only lets you think about his veiny hand gripping the gear shift.
What would happen if you took it upon yourself to place him where you wanted him?
Working up the courage, you sucked in a breath before allowing your fingers to trace his cufflinks, trailing your fingers around his wrist. His fastened pulse boosted your ego, looking to see his reaction. Minho remained focused on the road, with no intention of stopping you as he blinked and took more deep breaths than a calm human would.
You couldn’t help but lick your lips as you brought his hand to the warm flesh of your warm thigh, just under the hem of your black tweed skirt. Your blood pumped at the thought of how he’s letting you have your way. He wanted this too, to touch you. His hand was warm, and comforting. You liked how pretty it was on your skin, admiring the visual as your nails traced his veins.
Minho didn’t mean to squeeze, he did it subconsciously. He didn’t realize he did it until you gasped shallowly, clenching your thighs around his hand and looking up at him with the lowest gaze he’s ever seen from you.
“Sorry.” He muttered, rubbing his hand along the inside of your thigh in an attempt to soothe, not wanting to get you too worked up just yet. But his touch had the opposite effect. You didn’t want to wait anymore. It was known that Minho’s house was in the rich part of the city, all the way across town. Even Though it was a mere 30 minute drive, the distance felt like an eternity.
“Minho,” Minho gulped dryly. Your deep tone sent shock waves through his body, he enjoyed how his name dripped off your tongue. “Yes, Y/n?” His voice remained steady, not wanting to ruin something that could get so good. “I want you to pull into the park, I wanna watch the sky with you.” You whispered. Minho’s heart grew soft as you continued to trance his veins. He nodded silently, ready to take every command you asked of him.
You watched as he parked, the view of the city was beautiful, but that wasn’t your focus as of now.
There was a silence, loud, swallowing the city sounds in the distance. Your body shifted, rotating towards him. Minho turned to you, his grip on your thigh tightening slightly as he took in the view of you. “Kiss me,” Yes you were being blunt, and bold, but you didn’t care. Who cares?
You grinned as Minho pulled you on his lap, his strength not surprising you; considering how his arms looked way too confined in every dress shirt he owned. Your eyes shut as his lips collide with yours. Soft, buttery, warm, so so warm, and buzzing… your lips were buzzing. The feeling of him was clouding your judgment. Minho’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer. He tilted his head, kissing you deeper. Pulling back slightly, he watched as you followed him. Minho smiled, softly chuckling. You opened your heavy lids, growing shy to see his gaze. Your lips parted as he pushed you even closer, rubbing against the growing tent in his slacks, you jolted as your core began to buzz as well. Your lips molded with his once more, and the sounds of what you presumed to be fireworks sounded in the distance.
His breathing was heavy as you disconnected to catch your breath. Minho’s hands tilted your head to the side slightly, breathing you in softly, lips grazing your skin as you shuttered, your fingers gripping his sleeve. He licked his lips before kissing your collarbone, traveling up your neck, absorbing every gasp you let out.
You feel his hand slide to the back of your head, angling your face down so his eyes can meet yours as he lays his forehead on yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you, y/n.” Your heart panged, searching his eyes for truth. He wanted you, Minho, your boss, wanted you.
Your hands traced his bottom lip, and you blinked softly, “Take care of me then, yeah?” You whispered. He smiled gently, gripping your jaw and pulling you back.
The both of you suck in a breath as Minho presses his lips to yours once more, his hand pushing your head impossibly closer. He wanted to feel you, meet with you in ways he’d only imagined. You were letting him give you what he thought was impossible for him. Truthfully, he would’ve liked to ask you out on a proper date. But this would suffice if it was what you wanted from him.
The two of you kissed for a while, gradually feeling and touching each other. Feeling what was never seen. Your body grew warmer, the buzzing centered to your stomach as you bunched up his shirt, wanting to feel his skin bare against yours. “Minho,” It didn’t mean to sound like a plea, “What is it? What do you want me to do?” His voice was breathy, low, needy, and ready to please. You couldn’t get enough. “Off.” You tugged at his collar. Barely even a second later, he began to unbutton his shirt. You wasted no time placing your hands on his sculpted chest once exposed, gulping as you stared at his skin. Absentmindedly gliding your manicured fingers across him.
Minho watched your every move, whimpering as your fingertips flicked his nipples. Your nails left gentle scratches, he licked his lips at the sight. He can’t recall ever wanting someone so badly, to the point he was painfully hard, closing his eyes and throwing his head back at the slightest touches you granted him.
You wanted his reaction intensively, feeling his twitching member under you as you pinched and rubbed his nipples. His chest rose and fell at a somewhat hurried pace, the tips of his ears grew red, and so did his lips as he couldn’t stop licking and biting at them. It’s not like the action helped keep him quiet. His heavy breathing began to get mixed in with soft whimpers.
You smiled, “Who knew you’d be so sensitive.” You mumbled. “Sorry… uhm. I’m not usually like this.” You grinned at his hushed awkwardness. “Trust me, I don’t mind.” You whispered back, your hands continued tracing the outline of him. One by one you left open kisses on his neck, traveling up behind his ear. You sucked at his warm skin, “I hope the secretary doesn’t see what I’m leaving on you Mr. Lee, I think she might have a crush on you.” You said playfully, smiling against his clammy skin, sucking another bruise. Minho’s hands travel to the bottom of your skirt in response, pulling the fabric to bunch at your waist. He squeezes at your thighs as you find the spot that meets his shoulder and neck, his breath shallows. His hips bucking as you suck and nip at the skin. You were hot to the touch, it heightened the feeling of you on him.
Minho isn’t sure how you got the one up on him, but he lets your hands wander to the buckle of his belt. He looks up at your face, your eyes full of determination as you swiftly take off his belt, unbuttoning his pants. He can’t help but smirk as he feels heat center in his stomach, “You’ve got me right where you want me y/n,” Your movements slow as you start to push his pants down to his ankles, “You’re the only one who’s ever gotten me like this.” Minho watches you bite your lip as he feeds into your ego. His eyes shoot down as you grasp his erection through his boxers. “Haven’t been this hard in so,” his voice shakes as your grip tightens “So long, fuck baby.” Your lips part at his words, looking up to see his head thrown back at the seat. You tap at his tip, the fabric starting to stick to his precum as you admire the bites you left on his skin.
“Minho,” You call out softly, he opens his eyes to see you staring at his member. The look in your eyes almost makes him ask if you want him to take over. Your eyes were glazed over, your lips pouty as you tug at his boxers, he smirks slightly. “I’ll get these out your way, sorry baby.” Your pussy clenched around nothing at the use of the pet name again, it feels so good to be called that, the buzzing shoots to your core before centering again. It almost felt like a boost of arousal, you were too enraptured by the man in front of you to care.
Your hands returned to his stiffened member as soon as it sprang free, you felt Minho tense at your touch. You looked up at him as you began to stroke him lightly. His eyes were hooded, he watched your hand quickly become slick with his arousal as you pumped at a careful pace. Minho licked his lips, noticing through his foggy mind how you still remained fully dressed. Your thighs only exposed because he decided to tease just once. Yes, his words earlier were to edge on your performance, but they were true. Minho has never been on the receiving end, he loved giving, if you told him to take over he’d do it gladly. More importantly, his need to please was strong, if pleasing you meant stepping back a bit he’s happy too. However, he didn’t anticipate his sensitivity to your touch. He hears himself whimper as your pumping speeds up, the rising heat traveling down to his member. He jolts as the pleasure intensifies. A hand hovers over your pumping one before holding himself back and placing it back on your thigh.
He’s starting to lose a battle, don’t cum, not yet, she’ll get bored soon and touch you somewhere else, don’t fucking cum. He chanted to himself, one of his hands moved to your ass, gripping as his other kept shelter on your thigh. You watched as he shut his eyes tight, his lips parting as he huffed out puffs of air. You smiled in triumph as he began to shake his head side to side, starting to lose his internal war, “B-baby… y/n, I’m gonna c-cum baby,” His voice was hoarse.
You tilted your head, sliding your pumping up to only his tip. His thighs jolted, his eyes opening as he started to look at you for pity. He only saw you looking at his dick dreamily, the heat in his stomach pulses. He swallows down his need to overcome you, opting to let himself relax.
Minho cursed, he groaned deeply, throwing his head back. His brain started to become unmanageably fuzzy.
“Y/n.” He whispered, licking his lips.
His smooth thighs flexed.“You’re so good baby,” Your lips parted at his soft whimper.
You grin, slowing down your pumping, giggling as he whimpered trying to fuck your palm the heat causing his tip to pulse. “You like me huh, Minho?” Your words were teasing. You were met with an eager nod. Cooing, you slipped off your underwear. You looked into his brown eyes, just when you thought he let himself surrender fully, he had some fight left in him.
He gripped your waist, biting his lip as he guided you over his throbbing member. You let him sink you down onto his warmth. You whimpered, Minho watched carefully, looking for signs of you needing him to take over. Only for him to get knocked down again, his brows furrowed as you brace a hand on his blushed chest, beginning to ride him. He stared at your clothed chest, your nipples hard enough for the outline to push past your bra and blouse. With heavy breaths his eyes traveled up your littered neck, finally landing on your blissed face. “Pretty,” He whispered, so soft you barely acknowledged it. His brain was swirling with only the image of you, the smell of you reminding him of a warm cabin.
You looked down at him, giggling at his starry eyes and beads of sweat, you were unaware of the state his mind was in. You were enthralled by the thought of him being so pliant. Never in a million years did you think your boss would be under you with a flushed face and a throbbing dick. You feel his dick pulse as he squeezes his eyes shut. Your hands make their way to his jaw, “Are you holding your cum from me, Mr. Lee?” His member throbs again. Your voice and playful words have him shaking his head, gripping your ass so hard you're sure there will be a mark, it stirs you on. “Want you to... To cu-cum first.” He whispered. Your walls flutter and tighten around him, Minho’s eyes snap open, lifting you off him, and you forget about his strength for just a moment.
You peered down to see his jumping member and quivering thighs, precum leaking and he tried to catch his breath. You didn’t let him, you swatted his hold away, ignoring his groan as you seethed him back into your warm hole. “Ah, fuck I can’t hold it, baby.” He rasped out, listening to how wet you were. You didn’t answer him, tuning out his winning, starting to chase your own high that's been building up while watching him. The buzzing started to spread. You gripped his shoulders, pushing yourself closer to him. Minho’s hand placed itself on your sweaty back, bracing himself. His other hand slid down to your thigh, grazing where he was buried into you. His grip tightened, spreading your slick puffy lips slightly. “Min, that's so good.” You whimpered. He hummed, burying his head into your neck. He shifted, widening his legs the best he could, and started to meet your thrusts.
Your mouth formed an O, tears forming in your eyes as he hit the gummy spot you never reached on your own. Before you knew it your body began to go numb from the pleasure, the buzzing reached every inch of you in what felt like a millisecond. Minho felt your muscles detense, he whimpered as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He chuckled tiredly at the sound of your babbling. You finally needed him, you were close and god knows he is too. He fucked into you like you’ve unlocked a different part of him.
“Gonna c-cum min.” You whimpered, “I know baby, I Know.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, feeling his self control finally coming to an end. He grunts, taking a hand and reaching between your radiating bodies. You moan so loud you're sure any late night hikers would be able to hear you. Your thighs shake as if it feels you’re physically experiencing the color red, the buzzing now being heard in your ears, distracting you from your release covering his thighs as yours shake. Minho grunts before he bites down on your shoulder, seeing sparks of deep green as he squeezes his eyes shut, spilling himself into you as he starts to hear crackles of fire.
When you close your eyes you're met with the visions of the man that’s under you. Images of his life, his milestones, you feel what he felt all in the blink of an eye. The images seize, and you’re yanked out of the dreamy state, catching your breath. You gulp, slowly facing him. His eyes meet yours, “Did you see that?” he whispered. You nodded, your fingertips still buzzing. “I-is this that soulmate thing?” his voice slightly above a murmur. Your body tensed, “What?” He looked into your eyes, he could almost feel your fear, “U-uh nothing.” He lifted you off him gently, ignoring what the sight of his release dripping from you did to him. Minho watched as you straightened yourself out in the passenger seat of his car. His eyes glanced at the foggy windows before returning to your now tense form.
Were you his… soulmate? He thought it was just a speculation that scientists made up to give the single population hope. He cleared his throat, putting his softening member back into his boxers, and lifting his pants up. “I’ll, uhm… I’ll drive you home.” Minho licks his lips nervously as he puts on his wrinkled button down. He looked at the time on his watch, 12:57am. He moves to turn on the engine.
“You believe them?” Minho glanced your way, taking in your question. “Do you believe what they say on the news?” He blinked, thinking of a proper answer as he started to drive out of the parking lot. “I mean,” He turned to enter the freeway. “If it’s on the news, there has to be some truth.” You took in his words, rolling down the window. “Y/n, the… symptoms that they described, that’s what just happened.” You frowned, looking out the window taking in his words. “I saw you, your middle school graduation,” you glower at him, his eyes were on the road, only glancing at you briefly. “I saw your first, and only relationship…” He paused, seeing your hands clasp together nervously out of the corner of his eye. He changed the topic, “When I… finished, I saw green, a forest green. And I heard fire, like a campfire.”
You gazed at his side profile. Without a word, you looked forward. You gave him the directions to your apartment.
As he pulled into your driveway, you grabbed your purse putting it on your shoulder. Minho said nothing when you opened the door as soon as he came to a stop, not even giving him a chance to put the car in park. You stepped out, your heels clacking on the pavement. You took in a deep breath before bending down, coming into his view again. You looked at his longing eyes, waiting for you to say anything to grant him peace of mind. “I’ll see you on Monday Mr. Lee.” With that, you closed his door. Gulping down anxiety as you steadily walk to the entrance of your apartment.
-
Link to vote for this to become a series [click on me]!
summary: fate delivers you han jisung on a silver platter – he's the key to finally taking down your worst enemy, his uncle, the governor Han Yujun. You're ready to force what you need out of him by any means necessary, but it quickly becomes clear that you might not have to.
word count: 8k words
author's note: oh my god!! it's here!! this series has been in the works for 4 months and has its origin in this ask my love @stayconnecteed sent me. the beginning is even still similar, though I did edit it, so I recommend reading it again, even if you're familiar. this is a big story, about love, yes, but also about trauma and chosen family and how to go on despite it all. and I hope you will love them all as much as I do. but enough waffling, here we go!!!!
warnings: mentions of physical violence, mentions of past sexual assault. if either of these things are big triggers for you, please note these will be themes in this story. heed the series warnings in the masterlist!
this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI
series masterlist // skzms masterlist
<;- epigraph - chapter II (coming march 15, 3pm CET) ->
It doesn't make sense. It's all you can think as you drag your tired eyes over the same perfectly drawn, painstakingly decorated map over and over again. One of your own, Seungmin’s own, always impeccable handiwork, one that looked similar, but just not the same lies abandoned to your left.
"Penny for your thoughts, Captain?"
You had forgotten he was still here. When you look up, his feline eyes are boring into yours, deep and dark and permeating. He was too attractive for his own good, standing there with his hips cocked to the side, his white shirt half undone, wiping the leftover grime and blood from his bruised knuckles.
“Nothing, just wondering if I’m missing something,” you murmur, your eyes falling back down to the paper in front of you. The wood of the ship creaks, the floor swaying under your feet. It was going to be a stormy night.
Minho sighs, dropping the bloodied and dirty rag onto the floor, which you send him a dirty glare for. But he leaves it there, instead rounding the big, heavy table to stand behind you.
His hands slide over your hips confidently but gently, caressing your hip bones before sliding up to wrap around your waist. Then he steps closer, presses his solid chest against your back, hooking his chin over your shoulder to look down at what you're seeing. One of his hands slips under the material of your shirt, runs over your skin in a way that makes your focus slip. But the frustration persists.
"This map seems like nonsense," you sigh out, turning the strange map over again. "Maybe that bloodbath today was for nothing."
The bloodbath that was the hijacking of a government ship from the man you’ve been trying to take down for years. You had killed them all, except for a handful of them, sending them sailing north in their shoddy lifeboats.
Minho scoffs behind you as his hand splays over your lower belly and presses you closer against his body.
"Then we still got to off some of those government pigs, that's a win in my book," he grumbles out darkly before he presses a wet kiss to the side of your neck. "Plus, we still have him."
Right. Him.
Minho's lips drag over your neck gently, sensually, soft and hot, making heat pool deep in your abdomen. His hands caress your body, and you can feel him starting to fill out against your ass. You know where this is leading, but you have work to do yet.
"Tell Chan to get him."
Minho's lips stop their journey over your skin with the barest perceptible sigh before he makes his way over to the door, sticking his head out to speak to the man standing sentry in front of your office. You may be fucking your second in command, but he still would never dare disobey captain's orders. Minho's good like that; otherwise you would've never let him get this close to you.
Chan's heavy footsteps disappear down the corridor and Minho closes the door softly, makes his way back over to you. His hands come back to your hips, squeezing the flesh softly.
"Any plans for the questioning? Should I get the kit?"
You raise an eyebrow at him.
"He's the governor's nephew, I doubt we need to resort to physical violence to get him to speak."
Minho smirks at you, visibly pleased that he finally has your attention because he leans in slightly, rubbing his nose over your cheek.
"Oh, we'll break him so quickly," he whispers with a dark smile. He's staring down at your lips as he pulls you closer, tentatively brushing his lips against yours at first, as if to see if you'll pull away, before he finally kisses you properly. Parting your lips, you swallow the little moan that falls from his lips when your tongue slides against his. But the kiss is cut short when heavy footfall and angry voices sound from the hallway. Minho pulls away reluctantly. He swipes some spit off the corner of your mouth with his thumb, but doesn't move his hand from where it’s resting against your waist, even as the door opens. It's an open secret, the fact that he's closer to you than even a second in command should be, though nobody dares acknowledge it.
Occasionally, Minho liked to stake his claim like this – and you let him. After all, Minho was also known as the man who would carve the skin from any man's bones if they so much as dared to look at you the wrong way.
The door slams open, revealing Chan and Changbin, their faces angry as they drag in a bundle of green silk and floppy brown hair. The young man is cursing and thrashing around wildly, throwing insults with a surprising venom, until his eyes fall on you and Minho. He falters slightly, eyes blinking rapidly, before they narrow again, and he goes back to kicking out.
"I suggest we tie this one to a chair, he's feral," Changbin spits out, and you just nod, gesturing for them to proceed. Minho's thumb rubs smooth circles over your hipbone. It’s a soothing action, entirely at odds with the chaos in front of you. Sometimes you wonder how he does it.
"Get your hands off me, you brutes," the young man snarls as Changbin shoves him down onto a chair. Chan kneels down to secure his leg, but the guy kicks out, the tip of his expensive brown leather boot almost catching Chan in the chin.
Within seconds, Minho disappears from your side, walks over and cracks the back of his hand across the man's round cheek, making his head snap to the side. He freezes like that before he lifts his head and stares up at Minho, eyes wide in shock, blinking up at him through a curtain of his hair. You think you see Minho hesitate, before he turns around and walks back to your side. But it seems to have taken some wind from his sails because he stops resisting so much, only haphazardly tugging at his restraints as Chan and Changbin finish tying him down.
A bright red hand mark remains on the man's cheek where Minho struck him, and you can't help but think that it's almost a shame to deface such a pretty face.
