⟢ things you left unsaid: You and Chan have been together for six years, but have never truly talked about the future. During Valentine's Day dinner, you both realize that your visions for the future together are very different.
𑣲 leeknow
⟢ and for you, I stay: There are parts of you that Minho has never seen. Not because he didn't ask, but because you never knew how to show them without breaking something. This time, you don't get to choose.
𑣲 changbin
⟢ until friday: you were supposed to be grieving your cheating ex-boyfriend. Instead, all you could think about was your best friend. Or the fact that, somewhere along the way, you'd fallen for him.
𑣲 hyunjin
⟢ teach me how to stay: loving someone means trusting they won’t leave. you have never been good at trust, and Hyunjin has never been good at giving up.
⟢ do I love you, or am I just lonely?: “Do I really love you, or is it just a selfish way to escape loneliness?” Six months of being something—just not something anyone else can know.
𑣲 Han
⟢ crying with a hard-on: You spent the entire day thinking about one thing: Han Jisung. More specifically, getting him into bed. Unfortunately, he comes home with tears in his eyes instead.
𑣲 felix
⟢ ghost boyfriend: loving Felix was easy. It was everything else that wasn’t. The waiting. The canceled plans. The way “tomorrow” always seemed more important than today. You tried to be patient. You tried to understand. But at some point, loving him started to feel like loving someone who wasn’t really there.
𑣲 seungmin
⟢ only on tuesdays: you and Seungmin have spent years pretending their relationship is simple. But when feelings finally come to the surface, you are both forced to confront the truth: some relationships are harder to walk away from than they are to start.
⟢ ┆ stray kids x reader. ot8. established relationship.
⟢ author’s note: so i had this prompt in my list for the longest time and now finally i was hit with enough inspiration to write it for all eight of them lol. i have no idea if this qualifies as comfort or slight angst or what, but i hope you guys enjoy and as always i would love to read your thoughts on it<3
what to know: yang jeongin x fem!reader, nsfw, est. relationship, fluff, ragebaiter x ragebaiter, oral (f. rec), slight kink negotiation, mentions of bdsm things, gagging (as in using cloth in someone's mouth), reader is a yapper, princess used as a nickname
first smut, kind of nervy :) I couldn't write a serious sex scene to save my life, so there's lots of joking around and funny business
word count: 4.5k
recommended listening: sweat by haiden henderson
"You're so foxy."
"First of all, are you fifty?" Jeongin asked, turning away from the mirror where he'd been messing with his hair. "Second of all, is that supposed to be a play on my skzoo?"
"First of all," you mimicked in a nasally voice, raising a finger, "you wish I was fifty, you freak. Second of all, can't a girl just compliment her boyfriend without getting attacked?"
"First of all," he mimicked in a higher pitched voice (what is this, mimick-ception?), "I told you I don't have a milf kink—please, can we let that rest? Second of all, isn't 'foxy' used for women? Third of all—"
"No no, you can't have a third! You have to wait your turn!"
"Third of all," he repeated, smothering your face with a hand to shush you, "attack you? I did no such thing."
You licked his palm right before he released you, making him gasp in disgust. You watched on with a smug smile as he wiped it off on your shirt, wrinkling it.
"Foxy can be used for anyone," you defended. "Reject gender normative verbiage, embrace foxiness—I mean, honestly, why are you even arguing right now? It means sexy, for crying out loud!"
"Then just say that! Just call me sexy!" he cried.
You blinked at him.
"...So you're saying you want me to call you sexy."
"I didn't say that, don't put words in my mouth," he scolded immediately, standing up straighter. "I'm just saying if that's what you mean, use accurate terminology."
"Accurate terminology?" you muttered. "Are we in a board meeting? Talk about ruining the mood, geez."
"What mood?!" he laughed. "The one you set by being a weirdo?"
"I was flirting," you huffed.
"We both know you can do better than that." And he had the gall to say that with a smirk.
"That was actually some of my best work. You were just the wrong recipient, clearly."
"Wrong recip—" he sputtered. "No one else better be a recipient. You can't go around calling anyone else foxy."
You gaped at him. "What, so I can't call you foxy, and I can't call anyone else foxy, either? You're just taking the word away from me?"
He thought about it for a moment, before he nodded with a smile. "Yeah."
"Who are you, the Word Police? I'll say whatever I want to," you said, turning your chin up. "Foxy, foxy, foxy, you're so foxy, foxy, foxy, foxy Innie, foxy hot babe, foxy hot babes in your area—sorry, is this triggering you?—foxy, foxy, foxy I.N, foxy, foxy people with foxy faces, fine foxy felines flipping flapjacks, foxy women, foxy men, foxy, foxy—"
He lunged forward, clapping a hand over your mouth again.
"Stop," he hissed, eyes wide. "Stop saying it!"
You muffled against his palm, still trying to chant, "Fff—ffxy—"
"I swear—" he started, half laughing, half horrified. "Why are you like this?"
You stopped, catching your breath through your nose, and shrugged innocently while fluttering your eyelashes up at him. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, all while he loosened his hand and used his fingers to squeeze your cheeks till they puckered your lips.
"You're—" he started.
And then he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your squished mouth.
You blinked.
He pulled back just enough to speak. "—so—"
Another quick kiss.
"—annoying—"
Kiss.
"—when you—"
Kiss.
"—do that."
You made an indignant noise against his fingers, which only made your lips pucker more.
"You look ridiculous," he informed you blankly... and proceeded to kiss you, again. Ridiculous enough to still find kissable, apparently.
"I pay you a premium compliment and you call me ridiculous," you said, words slightly slurred.
"Oh please."
He narrowed his eyes slightly, squeezing your cheeks again just to hear the offended little sound you made.
"Say it again," he dared.
You tried. It came out as a warped, "Foh—"
He kissed you mid-syllable.
You froze for half a second before melting into it, hands coming up to grab at his wrist.
He pulled back, looking triumphant.
"You can't just interrupt me like that," you protested weakly. "That's censorship."
"Consequences."
You tried again, determined. "Fo—"
He kissed you again, longer this time. And when he pulled away, you were frowning (which was very forced, considering how happy you were).
He smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "You were saying?"
You opened your mouth—
"Fo—"
He kissed you again, but this time his hand slid from your cheeks to cup your jaw properly, thumb resting just under your chin. Your attempt to finish the word dissolved entirely on your tongue as his touched yours, as if he stole the word from your brain entirely.
When he finally let you breathe, he stayed close, forehead almost brushing yours.
You stared at him for a second, staring lovingly up into his eyes, then—because you were his bane before his lover—deliberately inhaled like you were about to start the chant all over again.
You barely had time to yelp before he'd hooked an arm around your waist and hoisted you clean off the ground.
"Hey—!" you shrieked, laughing despite yourself as you were unceremoniously flipped over his shoulder. "Put me down!"
"No," he said calmly, already walking.
You smacked lightly at his back, but it was useless—he had you secured easily, one hand firm at the back of your thighs to keep you from sliding.
He reached the couch after spinning you around twice to hear some giggles forced out of you, and dropped you onto it with a soft bounce. Before you could scramble upright, he was there with one knee braced against the cushion beside your hip and one hand catching your wrist before you could escape.
"You're soooo triggered," you taunted him breathlessly.
"You're about to lose your ability to speak," he replied.
"Oh? Is that a threa—"
He cut you off with a searing kiss.
You tried to recover enough to mumble something sarcastic against his mouth, but he shifted closer, caging you in fully, and the words dissolved into a soft sound instead.
"Still wanna chant?" he murmured against your lips.
You attempted to speak, because yes, in fact.
He kissed you again before you could, likely knowing what your answer was going to be. Your hands came up automatically, gripping at his shirt, tugging him closer instead of pushing him away.
He made a low, satisfied sound at that.
"Thought so," he muttered.
You gathered what little composure you had left. "You're—mm—cheating."
"How so?" he asked, trailing a kiss along the corner of your mouth, then back again.
"You're distracting me."
"That's kind of the whole point?"
His hand slid from your waist to your side, fingers curling into the small of your back, tugging you impossibly close. You let out a breathy laugh, trying to wriggle, but his grip was firm and unyielding.
"You're not going anywhere," he murmured against your ear, his lips brushing it softly, sending shivers down your spine.
"Jeongin—mm," you tried to protest, but the sound devolved into a straight moan as his mouth trailed from your ear to your jaw, nipping and sucking gently.
You tried to form words, you'd take any at this point, to tease him back, to even start a sentence, but his lips and hands were relentless and he always made good on his promises. One hand moved from your waist to cup your thigh, fingers clenching just enough to drag it up and around his hips, and you pressed against his back in response.
He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, forehead resting against yours for a second, eyes dark and intense as he stared into yours.
"Can't believe I'm dating the biggest rage-baiter on this planet," he muttered, voice low.