Because that's what the man is. Pretty. Soft brown, mid-length hair that falls a little past his ears, falling over his big, dark eyes constantly, which seems to irk him because he keeps tossing his head to get it out of the way. His cheeks are round, look like they would be soft to the touch, and his lips are pink and plump and small and almost constantly pursed into a pout of disapproval.
And he's dressed well: a green silk coat, that probably cost as much as the ship you just sank, draping over his wide shoulders. He wears nothing but a simple white tank underneath it, exposing honeyed skin stretching over defined collarbones. There's a little silver cross dangling from his neck.
"Fucking finally," Chan curses out as he secures the last knot.
"Thank you. You may leave," you say, your voice as calm and collected as ever. Chan and Changbin nod and plod out of the room. When the door falls closed, there's silence.
"You're the captain?" the man asks, surprise on his face. Your eyes narrow. Oh, great. Another one.
"I am. Is that a problem?" you ask, icily, and feel Minho's hand sneak around your waist. The man's eyes follow the movement, too, and then a faint blush creeps up his neck. He shakes his head.
"Now," you say as you slowly make your way around the big desk, leaning yourself against it and crossing your arms as you keep an eye on the man in front of you. Minho follows you, coming to stand a few feet next to you, hand on the handle of his knife.
"What is your name?"
"Han," the man mumbles out, "Han Jisung."
The name confirms it. You really did somehow manage to abduct Han Yujun’s nephew. Jackpot. You don’t even try to hide the triumphant grin that tugs at your lips. It seems to unsettle him.
"How’s your uncle?" you ask casually and the man, Jisung, narrows his eyes.
"How would I know? He put me on that stupid ship weeks ago, even though I told him it was a bad idea. But he never listens, does he," Jisung rambles, his eyebrows knitted together. You throw a glance at Minho, who looks back at you, perplexed. This may turn out to be your easiest job yet.
"Why was it a bad idea?" you ask gently, taking a step closer to Jisung. He’s still scowling, a dangerous glint in his eyes that’s entirely at odds with the way he’s rambling, seemingly without a filter.
"B-because I hate him. I hate him and his stupid cronies who always touch my ass and his corrupt fucking government. Like, do you have any idea how many people are starving in our city?"
He's still rambling when you slowly crouch down in front of him. The fact that you're suddenly below his eye level makes Jisung’s monologue stutter to a halt. He exhales a shaky breath."If you hate it
all so much, why are you sitting in front of us dressed in green silk?" you purr and Jisung's pink lips part slightly. It’s a bait question, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He tugs at his restraints, and the movement makes Minho take a cautious step closer to you. But there’s no real intent behind his movements.
"Well, I still had a ship to commandeer, a reputation to uphold. The men already didn't respect me. Had to lock my door every night, and they still tried to break it down …"
You can feel Minho fidget next to you.
"Did you not have a second-in-command?" Minho snarls out from beside you, and Jisung looks up at him, a cynical smile on his face.
"Sent him over the gangplank on day three because he assaulted me. It's just been me ever since."
You watch carefully as Minho scoffs, affecting indifference, but you don’t miss the way his knuckles turn white on the handle of his knife.
You look at Minho and Minho looks at you, and a wordless moment later, Minho leans down into Jisung's space. Jisung sucks in a breath and straightens his back, trying to move away as Minho leans closer and closer. Minho supports his hand on the chair behind Jisung's back and watches closely as Jisung blinks up at him and then throws you a panicky glance.
"Are you gonna kill me?" he whispers, his eyes big and round and watery.
You chuckle and Minho's lips curl into a devious smile.
"We won't kill you," you say. "Instead, I'd like to make you an offer."
Minho stands back up and Jisung’s body relaxes slightly, though he stays alert, shifting uncertainly when Minho starts pacing around him.
“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, I’m sorry to disappoint, but my uncle will probably not even bail me out. A tragedy in the family would play right into his campaign right now,” Jisung says bitterly, his lips pulled into an ironic snarl, “or he would bail me out only to drown me in the harbour.”
You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head to the side as you watch Jisung for any sign of a lie. Though, again, there is none. Strange boy.
“Just how much do you hate your uncle?” you ask quietly, and Jisung’s snarl deepens.
“More than you can even imagine. And he hates me just as much.”
You blink at him for a beat before you decide to take the leap. You stand up. Jisung’s eyes follow you up automatically.
“I want to offer for you to join us,” you say calmly, and Jisung freezes, staring at you with wide eyes. “If you hate your uncle as much as you say you do, and you’re really that against what he’s doing, then you’re on the right ship. We’ve been working to take him down for years.”
Jisung’s face gives nothing away as he ponders your offer, and you realise you may have underestimated him slightly. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Minho shift his weight from one foot to the other. So he’s feeling it, too.
“And what if I don’t? Want to join you, I mean,” Jisung asks carefully, and you smile at him and shrug, but you can feel the darkness swirl in your chest. You let some of it filter into your smile, and Jisung tenses in response. Perceptive. Definitely underestimated him.
“Then you can rot in our cell until we dock at our next safe harbour in about two months. And we’ll see if we can get some money out of your uncle, what he does with you after, I don’t care,” you say casually and look up at Minho who’s smiling at you. There’s a dark glint to his eyes that you know all too well.
“And if your uncle doesn’t pay, I’m sure someone else will. Pretty boy like you should fetch an equally pretty price,” Minho adds, looking down at Jisung with an eery smile, as his eyes flit all over the younger man’s flushed face.
You know Minho is bluffing, but Jisung doesn’t, and his pokerface is slipping now, his red cheeks not helping his case as his eyes race around the room like he’s trying to weigh his options. You decide to let him stew in it for a bit.
“Chan!” you yell, relishing in the way Jisung nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden sound. Chan walks in and you motion towards Jisung vaguely.
“Han Jisung, take your time to think over our offer. When you’ve decided, let Chan know, and he’ll arrange for us to see each other again. Otherwise, I will see you in two months, to hand you off to the highest bidder.”
You have to rip your eyes away from the spectacle that is Jisung’s flushed, panicked face and nod at Chan.
“Take him back to his cell.”
Chan complies, untying Jisung’s feet from the chair. This time, the young man doesn’t fight it, just sits there, his brows furrowed, his eyes trained on you, and it’s like you can see the gears turning in his head. He’s still staring at you as Chan tugs him to his feet and drags him to the door.
You wait for the footsteps to fade down the hall before you turn to Minho. He’s already looking at you.
“Do you think that offer is a mistake?” you ask him, and he purses his lips, thinks for a second. Then he shakes his head.
“I think the boy’s got nowhere else to go,” he responds, “and isn’t that how most of us found our way here?”
He gives you a crooked smile, eyes trailing over your face, and you remember the first time you met Minho.
It was a stormy day, brutal winds, howling around the sails, whipping ice-cold drops of rain into your freezing face. You were ambushed, stupidly, all your fault, really, getting into strange waters during a storm like this. As so often, Jeongin and his perfect eyesight saved you, flying down the sails in the late afternoon gloom, raising the alarms as quietly and quickly as he possibly could.
Now, you and your men were fighting tooth and nail, your 25 against the other ship’s 20, and you were winning – the last part wasn’t a surprise. Everyone in these waters knew not to fuck with you. You and your crew were the undisputed masters, and only fools would ever cross you. Turns out, these were fools. But they were paying for it now.
You took a moment to escape to the quarterdeck to survey the scene. Chan and Changbin, the muscle of the ship, were on the other ship, taking down pirates easily, brutally, efficiently. Your plank was protected by Hyunjin, your first mate, but coincidentally also the best shot in the seven seas. Your other men were dotted around, fighting wherever they found the enemy, beating the other crew by a mile. Good.
You saw something glint from the corner of your eye and started, whipped your head up in alarm. Up in the fighting top of the main mast of the enemy ship sat a man about your age. He sat up there, away from the action, looking the picture of relaxation, kicking his legs, twirling a knife between his nimble fingers. His hat sat next to him on the wood, his head uncovered, shaggy black hair slicked back with the rain, revealing an angular, criminally handsome face, and intelligent, feline looking eyes.
He didn’t look away, not breaking eye contact even for a second as he watched you, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away, something about him–
You felt the air shift around you before you heard him, the heavy, lumbering brute that was charging at you. Unsurprisingly, he was not just lumbering but also predictable, pulling his fist too far back so you easily dodged his first punch, then the predictable other one. It took you about 20 seconds, two hard punches to the ears, a knife in the stomach and a kick to his gut to take care of him, tipping him over the side of the ship unceremoniously, and when you looked up, the man was still looking at you, and he was as calm as before, seemingly unaffected by the fact that you had just killed one of his mates, potentially one of his friends. Your eyebrows furrowed further, but again, you were interrupted, and this time all thought of the stranger left your head when your navigator, Seungmin’s panicked voice rung from the fray on the main deck.
“Captain!” he yelled, his voice full of panic, and your head snapped over to where he was leaning over Jeongin, who was holding his shoulder, dark blood seeping through his fingers. Ice-cold panic surged through your entire body.
“Shit,” you breathed, your cutlass clattering to the floor as you vaulted over the railing of the quarterdeck, weaving through the fighting to get to them as fast as you could. The bleeding was bad, Jeongin’s face an unhealthy shade of white, but it looked like he might survive. You needed him to survive. You helped Seungmin drag Jeongin’s shivering body into the hallway below the deck, barricading the door behind you, so nobody could follow you, and ran for your surgeon.
As soon as Jeongin was somewhat stable, you and Seungmin left him and made your way back above deck, where your crew had rounded up the last four pirates from the enemy ship on their deck. The man you had seen on the top wasn’t among them, and you felt a stab of disappointment and, if you didn’t know any better, grief.
Changbin gave you a small bow as you walked over.
“What should we do with these men, captain?”
You took a long look at them, watching calmly as one of them gathered spit in his mouth and spat at you, a thick glob of it landing on your boot. You looked at the spit, then the man, then Changbin.
“That one? In a boat, alone, no provisions,” you ordered and Chan was already moving, dragging him up and over to one of the lifeboats.
“The others,” you said slowly, watching the rest of the men cower in fear, avoiding your eyes, “You have the option to join my crew. If you choose not to, I’m feeling nice. Boat, enough provisions for a few days. Under the condition that you never, ever draw your sword against me or mine ever again.”
But none of the men took your offer, so you let your crew deposit them into a boat and send them off. They would probably be fine, the sun was set to rise on a clear day in the morning, and if they were smart, they could find their way back to land. If they weren’t, well, then you were glad they didn’t take your offer. There was no margin for error out here. Davey Jones took no prisoners.
You watched calmly as Chan and Changbin set about looting what they could from the ship, standing in the drizzling rain of the waning storm as they hauled crates upstairs, stuck around until they doused the ship in oil and set fire to it. The remaining raindrops crackled in the flames, the heat of the burning ship barely warming you, only making you more aware of the chill that sat deep in your shaking limbs and aching bones. When the ship was mostly burned, you nodded to your men, spoke a word of congratulations, and turned towards your cabin. But before you could open the heavy door that led below deck, a heavy thump of something hitting the deck sounded behind you, followed by the sound of yelling and the metallic swish of 20 swords being drawn.
You whipped around and came face to face with the man from the top, his features even more striking, his eyes even darker, more dangerous up close. An undeniable relief washed through you at the sight of him. Something told you that it would have been a shame if he had just been killed. But instead, he must’ve hid in Jeongin’s abandoned lookout post before he jumped from your main mast onto the deck. A bold move, considering the 25 men that immediately surrounded him, swords and knives drawn.
But the man didn’t seem to care. He stood there, shoulders squared, chest rising and falling with even breaths, his feline eyes boring into yours, unreadable, deep, beautiful. Then he drew his knife from his scabbard, placed it in his upward-facing palms and got on his knee, bowing his head.
Your whole crew was stunned into silence.
“What’s your name?” you asked loudly.
“Lee Minho,” the stranger answered, without lifting his head, his voice muffled by the material of his coat.
“What are you expecting from joining this crew?”
“A captain who cares for their crew, a captain who stands for something,” the man, Minho, said resolutely and without hesitation, and you blinked your eyes in surprise.
“So you know me?”
“I heard much of you, captain,” his answer came immediately, his voice still as sure as it was in the beginning, “I was hoping I would meet you one day, to see if the rumours were true.”
“What rumours have you heard then?” you said with a smirk, and some of your crew laughed, easing the tension. You made eye contact with Hyunjin over to your left, who raised an eyebrow at you, then Chan, who looked puzzled.
“That you’re ruthless, but fair. That you protect your crew like family. That you fight the good fight,” Minho said, and then nobody was chuckling any more. He was serious.
You walked over to the man until you were sure he could see the tips of your boots in his vision, waited for a second. But he didn’t raise his head, a sign of obedience that spoke of the truth of his words more than any promise ever could. Slowly, leisurely, you reached down and tapped his cheek, prompting him to raise his head. It was only when his gaze met yours again, that you suddenly realised what you’d missed these last few minutes. Something red-hot shivered down your spine. Danger. Sparks. Heat.
“What role were you hoping to get on my ship? I have to tell you, we’re pretty fully staffed.”
You weren’t, but he didn’t have to know that. He was still staring into your eyes. Something about the way he looked at you set you on fire, like your soul knew him already. It took everything in you to keep your steady eyes on him.
“I want to be your second-in-command,” he stated, and surprised murmurs broke out all around you. You raised your hand to silence them and nodded for Minho to continue.
“I saw you out there, you were all alone. A captain should always have someone to have their back.”
You cocked an eyebrow and smirked at him darkly, feigning a confidence that you could feel only the barest remnant of after this big battle, the excruciating wet and cold in your bones. But feigning it helped, distracted you from the sheer power he seemed to have over you.
“If you saw me, I think you saw I can handle myself just fine. Or do you disagree?”
Your men were chuckling all around you again. Lee Minho wasn’t. He shook his head, his eyes dipping down to your shoes briefly, in a sign of submission.
“You can defend yourself, but I think you shouldn’t have to. You’re here to lead, not to fight. Let me fight for you.”
He raised the knife he was still brandishing on his upturned palms higher. A shiver racked down your spine and weariness tugged at your eyes. You didn’t have any fight left in you. And something about him seemed … right. He was different, clearly very intelligent and independent. Despite the heat, the sparks, the danger, your intuition told you to accept him.
So you nodded.
“You can stay. But you will have to earn our trust in order to even be considered for a position that close to me. I don’t fancy getting stabbed in my sleep.”
Lee Minho nodded, still on his knee.
You turned around and nodded to your first mate, Hyunjin.“Hyune,
make sure he gets something to eat and a cabin to sleep in.”
Hyunjin nodded with a slight bow, and you turned around without another word, leaving Minho kneeling in the middle of the deck, in the drizzle, surrounded by your crew.
The man you had just made that same offer, to join your crew, was very different from the type of people you usually accepted. Lee Minho had joined your crew of outsiders almost easily, falling into easy companionship into the group of weirdos, outcasts from society, people who didn’t have anywhere else to go because they were trapped, by people, governments, creditors, pimps. They were all people who were mistreated by the very people, like Han Yujun, you knew from the very first day would be your life’s mission to take down.
Han Jisung was not without means, he was not an outcast in the traditional sense, although the way he spoke about his uncle, the quiet determination in his pretty eyes, his steadfast self-respect, it didn’t feel at all like all the other rich government assholes you had met. No, in a very real way, it all felt … achingly familiar. Like looking into a slightly skewed mirror.
But you forced yourself to be patient, to let him stew until he made his own decision. Though you asked Chan to take him to the baths, to wash his clothes for you and bring him some proper food.
Lee Minho, back when he first joined, managed to worm his way into your crew’s good graces in just a few short weeks. Oddly enough, it felt like he fit right in. And despite his closed off demeanour, his serious, feline eyes, it turned out that the real Lee Minho was a lot gentler. Also observant, steadfast, loyal, honest.
But he was also strong and merciless. The first fight you got involved in, even if you hadn’t appointed him, Minho never left your side, fighting your attackers with a ferocity and precision, a grace in his strong limbs, you had never seen in a pirate before. And he remained by your side when the fight was over, when you crossed the plank to the other ship, when you forced the enemy captain to his knees, when you interrogated and even when you dealt with him afterwards – through all of it, Minho stood two paces behind you on your right, his hand on his knife. The look on his face was determined, yet neutral, never questioning; you felt it that day for the first time, something that you would come to learn was one of the most important things about Minho: his support felt unconditional.
Before you parted ways that night, caked in blood and your hair and clothes reeking of the smoke of the burning enemy ship, his strong hands, the ones that had killed and mauled in your name, found your shoulders with a gentle, yet firm grip. He didn’t speak, just stood there looking at you, searchingly, inquisitively, until you gave him a tired smile. When he seemed satisfied that you were okay, he let his hands fall from your shoulders, bowed and turned on his heels, heading for the crew cabins downstairs. Something small and fragile in you wished he would’ve stayed. It felt dangerously nice to be so cared for.
You appointed Minho your second-in-command not much later.
You have to wait for two days before Chan knocks on the door to your cabin and finally announces that Jisung is asking to see you. You briefly weigh the risk of being alone with your captive, whether you should send Chan to find Minho up on deck – but you figure you will be able to defend yourself, no matter how feisty he was the other day. Plus, you have a feeling this one might need a bit of a gentler hand.
So you ask Chan to get him and wait, patiently, leaning against the front of your heavy desk, dark brown booted feet crossed at your ankles. The footsteps that walk up to your door this time are much calmer, one set of heavy steps you easily identify as Chan, the other much softer, more meandering in the way they find their footing.
There’s a low muttering exchange of words before Chan knocks and enters, pushing Jisung in front of him.
“Do we need to tie you to a chair again or are you going to be a good boy?” you ask Jisung, in lieu of a hello, and he narrows his eyes slightly, nose tipping skywards.
“I- I’m perfectly fine like this, thank you.”
You quirk one eyebrow at him, make a show of shrugging at Chan before you dismiss him. But Chan hesitates by the door.
“Are you sure? Should I get …” he starts, but you raise your hand to cut him off. His mouth snaps shut immediately.
“I’m sure. I would prefer it if you didn’t question my ability to question my captive. Leave us.”
Chan nods tersely, face burning as he bows.
“I’ll be right out here,” he says loudly, throwing a warning glance at Jisung before closing the door behind him.
You let your eyes finally fully fall on the young man in front of you.
He’s still in the same clothes from the day you captured, but they look like they have been washed. He looks fine, too, clean and well-rested, his soft brown hair still falling into his eyes in messy waves. Still pretty, you observe. He doesn’t say anything, just waits for you to speak with his lips pursed into his indomitable pout.
“You look like they’ve been taking care of you well, just like I asked,” you say finally and watch him blink at you warily.
“They have …” he says cautiously, and you raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing around your lips.
“What? Do you have any complaints? Surely, it’s not the food,” you ask in an effort to make him lighten up, but Jisung doesn’t respond, only jerkily shakes his head.
“Where’s your guard dog?” he suddenly asks, too sharply, too loudly.
Both of your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, annoyance starting to lick at your neck.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you say calmly, but dangerously, giving Jisung another chance to change his approach before you shove him right back into his cell, this time without such courtesy as you’ve shown him so far. Jisung falters briefly, before he bristles again.
“About your height, anger issues, looks like a greasy cat, smells like one, too,” Jisung supplies feistily.
Irritation starts to bubble deep in your gut, and you try hard to swallow it down, though the tremor in your voice is impossible to control.
“I don’t know if you’re familiar with the power dynamics in a situation like this, pretty boy,” you start icily, taking very slow, calculated steps towards Jisung, “but I’m the one who told my men to allow you to bathe, I’m the one who told them to bring you some of their food, and I’m the one who will decide whether I send you to starve in a boat by yourself tonight, sell you to a slave master in two months, or kill you myself. right. now.”
By now, you’re face to face with him, so close your breath puffs against his skin with every exhale, your eyes roving over his flushed cheeks, the little birthmark next to his mouth. When he still doesn’t say anything, you place a gentle hand on his chest before you shove him, suddenly, and with all your strength-
Jisung reels, stumbles backwards, eyes widening as he trips over his own feet, and you watch coldly as he slams into the hard floor with a loud thud and a groan. The door flies open and Chan is in the room within milliseconds, knife drawn and ready. He gives you a panicked once-over, then glares at Jisung, who’s still groaning on the floor.
“Take him back,” you say coldly and Chan automatically straightens up when he hears the ice in your voice, “and this time? Give the spoiled brat the regular treatment.”
Chan hauls Jisung to his feet without another word, his grip on his arm more than painful if Jisung’s hiss is anything to judge by. He drags Jisung to the door unceremoniously, but Jisung struggles.
“Wait!” he yells, but Chan keeps moving. Good to know your station as captain is still intact. “Wait, wait, captain, please.”
Captain. You look at Jisung expectantly as he is being dragged away.
“I’m sorry, wait, please,” he stammers out, louder, yanking at his restraints, tries to get his arm out of Chan’s grip, though it clearly hurts him. He looks at you pleadingly, and you don’t know what possesses you, but you decide to hear him out.
“Chan, stop,” you order, and Chan does so immediately. Jisung stops struggling and breathes out a sigh of relief. He winces when he tries to move his arm, his breathing laboured from his struggle.
“Captain,” he says, with emphatically, slightly bowing his head, “I … I want to join you.”
He … what?! You huff out a shocked laugh. Even Chan snorts, staring at the young man like he lost his mind.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” you breathe out and Jisung grimaces, but stays silent. “You come in here with an attitude like that and then only change your mind at the prospect of shitting into a bucket for the next two months, and you expect me to believe you?!”
“Fuck,” Jisung curses, and you laugh again.
“Yeah, fuck’s about right. Should’ve thought this through.”
Jisung shakes his head. Chan starts tugging at his arm and Jisung starts talking, his words so fast you can barely make them out.
“No, no, I already … I’m … I’m not good at this, okay, scratch that, I’m bad at it. Always been bad at diplomacy. My uncle never failed to tell me, trust me. But in my defence, I have never been abducted before and,” Jisung starts babbling and both you and Chan watch him, blinking stupidly. “And yes, the prospect of shitting in a bucket is horrible, but even before that, the food wasn’t lost on me, okay. Neither was the bath. I’m just not used to being tied up, at least not in these circumstances,” a nervous laugh, “but my mother has always said my big mouth will get me in trouble one day.”
You look at Chan and Chan looks at you, and you slowly raise your hand, to wave for him to wait outside. He once again hesitates, but you glare at him and wave him off again. He relinquishes his hold on Jisung’s arm, who grimaces in relief while his mouth is still going a mile a minute, scuffing the toes of his boots into the uneven planks under his feet.
“… and besides, I wouldn’t have worn this outfit if I had known. But that’s beside the point. What I wanted to say was, I want to accept your offer.”
When he finally raises his head and looks at you, his face is no longer flushed, instead you can see the smooth planes of his chipmunk-like cheeks, watch as his eyebrows furrow with determination. He tosses his head back, shakes the hair from his eyes, meets your gaze with his own, shockingly honest one. Something in your gut is telling you to trust this man, and it feels oddly similar to the feeling you had with Chan and Jeongin, and the same feeling you had with Minho.
Jisung watches you carefully as you un-sheath your knife from where it’s hanging at your hip and take a step towards him. His eyes widen, his mouth drawing into a perfect little o as he stumbles back, almost tumbling to the floor all over again.
“I’m sorry, okay, I thought I made it clear I didn’t mean it – I- Please don’t kill me!”
He squeaks when his back hits the wall, and he cowers in on himself. How he could go from so feisty and angry to so cute and anxious is beyond you. He’s … very different from the rest of you, and you briefly wonder how much trouble that alone could land you in. But then again, you had never turned anyone away just because they were weird. Quite the opposite, it’s what had kept you all stuck together like this.
He’s still cowering, squeaking again when he feels the cold metal press against his thin shirt. You slice through the rope, and he jumps, his arms sliding from where they had been crossed against his back.
His eyes fly open when he realises he’s no longer bound, and he blinks up at you, eyes wide and cheeks puffed out in shock, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at just how ridiculous he looks. Like someone drew him.
“Don’t make me regret this,” you say quietly before you re-sheath your knife and turn around, walking back to your desk and leaning against it again, just like you had when he had first entered. For all intents and purposes, to anyone, even Chan, it would probably look like you were the picture of relaxation. But your whole body was pulled taut as soon as you turned your back on him. Just because your gut feeling tells you to trust him doesn’t mean you’re an idiot.
But the only thing Han Jisung does is walk closer to you one you’re settled against your desk, rubbing the red marks of the ropes on his wrists, the spot where Chan had grabbed him so roughly, a slightly disgruntled look on his face.
“So, you said you wanted to join us?” you say carefully and Jisung straightens up and nods, bowing slightly.
“I want to join you, Captain, if you’ll have me.”
So polite.
“Why?” you ask simply, and he blinks at you. You nod for him to go on.
“Because … because I’m bad at politics, especially the one my uncle is so good at. Like, I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m a pretty bad liar, and I’m pretty sure that’s all my uncle does. Besides, I don’t want to be good at his kind of politics, the kind that starves people and runs them out of their homes and …” he swallows thickly, and you watch him closely. Still, you couldn’t find a single indication that he was lying.
“And it’s not like I have anywhere else to go,” Jisung adds, suddenly overly interested in the shining leather of his boots, “my uncle might kill me or put me on another ship with men whose only interest is my ass, I have no friends because all I ever did was politics, and my parents are fucking dead.”
His voice breaks slightly at the end, before he chuckles, humourlessly, tosses his head nonchalantly.
“It’s probably stupid that I’m laying out all my cards like this, but like you just reminded me, you hold all the power here.”
He raises his head and when he looks at you now, his big brown eyes are glassy, though his lips are pursed resolutely. There it is again. You make up your mind then.
“We’re all in a similar boat here, pun intended,” you offer carefully. He chuckles slightly and sniffles once, rubbing his nose with his sleeve. He’s so … cute. The thought of anyone touching him without his consent made a familiar, ugly hatred burn deep in your gut.
“None of us had anywhere else to go when we first joined, but now we have found a sense of belonging. The others will tell you their own stories on their own time if they wish to, but rest assured, we were all lost once. Lost and angry and wronged.”
Jisung nods, his eyes glued to yours so attentively it almost made you nervous.
“And …,” you hesitate, something that feels foreign to you, “you’ll be safe here. Nobody will … try to hurt you here, in any way, or … touch you without your consent.”
“Yeah?” Jisung asks, his face still determined, but his voice a quiet, hopeful thing. God, you swear your heart would crack if you still felt like you had one.
You nod gently.
“We’re a family, family should never hurt each other.”
The dark, cynical disappointment buried deep in his eyes is painfully familiar. You wonder if he can see it in your eyes, too. You clear your throat, assuming your ‘captain voice’ again.
“Let’s leave it here for today,” you announce, and it’s like Jisung shakes himself out of it, stands up straighter and nods again. Cute little bobblehead, you think. “And tomorrow, I think we should have a long conversation about how far you’re willing to go against your uncle. Because I know family can be a bit–“
You’re interrupted by the door flying open so hard that it rattles on its hinges. Minho barges in, his eyes wild, his shoulders squared, fists balled by his sides. His gaze falls to Jisung’s untied hands, panic all over his face for a brief, unguarded second, before he collects himself. His eyes race over your body, inspect you for any sign of injury or discomfort, but the relief when he comes up empty does nothing to assuage his panic. He walks to your side, his hands reaching towards you before falling helplessly at his side.
“Are you fucking insane?” he hisses out, his breath coming out in short bursts. He looks wild, and yet his eyes are so much softer than he ever allows himself in front of people. “Why is he untied? Why are you alone with him? Why didn’t you tell Chan to get me?”
Your heart soars, plummets, constricts deep in your chest, the panic in Minho’s eyes mingled with something you can’t think too much about, let alone name, making your head swim. You have to take a steadying breath. Then you do what you have to do.
“Minho,” you say coldly and Minho takes a step back as if wounded, his face slipping into his cold pokerface, though the pain that flashes through his eyes feels like it’s stabbing you in the heart. “I will interrogate who I wish, how I wish it. Chan didn’t get you because I asked him not to. Understood?”
Minho nods mechanically, eyes glued to yours as he searches and searches your gaze for any of the warmth that’s usually there. You keep it locked away and it aches. His gaze falls on Jisung and his eyes narrow.
“You,” he spits out and Jisung jumps slightly, going pale under Minho’s wrathful glare.
“Jisung is one of us now,” you say matter-of-factly, and Minho’s gaze snaps back to yours, widening in surprise.
“You just made that decision,” Minho says, as is his habit, sounding out a question like it's a statement.
“He just had a conversation with his captain and said captain made that decision, yes,” you say drily, and Minho swallows before lacing his hands behind his back and straightening his back. He’s no longer looking at you, eyes fixed vaguely on the wall behind you, but you can see his hands shaking. You want to throw up. You chance a brief glance at Jisung and to your relief, he doesn’t seem to be aware of all the implications crackling through the air, the only thing he seems to see is his new captain putting her crew in their place.
“Then the captain has made her decision,” Minho says calmly, and you nod and suffocate the tendril of tenderness and regret in your chest that makes you want to reach out and trace the delicate curve of his clenched jaw until it relaxes under your touch.
You turn back to Jisung, who’s staring up at Minho with something between awe and fear in his eyes. You clear your throat, and he drags his eyes away from Minho back to you.
“I realise I never introduced you. This is Lee Minho, my second-in-command, my right hand,” you say and Minho briefly nods at Jisung, eyes stony.
“Now,” you add and call for Chan, who walks into the room calmly, though he avoids looking at Minho. He must’ve heard. Great. “Chan will take you to the mess, where you can introduce yourself to some of the other boys. And tomorrow we talk about the other thing.”
Jisung nods at you, throws a nervous glance at Minho, before he turns around and gives Chan a tentative smile, one that Chan half reciprocates before he ushers him out the door, closing it behind him softly.
The silence that follows is deafening. Minho doesn’t budge an inch, eyes still glued to the wall opposite him, even when you turn to him and cross your arms over your chest.
“I can’t have you questioning my authority like that, Min,” you say calmly, gently. Minho eyes flutter slightly, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. “Not in front of the crew or Chan, and especially not in front of the new guy. You hear me?”
Minho nods again, his eyes blinking rapidly now.
“Talk to me, please? Is it because I didn’t let you know that I was talking to him? Is it because I made the decision without you?”
It’s like Minho breaks, disbelief swimming in his beautiful eyes when he stares at you.
“That’s what you think this is about?”
No.
“Yes?” you offer, withering under his gaze. But you stay strong, though where you pull the strength from is beyond you.
“You can make any decision you want. You’re the captain. I trust you,” he says, and you can tell he means it, but you can also see much more than you’re able to handle.
“Then what was that?” you ask even though you know the answer.
“Y/N …” Minho breathes out your name like a promise and a sob threatens to scratch itself out of your throat, “I … You … You have to …”
You bitterly realise just how good you’ve become at your poker face when he stops himself, running his hands through his hair with a choked sigh.
“If you don’t know, then …” he starts again before he shakes his head hard and makes for the door. “It was nothing, captain, nothing at all.”
He leaves without looking back, letting the door fall shut behind him. When the silence envelops you, you finally allow yourself to crumble.
<;- epigraph - chapter II (coming march 15, 3pm CET) ->
series masterlist // skzms masterlist // kofi
🔖 series taglist and general taglist open!
be 18+ and have your age in bio when you ask to be added
Smut under the cut, bdsm themes and use of pet names. Jisung's could be interpreted as breeding kink so do with that what you will xx
Chris:
You'd established your kinks early into your relationship, and he was a pro at reading the signs by now. He'd notice the second you went quiet, your hands resting neatly in your lap as you listened to whatever the boys were currently talking about. While you were with people, he would feed into your submission by asking you to do small things like getting him a bottle of water or searching something on your phone for him. It was his way of letting you know that he was aware and okay with it.
The second you get somewhere private, he's asking you to kneel, his hand gripping your jaw as he slips his thumb into your mouth, which you suck willingly. Your relationship was far from a constant theme of dominance and submission, but he would never deny you when you were feeling extra pliant. He loved how much you trusted him to take care of you and he was happy to take advantage of it, moving his hand to the back of your head as he unzipped his pants and pulled your face closer to where his cock was trapped in the confines of his underwear.
"My poor baby. You need me to take care of you, huh? Always so good for me. Let Daddy think for you, okay?"
Lee Know:
You were almost always submissive to him to begin with. Being a bratty dom was so much more fun to him knowing that he had such an eager to please sub at his beck and call.
You'd be sitting on the floor between his legs legs where he sat on the couch and he'd be playing with your hair, tugging a little harder than necessary just to hear the prettiest whine leave your lips. Your eyes would lock on his and you wouldn't care at all about the other eyes on you because you always gave Minho anything he wanted and right now what he wanted was to push you to your sub space, waiting until you were right at the edge of being incapable of thought before he tells you to meet him in his room.
You're already kneeling when he gets to you, patiently waiting on his bed with your hands resting between your legs, eyes falling closed when he pets your cheek gently before landing a light slap against the sensitive skin.
"My pathetic little pet. Always so needy for me, aren't you? I could break you into pieces and you'd just thank me."
Changbin:
Changbin wasn't as well versed in the BDSM world as you were, but he had sat you down one night and forced you to explain every single kink term he could find, so he knew enough about what sub space was to be able to recognise it on you.
He had been teasing (torturing) you for over an hour, his fingers never keeping a stable rhythm as he thrust them inside of you, thumb rubbing painfully slow circles at your clit. He was always like this. He lived to see how you reacted to different pressures, speeds and sensations. You couldn't help it when you'd become so overwhelmed by frustration and need that you'd just slipped, unable to think of anything but Changbin, his cock, and how desperately you wanted him. It was the tears welling in your eyes that had him finally giving you the proper attention that you craved, his arms caging you in when he finally settles between your thighs, light kisses pressing across your face.
"My sweet bunny, I'm sorry. Let me take care of you, okay? Gonna make you come nice and hard around me."
Hyunjin:
Hyunjin was always mesmerised when you were like this. Your voice would become all quiet and soft and you'd jump to follow any single request he gave you. It honestly made him melt to see how eager you were to please him and he wanted to return that to you tenfold.
He'd first notice the change in your voice when you were out shopping with Seungmin or Felix, and he'd immediately have his hands glued to your back. He wouldn't take his hands off you for even a second until you were laying safely on the comfort of his sheets and he could replace them with his lips trailing kisses over every inch of exposed skin you had to offer him. Hyunjin would give you the pillow princess treatment just for even wanting to submit to him, gently removing your hands every time you tried to grip at him and locking his fingers with yours. He's 100% going to eat your pussy until you're begging him to stop, and maybe even after that.
"Such a sweet angel for me. Gonna let me spoil you, yeah? That's my girl. Let me hear all those pretty noises you make just for me."
Han:
Jisung is going to be completely wrecked the second he sees you going all soft and gooey for him. You'd be so attentive to him, refilling his drink and bringing him snacks and it really doesn't take any time at all for him to be pulling you toward his room, his lips connecting clumsily with yours as he kicks the door shut and pulls your body flush against his.
He'd be mumbling praises and compliments aginst your lips, refusing to stop kissing you as you stumble your way to his bed, both of you falling into a tangled mess of grabbing hands and desperate pleading as you shove off your pants. He doesn't have the time to waste on getting the rest of your clothing off because he's so desperate to be inside of you and every second that he isn't is absolute torture.
Fucks into you like an animal, his lips leaving yours in favour of marking your neck with deep purple bruises because he knows how much you love it. Everything he does is desperate and messy and you'll both end up glistening with a mixture of saliva and sweat because you can't keep your mouths off each other.
"Need you so bad. Fuck, so good to me. Always so good to me. Wanna fill you up, ok? Wanna claim my baby. So fucking wet. Mine. All mine."
Felix:
Felix is nervous, to say the least. He prides himself in being a "try everything twice" kind of guy but he finds it so hard to take charge when all he wants is to give the love of his life everything they could ever want from him.
You had asked if he could try being a little rougher with you and he had agreed, starting with a slightly harsher grip on your hips as you grind yourself against his hardening cock and graduation to the current position he was in which had you kneeling in front of him with your hands behind your back, his cock filling your mouth as he hesitantly fucked your face.
You had no objections whatsoever, obediently taking everything he was giving you and sighing happily as you caught your breathe every time he pulled out, making him lose all train of thought as he took in the sight of you covered in spit, your eyes watering and an innocent smile tugging at your lips as you stared up at him.
"Fuck. You look so good like this. Is this okay baby? You want me to go a little harder? Shit, you're driving me crazy!"
Seungmin:
Seungmin is gonna tease you about it to no end. Minho and Jisung would be lazing on the couch across from you when you began nuzzling into his side, which was always a telltale sign to Seungmin that you were feeling extra small and needy. Laughs loud enough for everyone to hear before asking if you were feeling a little submissive today. Minho would laugh along and Jisung would meet your eyes with a sympathetic pout before Minnie is shoving his thumb between your lips for you suck, telling you to be patient and wait until the movie is over which feels like it takes a lifetime.
By the time he gets you into his bed you're practically shaking, gripping his shirt as he lays on top of you and pleading for him to touch you. He loves when you get like this, responding to every plea that leaves your lips with a pitying laugh, telling you it was so sad that you were so needy just from being near him.
He doesn't really waste much time prepping you since he knows you're completely soaked, and he has to bite back his moans as he sinks himself completely inside of you.
"You're always so desperate for me, puppy. It's pathetic. Can't live without my cock inside you, can you? Always need to be filled."
I.N:
He is very much clueless at first and you have to explain it to him very slowly when you're alone because he isn't going to acknowledge the change in your behaviour with any of the other boys around. It's not until you're laying in bed that he asks why you were so quiet and clingy earlier and you're flushed a deep red as you explain to him that sometimes you just feel a bit overwhelmed by how much you need him and it just makes you want to do anything he asks.
He's almost embarrassed by how much of a turn on that is and he spends the next day trying to get you in that zone again with light lingering touches, his hands guiding you around by your hips and whispered request into your ear, which truthfully works much easier than he had hoped.
You're both falling into bed, your body on top of his as you whine into his mouth, his hard dick dragging against your clit every time he thrust his hips up against you.
"You wanna make me feel good right? Want you to suck my cock baby, please. Wanna see how you choke on me."
a/n: happy new year, everyone! you guys made the end of 2023 so unbelievably positive for me with your comments, reblogs & likes. thank you sm!! 🩵 huge thank you to @cloverstayy for the below graphic! she's on insta & tiktok under the same name.
Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Bang Chan.