You bit your lip, a teasing gleam in your eyes despite the heat of everything before, and whispered, "I guess you could call me... a master-baiter."
The words barely left your mouth before Jeongin's eyes went wide, and he pulled back so swiftly that your leg flung down off of him and the side of the couch, making your foot hit the ground with a loud thud.
"Ouch," you muttered.
"Now, why would you say that?" he asked, arms crossing as he looked down at you.
"Oh, come on," you drawled, grinning. "It was funny."
"Your face is funny," he said in response. One of his hands, seemingly with a mind of its own, reached out and brushed a few strands of hair off your forehead gently, even as he glared at you. "That was truly god-awful."
"But not god-awful enough to stop kissing me, right?" you asked, narrowing your eyes when there wasn't an immediate answer. "Right?"
He gave you a look, lips pursed tight, and you gaped.
"You're pulling the emergency brake on the kissing because of an—admittedly hilarious—pun?!" you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.
"Well, I'm not going to give you positive reinforcement for it," he said. "Your actions have consequences, and sometimes punishment is necessary to stop bad behaviors. This hurts me as much as it hurts you, Princess."
"Why couldn't you be into the kinky kind of punishment?" you grumbled. "Like spankings or tying me up or something?"
It was a throwaway comment, another joke. Honestly, you partially expected Jeongin to retreat even further for it, like he often did when it came to things like that. For all his teasing and big-talk, he got a bit shy over actual sex and sex-talk in practice. It was a non-issue to you, because you found it endearing (and because the sex was still bomb, vanilla as it was). You truly meant nothing by what you just said, about the punishments and such. Jeongin's kinks, or lack thereof, did not bother you.
So you felt awful as you took in his expression and realized he actually internalized it rather than laughed it off.
"Do you... want me to do those things to you?" he asked slowly.
"I'm pretty sure a big part of that kink is that you don't admit openly that you want to be punished..." you answered slowly in a rather roundabout way. "Do you want to do those things to me?"
You fully expected a vehement 'no' here, by the way.
But he must have been feeling particularly bold, or horny, or just so fed up with you, because he thought about it for a moment before nodding and shrugging. His eyes didn't meet yours as he did it, choosing a far more enticing target in your lips.
"I don't know about the... spanking," you smiled as he whispered out the word, "I don't think I could ever hit you. But I don't hate the idea of tying you up in some way."
The hand he'd used to delicately brush your hair aside migrated slowly down to your mouth, fingertips trailing burning lines along your cheek. Instead of doing the stereotypical hot thing of pressing a thumb or two fingers into your mouth, he pinched your lips together with his pointer finger and thumb.
"Or preventing you from running your mouth."
Your cheek muscles fought against his fingers as you smiled. Maybe this was setting the women's rights movement back a couple decades, but you were all in favor of him forcing you into silence—despite what your constantly-running mouth might say.
"Would you like that?" he asked, fingers still clamped.
You dropped your smile, deadpan eyes conveying what you hoped he read as Like I said, I can't openly admit that, but duh.
And like always, he understood you perfectly.
His fingers loosened, but only so he could trace the shape of your mouth with his thumb instead. It dragged slowly along the seam of your lips, thoughtful, almost absentminded—but the look in his eyes was anything but. And because you knew him just as well, you knew he was thinking rather deeply.
His hand slid from your mouth down to your jaw, then to your throat—not squeezing, not even close. You were sure that was another line, like the spanking, that he refused to cross.
You could feel your pulse flutter beneath his touch, and by the slight twitch of his lips, you could tell he felt it, too.
“You’re awfully quiet now,” he observed.
“Trying something new,” you said.
"Hm," he hummed thoughtfully. "Suits you."
"Excuse you," you gasped. "Hey—!"
Likely to avoid your scolding—because that was clearly an insult—he bent and slipped an arm beneath your knees and yanked you up. A small, involuntary sound left you as you became airborne again, your hands coming up to brace against his shoulders. He gathered you securely against his chest, adjusting his hold as though you weighed nothing at all.
"I suggest you let it all out now and say your final words," he said, walking down the hall.
"You're making it sound like I'm about to get murdered," you said. "So unsexy."
He did not break stride. “Oh, so now you want to use proper terminology.”
"Foxy is proper terminology," you scoffed.
He pushed open his bedroom door with a foot and stepped inside, apologizing quietly with a chuckle as he nearly bonked your head on the doorframe. He then lowered you onto the mattress with care, but you barely settled before propping yourself up on your elbows, still talking.
“And another thing—”
"No," he shook his head, tapping your chin, "no other things."
"Just one more?" You pouted.
The pout, which normally worked wonders, failed you as he shook his head solemnly. But you didn't have much time to feel upset over this as his hand snuck slowly under the hem of your shirt, pressing flat against your lower ribs and using that leverage to push you down fully onto your back. Could you have resisted? Absolutely. Did you? Of course not.
His forearm nudged the hem upward, dragging his hand along the soft fabric, bunching it into a neat roll. He worked slowly, revealing your bra and your heaving chest as he lifted the shirt further, over your stomach, over your ribs, and finally past your chin. The fabric pulled slightly under your arms, but the shirt was baggy enough to not cause any painful chafing.
All the while, his eyes never left yours, checking, just once, to make sure this was truly something you wanted. You let your mouth fall open pointedly, a silent signal that you were entirely in his hands.
He smirked at the gesture, fully aware that you could simply spit the shirt back out of your mouth if you wanted. There would have to be a measure of trust and want here. You trusted him not to push things further than you’d allow, and he trusted you to respect the game he was playing.
Finally, he tucked the end of your shirt gently between your teeth. You clenched around it instinctively, a soft sound of amusement escaping you as his eyes danced with satisfaction.
“I could get used to this,” he murmured, shifting up on his knees between your legs.
You only rolled your eyes, and muffled a laugh into the fabric.
If there was one thing Jeongin was not shy about when it came to your bedroom activities, it was touching you. You still remembered that first time with him, where he was confident in absolutely nothing except for the way his hands roamed your body. Today was no different.
His fingertips skimmed your collarbone, exposed from your lifted shirt and you stuttered a breath through your nose as your body jolted. He liked the way your body would cave and twitch with shivers as he used featherlight pressure.
His pointer finger traced the edge of one of your bra straps, hooking beneath it to pull it slightly against where your shirt held it down before letting it gently snap back in place. Instead of reaching under you to undo the clasp at the back, he merely pulled on the band to pull it down to rest over your lower ribs.
Both of his hands came up now to cup both of your breasts, kneading them for a moment before using the splay of his fingers to clamp around your nipples. Your back arched off the mattress as he tugged and twisted, and a soft moan dissolved into your shirt.
"Huh? What was that?" he asked, tugging again as he grinned.
Your own hands, which were free to do as they pleased, lightly smacked his biceps for teasing you.
"You'll have to speak up, Princess," he taunted as he moved one of his hands down to below where your bra now sat. Using a single finger, he traced lines just above the waistband of your sweatpants, dipping below the hem teasingly before returning to the surface.
The familiar swoop of your stomach made you keen.
"You're normally so talkative," he muttered in confusion, finally dipping down to lavish your chest in open-mouthed kisses.
He always started with three just above your heart, because, according to him, he needed to 'honor the god of this temple, first and foremost'. It made your heart soar every time, dorky as it was. His devoted worship only continued as he made a bee-line path to your nipples, using his warm tongue to flick at their peaks.
Your hands traded out clenching the bedspread to twist into his shirt, likely stretching the material in a permanent way, not that either of you could be bothered to care at this point. You could practically feel the heat of his tongue and hands enter your bloodstream and travel all the way down to your core.
Pulling back with a slight squelch from saliva, he blew a stream of air onto your nipple.
He was so cruel, and you would have told him so, if you had that ability. Instead, you bucked your hips up and knocked his thighs with your own.
"I feel like you wanna tell me something," he said, brows furrowing even as he let his fingers curl under your waistband again. He pulled on it before letting it lightly snap back in place like he had with your bra. "But you just can't for some reason."
You seriously considered yanking your shirt out of your mouth for just a second to tell him off, but that was what he wanted. You were sure he was just testing your own resolve, and you would not give in.
He smirked, clearly sensing your stubbornness return.
He shifted down the bed, pushing your legs further apart to accommodate his torso. Gosh, he was getting so big, you marveled distantly. No wonder it was so easy for him to haul you around earlier. You'd have to remember to tease him about steroids being bad for his liver and sex drive.
His lips pressed patterns into the soft skin of your stomach, moving down close to where you'd kill to have him before coming back up to hover around your diaphragm.
"What does this spell?" he asked, softly tracing his lips around the expanse of your abdomen.