[ read chapter five here ] [ skz house photo book ]
Chapter Six: Of Joy Rides and Hot Tubs
You don’t have class on Thursday so you’re free to wake up when you want. Chan is gone by the time you do, and it’s only 10:00am. He doesn’t have class until late afternoon so your thoughts immediately drift to where he may have gone so early. You would have liked to see him. You wonder, if after last night, he would have smiled at you or shown you any sign that things might be different moving forward.
It’s a silly, fleeting thought. Having sex with him doesn’t change anything. Even though he granted your plea of treating you good, he still kept his boundaries firmly in place after your shower. You were curious if he would allow you to sleep in his bed, naively hopeful about it even as you finished putting on your pajamas. However, when he got situated under his sheets and bid you goodnight, he made it abundantly clear you were not welcome there.
Down in the kitchen and still in your pajamas, you snack on a granola bar as some of the others prepare to leave for classes or wherever they’re going—Seungmin has his baseball bag slung over his shoulder and invites you to come watch him practice later. He’s still on your shit list, though, so you’re not overly thrilled about it…but it’s an option if you have nothing better to do.
The house falls quiet again when all the commotion has ceased and you make your way back up to the second floor, to Hyunjin’s room.
His curtains are drawn, keeping most of the morning light at bay as he sleeps. You walk around to the side of the bed and consider waking him up, cocking your head to the side as you gaze down at him. Even with his blonde hair all over the place, he looks so peaceful and handsome and perfect. His plump lips are pouted in a way that makes him seem absolutely adorable. Sleeping Beauty, who?
Without second guessing it, you slide on the bed next to him.
He peeks open an eye at the movement and smiles lazily when he sees you, causing your heart to flutter.
“Mmmm, she’s back,” he murmurs sleepily as he wraps his arms around you—one under your head and the other around your waist—and pulls you close, nestling his face in your hair.
He throws his leg around yours, holding on to you as if you are his own personal body pillow. Your body relaxes in his embrace and you instantly let out a soft sigh. You are content enough to stay in this position with him all day. His steady breathing lets you know he’s drifted back to sleep so you try your best to be still and not disturb his slumber any further.
Laying on your side, staring ahead at the sight of your empty bed, your mind starts to roam and reflect on the chaos you endured over the past week. Seven days ago you were literally sitting on a curb trying to figure out where you were going to live. And throwing yourself into the SKZ house was a well-timed distraction. You were together with your ex for almost three years, and hadn’t even given yourself time to fully process your break up. Maybe because you knew it was coming…your priorities were no longer aligned, and his eyes had started to wander, his attention and affection wavered. In hindsight, you should have been better prepared for it.
You did love him, though. So the pain of him telling you he thought it’d be best if you lived apart for a while (meaning you getting the fuck out of the apartment), is still brewing inside of you. The anger derived from that pain also makes it easier to cut off your feelings for him. But you hadn’t truly considered being with anyone besides him and now here you are…having fucked one man last night and now in bed with another this morning.
You’d experienced more sexually in three days than you had in the past three years. Dominance, submission, lust, need, desire. You were pushed out of your comfort zone and you liked it. But the most troubling thing for you to wrap your head around is the lack of compassion surrounding these new sexual exploits. You’ve never just fucked someone you weren’t in love with. So how do you detach the actions from the emotions that course through you every time you see Chan?
You can’t deny that you’re attracted to him—that you like the way he teases you, the way he makes you yearn for his touch just by looking at you. Yet, you still don’t understand how you feel about him, or if you should bother feeling anything at all.
Cuddled up to Hyunjin—whom you’ve essentially known the same amount of time as Chan, only further adds to your confusion. Clearly it could all be this simple but Chan seems hellbent on making sure you know he views you as an object, a tool at his disposal. Chan very much still feels like a stranger in all aspects outside of sex, whereas Hyunjin feels like someone you’ve known for a long time. Someone that gets you—that respects you. He’s the only thing of comfort you’ve been able to rely on amidst the raging emotions trying their best to consume you when you’re with Chan.
Hyunjin doesn’t even know how much you need him to just exist right now, and he’d probably think you were crazy if you told him. You place your hand on his arm and bring it from your waist to your chest, he squeezes you closer to him in response, readjusting his body slightly.
With him snuggled against you and these thoughts wreaking havoc on you mentally, the rise and fall of your chest quickens and before you can stop it, tears are streaming down your cheek as the weight of the past week hits you like a Sparta kick to the chest. You try to keep quiet, to wipe your tears before they fall to his arm, but there’s too many and your sniffling gives you away.
Hyunjin stirs and lifts his head up, peeking over your shoulder. When he registers that you’re crying, he slowly blinks his eyes open to really look at you. His hand hugged to your chest moves to your face, turning it towards him. You try to resist, shaking your head, wanting to hide your face in the mattress.
“Y/n,” he says softly, voice still groggy from sleep.
He turns your entire body around so you’re facing him and cups your cheek, wiping your tears away with the pad of his thumb. His attempts are futile—each time he wipes, a new trail is formed.
“Gwenchana?” he says, warm brown eyes searching yours. “You okay?”
You don’t know what he’s said, why he’s said it, or if he’s still half asleep and not realizing he’s speaking Korean but regardless, the gentle, caring concern in his tone fucking breaks you.
A sob escapes from your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut and press your face to his chest. He holds you around the waist with one hand and the other strokes the back of your head.
Even with how good Chan made you feel last night—desired in a way you’d never imagined—you still slept in your bed alone, all the while wanting nothing more than to still be close to him after how much of yourself you’d given to him. To be in his arms the way Hyunjin is holding you now.
You can’t hold it in any longer, and here in this room, you don’t feel like you have to. He just let’s you cry, face against his chest, hands pulling at his shirt. You feel safe here. You want to stay in his protective embrace.
You don’t know how long you spend sobbing against him, but he doesn’t let go of you the entire time. When the sobs and tears finally stop and you regain control of your breathing, he leans back to look at you.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
You chew on your bottom lip and shake your head, unable to meet his gaze.
“Not really,” you say, sniffling and wiping at your eyes. “It’s just been a lot—with the breakup and moving here and Chan and you.”
“Okay,” he replies with a simple nod.
He holds on to you tightly and quickly moves you up and over him so you're now laying on the opposite side of the bed.
“That side is for crying—this side is for happy y/n,” he declares.
You can’t help but laugh at his antics. You look down at his tear stained shirt and pull at the fabric.
“I’m sorry,” you say. “And sorry for waking you up like this.”
“Don’t be,” he assures you. And you believe him with ease. “You’re here for me as much as I’m here for you. In all ways.”
His words are sweet and honestly make you feel like you could start bawling all over again.
“What time is it?” You ask as a distraction, realizing you’ve left your phone in Chan’s room.
“Who cares,” he shrugs.
“Don’t you have class?”
“Who cares,” he repeats. “Want to go do something?”
As much as you’d like to stay here in bed, in his arms, it would also feel nice to be anywhere but inside the house right now.
“Sure,” you say after a moment. “As long as you’re back in time for class.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course, we will be,” he doesn’t sound too convincing this time. He gives you one final squeeze before sitting up. He grabs his phone from the nightstand and checks the time. “We have four hours.”
“What do you have in mind?” You ask, sitting up.
“Nothing at all—I don’t do plans, remember?”
“You’re gonna make me feel a different kind of crazy these next three days,” you joke.
“You’ll learn to love it,” he winks.
You slide out of the bed and find an outfit for the day. You immediately start changing in the room without thinking about it, but Hyunjin hasn’t seen nearly as much of you as Chan has. You peek over your shoulder and see he’s still sitting in bed, watching you with a smile. He pretends he’s been caught, averting his gaze around the room.
“Stop it,” you say with a laugh, pulling your pants up.
“I’m an artist,” he replies, “I have to appreciate good views. Commit them to memory for my work, you know.”
“Well, this isn’t a live model class—get up and get dressed,” you tell him.
“Yes ma’am.”
You pull on your t-shirt, then tell him you’ll be back in a minute. You make your way upstairs, to Chan’s room. You’re not sure if he’s home so you knock lightly on the door. There’s no response. You enter and retrieve your phone, tucking it in your back pocket. You take a moment to makeup your bed since you have no intention of returning to this room at all for the next couple of days. You also grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder before turning around to leave.
You stop dead in your tracks when you see Chan, standing between the door frame, startling you. You put a hand to your chest to still your beating heart. How long had he been standing there?
When he takes in the sight of you, you catch a brief look of concern on his face—if you had blinked you would have missed it.
“I just came to get my things,” you say softly.
As if you owe him any kind of explanation.
He remains silent as he enters the room, stopping just in front of you. He leans down a little, his eyes raking over your face carefully. It dawns on you then…how you must look. You can feel the tightness and puffiness of your eyes from crying earlier.
For a moment you think he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. His lips are pressed together tightly as he gives a curt nod and steps to the side, allowing you to walk past.
His silence feels worse than anything he could have said.
—————
“Have you ever driven one of these before?” Hyunjin asks, seated next to you in the passenger seat of the navy blue Tesla.
You shake your head, still in shock he offered to let you drive.
“Go easy on the pedal,” he says, buckling his seatbelt.
You adjust the rearview mirror, groaning at the sight of your puffy eyes in the reflection. Even after gently washing your face and moisturizing, they still looked awful.
Hyunjin opens the glove compartment, revealing several pairs of sunglasses. He shuffles them around, holds a few different pairs up to your face before deciding on one and handing it to you. He picks a pair for himself and puts them on as you do the same.
“Now we’re ready,” he looks over to you and you see his eyebrows wiggle above the frame of the sunglasses.
You’re grinning widely as you reverse from the driveway, feeling happy and optimistic for once. Hyunjin controls the music as you drive, curating a soundtrack for your adventure. Neither of you have any idea where you’re going, which annoys the crap out of you. Hyunjin finds it amusing and starts telling you to take a left here or there. At one point he has you take four rights in a row, effectively sending you in a circle, or square rather. He claps his hands together, laughing as you swat at his arm and thigh in annoyance.
When the song “Broken” by We Are Fury & Luma comes through the speakers, you make him replay it a few times in a row—the two of you sing it together, “Give it away, like I always do. Watch you start to fade, one more heart to lose.” The lyrics hit you in special way today, but Hyunjin matches your energy as you both belt out the next part with your whole chest, “Got that sinking feeling like the bottom of the ocean, I’ve been here before, feeling every damn emotion.”
You drive and sing and talk. You’re almost able to forget about your sad, emotional outburst earlier. Almost.
At one point you stop at a shopping center with a recently opened Halloween store to browse the costumes and pick up a few decorative items for the house. Well, it started as a few anyway. Hyunjin alternates between holding your hand and hugging you from behind as you walk through the aisles. He keeps you entertained with his clumsiness—screaming and knocking into displays when something scares him. Being with him makes you feel like a normal college student just hanging out with their crush—joking, laughing, flirting.
When you make a stop for lunch, you mention Seungmin inviting you to watch him practice and Hyunjin doesn’t mind the idea. You grab enough food for the three of you and head down to campus. You’ve never had a reason to venture to the baseball field before, but it’s quite large and empty aside from the players practicing.
You and Hyunjin take a seat in the bleachers—Seungmin waves when he spots you two. You munch on fries and a burger as you watch them. Seungmin is far more serious on the mound than you’ve ever seen him. He looks like he simply belongs there, on the field and in his uniform, striking out a couple of team mates in a row.
“Shit, I have to get to class,” Hyunjin announces, checking his phone.
You hadn’t realized how much time had passed already.
“Go,” you tell him with a nod. “I’ll catch a ride back with Seungmin or wait around for you.”
“You’ll wait for me?” He asks, batting his eyelashes at you.
“Maybe,” you tease with a playful shrug.
He stands up and starts to walk away from you before suddenly stopping. He turns back around to face you, leans down and places a kiss firmly on your lips. You’re startled at the sudden action, but you don’t shy away from it. You press your lips back against his.
It’s quick and sweet, but a wave of heat rushes through your body all the same.
“See you later,” he says when he steps back.
You continue watching Seungmin for another half an hour until practice ends. He comes to meet you in the bleachers and you offer him the food you had ordered for him.
You push your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose to look at him directly in the eyes, “It may or may not be poisoned.”
“I have a strong immune system,” he retorts, tearing away at the wrapper of the burger and biting into it. “Did you like what you saw?”
“You’re okay,” you say nonchalantly, pushing your sunglasses back up. “When’s the first game?”
“In the spring. You gonna come watch?”
“Only if I can root for the other team,” you reply.
“That’s blasphemy.”
“Serves you right, pineapple boy.”
He lets out a loud laugh at your remark.
“Come on, it was a joke.”
“To you, maybe…Chan didn’t find it so amusing,” you tell him.
“He actually does like pineapple,” he shrugs.
“But not on pizza—you set me up.”
“I did,” he agrees. “It was funny.”
“Again…to you, maybe. And Changbin. I’ll get you back for that.”
“Oooh, I’m so scared,” he says, finishing off the last bite of his burger in record time.
“You should be,” you tell him. “Sleep with your eyes open Kim Seungmin.”
“I always do.”
You roll your eyes. His sarcastic ass has a comeback for everything.
You sit and talk on the bleachers a little while longer until Seungmin is ready to head back to the house. He walks you to the building where Hyunjin’s class is before taking off. You sit outside the building and wait, scrolling through your phone for a lack of anything better to do. When you look up and see Hyunjin finally walking out, he’s beaming when he spots you on the bench.
You stand to greet him, only just now realizing he went to class empty handed—no backpack, no notebook or pen, nothing. You could never imagine doing such a thing but for Hyunjin, it just seems fitting.
By the time you get back home, the house is abuzz per usual for this time of night. You and Hyunjin take in the decorations from the Halloween store and get to work putting some of them up with a few others as dinner is prepared.
Everyone throws around ideas for the upcoming Halloween party, and it starts to sound more intense than you could have imagined. It seems like they plan to go all out with kegs, catering, costume contests and more.
After dinner you lounge in the living room, seated around the coffee table with nearly everyone except Chan, Rhiannon, Changbin and Lee Know, playing Uno. Rhiannon and Changbin had excused themselves after making suggestive faces at each other the entire meal. The game causes a lot of commotion and outbursts but honestly it’s the most fun you’ve had in the house as a group yet.
Felix claims to make the house rules, saying you can put a Draw 2 on a Draw 2, which is purely evil as he makes you Draw 12 cards at one point with a devilish grin on his face.
By 8:30pm, Hyunjin is dragging you back upstairs to his room wanting to watch the next episode of the show you started Sunday, saying he’s been waiting forever to see what happens.
You both climb into his bed, laptop in front of you and leaned together as you watch episode two. You’re at ease next to him. You readjust yourselves halfway through watching to get more comfortable, sitting with your backs against the pillows and the laptop resting on your left and his right thigh. He wraps an arm around you and you lean against him. You’re able to get in two episodes before calling it quits for the night.
“You know I can sleep in my own bed if you don’t want me with you,” you say to him as you’re putting your dirty clothes in the laundry and make a note to do some washing over the weekend.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
You shrug in response, as if you don’t know the reason you’re saying it involves the man on the next floor up.
“In case you want your space or something.”
“No,” he replies cooly. “I get my space when you’re with Chan.”
He pulls back the bedsheets (specifically on the right, your happy side) and looks pointedly down at them then back up to you. You can’t stop the smile that creeps on to your face as you climb in bed next to him.
“Fair warning I have to be up for an early class tomorrow.”
“Ew,” he says pulling you towards him and you can just picture the look of disgust he’s bearing.
You turn around to face him, tucking your head in the crook of his neck.
“Thank you for this morning,” you tell him.
“You’ll adjust,” he says. “But I know it’s hard.”
“Did you want to…” you ask, trailing off in the same way you did with Chan but you’re not nearly half as nervous. You can’t let yourself lose sight of the reason you’re in this house.
“We don’t have to rush, okay?” he replies.
You nod.
“You are emotional right now,” he continues, “I can see that. I know this can be a lot to handle in the beginning so I won’t pile more on top of what you're already feeling.”
“I think I can handle it…” you speak up.
“I want you to know you can handle it, y/n.”
You bite your bottom lip as you look at him. His words don’t feel like a rejection, they’re coming from a place that’s putting you first. He’s right. And you know it.
“Can I kiss you?” You ask timidly.
He grabs on to you like he did this morning and pulls you up and over so you’re laying on top of him. You sit up, straddling his waist, and run your hands through his soft, blonde hair before leaning down and pressing your lips to his. You want to communicate just how much spending today with him meant to you.
The kiss starts with slow, long presses of your lips together but soon evolves into more. You part your mouth, and he captures your bottom lip between his, sucking on it gently. His hands roam across your back as you kiss him again, snaking your tongue inside his mouth while your hips grind against him.
He turns his head to the side, letting out a breath as he breaks the kiss. You look down at him with uncertain eyes.
“Don’t think I don’t want you…because I do.” He moves his hips against you and you can feel his hardening cock press against you. “But let’s do this right.”
You realize how easily you could try to push it further, but he seems adamant about wanting you to be in a good headspace. Which, truthfully, makes you want him even more. As if he can heal the part of you that’s been wounded by fucking you.
“We can still kiss though, right?”
He responds by cupping the back of your neck and bringing your lips to his again.
The strict make out session has you feeling like a teenager again—hesitant to move to second base. He stills your hips and grunts each time you grind against him, causing you to giggle. The roles in this room are much different as you get to be the teaser for once.
—————
On Saturday it’s decided to make use of the pool and hot tub before the weather gets too cold. Changbin and Chan man the grill as everyone else is in the heated pool either swimming or lounging on the large floaties. You’re left feeling a little in awe, as you have never seen so much of all the members—the girls in their bathing suits and the guys in their swim trunks. They boys are all varying degrees of physical fitness—some have abs, some don’t, some have defined, muscular arms, some don’t. But the sight of each them makes you lick your lips and force yourself to look away.
When you make your way out of the house, carrying a pan of meat to Chan and Changbin, you feel Chan’s eyes on you. He doesn’t try to hide it either, looking you over in your swimsuit. It’s modest, to some degree—a dark green bikini top with white and yellow flowers and matching shorts for the bottoms. His eyes dip to your cleavage, then back up to your eyes. At least you’re not the only one fighting these urges to keep your gaze up. You really wish you’d brought out a pair of sunglasses to hide your gawking.
He hasn’t said a word to you since that night. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his look. You’re emboldened by the closeness you’ve felt with Hyunjin the last few days. You know that on Sunday, too, when it’s your day to choose—you’ll stay with Hyunjin again.
You push the thoughts of the Monday fast approaching with him aside as you get in the pool to join the others. Hyunjin holds his hand out to you as you descend the steps, pulling you to him once you’re in the water. You wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he carries you effortlessly through the water, towards the deep end.
He stops against the side of the pool and you lean back to rest against it, hips thrust forward to his. Partially of your own doing, but also because of the water. He doesn’t seem to mind either way. He’s been rather receptive of your sly advances. You find it exciting, how both of you are able to tease each other knowing it’s building up to something more without any sort of timeline or demand.
You grin up at him, letting your arms fall from around his neck down to his chest. You are assigned to him and feel free to stare and touch him as you please. You run your hands down past his lightly defined pectorals, over his nipples (which makes him giggle), then down to his abs. They may not be as toned as Chan’s, but they feel satisfying beneath your fingertips either way.
Hyunjin leans down to kiss you but before his lips meet yours, a wave of water hits you, soaking both of your heads. You both turn to find the culprit—Lee Know. He’s grinning as he flicks more water at you. You push away from Hyunjin and head towards him.