You honestly tried to focus, because this was a game you guys often played by tracing on each other's backs with your fingers after trading massages. You truly did try to focus, but your stomach kept bursting with tingles and his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive skin was throwing you off.
He pulled back after the final dash, giving you an expectant look.
Even if you could have answered him, you had no clue.
"One more time, then," he chuckled and brought his mouth back down.
This time, you forced yourself to pay attention. You had to think about the hangul mirrored, which was an added challenge, but after the first few strokes, you realized he was just writing his name... followed with a possessive particle.
'Jeongin's'
You huffed as he backed up again to look you in the eye, and you nodded enthusiastically.
Yes, you were his. Whatever he wanted of yours, was his.
Now, if only he'd just take it already.
You were halfway to just yanking your own pants off, and that was no fun.
He had mercy on you, thankfully. Sitting back on his heels, he pulled your sweatpants down, lifting your legs to slip them off your ankles, leaving you only in your panties (and your off-kilter bra and shirt, you supposed). His hands ran over your knees and your inner thighs in soothing strokes as he simply took you in.
"You're so pretty," he muttered reverently. "So sexy."
He looked you straight in the eyes, then.
"So foxy," he whispered.
You shouted into the gag, unsure if you were happy or not about him using the crux of this whole situation to tease you.
You had to remember, then, that you may be an expert rage-baiter, but so was he.
He chuckled to himself as he let a hand follow the contours of your thigh and waist down to your underwear. His masterful fingertips played with the edges of the fabric here, too. Inch by inch, he worked your panties off, slinging them off the side of the bed.
"Can I touch you?" he asked, almost breathless.
Typically, this would be the moment you told him that he had already touched you hundreds of times to get to this point, so why bother. Instead, all you could do now was nod.
His thumb was the mastermind here. He dragged it through your folds, slipping easily through the slick that's been building. You watched as he was wracked by his own set of shivers, and out of all things, that was what made you moan and roll your eyes back into your head.
You watched his free hand palm the bulge in his pants, and you lamented that we was so far from the reach of your hands.
Your teeth ground into your shirt as his thumb circled your clit, pressure so light that it made your legs twitch at each pass he made. His other four fingers and palm splayed over your pubic bone, digging into the flesh and holding you down as your hips threatened to push up for more friction.
You tried to say something to the effect of "Innie-ah, please" or "You jerk, stop playing with me".
Those would have likely given you two very different results depending on his mood.
As it was, you sounded garbled and unintelligible, and his hand pulled away entirely... which was perhaps the worst possible outcome.
"You say something?" he asked, eyes glinting.
You propped yourself up on your elbows for a third time that day, giving him your best unimpressed face. You simply grunted, chin nudging in his direction.
"I didn't get that, sorry." He blinked. "Use your words."
"You suck," you said around the shirt, knowing full well the tone would have to do the explaining for you, "and not the good kind, unfortunately."
And, as if he read your mind, he promised, "I'm getting there. Be patient."
His fingers returned to you, this time with a lot more vigor. Jeongin was a little shit, everyone who knew him could admit it, but he wasn't so evil that he would leave you wanting for too long, even if this was technically supposed to be a punishment.
You squirmed as he pressed two fingers slowly into your heat, thumb still working its magic at your bundle of nerves. His shoulders were slightly hunched as he craned his neck to fixate on where his pointer and middle fingers disappeared and reappeared at your entrance. In his focus, his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth, bitten between his teeth, and you let yourself flop back down onto your back.
You loved when he did that; you just loved his tongue, in general.
And you always told him so.
Now you had to suffer with those thoughts kept to yourself.
You could feel him curl his fingers suddenly, hitting the spot that always made you see stars. Your moans were muffled, but clearly loud enough for him to hear and smile at.
Just as you were about to start rolling your hips in time with his rhythm, he pulled them out.
Sadist, you thought silently, knowing his brain waves would somehow pick up on it. You were just synced up like that.
You didn't curse him for too long, though, because he shuffled down until he was eye level with your heat, and using the hand that wasn't completely covered in your juices, he pulled one of your knees up and over his shoulder. And, again, he made good on his promise.
Now, anyone who has shared a meal with Jeongin knew that he practically inhaled his food. He must have been a snake in a past life, the way his jaw basically unhinges to fit three bites of food into his mouth at once. He eats as if he's never had food before and never will again.
He was no different here.
Your hands found his hair as he lapped at your folds with enthusiasm. The hair he'd been messing with when you'd said his favorite word and set off this whole chain reaction. The hair that was tickling your lower stomach. Your fingers tangled into the slight curls, pulling as he gave a particularly harsh lick.
You heard him shamelessly moan in response, pace picking up.
He brought his hand back up to your entrance under his chin, long fingers curling inside you once more. And as he sucked on your clit and pressed into that soft spot that he's come to know so intimately, you practically lifted off the bed, back bowing. He licked you all the way through it, speeding up as you reached your peak and only slowing when your body finally went slack, collapsing back into his sheets.
You hardly felt the three kisses he left on each of your inner thighs, they were buzzing so much.
He crawled up and hovered over you, clean hand coming up to pull your shirt back down.
Your jaw ached, but it was a pleasant kind of pain, and your tongue felt dry, all your spit having soaked up in the bundle of your shirt that now felt cold against your chest.
"Talk to me?" he asked quietly, wiping a thumb across your lower lip and chin where drool had dried.
"You called me foxy," you rasped. "You hypocrite."
He rolled his eyes fondly, smile growing as he smothered you in kisses.
Later, long after you two had showered and you stole one of his shirts to replace the one that was covered in your own slobber, you both sat at the kitchen table eating takeout when Chan walked in the front door.
"Ah, hey guys!" he greeted with a grin, toeing off his shoes and coming to inspect the haul. "Smells good."
"We've got plenty to share if you want some?" you offered.
"Thanks," he said brightly. "Maybe just a bite or two, I had a late lunch. Let me go clean up real quick."
You both nodded, moving things around to make space for him for when he came back. But before he could leave the kitchen to head to his bedroom, you called out to him.
"Hey, Channie!"
He turned to look at you, eyebrows raised.
Now, Chan had clearly just come from the gym after a long day at the studio, wearing a black tank top and sweatpants. You'd be blind to say it wasn't attractive. All of the guys were flawless, and you'd be a liar to say different. However, even if Chan had been wearing rags and looked a mess, you would have still said what you did next:
"You look foxy today."
Chan's jaw dropped visibly, and he ducked his head. A deep pink blossomed across his cheeks, and he let out a quiet, almost shy giggle. "Ahah, thanks!"
He straightened just enough to give a small shrug, still avoiding eye contact, before heading down the hall toward his bedroom. His steps were quick, almost like he wanted to escape the attention he had just received, but there was an unmistakable spring to them, a subtle joy that came from being flattered.
Once he disappeared, you turned to Jeongin, raising a single brow and giving him a pointed look. “See? That’s how you react when someone tells you you’re fo—"
Before you could finish, his chopsticks darted forward, snatching a bite of food and pressing it into your open mouth.
“Mmph!” you muffled, blinking at him in surprise.
With a quiet huff of amusement, he leaned closer, tilting your head back just enough to make sure you swallowed, then jabbed another bite in.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips. "That's enough out of you."
what to know: kim seungmin x gn!reader, sfw, getting together, friends(?) to lovers(?), crushes, reader's oblivious, seungmin is hopeless, they're both awkward, tiny bit of miscommunication, mature conversations, reader is best friends with all the guys pretty much
there's a chance there'll be more parts to this... I'm undecided. anyways, this is sort of based on a true story between me and a friend!
word count: 11.3k
recommended listening: blah - 1the9
Kim Seungmin wasn't your friend.
Well actually, if some outside party said to you something like, "your friend, Seungmin," you would not correct them or anything (and this happened often). He was not not your friend. He existed in that strange in-between category reserved for people you saw too often to call acquaintances but somehow not often enough to know properly.
A friend once removed. A friend of a friend. A friend of several friends, actually. Really, by all accounts, he should be your friend.
You were not entirely sure why the two of you never really crossed the line into actual friendship considering you shared practically the same social ecosystem.
Maybe it was because you only have separate text threads with everyone else. Minho sent you blurry photos of "ugly" dogs he sees on walks (you were in a long ongoing battle to prove to him that dogs weren't inherently ugly). Chan forwarded you songs at two in the morning with captions that sounded existential for someone who claimed he was "of sound mind and body" when you checked in. Changbin only communicated in gym selfies and spontaneous invitations to dinner. Hyunjin treated your private messages like a curated museum of things that reminded him of you, and also things that didn't, and vice versa. Jisung had taken to using your thread as a personal reminder app (which you found slightly inconvenient when it went off at all hours of the day and especially at night). Jeongin popped in every now and again to vent about his members, trusting you wouldn't snitch. And Felix and you currently had a steady stream of TikTok links between you.