Hyunjin grabs you by the waist, pulling you back.
“Relax,” he says into your ear. “He can’t swim.”
“Good,” you mutter. “I can drown him easier.”
Hyunjin laughs at your remark.
“And then what?” He asks. “You go to jail and you’re kept from me?”
You pout your lips and look up at him.
“But if would feel so cathartic.”
“I agree with you. Everyone’s contemplated drowning Minho at some point,” he tells you.
When the meat is cooked, everyone exits the pool to eat. Chan sits directly across from you and Hyunjin, leaning back in his chair, all nonchalant and unbothered. When you’re with Hyunjin, who’s treating you so well, you’re able to mostly keep your disturbing thoughts of Chan at bay. You wish you could say you hadn’t thought of him at all, hadn’t thought of what he’s doing up in his room when you aren’t there. Does he touch himself? Does he think of you when he does it?
“I call dibs on being the DJ,” Felix announces when the conversation turns to the Halloween party once again.
“If you’re just putting together a playlist, you’re not a DJ,” Seungmin corrects him.
“Don’t over do it with Halloween songs,” Jeongin speaks up, looking pointedly at Han.
“You have to set the mood,” Han defends himself, cheeks stuffed with food.
“No one wants to hear Thriller 10 times in one night,” Jeongin says.
“You don’t know that,” Han mumbles with a shrug.
You ladies are put in charge of getting the virtual invites out, completing the decorations and organizing the catering and keg deliveries.
You push your plate away from you and look at Chan. You notice he’s always so quiet when he’s with the group. For being the leader he doesn’t speak up that often. Maybe he’s content letting them squabble over the smaller details and getting the final say.
After everyone is fed and has put the subject of the party to rest, Hyunjin takes your hand and leads you towards the hot tub where Changbin, Lee Know, Rhiannon, Allie and Seungmin are already inside. You sit next to Hyunjin and relax in the warmth, leaning your head against the outer rim with your eyes closed. There’s a jet at work on your back and the repeated pressure feels good.
Chan and Felix enter the hot tub next. It’s not that big, but everyone moves over to make room. Hyunjin pulls you onto his lap and Chan sits right next to him. Jeongin and Charlotte show up next with shots for everyone. You toss yours back with a grimace—it makes you feel even hotter.
You lean back against Hyunjin and fight the urge to look over at Chan. It shouldn’t feel so awkward. Directly across from you is a prime example. Charlotte is seated on Jeongin’s lap sideways, legs draped over Han and they’re all engaged in conversation with each other.
You chew on your lip and let out a low breath. Maybe you’re the one making it more awkward than it needs to be, letting your confusing feelings about Chan get in the way of something that should be easy. You’ve been living like he doesn’t exist the past couple of days—you can’t keep that up. You don’t want to be the one to ruin the vibe of the house.
You turn to face Chan as Hyunjin rests his arms on the rim of the hot tub, talking to Lee Know on his other side.
“Got any ideas for your costume?” You ask him.
“Not yet…why? You wanna play dress up with me?” He arches an eyebrow and smiles.
You’re caught off guard at his response—both the words and the disarming smile he bears. The bottle of alcohol is passed around again, saving you a response as you fill up your shot glass.
Chan holds his glass out to you and you cheers him before taking the shot.
“You seem better,” he says, placing his glass on the ground outside the hot tub.
It’s the first time he’s acknowledged it.
You feel a hand on your left thigh and tense up for a second. Hyunjin’s arms are still behind you. Chan’s lips are turned up at the side, watching you panic.
With the jets going you can’t see anything beneath the water, but you know it’s him.
“Hyunjin has been great,” you tell him.
“I know,” he replies with an understanding nod, meanwhile his hand has started sliding up and down your thigh. “I’m glad.”
You want to ask him how he knows and why would he be glad about it, but your conversation is interrupted.
“You guys talking about me over here?” Hyunjin leans over to his left side where you and Chan are.
Chan grins and you feel like you’re about to be caught doing something you shouldn’t. His hand doesn’t stop caressing your thigh.
“Only good things,” you reply, turning your head to look at him.
Hyunjin places a quick peck on your cheek and returns to his conversation with Lee Know.
You drop your gaze down to the water feeling happy, embarrassed and confused.
Chan’s hand slides further up your thigh and moves between your legs. With his other hand above the water, he uses a finger to tilt your head back up so you’re looking at him. You don’t know what to say.
“No?” He asks quietly.
You nod your head slowly, spreading your legs just a little further apart.
How could he do this so quickly? He gave you a mere centimeter of attention and now you’re back right where he wants you. This physical touch, though, is the most he’s shown you in front of the others.
Changbin says something to Chan then, so he turns to speak to him but continues rubbing you over your swim shorts. Your hips move against his fingers.
Hyunjin instinctively wraps one arm around your waist to keep you still as he had been doing the past couple of days. His hand bumps Chan’s in the process and he redirects his attention back to you two.
Your pulse increases as you anticipate his reaction.
He fucking chuckles.
With your hair up in a messy bun, Hyunjin has easy access to the back of your neck. He kisses it lightly as he holds you closer to him and Chan resumes his hand movements. Your eyes flutter shut as your brain is on the fritz, trying to process exactly what the fuck is happening right now.
“It’s too hot in here,” Allie blurts out.
To which everyone but you laughs. You’re goddamn right it’s hot in here, but for you it’s due to an entirely different reason.
“I’m getting back in the pool,” she says and stands from the water.
“I’ll come with you,” you say, taking her distraction as a saving grace to get you out the hot tub before these two men send you to a room with padded walls.
You push Chan’s hand away and Hyunjin let’s go of you as you stand.
Allie walks to the steps of the pool but you dive right in. The cold water against your skin shocks your senses, making you feel alert and awake, helping bring you down from whatever Hyunjin and Chan were trying to work you up to.
You take your time, swimming to the opposite end of the pool before resurfacing. You let out a deep breath and wipe the water away from you face. You don’t know how to describe what you had just felt—both of them touching you at once. You’ve never felt that before…but holy fuck do you want to experience it to completion now.
—————
a/n: oh boy. how are we feeling? it was important for her to acknowledge all she's going through. but aren't we so happy she has hyunjin? the yin to chan's yang. next chapter fast forwards a little bit to the halloween party! i hope you're ready 😁
tag list:
@iflmho / @skzstaykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channiesprincess / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie / @conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland /
[ if you asked to be on the tag list and I forgot you, please let me know. @ me to make sure I see the notification to get you on the list, por favor! ]
chapter warnings: violent mature themes, mentions of murder/execution, death, oppressive government, fighting, gunfire, angst, suggestive content, brief mention of parent death, parental neglect, language, mentions of hunger/starvation, please lmk if i missed any!
a/n: this is my first time posting any of my work, so any thoughts/feedback are very much appreciated and welcome!! i’ve had the idea for this in my head ever since the maxident trailer came out so everyones vibe in this is based on that (with some inspiration for the whole setting/theme from the scars and miroh mvs because i love them both so much). i really want my work to be a kind of escape, and i have big plans for this one :) i hope you enjoy ♡
~series masterlist~
“there's an old story of the sun and the moon. the sun, who loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe. the moon, that sacrificed herself every night so that the sun could rise. maybe we were too much like the sun and the moon. deeply in love but too different to exist side by side.”
It had been a long time since he felt the sun against his skin like this. It was comforting, like an old friend, as the warmth fell against him through a break in the heavy fog above.
"Felix!" Chan came up behind him, breaking the silence. "I've been looking for you man. I think we've got something this time. Something big, but it'll take all of us and it wont be easy."
Felix stayed facing the sun. He closed his eyes and lifted his head toward it, resting his hands on the rough surface of the rooftop beneath him. Tuning out the older boy, just another moment was all he needed. Just a few more breaths, a few more beats of his heart. The wind pushed the hair out of his eyes. His freckles becoming darker with every second. Sometimes, on days underneath the sun like this, he wished he would melt away in it. On darker days he wished for the fog to consume him. He wished and he wondered. Was there anything more to this life? Would there ever be?
Felix breathed in deeply once more, letting it out slowly. His eyes were still closed but he could feel Chan beside him now when he spoke.
"I'll do it."
The world you knew today was very different from the one that you read about in books. You read them over and over again until you memorized the pages. Books filled with stories of nuclear wars and the unforgiving nuclear winter that followed, destroying nearly everyone and everything that had existed before. You read handwritten journals that described buildings so tall they were blanketed by the clouds above. They told tales of clear skies and green forests with creatures like aliens, moving pictures on tiny boxes meant solely for entertainment, and something called the internet that held the answers to any question you could ever imagine. All of that was gone now, kept alive by the images created in your head when you read those books. Sometimes you wondered if any of it had ever existed at all.
After the wars, the remainder of the world was condensed and split into 9 districts. As far as anyone knew, the only thing left outside of the 9 districts was barren land that held nothing but stories, carried by ghosts of the past. The 9 districts had been run by your ancestors for generations, currently under rule of your father. They were shaped in large rings, with District 9 at the center, also known as the "Inner Circle". The Inner Circle was where your father's palace, army, and the most wealthy members of society were located. The other 8 districts surrounded the Inner circle and each other, stretching miles upon miles until District 1. At the edge of District 1 stood a wall rumored to be a thousand feet high. It encompassed all 9 districts and therefore everything that was left of the world. Nobody knew what was beyond the wall and nobody dared to find out.
Ever since you were old enough to understand what it meant, you had hated being the daughter of the most powerful man in the world. The horrible things you had seen your father do kept you awake at night. The people he had executed, suspected of conspiring rebellions against him, lived on in your mind. Some of them barely older than you, some younger. He was all you could remember, your mother having died before you were old enough to know her.
For your entire life your father had told you that he did the things he did because he had to. He was only protecting you and the people he was responsible for, so he said. Another way he "protected" you was by keeping you hidden from the world outside. You grew up without any idea of what lie beyond the walls of the palace in District 9. To everyone outside, your existence was nothing more than just a myth.
As you got older, your father started to teach you things like how to fight, lead, maintain order, and hold a position of power through fear. Most importantly, he taught you that love was weakness, which is probably why he never showed any toward you. In a world like yours there was no time or opportunity for friends and certainly not for love. It wasn't like you were completely inexperienced though..There had been nights spent under the protection of darkness in hidden corners of the palace that involved racing heartbeats and forbidden touches. They were nights shared with guards in training or kitchen hands that you barely knew and none of them ever stayed. You didn't let them, for fear of what your father might do to them if he found out. Love was weakness, so you vowed never to let it get that far.
You did everything that was asked of you because you had no reason not to trust your father. Because you had no reason to question the things he told you about how the world works. Because blood is supposed to be able to trust blood, right? And he was all you had ever known, so you followed him blindly. You let him mold and shape you into a carbon copy of himself, until you couldn't ignore it anymore. A sinking feeling deep within you that what you understood about the way the world works was very wrong.
Lately, something had changed within you. You started to crave the truth. You needed real answers to your questions about the surrounding districts and it became clear that you weren't going to find them inside the palace walls. It was then that you decided you would do whatever it took to get them for yourself.
You knew the walls of the palace like the back of your own hand, including the labyrinth of underground tunnels beneath it. You had played in the tunnels as a child and were later taught to use them in an emergency in case a rebellion against your father were to succeed, not that he would let that happen. He was a busy man and spent the majority of his time locked away in secrecy behind closed doors, in the company of his most trusted military generals or advisors. Although he kept a close eye on you, he couldn't be with you all hours of the day and neither could his guards. With all of the training you had received, you were quite good at hiding from them when you didn't want to be found. When you have to be hidden from the world, you get used to blending in with the shadows. You become good at it.
As a result, over the past few weeks you made it a habit of sneaking out at night through the tunnels, beyond the palace and the Inner Circle. Under the protection of darkness and your hidden identity. In doing so, you were finally able to uncover some answers, although you had a feeling you had just barely begun to scratch the surface of the truth.
From the moment you stepped foot onto the cracked streets of the surrounding districts, it became very clear that the things you had always thought to be normal were a luxury beyond District 9. Despite having been kept hidden for your entire life, you knew that you had been born lucky. You just hadn't realized how lucky.
Wherever you went, light from burning fires flickered through the darkness in between broken walls, keeping people who huddled inside them warm. The guilt reached through you to your bones when you met dirty faces and sunken, tired eyes in the shadows of the night.
You hadn't expected the deep rooted hatred that the people had for your father in the surrounding districts, but you quickly came to understand it. You learned that the majority of the resources produced by the other districts and the little that was farmed from the desolate land was collected and kept for District 9. It was distributed among it's incredibly selfish inhabitants, which also happened to include yourself, although you didn't know it until now. They were considered the most "important" members of society, while those beyond were left to survive off of the bare minimum.
The people blamed your father and the generations of your family before him. They blamed the fortunate society members of District 9, and if they tried to rebel they would be labeled as traitors and publicly executed under the order of your father. They had a right to be angry. You were angry for them. You had no idea that this is how things were and you probably wouldn't have believed it until you saw it for yourself. The colorful picture your father had painted of a loving people who looked to him to protect them, take care of them, and keep them safe turned black in your mind.
The farthest out you could make it on foot in one night was District 7. Much beyond that and you wouldn't be able to get back to the palace in time before daybreak. You were also hesitant to go any further because of the possibility of what, or who, lie waiting in the districts beyond. You heard enough from rumors in passing about dangerous clans and bands of thieves who roamed the more remote districts. They wouldn't hesitate to cut the throat of an innocent for a piece of bread, a pair of shoes, or just because they felt like it.
Of course, Districts 8 and 7 didn't compare to the Inner Circle by any means, but at least some skeleton of a society lingered there. Many of the buildings still stood, although their walls were weathered and broken down. Thick grass wove in between cracks like stitches holding them up. Some buildings housed small "shops" where families would trade or sell anything they could scavenge the material to make, just trying to earn enough coins for scraps of food or a blanket to keep warm. There were "schools" held in large dirt fields where children used sticks to draw in the mud. There was a tavern that you liked to visit in District 7 that was almost always empty, but the beer was…drinkable and the bartender was kind.
There was no running water so it had to be collected on foot. No electricity. No rent to pay because nobody owned homes, they just settled where they could. Trading coins between each other for whatever goods they could get their hands on. The roads were so weathered and broken that it didn’t really matter that there were no cars, aside from the occasional military vehicle that passed through the landscape carrying your fathers guards. Always patrolling, always watching. You had a few close encounters with them on your outings, although you had managed to remain unseen thanks to the shadows cast by the moon.
Many of the people from the outer districts spent their days in fields, growing whatever they could from the desolate land. They were paid sparingly by your fathers guards when they came in military vehicles to collect the produce. Many of them didn't work at all, trying to survive and live off of the land themselves. Some travelled on foot between the districts to scavenge for anything to keep their loved ones alive. But it came with a price, the further out you went the more dangerous and less civilized things became. The less life there was, no matter how many humans you ran into. At the edge of it all lie District 1, mostly made up of prisons that held those lucky enough to be left alive by your father. Although, you had a feeling that if you asked them they wouldn't consider themselves very lucky at all.
Tonight, you made your way out through the tunnels wearing clothes borrowed from your only friend Jisoo, a palace maid that you had grown up with. As soon as you stepped off of the palace grounds, your ears were met with only the sounds of your heavy breathing and your feet as they hit the earth. You were a good runner and welcomed the fresh air as it burned your lungs. You ran miles until you found yourself somewhere in District 7 once again. It was a little further out than you usually went, in an area where you probably shouldn't have been.
You stopped at a quiet candlelit tavern with a hanging sign that displayed scribbled writing promising "fresh" water and beer to those that could spare a few coins. The only other person in the small space aside from the bartender was an older man with a gray beard and tattered clothes, slumped over across from you at the other end of the bar.
You stayed a while before tossing the bartender a handful of extra coins to pay for the man’s drink, and a very generous tip. Before he could inquire further about how a young girl like you had come to possess so many coins, you got up and exited the building through the missing doorway. The moonlight welcomed you and the gentle breeze felt good against your skin, sticky from air that was always humid and thick. It was rare to feel a breeze at all so you dropped your hood, closing your eyes. You put your head up to let it settle against you. The light from the moon shined so bright through the clouds that you could almost feel it on your skin, reaching out to envelop you.
After a moment you continued on, leaving your hood down, it’s not like anyone would recognize you anyway. You turned the corner and found yourself at the entrance of a quiet alley where the gravel crunched beneath your feet. Thoughts ran back and forth through your mind as you desperately tried to come up with any way that you could use your position to help the people outside of the Inner Circle. It seemed impossible. You could try to reason with your father but as soon as you revealed what you knew and how you came to know it, he would probably lock you up forever. After all, there were very few people that knew of your existence and you doubted that anyone except for Jisoo would miss you…
“Shit..” you mumbled to yourself after realizing that you had gotten so lost in thought you hadn't been paying attention to the time as it passed. You were definitely going to have to sprint now to make it back to the palace in time before the sun began to rise and someone noticed your absence. After stretching your already tired legs, you turned to start the long journey back but before you could take another step, a dark figure came running around the corner into the alley at full speed.
When he saw you he stopped in his tracks, sliding on the gravel. Underneath a yellow hanging lantern and the light from the moon you could make out the surprise on his face. He obviously hadn’t expected to cross paths with some girl alone in the middle of the night on the way to wherever he was going so quickly. His entrance was so abrupt and brought so much tension to the air that you froze in place, staring back at him with your mouth open slightly.
The boy was wearing a hood, his face partially hidden in the dim glow of the lantern. Despite that, he seemed to be around your age and even in the shadows his features were undeniably attractive. He had dark hair with long strands that fell loosely into piercing brown eyes. You noticed a black bandana wrapped tightly around one of his arms, however you couldn't bother to take your eyes from his to get a better look at it.
You stood facing each other, both unsure of your next move, when a group of voices echoed from somewhere in the distance. The voices were followed by muffled footsteps drawing near. Shifting uncomfortably, the boy in front of you quickly untied the banana wrapped around his arm and put it into pocket of his black hoodie. The pounding footsteps and harsh voices behind him turned into shouts that grew louder with every second.
With swift movement he turned to look behind him and then back to you. As if something gave him an idea, he began to walk toward you. Your eyes widened further with every step he took, until there was less than an arm's length left between you. You didn't even have time to reach for the knife hidden in your waistband before he took his hood down and grabbed your shoulders. His touch was surprisingly gentle as you let him push you slowly into the wall behind you. Still breathing heavily from the chase and even closer now, his breath fell hot against your lips. Trapping you underneath his gaze, he kept his eyes on yours for a moment as if he was searching for something in them, before lowering his head. Without warning, he crashed his lips onto yours.
Your first instinct was to shove him off of you but the way that his soft lips moved against your own, the way they tasted, had something inside of you craving more.
You had been kissed before but never like this.
The men who had been chasing him finally made their way to the entrance of the alley where they stopped. His back was to them but you could see them well enough through half lidded eyes to spot your family crest on their uniforms. They were your fathers soldiers with large guns held in their arms. You wondered what they could possibly be doing out here in District 7 so late at night, chasing after the boy who currently had his lips pressed tightly to yours. Whatever it was, it didn't look like they were planning to let him live once they caught him.