Seungmin, meanwhile, existed exclusively in the group chat.
Well.
Mostly.
After checking, you did technically have a private message thread with him. Except every single message had been sent by Felix borrowing Seungmin's phone after his own died or was out of reach.
So, yeah, maybe the problem was that you guys were terrible texters.
Or maybe it was because the two of you had never once suggested spending time together one-on-one. All the others had breached that pretty early into getting to know each other.
Maybe Seungmin was simply harder to get close to in groups. Everyone else in the group demanded attention naturally, however unintentional. Seungmin slipped around the edges of conversations and spaces, quiet until he had something worth saying, and then he was suddenly the funniest person in the room for exactly three seconds before retreating again.
It was unfortunate, really. He seemed like a super cool guy.
He drove people places when nobody else wanted to.
He was always first to start tidying up after a get-together.
He sighed when he was tired in the same pathetically cute way old dogs did before laying down.
He got oddly competitive during board games, though rarely, if ever, against you... which you actually took as a bad sign. Not because you desperately wanted Kim Seungmin to crush you at Uno or anything. But he treated everybody else with a certain level of casual familiarity and mockery that you never quite seemed to unlock.
Instead, you received politeness and kindness and patience.
And all that meant in your head was that he still thought of you as "someone else's person" rather than one of his own. You were not to be made fun of in his eyes.
The point was simply that your dynamic had fossilized over time into something weirdly formal despite the fact that you had collectively spent hundreds of hours in the same rooms. Like, seriously, he didn't even use informal speech with you!
Sometimes you thought he seemed comfortable around you. Enough to occasionally sit next to you even when another spot across the room was free, at least. Enough to offer you a ride or two home after outings (even if you never really ended up needing them because the trains were so convenient and it was always somehow out of his way).
Then the next time you saw him, all you would get was a nodded greeting and silence on the western front. Back to square one... if there was even a single square to start with in the first place. A circle was probably more representative of what you had going on, always ending up back where you started, only to loop again.
The most annoying part about all this was that you genuinely could not tell whether the distance between you existed because Seungmin preferred it that way or because neither of you knew how to move past it anymore without it seeming strange. Because you certainly didn't prefer it this way. Who would?
You weren't friends, you and Seungmin. You were certain of this fact.
Which was why you nearly inhaled foam the next afternoon when you mentioned this all offhandedly and Hyunjin casually said, "Oh, it's because he likes you."
You coughed violently into your iced latte... and a little onto the table.
Across the tiny café table, Hyunjin didn't even flinch. He simply watched you, perhaps looking a little grossed out by the little dribble that fell down your chin. He subtly nudged the napkin container closer to you with a knuckle.
You stared at him right back, cleaning up your face.
"I'm sorry," you said slowly, because clearly he had suffered some kind of neurological event on the walk over here and goodness knew he couldn't risk losing more brain cells. "Because who likes me."
"Well, Seungmin." The only thing missing was a little duh at the end, but his tone and eyebrow raise got that across just fine.
You blinked at him, then snorted once, because genuinely what else were you supposed to do with that information? He was pulling your leg for sure.
"No, he definitely doesn't."
"Uh, he definitely does." He frowned indignantly. And that's how you knew he was just arguing to argue now. He was the sort to die on a hill, even when he knew the hill was a lie.
"You are making shit up," you informed him, pointing accusingly with your dirty napkin. "You tend to do that, you know. Sure, it's fun to pretend sometimes, but this is your friend you're talking about."
Emphasis on the your.
"I'm not making anything up!" He had the gall to look offended. "Seungmin has had a thing for you forever."
"That is an insane thing to say." Could you imagine? Seungmin, the one who hardly ever smiled at you—much less looked at you—into you? Please.
"It really isn't."
"Yes, it is," you said, leaning forward across the little table to really instill this point in him. It rocked, rattling the dishes you shared. "Did he explicitly tell you that he does?"
"... No... but trust me, I know Seungmin," Hyunjin said, eyes flicking away. "And I know yearning when I see it."
Classic Hyunjin, the utter romantic, of the delusional and hopeless variety. You pitied him, honestly, it must be hard to live like that as a single man.
"Then why hasn't he done anything about it?" you said finally, humoring him out of that pity.
"Who's said he hasn't?" he rebutted.
"Uh, me?" You looked around, as if it could be anyone else. "He hasn't expressed any interest like that at all to me."
"Because he's scared." He shrugged lightly.
You barked out yet another laugh. "Kim Seungmin is not scared of me."
"Not of you, of feelings," he stressed.
"If he liked me, surely at some point in the last several years something would have happened." Surely, if it was anything serious (or even true), there would be signs.
"You are severely underestimating that man's ability to avoid a situation." Hyunjin snorted.
You shook your head, still laughing a little because the whole conversation felt absurd enough to circle back around into entertaining. Honestly, Seungmin liking you was such a bizarre concept. Sure, you'd never heard tell of him liking or dating someone else as you had with some of the other guys over the time you've known them. But you chalked that up, again, to you not being close enough to be let in on that sort of information.
Hyunjin was crazy. And that was nothing new to you, so you let it go. Let him be delirious if it helped him keep his whimsy in the world. The conversation never came up again with him, anyway.
It did, however, come up with someone else coincidentally...
"Hey, do you know if Minnie-ah is going home to visit family next weekend?" Changbin asked over dinner a couple weeks later.
"Uh, I don't know," you said slowly. You did do him the courtesy of going through your memory to see if that had ever come up, but it should surprise no one that it didn't. "Why would I know that?"
"Oh, I just figured he might have mentioned something to you," he guessed.
"To me?" you echoed.
Changbin blinked at you from across the grill.
"Yeah?" he said uncertainly.
You stared right back at him. "Kim Seungmin to me?"
His confusion deepened. "...Yeah."
"Seungmin-ssi and I... don't really talk," you drew out. You thought everyone was aware of this. Was everyone not aware of this?
"What do you mean." He frowned.
"I mean," you said, "we talk in group settings. Same as everybody else. But we do not... privately communicate. Especially not about plans that don't involve each other."
Even just saying it felt wrong (but that was probably due to the extremely odd wording you used).
"You don't?"
"No?"
He leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. "Interesting."
It was clearly said in a way that suggested he found it less-so interesting and more-so weird (and did you detect an ounce of concern?).
You blinked away your own confusion, wondering if Hyunjin had maybe said something to him to make him think things were different than they really were. You wouldn't put it past the guy to start waxing his fabrications to his roommate.
"Why?" you asked.
"Oh, I heard he was debating on going back sometime soon," he answered, getting back to his food. "Just curious."
"No, why is it interesting that we don't talk?"
He paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, said, "I think maybe I've said too much," and then stuffed his cheeks full.
On the contrary, you thought, he hasn't said nearly enough.
"Oh come on," you groaned. "Did someone say something to you? Did Hyunjin-ah blab about our conversation the other day?"
"Hyunjinnie? What did you guys talk about?"
"Don't avoid my question," you said.
He looked sufficiently caught. His mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish. "Nobody didn't tell me anything."
"Don't confuse me with double negatives and incorrect grammar," you hissed.
"Look, okay, I can't," he muttered finally. "When someone tells me something in confidence, I like to maintain that. My lips are sealed on this one. Sorry."
And he stuck to it, unfortunately. He masterfully changed topics every time you tried to steer it back to Seungmin—something you really weren't versed in. You cursed how loyal he was.
Having those two conversations under your belt by this point, you were getting oddly nervous. What were these guys seeing that you weren't? Had you been misreading things? Could it really be misreading when there was hardly anything to read?
It was inevitable that you got into your own head about it.
You became extremely hyperaware of how you acted around the group, and especially hyperaware of how Seungmin acted around you.
One Friday night found the whole group crowded into Minho and Jisung's apartment for a homemade meal and a movie nobody was actually paying attention to. Jisung and Changbin were arguing over the correct ranking of characters of a totally different franchise to the one playing. Hyunjin was stretched across the floor, watching them and contributing nothing. Chan kept disappearing into the kitchen to join Minho every ten minutes because sitting still was physically impossible for him and he wanted to help out in some way but Minho kept turning him away.
And you? You were just acting weird, and you knew it.
Every time Seungmin so much as moved in your peripheral vision, you tensed. It was starting to make you cramp up, and that was just making you more irritated.
Worse still, he was behaving exactly the same as always.
Where was this supposed longing? This pining? This allegedly years-long crush Hyunjin—and possibly others—seemed convinced existed?
Seungmin had greeted you with his usual polite smile when you arrived. He'd asked if you wanted anything to drink while he was up, and that was the sum of all you'd conversated. He'd spent most of the evening bickering with Jeongin over something you couldn't hear from across the room.
That was it. And that was normal.
At one point, he laughed hard enough at something Changbin said that he leaned sideways into the couch cushions, eyes squeezed shut for a long second.
You stared, having not been listening. It was an objectively nice laugh, you'd always thought so, and what was that? Was that... jealousy? Jealous that you had never made him laugh in this way? That you likely would never be able to due to your emotional, and most times physical, distance?
Since when had you cared about that? You made all the others laugh just fine, wasn't that enough for you?
No.
You needed that laugh.
You hated Hyunjin with your whole being. You hated Changbin too, no matter how undeserving he was of it. They had infected your brain with utter nonsense and now you were seeing Kim Seungmin differently.
As if sensing your thoughts, Hyunjin glanced over from his spot on the floor. Then his eyes flicked between you and Seungmin once, and the bastard smiled.
You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to channel your every hate-filled thought into his brain; however, his single brain cell was incapable of such telepathy beyond what he'd just accomplished, and he merely turned away.
You'd kill him one day.
"You okay?" Felix asked beside you quietly.
You nearly jumped out of your skin.
"Jesus Christ," you hissed. "Where did you come from?"
He blinked at you owlishly. "I've been sitting here."
Right. He totally had been, for at least twenty minutes or so. He'd even massaged your hand at one point because you'd been clenching it into a fist from fried nerves.
You were genuinely losing your mind.
"Sorry," you muttered, rubbing at your forehead.
Felix studied you for a second, then looked toward Seungmin (you hadn't even been looking over there!) briefly before realization visibly dawned across his face.
"Oh," he said.
"Oh my god," you muttered, pushing yourself off the couch. You were not about to entertain yet another demented individual. "I actually cannot deal with you people tonight."
Felix sat up immediately. "Wait, wait—"
You waved him off and headed toward the kitchen area before anyone else could stop you, muttering a quick excuse about needing water despite the fact that you still had the drink that Seungmin had grabbed for you in your hand.
Behind you came the sound of Felix scrambling upright.
"Wait!" he whisper-shouted again, certainly garnering the attention of everyone in that room for a moment.
Of course he followed you. You just made him think you were annoyed with him, and he was the sort to resolve that immediately or perish trying, kind soul that he was.
"Hey," he whisper-called as he trailed after you into the kitchen. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," you whispered back aggressively, which probably undermined your point somewhat.
He looked unconvinced. "Did I do something?"
"No." The thought of Felix ever doing something to truly piss you off was inconceivable.
"Did Seungmin-ah do something?"
You stopped so abruptly near the counter that he nearly walked into your back.
"There it is again," you hissed, spinning around to face him. "Why does everybody keep bringing up Seungmin-ssi?"
For a moment, he looked a little lost as to why you'd even ask that. It almost seemed like he wanted to say, Why wouldn't I?
"...Didn't he...you know...?" he asked instead.
"'Didn't he'... what?"
He visibly scrambled for an escape route to the conversation, clearly sensing something off with his calculations. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't nearly so word savvy as Changbin when it came to stuff like that.
"Based on that response, I'm going to go with no," he said carefully. To himself, he muttered, "He's such a lying loser."
"Lying?" you repeated sternly. "Felix."
He dragged both hands down his face, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Lord, forgive me."
"What," you demanded quietly, "did Seungmin-ssi say?" Or not say, rather.
Felix looked genuinely torn, but he did give in rather easily. You almost felt a little bad, practically scaring him into giving you answers.
"You cannot react," he whispered first, looking back at the way you'd come from the living area. "And you cannot tell anyone that I told you this."
You'd think he or Seungmin had killed somebody, he was so dead serious.
"I'll react however I want depending on the information."
"That's exactly what I'm worried about. Please."
"Spill." You crossed your arms.
He exhaled heavily through his nose, before finally getting to it. "A while ago," he started carefully, "Seungmo told me he was gonna tell you he liked you."
You just stared at him. If there was a thought or feeling in the whole of your body, it was unknown to you. Was this what going into shock felt like?
He was yanking your chain, surely? Just like the others had? ...But Felix wasn't like that. Sure, he joked and teased and told little white lies for the bit, but he wasn't so cruel as to spread a fake rumor like this. Could it be that these things weren't totally unfounded?
Your face felt hot. In fact, your whole body was sort of on fire.
You desperately gulped down the last of the drink in your cup, and yet your mouth dried right back up.
"And then after that," he kept going quickly, like a cascading waterfall with no end, "every time someone mentioned you, he acted all weird and sort of mopey, and then today you were acting so strange and quiet and you—you even snapped at me!—so I kinda assumed..." He trailed off weakly.
"...Assumed...?"
"That he had told you and it didn't go so well."
You blinked once, perhaps twice. Again, the sensations in your body were a little fuzzy to you, a little delayed. "He did not tell me he liked me."
"Yeah." He winced. "I gathered that."
"Oh my god." You turned away briefly, pressing both hands against your forehead. This was insane. Not only had Seungmin apparently liked you for who even knew how long, but he had also liked you enough to announce his intentions to confess those feelings to his friends.
Behind you, Felix made another nervous noise. "You won't tell him that I told you, right?"
"And everyone knows this?" you asked instead of answering.
He paused to think. "I think only a couple of us know for sure. The rest just suspect it. Kinda obvious."
Obvious? Obvious?! Was that supposed to be a dig at you?
Changbin, he had to be one of the few who knew for certain, what with the way he talked about confidentiality and trust. And Hyunjin only assumed, and assumed correctly, if Felix was to be believed. But what reason would he have to lie?
"You guys just act so awkward around each other," Felix continued, literally unprompted (rude), and sounding a little pained himself. "I was hoping he'd actually do something to maybe break through it and save us from all this unresolved tension."
"There is no tension!" You whipped back around.
From behind you came a snort, and both of you startled violently. Minho stood there holding a dish towel, having very clearly tuned in sometime during the meltdown.
"There's definitely tension," he informed you.
You pointed at him. "Why are you here."
"I live here. And you came into my kitchen." His eyes drifted toward Felix over your shoulder. "He finally told her?"
Minho knew?!
Felix looked at him blankly for a second before sighing. "...No."
There was a beat of silence before Minho barked out a laugh so sudden he had to grab the counter. "Oh, Kim Seungmin is pathetic," he wheezed.
You were beginning to think so, too.
And you, you were equally as pathetic!
Quite the duo you two made, huh?
A longer silence settled over the kitchen for a second after Minho's outburst, broken only by the muffled sound of Jisung yelling from the living room about someone having "zero media literacy."
You stared blankly at the countertop. Then, another thought occurred to you. "How long ago did he say he was going to tell me?"
Felix's winced so hard that his whole body twitched, probably regretting the fact that he told you.
"Like a month ago?" he guessed, and then added, "But he's been hint-dropping for awhile."
"How awhile."
"...Last fall?"
"Last fall," you echoed faintly. The peak of summer had just passed. "That was almost a year ago."
Some of these guys had been sitting on this for a year?! Since when had they gotten so good at keeping secrets? You couldn't even get Jisung to keep track of his own wallet for twenty-four hours, Chan accidentally spoiled surprises because he got excited, and Hyunjin treated secrets like they physically burned holes in his pockets (which was probably why he hadn't been told explicitly).
That wasn't even the part bothering you most, though.
Honestly, once the initial shock wore off, it made perfect sense why nobody had told you. It wasn't really their secret to tell. If Seungmin had confided in them, then of course they'd keep it to themselves. They owed it to the guy for being their own personal rock and secret vault whenever they needed.
No, what bothered you was that they'd apparently spent months living with an entirely different understanding of reality than you. You'd been the only person missing a piece of the puzzle. And that was more than a little embarrassing, to be honest.
And now your recent interactions with Seungmin were replaying in your head with horrifying new context.
The time he'd lingered after everyone else left a café, awkwardly tapping his fingers against his cup while you gathered your things before plucking up some sort of nerve to offer to walk you to the station. You'd declined because you figured he was asking out of some sort of gentlemanly responsibility and not because he wanted to.
There had been one evening where everyone else got caught up talking in the parking lot after dinner while you waited slightly off to the side scrolling through your phone. Seungmin had wandered over after a minute. Not to start a conversation, because you guys didn't really have those. Instead he'd just stood there next to you in silence. You remembered glancing up eventually and trying to engage him by showing him something dumb on your screen. He'd looked at it, laughed quietly, and stayed beside you until everyone else was ready to leave.
There had also been that time you'd invited your (at the time) talking-stage-situationship-complicated-mess to a hangout to introduce him to the group, just to see how he meshed... Well, he hadn't meshed very well at all, with Seungmin least of all for some reason. Back then, you'd been surprised by the instant curtness each side showed each other and when you asked the talking-stage-situationship-complicated-mess about it later on, he'd merely said, 'He's the one you guys refer to as a dog, right? It makes sense.'