Before they had time to recognize you, or the boy they had been chasing, you put your fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. He followed your lead and moved his hands to your waist, deepening the kiss and completely blocking their view. Cold rings on his fingers pressed into bare skin where your shirt had lifted up slightly. His tongue ran across your bottom lip and you tightened your fingers in his hair. A deep sound from somewhere within his chest escaped his lips when you pulled on the roots.
The kiss had absolutely consumed you. It was captivating, magnetic. So much so that you had forgotten your surroundings entirely, until you heard movement at the front of the alley. The guards must have decided that you were just two drunk lovers who had stumbled out of the nearby tavern moments before, because after one of them shouted something that you couldn't quite comprehend over the pounding of your heart in your ears, they began to move again. Raising their weapons and storming off, leaving you alone with the boy in the alley.
The kiss lasted a little longer than it needed to before you pulled away, pushing him off of you, taking note of the way his toned muscles tensed underneath your hands. You just hoped it was dark enough that he couldn't see the way your cheeks flushed.
He seemed a bit surprised and you were sure it was because he probably hadn't expected you to kiss him back, especially not the way that you did. After turning to make sure that the soldiers had gone, he looked back to you. Your faces were still only a few inches apart despite you breaking the kiss, and his appeared as though it had been hand carved by some higher power above. It was the first time you had looked at his features well enough to appreciate the freckles that decorated the soft skin underneath his eyes. Eyes that held a sort of intensity that you couldn’t even begin to describe.
There was something in them that pierced all the way through you to your soul. A kind of familiarity almost, that you couldn’t quite discern, but god did the way he was looking at you right now make you certain you would have done anything for him in that moment. No matter the cost. He hesitantly brought his thumb up to run it over your bottom lip, wiping his own saliva and the kiss off with it. You thought briefly that he might lean down to kiss you again and you probably would have let him, although you'd never admit it.
Instead, he spoke.
"Thanks." His voice came out barely above a whisper but it shattered the silence.
It was much deeper than you had expected, sending chills up your spine. You also detected the faintest hint of an accent, leading you to believe that he wasn't from anywhere around here at all. Accents varied the further out you went from the Inner Circle and his was noticeable with just the one word.
He lingered for a moment there with his thumb on your lips before stepping back, pulling his hood up. Without another word or giving you the chance to respond, he turned to go.
His pace picked up into a jog as he made his way around the corner, out of the alley, and back the way he came. You stood there staring into the darkness until the sound of his footsteps faded into the night, trying to make sense of what the hell just happened.
Only his taste on your tongue to remember him by, along with a sinking feeling that your world would never be the same.
It had been exactly 2 weeks since you crossed paths with the boy in the alley and it had been exactly 2 weeks that you hadn't stopped thinking about him. The unfamiliar sense of safety that you felt underneath his piercing gaze. His freckles that you took note of only after your faces were just inches apart. His plush lips and the way they felt against your own. His voice. You traced your fingertips along your lips, moving them down to where he had gently gripped your shoulders before leaning down to kiss you. When you closed your eyes you could feel his touch, permanently burned into your skin.
You hadn't gone outside of the palace grounds since that night for fear that you'd see him again. Or maybe you were afraid to admit that you hoped you would. Why had he been running from your fathers guards? They wouldn't have been there unless it was serious as they only became involved in something when it was directly related to your father and his orders.
Did you do the right thing in helping him to hide from them? Right and wrong were so muddled in your head at this point that you weren’t sure if it even mattered anymore. You weren't even sure if you were capable of doing the right thing considering the blood that ran through your veins.
One thing you were sure about is that in that moment something was pulling at you to keep him safe. Something bigger than right and wrong.
Sighing, you got out of bed, the sky was still dark in the morning hour, the palace ground cold under your feet. Today wasn't just any day, it was one you had been dreading. It was the day that your father had planned to throw a grand ball at the palace where he was going to finally reveal you to his most trusted advisors and the rich society members of the Inner Circle. Up until now, the only people who knew of your existence were within the palace walls. The staff, your father's army, guards, your trainers and tutors, all sworn to secrecy. Up until now, you were a ghost in the palace, regardless of your position as his daughter. But that was about to change.
Your father had decided that it was time for you to have a larger part in ruling the 9 districts beside him, and to do so you would need to be officially introduced to the world.
Was he finally going to tell you the truth? That he wasn't the righteous leader that he claimed to be, but a ruthless monster who stole resources and left innocent people to fend for themselves beyond District 9. Would he tell you the price he continuously paid to destroy anyone and anything that threatened his authority?
No, he wouldn't. As long as he lived, he wouldn't.
Even though he wanted you to stand beside him now, you knew that it was just for show. Even after your face was revealed, your influence in how things were run would remain nonexistent.
You had accepted it. You accepted the fact that all you could do for now was play along until you could come up with some way to use your position to help the people outside, but you didn't even know where to start. Sure, becoming leader of the 9 districts some day after your father was gone would allow you to change things, but you didn't have time to wait that long. They couldn't wait that long.
Letting out a frustrated groan you rubbed your temples, feeling a headache already coming on. You just had to focus on tonight and get through the ball despite the fact that the thought of so many eyes on you, permanently associating you with your father and his regime, made your skin crawl.
You stepped into the corridor outside of your bedroom after freshening up and gave a small wave to Jisoo who looked even more stressed than usual as she buzzed by you. Her arms were full of lavish decor to set up for the festivities. As you moved through the palace, staff hustled around you making their way to the grand hall where they were setting out desserts alongside rarities including fresh cuts of meat, cheeses, and drinks with real fruit in them. It made you sick to think that nearly everything being used to set up for tonight had been taken from the surrounding districts. You wished you could give it all back to them. To the starving families. To the old bartender who had been kind to you in District 7. To the boy with the freckled face that you kissed in the alley outside of it.
You wondered what life was like for him. Was he hungry? Did he have somewhere safe to sleep at night? A family to protect? You shook your head as if the action would help you to physically push him out of your thoughts.
But he was persistent.
The day passed quickly and before you knew it you were being poked and prodded into an extravagant red gown with a tight corset that made it difficult to breathe.
"I dont understand why we need to make such a big deal of this..” You complained to Jisoo as she put the finishing touches on your hair after the others had left.
"You know...I bet your father is going to keep an eye out for potential suitors…" she trailed off, giving you a soft smile.
“What do you mean?" you inquired, eyes wide. And Jisoo laughed.
"For marriage! He's going to want to pick someone for you who will be an asset to your family in the future. To help you keep the districts in order after he's gone. I hear there's plenty of matches lined up and just wait until they see you."
She was right, you did feel pretty in the dress despite how incredibly uncomfortable it was. But how could you even pretend to care about any of this right now, let alone marriage to some stranger who, for all you knew, could be even worse than your father. If that was even possible.
"Before tonight my existence was just a rumor..How can any of them want to marry me!?" you asserted.
"When your father is…." she trailed off again clearly trying to come up with the right words to use. "-when your father is who he is, do you think it really matters to them who you are?"
One thing about Jisoo is that she was never afraid to tell you what she thought. Unlike the rest of the staff in the palace, who walked on eggshells around you because of their fear of your father.
You fell silent after that, contemplating her words. After putting the finishing touches on your hair she gave you a tight hug and left to allow you a moment to yourself before the ball. You wondered what your life would be like if you were married and your goal of finding some way to help the people outside felt even further away.
Somehow the boy from the alley made his way back into your mind. A life with him certainly wouldn't involve tight corsets and suffocating lies. But then again, you didn't even know him. He was just a fleeting moment. A glimpse of something beyond the life you had always known, and while your lingering thoughts of him were a welcome escape from reality, they would fade with time.
He had probably already forgotten about you.
Later that evening you stepped out atop the grand staircase overlooking the great hall. Although the space had always been one of your favorites, it was exceptionally breathtaking tonight. The hall was like a breezeway, connecting two main parts of the castle. It was made entirely of glass, including a glass ceiling that you could see the night sky through. The warm golden lighting and massive chandelier added to the beauty of the space underneath. You noted the higher than usual number of armed guards on duty as they lined the hall, dressed in black with large guns rested in their arms.
At the start of the event your father had joined you at the top of the staircase above the growing crowd below. He was as stoic as ever in a sleek black suit and it was the first time you had seen him in a few days. He was always so busy that it wasn’t rare for a week or two to go by without speaking to him at all. Lately he seemed even more distracted.
Shortly after he joined you he began to speak to the crowd below, thanking them for their presence tonight at this monumental occasion. Voice commanding, expression devoid of all genuine emotion. Although tonight may have looked like a celebration on the outside, it was all business to him, all everything ever was. You looked out over the citizens of District 9 gathered below in their flashy outfits and eccentric hairstyles. Some of them wearing the only jewels and diamonds left in the world. You cringed when they clapped and cheered for you, the future leader of the 9 districts.
It was going to be a long night.
After the speech ended (and the exaggerated applause died down) you reluctantly made your way down the stairs. You maintained composure just as your father had instructed and he tightened his grip on your shoulder if you spoke too much to the eager guests. You were to come off as refined and elegant but authoritative and commanding, like him. It was of the utmost importance that you portrayed that tonight as it was the first time that you were meeting with anyone from the public and you needed to earn their respect, not that you actually cared what they thought of you. You would never be allowed to show the side of yourself to them that you showed to Jisoo. You rolled your eyes to her across the room behind your fathers back throughout the night, sharing silent laughter, as she made sure that the guests glasses stayed full of wine. Jisoo was your only friend and the only one who really knew who you were, but even she didn't know everything.
As the hours dragged on you were paraded around and introduced to all of the most important faces and names in District 9. You thought your wrist might actually fall off if you had to grab onto one more sweaty hand of a boy your age far too eager to touch you and personally introduce himself to your father.
Just as you decided that you physically couldn't take it any more and were going to need to find a moment to slip away before you actually lost your mind, the lights flickered.
They flashed on and off for a moment before going out completely.
The hall fell dark for no more than 10 seconds, illuminated only by the moon and the candles dispersed throughout. Haunting silence flooded the space.
When the lights returned whispers began to spread through the hall like wildfire. Your fathers guards shifted uncomfortably, hands falling to their weapons. You noticed a few of them make it a point to pick you out of the crowd, locking their eyes on you. Your father was across the hall where he had been engrossed in a conversation with a short man sporting a leopard print coat that touched the floor. You watched him scowl and excuse himself from the man, moving with urgency toward a small group of guards nearest to him, not bothering to look for you.
Before you had a chance to process what happened next, a deafening sound spread across the hall like thunder. The vibration was so strong that it shook the floor beneath your feet, shattering a pane of glass from the ceiling above. It was as if time had stopped with all eyes trained on the falling glass and then, like turning on a switch, the pieces shattered against ground and chaos ensued.
The next thing you registered was what sounded like muffled gunfire, followed by the glass walls of the hall shattering to pieces around you. Smoke began to fill the room from cans that were thrown in from the darkness outside, through broken spaces in the glass.
Shortly after the smoke began to collect, six..seven..maybe eight figures dressed in all black with bandanas covering the lower halves of their faces appeared. They rushed in through the broken glass walls, as if they had materialized from the night itself. The intruders moved swiftly, yelling to each other although their voices were barely audible over the screaming civilians.
You fixed your eyes on the bandanas they wore. Why did they look so familiar? Who were they? Where had they come from and how had they even gotten onto the palace grounds, let alone inside it??
Thoughts spiraled inside your head, too stunned by the scene before you to let you move. You caught sight of large guns held by two of the eight boys, one with a stocky muscular build and one that appeared to be leading the group. It was even more surprising when you observed a group of your father's guards run up and make contact with the boys, tossing a couple of them their own guns. You blinked rapidly but it did nothing to erase the scene that played out in front of you. The palace was easily the most heavily guarded place in all 9 Districts, but it had never occurred to you that any of the guards would dare double-cross your father.
Maybe not everyone was as afraid of him as you had thought.
Had they been the ones to help the boys gain access tonight?
The smoke flowed in waves around you, growing heavier as more cans were dropped into the hall from backpacks that a couple of the younger looking boys wore. Civilians screamed and cowered under tables in fear while you stood with your eyes trained on one of the boys in black whose figure looked a little too familiar.
You had to give it to them, the smoke was a smart cover on their part. Visibility in the hall had become so low that your father's men were holding back from shooting at the boys, for fear of striking a civilian.
You kept your eyes trained on the eight as they rushed toward the grand staircase, turning over tables and shooting occasionally at expensive looking objects and the glass around you with their borrowed weapons. They weren't aiming at people and didn't seem to be trying to hurt anyone. It was almost as if they just wanted to spread fear, feeding the chaos. Fights broke out between your fathers guards and it was incredibly confusing because you couldn't be sure which side any of them were on at this point.
Between the smoke, fighting between guards, occasional gunfire, and scrambling civilians, the boys succeeded in making their way to the top of the staircase. When they did, you witnessed two of them break from the group, the apparent leader and his well-built counterpart from earlier. As if it had been carefully scripted, the two quickly left and broke into a run heading deeper into the palace.
The guards below remained focused on each other, your father nowhere to be seen. The six boys left at the top of the staircase turned and pulled out objects from their backpacks. The objects they withdrew looked like tubes that they opened to slide out large banners. Each banner was dropped over the staircase landing, and together they displayed a message. The words painted in red.
TURN EVERYTHING UPSIDE DOWN
THERE IS NO PLACE FOR YOU HERE ANYMORE
THIS IS OUR DISTRICT NOW
Your eyes widened and you turned to look for your father, a guard, anyone, to see some kind of reaction but at this point the air was so thick that you could barely make out the writing on banners that had been dropped. The only reason you could see them through the smoke was because you were so close to the bottom of the stairs. It was obvious that the banners were meant to remain to be seen when the smoke cleared. It was a message to your father and the citizens of District 9, a message to you.
Just as quickly as they had dropped the banners, the remaining boys were joined by the other two, returning from wherever they had gone within the palace. They shared a quick word between themselves and with a command from their apparent leader, they began to urgently make their way back down the staircase.
Civilians continued to scramble and claw their way around you in panic. Emerging from the smoke, a large burly man covered in purple silk robes ran into you while trying to make his own escape. He crashed forcefully into your shoulder without looking back, causing you to stumble on your dress. Unable to regain your balance, you fell into the person running by you on the other side. They caught you before you hit the ground, letting out a deep grunt when you collided. When you looked up to meet their eyes your mouth dropped.
The air was ripped from your lungs when you made eye contact with the boy who had kissed you in the alley two weeks ago. He was dressed in all black like the others, with a bandana covering the lower half of his face and a heavy weapon strapped to his back. Even with half of his face hidden, you would have recognized the look in his eyes anywhere. He quite literally hadn't left your mind since that night, and here you were in his arms now.
He was one of the eight.
Still in disbelief, you moved quickly out of his hold, standing up to get a better look at him. He didn't seem to recognize you at first but when he pulled down the bandana to take a breath you saw his expression change from confusion to realization.
You held his eye contact wearing the same dumbfounded expression on your face and you knew. You knew. There was no doubt in your mind that it was him. His freckles had been revealed when he pulled down the bandana, the same one he had been wearing around his arm that night you first met. The dark brown hair that fell down into his eyes was pulled up at the back. When his gaze fell to your family crest on the necklace you wore, realization that he hadn't just kissed some random girl that night but the daughter of the most powerful man in all 9 districts spread over his face. You swear you saw the faintest hint of a smirk make its way across his lips when he looked up at you.
His eyes held a different sort of intensity compared to when you first met. There was something dangerous within them now and although you had been confident that he wouldn't hurt you that night in the alley, you weren't so sure that was the case anymore.
For a moment he looked as if he was going to say something to you. Hip lips parted slightly but before he could speak, one of your fathers guards came up behind you and grabbed your arm tightly, pulling you with such force that you jerked back. The guard pushed your head down and began to drag you with him. You struggled in his grasp to turn your head, watching as the boy from the alley stepped forward. He seemed to briefly contemplate following you, but again before he had the chance to move any further, another one of the eight emerged from the smoke. They began shaking his shoulder to gain his attention.
"FELIX! Can't you hear me?! What are you doing?! They're everywhere man we need to go NOW"
Felix.
Snapping back to reality, he quickly replaced the bandana over his face and tore his eyes from yours. They turned to make their way back to join the others when the boy, that you now knew to be named Felix, narrowly dodged a bullet as it whipped by his head. You moved to see where it came from and yelled at the guard who had hold of your arm moments before, his gun now raised beside you.
"Are you crazy?! You could hurt a civilian!"
Of course, you didn't actually care much about the civilians scrambling around you. It was just that you swore you felt your heart stop when the bullet barely missed Felix's head.
The guard ignored your words and went to aim at the boys again but before you even had time to think about what you were doing, you moved and stepped in front of him. The cool barrel of the gun pressed against your skin. You turned around where Felix met your gaze again. His eyebrows arched in surprise, obviously taking note of you putting yourself between him and the gun. To anyone on the outside it would have looked like you were protecting him.
Were you protecting him?
You mouthed "go" and if you had blinked you would have missed the nod he gave you in return. Without wasting another second to risk being shot at again, he spun around, following his comrade into the smoke. They moved quickly out of sight with a herd of your fathers men running after them. Many of the guards from earlier that appeared to have been working with the boys lay motionless on the ground now.
The guard beside you dropped his gun and replaced his death grip on your arm, dragging you with him once again. He was furious that you had ruined his shot, however he still had the chance to do something worth being recognized by your father if he was the one to get you to safety.
You looked back at the hall in the hopes of catching one last glimpse of Felix, but he and the others were already long gone. They would have escaped back the way they came, through the shattered glass walls, with your fathers men close on their heels. They were probably being hunted right now in the darkness outside.
Please. Please just let them make it out.
You begged with your thoughts to whatever higher power might be listening in. You couldn't explain it but you needed them to make it out alive. For some reason, the thought of a lifeless Felix joining the other bodies that lay motionless on the ground made your stomach churn.
The thought of him being dragged back alive for your father to deal with made it worse.
The guard turned a corner with your arm still in his grasp and the sounds from the hall faded with every step you took. He made his way down the corridor before throwing you into a room at the end, locking the door behind him. You shook the knob but it was no use. Sliding your back down the door you sat crumpled against it, your red dress spread out around you.
None of it made sense. Why would the boys risk their lives to send a message? Then again maybe it wasn't about the message at all. You remembered when two of them left the group after making it to the top of the stairs, heading briefly into the palace. Had the banners and the chaos they created actually been meant to act as a distraction? If that was the case, why had they really been here tonight? How had they even come into contact with your fathers guards outside of the palace and how had they convinced some of them to betray him?
Why was he with them?
Felix.
His name rolled off of your tongue. He was the enemy. You knew that. You should know that. But something made you step in front of a loaded gun to keep him safe tonight.
Maybe you weren’t on opposing sides. After all, you didn't really have a side anymore anyway…Not that he would know that. As far as he knew, you were just like the rest of them.
After what felt like hours of sitting on the floor with your head in your hands, you were about to doze off when the lock opened with a swift click behind you. You stood immediately, backing away when the door opened and you were met with the same guard from earlier who had locked you in the small room.
“Its over. I’ve been instructed to take you to your quarters until further notice. The palace is on lockdown.” He motioned for you to come out, clearly irritated that he had been the one sent to collect you.
“My father-“
“-is alive” he cut you off. “And no, I didn’t tell him what you did getting in front of my shot like that. Stupid girl. It would have been worth the civilian risk to get at least one of those bastards,” he huffed.
Did his words mean that they made it out alive? You made a point to mask any trace of concern in your voice when you spoke.
“They got away?” you paused before adding “all of them?”
“Yes all of them. All eight. They had a vehicle waiting just outside of the palace gates and they were gone before we could get to any of ours. How the hell they got access to one of our vehicles and convinced some of our own men to double cross your father nobody knows. At least the traitors got what they deserved.”
You shuddered looking away. The men that had betrayed your father must have known their fate was inevitable, and yet they thought whoever those eight boys were and what they stood for was worth sacrificing their lives.
You turned back to the guard as he spoke again, putting on your best attempt at masking the relief that washed over you when you heard the boys had made it out safely. All of them.
“As for the eight rebels we will find them. Under order of your father we will find every single one of them and I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes when he gets his hands on ‘em. Now come on, I said let’s go.”
The tone in his voice told you that you weren’t going to get anything else out of him right now, he wasn’t exactly your biggest fan to begin with, so you stepped out through the doorway. Your footsteps were the only sound, echoing throughout the eerily silent corridors while the two of you made your way through the palace. Up stone steps, you walked deeper in the direction of your bedroom.
Only one thing remained on your mind as you replayed the events of tonight over and over in your head.
Him.
Felix.
You couldn’t ignore that from the moment he disappeared tonight, part of you desperately hoped you would see him again. You were afraid the same part of you would be willing to do whatever it took to make sure that you did, and that terrified you more than anything in this world ever had.
Can you make a one shot smut where like reader and Chan like REALLY hate each other, like CANNOT stand each other but like while reader is out partying she like sees Chan so for shits and giggles she goes up to him and flirts with him which ends up w Chan subbing and begging to cum. I’d like to be 🪼 anon pls :3 and ty if you do this !! 🙏🏼
I love the hate concept (I'm literally obsessed with hate sex), thank you for the ask ❣️ I hope you like it, I'm not really good with smut but I'm trying to get better!!
Something bad
Pairing: Bangchan x reader
Words count: 2,006
THIS CONTENT IS +18 ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Warnings: switch!Chan, switch!reader, hate relationship, handjob
You hate his guts. Bang Chan thinks he's all that, but in your opinion he's actually an asshole. You have known each other for so long you're not sure if you always hated him, but if not, you don't know when it started.
He's your brother's best friend, so he is always around, teasing you, making jokes about your hair in the morning or even bringing his hookups late at night, banging them in his room so loudly as if he wants you to hear how good he's making them feel.
You listen to everything from the guest room you sleep in when visiting and the smug look on his face when he sees your eyebags the next morning make you even more mad.
He's not much different from you, Chan likes to see your reactions, how red you get when you're angry about the simplest things he does to tease you or even how you avoid his eyes when you find him at the front door in the morning, saying goodbye to the people he fucked.
He'll look at you waiting for a complaint about the noise but you just look everywhere but his face. He loves that, love that your feisty attitude dies down after hearing him going on all night long. You're back to your usual self by lunch time, that's why he keeps bringing people every night when you visit, he wants to make you angry.
You're currently looking for an apartment, you just got out of uni and got a nice job, so you're staying with your brother just until you can sign the lease of the apartment you're renting with your two best friends.
They invited you to go out tonight, have some fun, maybe fuck a hot random stranger or just pass out drunk anywhere but your brother's house. Literally anything is a better option than another sleepless night of Chan fucking someone senseless and making you horny.
You would never, ever, admit this out loud, but the way you can hear him groaning sometimes when you get close to his room, just messes with your head. He IS an attractive man, even though you hate him, you cannot deny he is hot. Beautiful dark wavy hair, nice broad shoulders and that physic is just… you just know he could break you in half if he wanted to.
You shake your head, why are you having these strange thoughts again? He's your brother's best friend and the guy that makes your life a living hell every time you're in his house. Is it because he's here? Out of all places, why did he and his friends decide to come to the same party as you and your friends did?
“Should we go home?” You sigh, making your friends glare at you.
“Not even a chance”, Sana says, making you sigh. “Should we play a game? Maybe that will get you to relax”
She exchanges a glance with Yeji, smirking. You're already kinda dizzy from your previous drink, so you're not sure you understand what that look means. But you nod, drinking games are your thing, you love them all.
It was all premeditated, you're sure your friends knew Chan would be there with his crew, they are acquainted, after all. You know it was all planned when Yeji giggled, saying “I dare you to flirt with Chan”. Sana laughed so hard at your face after hearing that, saying “we are talking about a hard flirting, literally get a hard on out of him”
That's how you ended up walking in his direction now, feeling your face warm, at least the alcohol makes you feel more secure about yourself. You're looking hot today, wearing a tight short black dress with a neckline lower than how you usually wear, exposing a good piece of your skin and breast. You're sure you can pull Chan.
He stares at you up and down when you show up in front of him, you look smoking hot. He knows you're attractive, it's such a shame you're so annoying.
You greet his friends, you know all of them since they come buy a lot to your brother's and Chan apartment.
“Can I have a sip?” You ask Chan, sitting by his side at the booth. His friends look at each other, saying something you can't hear because of the loud music and then going to the dance floor.
“What do you want?” He ignores your question, scowling when you do the same to him, grabbing his drink and tasting it.
“Woah, this is bitter just like you”, you smile seeing him rolling his eyes.
“Are you drunk? Should I call your brother?” He asks, sighing.
“No, Channie”, you pout, calling the nickname you've heard so many people scream when they were fucking, “let's have some fun, hm? What do you think?”
You turn your body to stare at him, putting your hand on his chest, snuggling closer to him. He smells nice and the warmth his body emits makes you want to get even closer.
“What game are you playing?” He asks with a smug smile on his lips, brows lifted in question.
You sigh.
“It's truth or dare”, you tell, rolling your eyes. “Can't you just get hard already so I can be done?”
Chan chuckles, throwing his head back in a loud laugh, you know it's loud because you can hear it even with the loud music playing in the background.
“Do you really think you have what it takes to get me hard, little girl?” He asks playfully, making you scowl.
“Of course I do”, you tell him, crossing your arms.
You can't help but notice the look he sneaks at your breasts almost popping out of your dress. You decide to use that, in your favor.
“Do you wanna touch it, Channie?” You ask, touching your chest with your hands and squeezing your breasts up so he can have a better view.
“If I do get hard”, he clears his throat, “you should think about the consequences of what is going to happen after that”
“I will win the dare and go back to my friends”, you shrug.
Chan smiles, diabolically. Clicking his tongue.
“I don't think so”, he turns to you, sliding his hand on your thigh, squeezing the flesh while he gets closer to your face. “If you do manage to get me hard, I'll take you home and you're going to take care of it. So you better think carefully about your next move”
You feel goosebumps all over your body, it's because you're grossed out, right? You would never feel turned on with Chan speaking so closely to you, his hot breath hitting your skin has nothing to do with the warmth growing in your lower stomach.
“You know what I think, Channie?”, you try to take back control over the situation, “you're afraid your best friend's little sister is going to make you so horny you won't be able to do anything other than beg to cum”, you slide your hand to the hem of his shirt, sliding it under the fabric and brushing your nails on his stomach, close enough to his cock to provoke a reaction out of him.
Chan breaths through his teeth, trying to control himself. He tried being confident, saying those things to you so you'd get scared and go back to your friends. He didn't think you would keep going and now he's not so sure about what he said, since you clearly are managing to get him hard.
He slides his hand under your dress, feeling how wet your underwear is and decides to use that in his favor.
“Are you sure you want to keep this up?” He asks, brushing his fingers over your covered cunt. You don't avoid his gaze, staring at him intensely, you're not going to give in. He smirks, well, if he can't escape this, he better have some fun. “Let’s see who's gonna be the one begging”
You're not sure how the hell you got there, in a moment Chan was whispering something to you and the next he was dragging you to the bathroom, throwing you against the wall. His lips are attached to your neck, sucking so hard you're sure it's gonna leave marks. Your body is pressed against his and you feel his hard cock on your stomach, now that you manage to get him hard it's time to stop it, so why is the only sound that comes out of your mouth muffled moans?
He slides his hands under your skirt, moving your underwear to the side while he presses a finger on your clit.
You have to do something, you need to take control. Your hand touches his covered cock and Chan groans, resting his head on the wall. He hates the idea of leaning on you.
You work fast, unbuttoning his pants and sliding your hand under his underwear, grabbing his cock in a fist, going up and down, feeling his cock twitching in your hand.
Chan was too cocky, he shouldn't have let you do this. Your touch is just too good, he can't help but moan subtly with every stroke you give to his dick.
He's growing restless, even though he's working with his fingers on you he knows it's a lost case. Your hand is soft, massaging his cock gently but firmly and the look in your eyes, like you're watching your prey, the way you have your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, enjoying seeing him panting while you play with him, it's just too much for him. He feels his orgasm getting closer, you can tell by the way his cock is twitching so you slow the speed of your hand, earning a frustrated groan from him.
“Do you like it, Channie?” You ask playfully, watching his voice crack when he tries to speak.
“Stop teasing, you fucking brat”, he grunts.
“That's not what I want to hear, baby”, you say as your index finger twirls over the head of his cock. “Do you wanna cum?”
He nods, feeling the blush on his cheeks grow, he can't believe he's humiliating himself like that.
“Tell me”, you smirk, “tell me what you want, be a good boy for me, yeah?”
You're feeling extra confident now, seeing him whimper when you get back to jerking him off.
“L-Let me cum”, he whispers too low, you're not even sure if you heard him.
“You can do better, Channie”, you tell him, fastening your movements.
“Please”, he whimpers, “let me cum”, he throws his head back, he doesn't want to give in so easily but your hand around him is just divine, he wants to cum so badly he doesn't mind begging at that moment.
“More”, you tell him simply, “beg more”
“Please, I just-” he whimpers.
“Are you going to stop being so mean to me?” You ask, trying to get something out of this, since you have him so vulnerable right now.
He nods frantically, needing his release more than anything. You keep jerking him off faster, while watching him moan, your hand going up and down on his cock.
His cum springs all over your hands, while he groans with faltering movements, trying to calm down from his high. You're almost sure you heard him sob, but if that really happened, he hid it really well.
After cleaning up the mess he made on your hand, you look at him with a pretentious victorious smile.
“I guess I won”, you cross your arms in front of your chest and Chan sighs, not able to look you in the eyes. Acting exactly like you do when you find him and his last fuck in the living room of his apartment.
“Let's just pretend this never happened”, he tells you, turning around and going out of the bathroom.
But you're not so sure if you'll be able to leave him alone now that you tasted this side of him.
lee minho x reader x han jisung
I recommend reading part 4 before you read this one!
summary: when you get home, emotions run high
word count: 5.2k
warnings: voyeurism & exhibitionism; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it & pee after sex, guys); sloppy oral (m receiving); some degradation; jealousy; rough sex; boy on boy action; jisung calls minho daddy; dom!minho and sub!jisung
author’s note: so many of you actually asked for it after the last part, I couldn't say no. this turned out to be all smut? but I feel like a lot gets resolved. i love them a lot and i needed them to be okay <3 up next? part 5 for real!!! sorry to make you wait for sub!seungminnie. and my ask box is still open for any and all ideas and questions about the series!!!
series masterlist // skzms' general masterlist
🔖 taglist for the last part is open! message me or reply to be added, but please be 18+ and have your age somewhere on your blog or I won't add you
“And now, both of you, bedroom, right now.”
Jisung followed his order immediately, taking a step towards the bedroom, but you shook your head.
“I can’t possibly cum again,” you resisted, but when Minho looked at you, you knew you didn’t stand a chance.
”Oh, you can, and you will.”
Jisung skipped down the hallway readily, ripping off his hoodie and letting it drop to the floor carelessly. You watched Minho roll his eyes before his gaze came back to you.
But you didn’t budge. You didn’t fully know where the petty resolve came from, but you didn’t want to make it so easy for Minho. The way his eyes were burning into yours with such intensity, such simmering rage, it made your insides coil with excitement.
Minho motioned you towards the bedroom with a tiny jerk of his head.
You crossed your arms over your chest, staring back at him, unmoving
He scoffed out a breath and walked over to you. You were hyper aware of him, of the heat of his body, the width of his shoulders. He stalked towards you slowly, coming to stand behind you. You could feel his breath fan over the back of your neck and you couldn’t suppress the shudder that racked through your body.
His rough hands found your waist, running over your body and squeezing your hips roughly. The sensation of his hands on you was like a balm on your jealous, sex-addled brain. You needed him to show you he still loved you, even if you fucked them. Needed it like air.
Minho’s fingertips grazed the skin of your neck and you breathed out a sigh.
“I hate when they leave marks,” he mumbled behind you, a distinct softness in the bitter curl of his voice.
“I think that’s why they do it,” you breathed out in response, “they would probably love to know it pisses you off.”
Minho scoffed out behind you.
“Remind me why I let others touch you again?”
You hummed, leaning your body back into his only a little bit, only enough to feel his solid chest behind you.
“Because it makes you hard to lay claim over us again,” you murmured lowly, “and it makes you even harder that we come back to you every time.”
Minho breathed out a chuckle, lips grazing your neck as the air puffed against your skin.
“You do …”
He left the sentence hanging in the air, lips softly dragging along your throat until his nose was nuzzled behind your ear, inhaling deeply.
You were just about to ask what he meant when you heard Jisung call your names from the bedroom.
“Someone come in here before I start by myself,” he threatened, and Minho chuckled into your hair. His hands on your hips tightened as he pushed you forward and you let him guide you into the bedroom readily, the feeling of putting your agency back in his hands like coming home.
Predictably, Jisung was lounging on the bed entirely naked as he languidly stroked himself. When you and Minho came into view, he sat up, letting his hand drop from his cock.
Slowly, gently, he slid off the bed, dropping to his knees at the foot of it, staring up at you and Minho with wide, wet eyes. You watched Minho’s eyes rake down his body, gaze catching painfully on the bruise on Jisung’s collarbone. He growled.
“Tell me she left that on you,” he pressed out, and Jisung shivered, squeezing his legs together slightly. He shook his head.
“Who did?” Minho asked and you all knew the answer to the question. Jisung shivered again, shuffling closer to Minho until he was kneeling right in front of him. Without answering, he started undoing Minho’s belt, eagerly. The metal clinked against Minho’s thighs. Before Jisung could pop the button of his jeans, Minho’s hand wound into his hair and pulled him backwards roughly. Jisung whimpered wetly.
“Who? Did?” Minho said, low and rough, enunciating each word with venom.
“Ch- Channie-hyung,” Jisung breathed out and you watched Minho’s eyes darken. You wondered briefly why he would make himself suffer.
“Princess, you said he looked like he was falling in love?”
You reeled, your eyes snapping from where you had been watching Jisung up to meet Minho’s scalding eyes. You nodded shakily.
“Words, princess.”
“He … Jisung looked so … pretty, just like he looks when he sucks you off,” your voice is just as shaky, and you know you’re skirting around the topic.
Minho laughed humourlessly, but he let go of Jisung’s hair. Jisung’s hands immediately scrambled to undo his pants the rest of the way, dragging them down Minho’s thighs.
“That’s not what I asked,” Minho said coldly.
Jisung leaned forward, burying his face in Minho’s boxers, taking a deep breath, a shudder racking through his body. He nudged at Minho’s hard cock through the thin material, his hands splayed over Minho’s thick thighs.
“He looked … flustered,” you finally said, defeated.
Jisung choked out a whine and pulled down Minho’s boxers, pressing feverish kisses to the junction of his thigh.
“He looked at Channie’s dick like he loved it,” you continued, eyes flickering back and forth between Minho and Jisung, your panties soaked, your body trembling with adrenaline.
“When he put it in his mouth, his eyes fluttered shut and everything,” you breathed out.
Jisung’s kisses finally reached Minho’s cock, his lips dragging along the velvety length of it, pressing a reverential kiss to the head.
“He whimpered … when Chan grabbed his hair,” you finally said and let out a shaky breath. Minho’s eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them as he watched Jisung place chaste kitten licks all over Minho’s cock, worshipping it with his mouth.
“Now look at you,” Minho breathed out, and Jisung winced, rubbing his thighs against one another. “You got anything to say for yourself?”
Jisung shook his head, blinking up at Minho as he flattened his tongue against the underside of Minho’s cock.
“You were so desperate for Chan’s cock earlier, why do you need mine? Fucking slut,” Minho barked out, and Jisung preened, shuffling closer and sinking Minho’s cock into his mouth, bobbing his head a few times before popping off.
“Yours is better,” he croaked out, voice already wrecked, “yours is the best.”
Minho hummed as Jisung sunk him back into his mouth, and you swallowed hard. You felt like you were about to explode with arousal, despite the three orgasms at the studio. You whimpered quietly, but Minho heard, as always. His eyes whipped over to you with a knowing smirk.
“You’re no better, are you? I assume you’ve had three cocks today, you don’t need any more.”
You shook your head frantically. Oh, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t, could he? Deny you the catharsis you so desperately needed, the hot ache of him claiming you. You would die.
“I …,” your voice nearly gave out as your pussy throbbed in your soiled panties, “I always need yours.”
Minho chuckled darkly. Jisung was blowing him in earnest now, the wet squelch of his mouth lewdly ringing through the quiet bedroom.
And, fuck, Jisung looked ruined, eyes closed, cheeks bright pink, spit dribbling down his chin as he took Minho in as deep as he could, choked little moans scratching at his throat.
“Is that so?” Minho asked mockingly, and his tone went straight to your pussy, making you clench around nothing.
You fell to your knees almost automatically, exactly where you stood. Your hand fisted the edge of the skirt as you waited, staring up at Minho with shaking eyes. After a few agonising seconds, he finally motioned his hand for you to come over, and you made the humiliating shuffle across the floor. Every move was calculated for, but your chest still fluttered when approval shimmered in Minho’s eyes.
You came to kneel next to Jisung, who immediately dropped one hand from Minho’s thigh, blindly reaching for your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. He squeezed it so tightly you heard your knuckle pop. Minho watched the motion without a flinch, but he must’ve perceived something because he didn’t ask Jisung to stop.
Jisung made way for you and you carefully leaned in, your check brushing Jisung’s. From up close, you could hear every tortured gasp Jisung let out when Minho’s cock hit the back of his throat. You licked at the base of Minho’s cock chastely, tasting Minho’s skin and Jisung’s spit. It was filthy in a way that felt like home.
But before you could go in any further, Minho pulled you both off with his hands, holding you at a distance from his wet, twitching cock. For a second, he just looked down at you, eyes wandering from Jisung, naked, panting, lips swollen and eyes wide as he stared up at him expectantly, to you, still dressed in the same clothes they had fucked you in, your eyes so glazed and needy and ready to give him anything.
Minho bit back the moan that was threatening to force itself out his chest and let go of your hair.
He sauntered over to the foot of the bed, letting himself drop onto the mattress and spreading his legs. Jisung immediately took the hint and crawled over, giving you a beautiful view of his ass and toned thighs, where there was still the shadow of a hickey on the junction between his ass and his thigh.
“Clothes, off,” Minho barked at you, and you didn’t waste a single second pulling down your skirt and panties and shrugging out of the sweatshirt you had only haphazardly thrown back on after the debauchery at the studio. As you crawled over to where Jisung was perched between Minho’s thighs, you saw Minhos eyes flicker to your hips briefly, where you knew Chan’s nails had left red scratches when he held you. You silenced any potential comment by running your hand up his thigh, and he shivered. Jisung was kissing up his other thigh before taking Minho’s cock back in his mouth, sliding his tongue along the bottom needily.