(Thank goodness you left him.)
The version of Seungmin that existed in your head was someone polite and thoughtful and generally kind to you (which, again, was not how he acted around his close friends). None of those moments had ever felt remarkable enough to question, other than that last one, you supposed.
And it was... a little sad, actually. Because if Felix was right, then every one of those moments had probably felt much bigger from Seungmin's side than they ever had from yours.
What you couldn't understand was how a person could apparently like someone for that long while simultaneously giving every impression that they were trying very hard not to be liked in return!
If Seungmin liked you, shouldn't he have wanted to get closer? Closer, at least, than this?
Finally Felix spoke, and it was like he had read your mind.
"Seungmo cares a lot about how you see him."
You looked up from where you'd been staring at the marble counter. "What does that mean?"
Felix looked toward Minho, as if silently asking for help.
Minho sighed. "You're surrounded by men who tease you."
"...Thank you for that horrifying sentence."
"Seriously, though," Felix laughed, agreeing. "Think about it: Binnie-hyung teases you, Hannie teases you, Hyunjin teases you, I.N teases you. Half the conversations you have with Minho are arguments."
You and the man in question glanced at each other and shrugged. It was true.
"The point is, Seungmin sees all that."
"Okay?" You frowned.
"Okay," Minho repeated dully. "And none of those guys are your boyfriend."
Eugh, just the thought sent shivers down your spine. Sure, some of them would probably be pleasant partners, but something about that...
"I think Seungmo just..." Felix rubbed the back of his neck, "never wanted to be grouped in with everyone else."
That made you pause. Grouped in?
"As another friend," he clarified at your silence. "From his perspective, you already had that. You already had people making you laugh. People teasing you. People texting you all day. If he wanted to be important to you, then he couldn't just be another version of what you already had."
Your attention drifted inward then for some much-needed self-reflection.
The teasing had always come easily with the rest of the group because it had never meant anything. Or rather, it meant friendship (that wasn't nothing obviously). And it came with the certainty that nobody was trying to impress anybody.
Half the time your conversations with those idiots sounded like active hostility to an outside observer. If a stranger overheard some of your exchanges with Minho, they'd probably assume you despised one another. And that couldn't be further from the truth; you were quite fond of each other. But, again, you did not consider any of those guys dating-pool material.
The uncomfortable truth was that you'd never actually spent much time thinking about what you wanted from a relationship. Not in a serious capacity, at least. It had always existed as a vague future concept. Something that would happen eventually if the right person came along—like the movies.
And even when you did think about it, you never imagined yourself with someone... completely different from your friends.
You liked teasing. You liked banter. You liked laughing until your stomach hurt over absolutely nothing. You liked people who could be honest with you and call you out when necessary.
You wanted to genuinely enjoy being around the person. You wanted to choose their company even when there was no romantic context attached to it.
It wasn't that Seungmin lacked qualities you found attractive. Quite the opposite, actually. He was thoughtful, reliable, funny when he chose to be and even when he didn't. If someone had handed you a list of traits you valued, he would've checked a surprising number of boxes. He was a shiny-dime of a catch.
Too bad he'd self-sabotaged himself and made himself out to be someone who wasn't those things to you.
And you weren't clear of blame, either. Never noticing his many (pitiful) attempts, how unobservant could you possibly be?
Well... this was ridiculous.
You were both adults!
There was no reason to continue running on assumptions when the person in question was literally sitting twenty feet away in the next room.
Before either Felix or Minho could register the resolve in your expression, you pushed away from the counter.
"I think I need to talk to him."
The words had barely left your mouth before Felix's eyes widened in alarm.
"No."
You took another step.
"No, no, no."
One second you were heading toward the doorway. The next, Felix had wrapped his arms around you and caught you around the middle in an effort to physically redirect you.
The problem was that he committed far too much momentum to the maneuver. With a startled yelp, he practically spun both of you in a half-circle and nearly toppled you both over.
"Felix!"
"Careful!"
The reprimands came from you and Minho at the same time.
Felix froze, and so too, did you in his arms.
Minho lowered the dish towel he was still holding and stared at him.
"You idiot," he said flatly. "You are the one person in this apartment who should not be tackling people."
"Seriously?" you added. "What happened to all those warnings your physical therapist gave you?"
Felix looked momentarily chastened. Then his panic reasserted itself. "My back won't matter if Seungmin kills me."
No one, not even Seungmin at his most angry, would ever hurt a hair on Felix's head, but you understood why he was so adamant about this.
Honestly, he'd done you a solid, being so forthcoming tonight when the others hadn't been. You owed it to him not to fracture the trust he had with his roommate.
"So... what?" you asked. "What am I supposed to do then?"
"Drop hints that you like him back?" Minho suggested blandly.
"Whoa, what makes you so sure I like him?" you balked.
"Do you not?" Felix asked, and you realized he hadn't really let you go, perhaps still fearing you'd dash away to confess what he'd done.
To answer his question, though... you didn't know.
It wasn't that the idea repulsed you—far from it. The revelation had been shocking, yes, but nowhere in the last hour, and even over the past couple weeks, had you experienced the overwhelming certainty that it could never work. There had been confusion and embarrassment and a healthy amount of existential suffering, but not rejection.
But you'd never let yourself ask whether you could like Seungmin because you'd assumed the answer didn't matter because it was unfathomable that he could ever like you back. The question had never seemed relevant.
Now, all of a sudden, it was the only question anyone cared about. You included, if you were being honest. Now, if only you could answer it...
"I don't know," you admitted finally.
Felix and Minho didn't say anything, and you exhaled slowly.
"I think..." You paused. "I think I could."
Felix's arms slightly squeezed around you and he released the tiniest of happy sounds, seeming delighted over just a mere possibility of an inkling of an iota of a feeling. You couldn't help but shake your head and roll your eyes fondly.
And at that horrible, terribly timed moment, the universe sent a big fuck you (perhaps as karma for Felix betraying a friend and you for being naive) and Seungmin, the man of the hour himself, walked through the doorway.
His gaze landed on the three of you reflexively. On Minho standing by the counter. On Felix. Then finally on you. Or rather, on Felix and you in what was a pretty embrace-y position.
You jerked away, and Felix let go so fast he nearly stumbled backward into the island. Belatedly, you realized that probably looked worse than if you'd simply stayed where you were. Everyone got hugs from Felix from time to time, why'd you have to go and make yourselves look guilty about it?
For the briefest moment, Seungmin's eyes just flickered between the two of you.
And because of everything you'd learned tonight, because every interaction you'd ever had with him was currently being dragged back through the mud of your memory and reexamined under a microscope, you caught something you probably would've missed before (or something you would have dismissed as his discontent for others' PDA).
A tiny tightening around his eyes. A brief downturn at the corner of his mouth.
It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, smoothed over as he dropped his gaze down and away to look at Minho pointedly.
He took a deep (and dare you say, long-suffering?) breath before asking, "Wasn't food supposed to be ready like fifteen minutes ago?"
Minho's eyes widened, and he turned around to head back to the other side of the kitchen, fiddling with pans he'd left unattended.
This left Seungmin alone with you and Felix, and just as you were about to say something—anything—to smooth over a misunderstanding and break some sort of ice, he turned his back to you and walked to the table to find a seat. A very clear dismissal.
You and Felix shared a look, and he mouthed an emphatic apology to you. You just waved him off.
Everyone was eventually called into the dining area to eat. And despite Jisung's whiney complaints of, "It's so burnt, hyung!", it wasn't actually that bad. Maybe slightly crunchy when it shouldn't be, and smoky when it should be spicy, but still edible.
No one dared suggest they order takeout or redo it, though, lest they risk Minho getting even more upset. And at present, there was already too much of a sour atmosphere to add to that.
Seungmin was in a bad mood. And because of that, Felix was in a bad mood knowing he was at fault. And Felix's emotions were notoriously known for being contagious, so everyone—unknowingly or not—was affected.
And unfortunately, Felix's guilt manifested in the most Felix way possible. He kept trying to do little things for Seungmin—asking if he wanted more of a side, offering to refill his cup, starting conversations that specifically mention his special interests—only for the guy to reject the efforts with increasing levels of annoyance. It wasn't enough to start an argument, but it was enough that anyone paying attention would notice.
And people were always paying attention.
Changbin, particularly, was one of the most observant people you knew when it came to interpersonal dynamics, even more so where these two were involved. He often pretended otherwise, but he cared quite deeply for his younger members. You watched the realization slowly dawn on him over the course of the meal.
His eyes lingered on Felix for a moment before they drifted toward Seungmin, then toward you, then back again. A subtle frown formed between his brows. It lasted all of three seconds before some sort of understanding settled in.
What he was understanding exactly when he didn't know the full story, you couldn't be sure.