You leaned in, licking at Minho’s shaft, your eyes fluttering shut at tasting him again. Your lips brushed against Jisung’s and he whimpered. When your tongues met, Jisung’s hand slithered up your back until it was tangled in your hair, pulling your lips to his around Minho, brushing the head of his cock with every swipe of his tongue against yours. When the tip of his cock slipped even deeper between your hot mouths, a deep groan rumbled from Minho’s chest, his hand meeting Jisung’s in your hair, trying to push you down further.
You complied easily, Jisung letting you slide Minho’s cock in your mouth as he pushed Minho’s legs further apart and dipped his head down, running his tongue over the skin of Minho’s balls. Minho rewarded him with another deep groan, his hips canting forward instinctively, allowing Jisung to sink deeper. Jisung sucked one of Minho’s balls into his mouth at the same time as you took his cock deeper into your throat, and looked up at him.
Minho’s head fell back briefly, eyes screwing shut and bunny teeth digging into his bottom lip as he grunted out. He was a vision like this, deep flush on his cheeks that ran down his chiselled chest, his nipples hard, looking good enough to eat. When his eyes met yours, they were swimming with arousal and a glint of something much darker. But he just kept staring, his lips slightly parted, enough to let out tiny gasps of pleasure. You sank deeper, until you felt him nudge the back of your throat, making a tear slip out of the corner of your eye. Minho’s hand tightened in your hair. His, his, his, his, his. All his.
Jisung’s finger came up to where you were bobbing on Minho’s cock, swiping up some of the mix of spit and pre-cum that was spilling past your lips before dipping lower, and then, suddenly, Minho’s hips almost jumped off the bed, making the tip of his cock brush the back of your throat so hard you gagged around him.
You couldn’t see what Jisung was doing, but you assumed it had something to do with his slick finger on Minho’s rim because he flung one of Minho’s legs over his shoulders and dipped lower. You bobbed your head as regularly as you could without getting in Jisung’s way.
Minho was slowly falling apart above you, and you couldn’t rip your eyes away from him. His domineering role was momentarily forgotten as his arms gave out, and he collapsed onto his elbows, head thrown back as his hips rocked slightly in time with the bobs of your head, no doubt rubbing himself against Jisung’s finger at the same time. He was throbbing in your mouth, shaky whines dripping from his lips as his movements got faster and faster, rutting himself into you and Jisung’s waiting mouths.
It didn’t take long before he fell apart with a wail, clenching around Jisung’s fingertip as he spilled into your mouth in thick ropes. It was so much you could barely swallow it all, some of it spilling past the corners of your mouth and down your chin.
You heard Jisung whisper out a quiet fuck as he watched Minho fall apart. Only you and Jisung knew Minho like this, only you could make him fall apart so completely. Arousal burning in you so strong it almost hurt. You let his spent cock fall from your lips and were about to wipe your mouth on the edge of the sheets when Jisung cradled your neck and crashed his lips into yours, licking Minho’s cum from your chin greedily.
Now it was Minho who cursed out above you as he watched Jisung clean you up with filthy, open-mouthed kisses, Jisung’s fingers wrapped tightly around the base of his own cock. Only Jisung would be at the risk of cumming untouched just from licking his lover’s cum from his other lover’s lips.
The noises you were making into Jisung’s lips were pitiful, mind getting foggier with every swipe of Jisung’s tongue against yours, his body pressing into you, trying to tug you closer and closer.
Minho sat up, and used his discarded t-shirt to wipe his stomach clean, before he leaned forward, tangling his hand into Jisung’s hair and pulling him away from your lips gently.
“Don’t get too lost in it now, my cockdrunk little babies,” he cooed raspily, the traces of his orgasm still in his voice, but already back to his usual self. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Jisung blinked up at him blearily.
“Fuck me,” he whispered, and a breath caught in Minho’s throat. “Fuck me, please, daddy, I need it.”
Minho kissed him hard, swallowing Jisung’s mewls, letting him tangle his hands in Minho’s hair for a second, before pulling back, helping him to his feet and guiding him to lie on the bed. He pressed two soft kisses to the red bruises on his knees.
“I’ll fuck you, baby,” he murmured out before turning to kneel next to you, cupping your face, brushing his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. Still talking to Jisung but with his eyes fixed on you, he continued, “… but while I do that, I need you to tell me all about our princess and Changbin, yeah? Can you do that?”
Jisung winced, but hummed out an approval. Your heart started beating faster in your chest again, the dark possessiveness in Minho’s voice filling you with dread and arousal and the all-encompassing need to show him that you were his and his alone.
Just when you thought your heart was going to jump out of your chest, Minho kissed you and it made your whole world reel. You never wanted to let him go, wanted to kiss him forever, the taste of him on your tongue forever and ever. It took everything in you not to sob when he pulled back and looked at you. You felt dizzy and sad and needy, and you didn’t bother to hide it because you knew he would take care of you. And he did, brushing a reassuring thumb across your cheekbone and pressing another deep kiss to your lips before helping you up.
He guided you down to straddle Jisung, who was beaming up at you with the most fucked out grin. He was already blissfully far gone.
“Don’t you dare fuck him, princess,” Minho warned you, and Jisung whimpered, pouting up at you. “You already had each other today. You can kiss and grind a little while I prep him, but that’s it.”
You nodded in assent, already dragged into Jisung’s orbit by the way he was staring up at you. He leaned up as you leaned down and you found each other’s lips for the umpteenth time today, and yet it felt like the first time.
While Minho was getting out the lube and the condoms, Jisung ravished your mouth, kissing you so eagerly you could barely keep up. But then Minho’s wet finger pushed into him, and he nearly yelled into your mouth, his hips jumping desperately. Minho chuckled behind you.
“Fucking desperate,” he spat out, and Jisung mewled happily.
While Minho was working him open, Jisung kept kissing you, his hands coming to your hips, digging his fingers into your skin as he slowly guided them down until your bare pussy was brushing against his dick. He moaned into your mouth, using his hands to swivel your hips so the head of his cock caught at your hole. You were so drunk on him that you didn’t realise what he was doing until he pushed just the head of his cock into you, and you moaned out loudly.
Suddenly, a hand came down on your ass so hard you shrieked, ripping your mouth away from Jisung’s just in time to see his eyes roll into the back of his head with a yell of his own when Minho slapped his balls.
“Jisungie, what did Daddy tell you?” Minho purred out behind you, and Jisung’s face pulled into a bratty smile, his head rocking back as Minho was still rutting his fingers into him.
“Technically, you only told Y/Nie not to fuck me,” he said, winking at your shocked face.
Another hard slap landed on Jisung’s balls, and this time he moaned out so pornographically it made you clench around nothing. But then he whined out in dismay and you guessed Minho had pulled out his fingers, leaving him empty.
“Maybe I should let Chan-hyung have you, you little brat,” Minho hissed, and you could see Jisung’s eyebrows furrow. If you weren’t so fucking turned on, you would be impressed with how easily Minho controlled the two of you.
“No, no, no,” Jisung mewled, his fingers digging into your hips as he resisted the urge to press you down and onto his waiting cock. The proximity made you dizzy.
But then Jisung’s eyes rolled back into his head, his whole body writhing and his hands falling to the sheets and you knew Minho had pushed his cock into him.
“Then prove you’re worth my time,” Minho continued, a little breathless from where Jisung was clenching around him. “Why don’t you start by telling me about our princess and Changbin, hm?”
Jisung whined as Minho pulled out and pushed all the way back in.
“You said she enjoyed it. What does that mean, baby?”
Jisung gasped out, his hand wrapping around your arm to hold himself steady.
“Y/Nie moaned so much,” he breathed out, before moaning again, “was riding him on the chair, kissing him the whole time.”
Minho started to set an agonising pace and Jisung mewled. He went back and forth between his eyes fluttering closed and staring up at you with stars in his eyes from finally getting exactly what he needed.
“Go on, Jisungie,” Minho spoke.
“Changbin … fuck, Changbin-hyung was so eager. Kept calling her beautiful,” Jisung breathed, and you gasped when you felt Minho’s fingers glide through your slick. Jisung furrowed his brow as he looked up at you. There was the same glint in his eyes as earlier.
“He called her ‘the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen’.”
One of Minho’s fingers slid inside you and moaned out, head falling between your arms.
“God, fuck, harder Daddy, please … hhngg,” Jisung begged desperately, but Minho slapped his ass desperately.
“You take what I say you deserve,” he spat out, and his voice was so much more venomous than it was earlier. The latter’s finger was still sliding in and out of you, so slowly you felt like you were going insane.
“Y/Nie got flustered,” Jisung said, and Minho pulled his fingers from you and slammed his hips into Jisung’s, making you and Jisung moan out for completely opposite reasons. This time, Minho didn’t have to ask for Jisung to supply details.
“She blushed, oh fuck,” Jisung moaned, as Minho finally fucked him harder, “she didn’t even have a comeback, just told him to shut up, all bashfully. Fuck, it made me so fucking … hnngg it made me so jealous.”
Jisung was staring at you and you were staring back, your eyes wide as you watched all the emotions go through Jisung’s eyes. Suddenly, two fingers pushed back inside you and you whimpered, pushing your hips back instinctively. But Minho didn’t let you do it, almost immediately pulling his fingers out again. You groaned out in frustration.
“I … fuck, daddy, right there … I took her hand while she was blowing him,” Jisung continued, eyes always coming back to yours, “I took it, but she dropped it just … you just dropped it when he pulled you up, baby, what the fuck.”
This was fucking torture.
You dipped down and pressed your lips to Jisung’s, his hand winding into your hair immediately as he sighed into your mouth. Minho’s fingers slid back into you as he bottomed out in Jisung, and you moaned into each other’s lips.
“You … fuck, I’m so close, … you flirted back with him, so fucking hard. You were so gone when you were riding him, you made noises I never heard you make before,” Jisung was still babbling, and you could tell he was serious, even while he was getting fucked within an inch of his life. Minho growled somewhere behind you, pumping his fingers into so well your vision was going fuzzy.
“Min …. Daddy … please, harder,” Jisung’s voice had that tremor that always showed up when he was so, so close to cumming.
“Then finish telling me,” Minho barked out behind you. He sounded wrecked, but you didn’t look back.
“She let him cum in her mouth,” Jisung continued, and Minho suddenly picked up the pace, snapping his hips into Jisung mercilessly. Jisung’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he held on to you for dear life. As if this would buy him the permission to cum, he kept babbling.
“She came with her forehead against his,” Jisung almost yelled, and Minho placed a hard slap on your pussy, one that made you cry out.
“She fell apart in his lap while staring into his fucking eyes.”
Everything that happened next, happened in a blur. One second you were kneeling over Jisung, the next Minho had pulled you upright, lining you up with Jisung’s cock before pushing you down, forcing you to take him all the way to the hilt, all without the pace of his own hips even faltering a little bit. You blindly reached for Jisung’s hands, intertwining both with yours as Minho’s hand wrapped around your throat, pulling your back flush against his chest as his hips snapped into Jisung’s. Jisung was pulsing inside of you for only a few seconds before he came with a deafening wail you were sure the neighbours heard loud and clear, painting your walls with waves and waves of his release.
Minho fucked Jisung through his orgasm slowly, making sure he was fully sated.
You were … terrified of turning around to look at Minho. You were so horny, of course you were, but you were also terrified of having crossed a real, not pretend, not consensual line somewhere. You were terrified that Jisung was really upset, that Minho was really angry, that he would take you from behind and call you degrading names and you wouldn’t know whether it was real or not. You were just considering uttering your safe word when Minho’s arm softly wrapped around your waist and lifted you off Jisung, placing you on the bed on your back.
You screwed your eyes shut, trying to delay the moment of truth for a second longer.
“Hey,” Minho’s soft voice called you, his strong body settling between your legs. The warmth of his skin, the weight of his body, it was comforting.
“Honey, open your eyes,” he cooed softly, and you carefully cracked one eye open. As soon as you saw his soft expression, you opened the other one, letting go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding. You pulled Minho down into your lips, kissing him breathlessly, desperately.
“I don’t care about Changbin,” you gasped out when he pulled back. You turned your head to find Jisung already looking at you. You reached out a hand until he shuffled over to you, and you could press a kiss to his lips, too.
“I’m not in love with Changbin,” you said again, firmer this time, “I’m not in love with anyone but you. And I’m so fucking in love with you.”
You swallowed down the tears as you looked back at Minho.
“I don’t care about Chan, either,” Jisung said next to you, so quietly you barely heard him. Minho’s hand shot out to cradle Jisung’s face. “He could never compare to you. Like, never.”
Minho nodded at him softly before looking back at you. You could feel him hard and heavy against your thigh, and you could hardly breathe with how badly you needed him.
You nudged Minho’s hips and reached down to align himself with you.
“Take me,” you whispered, and Jisung took a shuddering breath next to you. Minho’s eyes fluttered shut briefly.
“Are you sure, baby?” he murmured, but you just nodded.
“Need to feel you, need to feel you still love me,” you mumbled, face flushing hot as your eyes closed in shame. Minho’s hand came up to your face, forcing you to open your eyes and look into his.
“I love you. I’ll always love you, both of you,” Minho said seriously, as he slowly pushed himself inside of you, pressing in until he was buried to the hilt. It wasn’t hard, with everything that had happened today, with how turned on you were, Jisung’s release making the slide impossibly wetter, still.
Your legs wrapped around Minho’s back automatically when he started fucking you deep and slow. When your head fell to the side again, you found Jisung already staring at you.
“I’m sorry,” you whimpered out, and Jisung scooted closer, pressing his body against yours, one hand coming up to caress your cheeks. He shushed you softly.
“Don’t be, I love you, baby,” he mumbled, pressing hot kisses on your cheek and jaw as Minho’s hips snapped into yours over and over again.
You could feel your orgasm build within minutes, Minho’s body so close to yours as he rolled his hips into yours, his flushed face above you as he gasped in tandem with your own quiet moans. Jisung was wrapped around your side, one hand playing with your tits as he continued to kiss your neck. Everything was hot, burning hot, your own skin becoming sticky as perspiration started beading on Minho’s forehead.
Minho leaned in and kissed you so deeply, you thought you might start crying.
“I love you so fucking much, baby,” he mumbled against your lips, “I’m never letting you go.”
“‘M close,” you whined out, and Minho rutted into you that bit harder and deeper. Jisung’s hand slowly made its way between your bodies, his finger coming to your clit and rubbing perfectly.
“Only you can fuck us like this, Min,” you breathed out, and you felt Minho’s hips falter. Jisung moaned softly against your neck, nodding slightly.
“Cum for me, angel, come on,” Minho gasped out, cursing under his breath as you fluttered around him.
Your orgasm crashed over you at his words, waves and waves of pleasure rolled through your body as you trembled in Jisung’s arms, clenching around Minho and taking him over the edge with you. He collapsed into you as his hips stuttered into you, pressing in as deeply as he could before he came, his face buried in your neck, arm wrapped around you and Jisung as he filled you up.
It was quiet then, except for the heartbeat thundering in your ears, Jisung still pressing sweet kisses to your cheek and Minho softly panting into your other ear.
Minho didn’t lift his head for a long time, just softly breathed into your neck. You didn’t move to disturb him, something telling you that he was trying to figure something out. You gave him the time, both you and Jisung lying there silently with your bodies intertwined, you running your hand through Minho’s hair, Jisung caressing Minho’s back.
Eventually, Minho lifted his head and stared at you and Jisung in turn.
“I don’t want to stop doing this,” he said, and you furrowed your eyebrows in question, but he just continued. “I’m sorry for being a jealous, possessive boyfriend. I don’t like that about myself. But the thought of you realising you could do better, it kills me.”
Jisung next to you made a sad noise of protest, but Minho shook his head.
“Let me finish. I’m sorry I’m jealous, and I’m sorry it gets the better of me. I trust you. More than I trust anyone. And I know if you had feelings for someone, you would tell me. That’s thanks to you, by the way,” he said the last thing with a long look at you, but you were speechless, “so I don’t want to stop doing this. I want us to keep having fun because I love it and I know the two of you love it and the sex afterwards is incredible and also because, oddly enough, it makes me feel closer to you. Okay?”
You felt Jisung next to you nod, and you did the same.
“Good, we can talk about the rest tomorrow, okay?”
The two of you nodded again, and Minho slowly pulled out of you and got up, walking into the bathroom to get some wet towels to clean you up. You and Jisung didn’t speak, just kept holding each other. The other side of your body was cold now, and you shivered slightly, which made Jisung rub his hand up and down your arm to try to warm you up.
Yeah, you would be alright.
ask box is open for theories and ideas and questions!!
series masterlist // skzms' general masterlist // ko-fi
*⑅୨୧*sharing is caring
minsung x reader x ot8 partner sharing
summary: it's simple, really - you, jisung and minho, you like sharing. you like sharing and watching and being watched and putting on a show. and when opportunities present themselves, why would you say no.
warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex (don't!), threesomes, foursomes, you name it. individual chapters will come with their own warnings
author's note: I'm a whore for two things: minsung and poly. this is both of those things.
skzms' masterlist // ko-fi
TAGLIST OPEN 🔖
(please be 18+ and have your age in your bio, otherwise I won't add you)
༺♡༻ part 1 - hwang hyunjin x reader (x han jisung)
summary: Hyunjin knows you're Minho and Jisung's girlfriend, but he's still attracted to you. Not that he would ever act on it – except one night you flirt with him and Jisung doesn't get angry. Quite the opposite …
word count: 7.2k
warnings (detailed in chapter): voyeurism & exhibitionism; unprotected sex; dirty talk; oral (m & f receiving); fingering; squirting; creampie; switch!reader and switch!hyunjin; being filmed, sexting, masturbation
ೀ♡ part 2 - yang jeongin x reader/lee know x han jisung
summary: Jeongin is being weird and you don't know why. when you confront him, it turns out hyunjin told him about your little … moment, and it got him wondering. but there's no way he can fuck anyone in front of his hyungs. but maybe if they stay in the next room …
word count: 7.6k
warnings (detailed in chapter): voyeurism & exhibitionism; unprotected sex; creampie; lots of dirty talk; 69; a tiny bit of foot stuff; cocky innie with a lot of stamina; dom!minho and sub!jisung
˖°♡°˖ part 3 - lee felix x lee know x reader x han jisung
summary: “You know how we talked about it and I said I would probably be less involved if we decided to fuck other people?,” Minho says suddenly, voice barely making it above the sound of the music from the speakers. “I think I want this one.”
word count: 9.5k
warnings (detailed in chapter): voyeurism & exhibitionism; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it & pee after sex, guys); dirty talk; spit; degradation; oral (m & f receiving); petnames (minho calls lix 'little boy' but not in an ageplay way); mommy & daddy kink; breeding kink; rough sex; dom!minho, sub!felix, sub!jisung, switch!reader
✧˚.♡.˚✧ part 4 - 3racha x reader
summary: You didn't plan on sleeping with them when you started riding Jisung on the studio sofa, promise! but it just ... happened. though it seems this time, you and jisung may have bitten off more than you can chew and jealousy starts brewing
word count: 7.6k
warnings (detailed in chapter): voyeurism & exhibitionism; unprotected sex; oral; fingering; daddy kink; chansung action; sub!jisung
for after reading this part:
ask: why is minho so upset about chan and changbin?!
꒰ა♡໒꒱ coming soon
part 5 - kim seungmin x reader x lee know