Unfortunately, Changbin wasn't the only person at the table capable of doing that.
Hyunjin had always been strangely in tune with him. Maybe it was because they spent so much time together. Maybe it was because both of them were annoyingly invested in everyone else's business. Whatever the reason, you watched his attention snag on Changbin's expression and then follow the path of his gaze, toward you and Seungmin and Felix.
A smile threatened the corners of his mouth, and you kicked him under the table. Now wasn't the time for his ego or teasing or told-you-so's.
The kick to his shin accomplished absolutely nothing. If anything, it seemed to amuse him and he nudged you right back.
You watched on in growing aggravation as he leaned over and muttered something into Jeongin's ear. The younger boy frowned as he listened, head cocking in surprise before his eyes glanced at you and then at Seungmin.
You shook your head, not absolutely sure what you wanted to convey with it other than 'Keep your mouth shut.'
He was a far better listener than Hyunjin, thankfully, and he obediently returned to his food.
Across the table, Chan had been mostly focused on his own meal, but even he eventually picked up on the fact that half the table seemed preoccupied with something and his gaze swept over everyone while he took a sip of water.
Changbin.
Hyunjin.
Jeongin.
You.
Then finally Felix, who looked so sullenly at his roommate, begging silently for forgiveness.
Chan's eyes narrowed slightly. You'd known him long enough to recognize that expression. The man practically raised seven children; nothing escaped him for long.
The only person still completely oblivious in the end was Jisung, and you hoped it stayed that way because he was the only one talking to you like normal. Or at least what passed for normal where Han Jisung was concerned (he was regaling you with the plot of a childhood dinosaur movie).
While he spoke, your attention drifted. Partly because you'd heard this plotline before, because he talked about The Land Before Time often, partly because your nerves were making it difficult to focus on anything that wasn't seated three chairs away from you. And partly because Felix had gone very quiet. You glanced toward him.
The blond was hunched slightly over his plate, gaze lowered. At first you assumed he was simply pouting, but then you caught the faint glow of a screen against his shirt coming from beneath the table.
A moment later, your phone buzzed in your lap, and buzzed like five million times subsequently.
Felix eventually looked up so the two of you locked eyes.
He looked batshit terrified.
Slowly, while Jisung launched into a fresh spiel about a song from the franchise about eggs, you slipped your phone from your pocket and angled it beneath the table.
Sure enough.
FeFe
im gonna tell him
i have to
he'll hate me but its better that it comes
from me
and i really cant stand him thinking we
were doing anything romantic earlier
not anything against you but im not a
homewrecker
ur lovely but ya know
You stared at the texts. This was what you had wanted. It was what you had set out to do when Felix had stopped you in the kitchen. Seungmin should know that you know. This meant that things could progress forward, for better or for worse.
That all didn't stop your heart from racing.
Get a grip!
You typed back.
You
godspeed soldier
FeFe
what do i say even?????
You
can start w the truth?
you can say i pressured you
throw me under a bus
FeFe
he'll say im weak for folding😭
You
well if the boot fits
FeFe
HAHAHAhaahHahahHah
ur so funny😐
You
tell him i don't think any differently of him
FeFe
ok
wait
do you mean that in a friend way or???
Before you could decide how to answer (because you weren't sure), a shadow fell across your screen, and you looked up to find Chan standing beside the table with an empty water pitcher in hand.
His eyes flicked from your phone to Felix very obviously on his own phone, then back again.
"...Are you two texting each other from four feet away?" he asked.
You immediately locked your screen, and Felix practically shoved his phone under his butt to hide the evidence.
"No," Felix said.
Chan stared at him. You stared at him, too. Dude couldn't lie for shit.
Felix visibly deflated. "...Yes."
"Thank you," Chan said. "That was a much more believable answer. Y'all are weird." With a small shake of his head, he continued toward the kitchen to refill the pitcher.
Somewhere to your right came a dramatic gasp. "And don't get me started on We're Back."
You blinked. Jisung was still talking about old dinosaur movies. He hadn't noticed a single thing.
Remarkable.
Truly remarkable.
You wanted to preserve him in amber.
Your attention drifted away from him and back toward the other side of the table, toward Seungmin.
His gaze had settled somewhere vaguely in your direction before glancing at Felix, and you read off his lips an, "Unbelievable."
And there it was: that tiny tightening around his jaw, the way his teeth briefly clenched, the almost imperceptible roll of his eyes before he lowered his attention back to his plate.
Your stomach sank, and the small amount of room-temp food you'd managed to swallow threatened to come up. You'd never felt this stressed out before.
You knew Felix was seconds away from throwing himself on a sword for the sake of honesty. But Seungmin didn't know any of that. From where he sat, all he'd seen was you and Felix disappearing into the kitchen together (and he might have even seen Felix giving you a hand massage previously). Then he saw you two hugging each other, and then he saw you guys texting each other through dinner and acting suspicious when caught.
God.
Maybe Felix was right.
Maybe he really was about to die.
Across the table, Felix stared at you for another few seconds. Whatever internal battle he was fighting seemed to reach its conclusion because his shoulders squared slightly.
He took a breath, nodded once at you, then looked directly at Seungmin to say something quietly.
It was clear that Seungmin didn't really want to give him the time of day, but he still tilted his head to acknowledge him. And they communicated in that way that only two roommates who had been living together for years could without words, only needing a few head shakes and eyes twitches.
Then, for one horrible second, Seungmin's eyes drifted toward you. The look wasn't accusatory. If anything, it looked resigned.
He clicked his tongue before standing up and leaving the room without ceremony, Felix joining him, glancing over his shoulder at you with a comically panicked expression.
You gave him the most subtle thumbs up you could, hoping he lived to see tomorrow.
The pair disappeared down the hallway, and the moment they rounded the corner, Hyunjin practically threw himself over the table. He asked you something, probably related to the exact dilemma you were in, but your attention remained fixed on the hallway long after both men disappeared from view.
You couldn't hear anything.
Couldn't see anything.
Couldn't do anything.
And unfortunately your imagination was far more active than reality.
What was Felix saying? How had he started the conversation? Was Seungmin angry? Embarrassed? Mortified?
Had Felix already admitted everything? Had he mentioned you? Had he mentioned the kitchen?
Had he mentioned the fact that you'd said—
Hyunjin seemed to figure out you weren't going to humor his teasing or conversation or whatever he was attempting, because he moved on to talking to Changbin.
That didn't stop the next person from leaning over, though.
"You okay?" Chan asked quietly before amending it, "Are they?"
You nodded. Then shook your head. Then nodded again.
"Convincing."
"Thanks."
"You want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Okay."
Bless him; he left it there.
Just when you thought you could calm yourself down enough to take a sip of water, the front door slammed, the sound cracking through the apartment like a gunshot.
Every conversation at the table died instantly, heads all jerking up and around.
Your chair scraped loudly against the floor as you stood. Across from you, Chan was pushing back from the table too, concern written plainly across his face as he muttered a, "What in the world..."
Nobody spoke for a second, perhaps waiting for another slam of the door.
None came.
Instead, shuffling footsteps echoed from the hallway and Felix appeared.
The sight of him made something in your stomach go sour, and it didn't mix well with the burnt meal.
He wasn't crying, but he looked dangerously close to it. His eyes were glossy under the dining room lights and his mouth was pressed into such a tight line that it looked painful. He kept his gaze lowered as he walked back into the room, shoulders slightly hunched, hands shoved into his pockets.
Chan was already standing, so he reached him first.
"Mate," he said softly in English, one hand landing on Felix's shoulder. "You 'kay?"
The question seemed to be Felix's undoing. For a moment, he just stood there staring at the floor. Then he laughed wetly once through his nose, though there wasn't anything remotely funny about it.
"No." His face crumpled. "He hates me."
Chan pulled him in for a hug. "Oh, Minnie-ah doesn't hate you."
Everyone else piped up with sentiments to that same effect—well, all except Jisung.
"Uh, I'm a little lost," he said, raising a hand sheepishly.
Hyunjin gave him a light smack upside the head. "Felix spilled the beans on Seungmin's crush, pabo."
Felix groaned at the reminder, face still turned into Chan's shoulder.
"Pabo?!" Jisung sputtered, trying to smack him right back. "How was I supposed to know?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
Changbin got involved, pointing an accusatory finger in Hyunjin's face. "From what I hear, you spilled the beans first!"
"Hey now!" Hyunjin raised his hands up defensively as everyone turned on him. "I played it off as a mere hunch, and this was before he told us he was going to do something about it. I was just trying to get the ball rolling."
You didn't even have it in you to be mad that Hyunjin had clearly lied to your face back at the café, claiming Seungmin hadn't explicitly told him when that clearly wasn't true. At this point, that particular betrayal barely cracked the top ten.
More importantly, it wasn't helping the current crisis.
"What exactly happened?" you asked, your eyes finding Felix again.
The room quieted.
He finally pulled back from Chan's shoulder and scrubbed both hands down his face. The gesture did nothing to make him look less miserable.
"I just explained everything," he said, frowning, his face scrunching up sadly as he recalled it. "Ugh, his face. I'm so awful. I'm a terrible friend."
Chan pulled him back in for a bear hug.
You sighed heavily, feeling strangely at fault. Why had you pressed Felix? You should have pressed Hyunjin or Changbin; they would have cracked eventually and they would have handled Seungmin's reaction much better.
Actually, why had you pressed at all?
If you'd just stayed confused for one more night or maybe forever, none of this would've happened. But then where would you be? Still oblivious and in that same old loop with Seungmin?
Hyunjin looked from Felix to you, and he huffed. "Okay," he said, pushing away from the table. "This is stupid."
Before you could react, he walked over and gently but firmly took hold of your shoulders, steering you toward the front door.
"What are you doing."
"You are going to go talk to him."
"Absolutely not."
"Absolutely yes."
"This is not one of your dramas."
You dug your heels in, going so far as to ragdoll, but he merely held you up and kept carrying you forward with infuriating ease.
"Hwang Hyunjin, stop."
"It's for your own good," he said. "And just think of poor Felix."
Changbin passed you both by to open the door. Traitor.
"Guys, seriously—"
"You don't have to confess anything," Chan said from somewhere behind you, and your jaw dropped. Out of everyone, you would have thought he'd stop them from manhandling you. You would have thought he'd be reasonable. "Just talk to him. Hear him out?"
"Please?" Felix chimed in.
Your resolve wavered. Unfortunately, Hyunjin noticed this and used the opportunity to steer you the last few steps to the doorway.
"There we go."
"I still don't know what I'm supposed to say," you cried.
"You're smart, figure it out on the way down," Minho said from over your shoulder, sounding far too entertained by all of this, the jerk.
The door was now open and cool hallway air drifted in.
You looked at the exit, then back at the group who'd followed you to the foyer, all of whom were watching you with varying degrees of expectation.
Hyunjin gave you one final nudge over the threshold. "Go before he drives away."
"Fighting!" The boys called just before the door slammed shut for the second time.
You stood in the hallway for half a second, heart racing.
Then, with a muttered, "I can't believe they're making me do this," you headed for the elevator at a near jog, hoping Seungmin was still somewhere in the parking garage and not already halfway down the road.
The elevator took entirely too long to get to you, and then it took too long to open, then too long to close.
You jabbed each button more than once despite knowing full well that wouldn't make it move faster. The numbers crawled downward, and by the time the doors finally slid open, your nerves had worked themselves into a state.
The underground parking garage was quieter than usual when you stepped out. Cold, too, considering how late it was.
You stepped out, looking for the car you knew he'd driven here (with Felix, who would probably have to find a different ride home if this all didn't work out). You found it, parked several rows over beneath one of the overhead lights.
The engine wasn't running, the headlights were off, and the driver's seat was empty.
You approached anyway, peering through the windows as if there was a chance he'd somehow folded himself into the backseat. Nothing.
With a sigh, you turned away from the car and started walking.
The apartment complex wasn't huge, but it had enough outdoor paths and little communal spaces that someone determined to be alone could accomplish it fairly easily. You checked the small seating area near the entrance first. Then the side courtyard. Then the path that wrapped around the building.
Nothing.
By the time you'd completed nearly a full lap around the property, your hands were freezing despite being buried in your pant pockets. Your toes, too, were getting a little icy—you were still wearing indoor slippers with a pair of thin socks.
This was exhausting.
And every minute that passed gave you more time to think about the conversation waiting for you. How exactly were you supposed to start it? An apology of some sort seemed in order, but then what?
You groaned and tipped your head back toward the night sky.
The universe, apparently deciding you had suffered enough, finally took pity on you.
As you rounded the corner of the building, your eyes landed on a small overlook area near the edge of the property.
There wasn't much there, just a railing overlooking the street below and a couple of benches nobody ever used. And standing at the railing was Seungmin.
Your steps slowed, and for a moment, you just stared.
Both his hands rested on the metal railing, shoulders slightly hunched (maybe due to the temperature, but you had a feeling it wasn't). The wind tugged at his hair every so often, and in the glow of the nearby streetlights he somehow looked younger—more vulnerable—than usual.
The sight made something uncomfortable twist in your chest. You'd been the cause of that, no matter how indirect or unintentional. Shame on you.
You took a breath, then another, and finally forced your feet to keep moving. The crunch of your soles against the pavement was enough to announce your presence and Seungmin turned his head.
The second he saw you, you watched his entire body stiffen.
For a second, neither of you said anything. Which, admittedly, was very on brand for the two of you.
You stopped a few steps away from him and shoved your hands deeper into your pockets.
"So."
Brilliant start!
Seungmin looked away first, a faint laugh escaping through his nose, the kind people did when they didn't know what else to do, when things definitely weren't funny.
"Yeah," he said quietly, turning away, and yet another silence ensued.
You glanced at the railing, then at him, then back at the railing. He was clenching and unclenching his grip, sort of mirroring what your own hands were doing in your pockets.
How was this going to be the first real conversation you'd ever had?
The silence stretched another few seconds before Seungmin cleared his throat.
"Did they send you?"
You sighed, knowing the answer probably wouldn't make him feel better, but he deserved honesty. "Shoved me right out the door."
He glanced over, and his eyes traveled from your face to your shoulders, down your arms, and then lower. A small, displeased frown appeared.
Right, of course. He probably didn't want to be having this conversation, especially not with you. He'd just gotten blindsided by Felix, fled the apartment, and now here you were showing up uninvited to continue the humiliation.
You looked away, wondering how much worse this situation would get if you just left right now.
"Sorry," you muttered. "I know you probably don't really—"
A sharp click of his tongue cut you off.
"Idiots couldn't even send you out with a jacket and proper shoes."
Then, before you could stop him, he shrugged out of his own coat and held it out toward you.
"Seungmin-ssi—"
"Take it."
It was probably the most demanding you'd ever heard him.
You stepped closer, now within a step of him, and took it from his hand. "Thanks."
You slipped it on without arguing; there didn't seem much point. The temperature difference was jarring, and judging by the way his shoulders relaxed slightly, he seemed relieved you hadn't fought him on it.
The coat smelled faintly like his detergent or cologne. Whatever it was, you liked it.
"Not going to offer up your shoes, too?" you couldn't help but ask. Anything to lighten the mood.
In response, he kneeled down, fingers moving to mess with the knots on his shoes.
You balked, hands shooting out to pull him up by his arm. "I was joking."
He straightened, clearly fighting a smile. He'd been joking, too (at least you thought so based on what little you knew of his expressions).
His eyes dropped to where your hand was still wrapped around his sleeve.
Only then did you realize you hadn't let go, and you immediately released him.
"Sorry."
"It's okay," he assured.
You took half a step back and shoved your hands into the pockets of his coat, feeling his car keys (welp, at least he wouldn't be able to run now). The motion made him look away, though not before you caught the faintest hint of amusement on his face.
Things were looking up, the mood wasn't totally awful, you guys were joking around... now was the time to make your move.
"Don't be mad at Felix—"
"I didn't mean for—"
The words crashed into each other and both of you stopped... then proceeded to talk over each other again:
"Sorry—"
"You go—"
And again:
"Oh, I just—"
"Seriously—"
Was this why you never talked to each other? Because it was doomed to be a mess?
He held a hand firmly up in front of your face and you took that as a cue to just shut your mouth, but then he gestured for you to speak while he zipped his own lips.
"Um," you blinked, "Felix feels awful, really."
"Serves him right." He shrugged.
You rolled your eyes at his indignation. "He thinks you hate him."
The corner of his mouth twitched: not quite a smile, but not quite a frown. Something caught between affection and exasperation.
"He knows I don't."
The certainty in his voice made you pause. Of course he knew. Because unlike some people (namely, you), Felix and Seungmin actually talked to each other.
The thought arrived uninvited and it irritated you. You weren't even sure why. It wasn't exactly fair. Felix and Seungmin lived together. They'd known each other forever. It would be stranger if they didn't communicate well.
Still.
Why was it so easy for them to understand each other, even through crisis?
"He really does feel bad," you said again, softer this time.
Seungmin sighed through his nose and turned back toward the street below. "I know."
The annoyance in his voice had dulled considerably.
You studied his profile for a moment.
The streetlights painted soft shadows across his face, and without the usual distractions of seven other people occupying the same space, you found yourself noticing things you normally wouldn't. The slight crease between his brows when he was thinking. The way his jaw tightened before he spoke. The way he seemed incapable of standing still even while technically standing still, fingers tapping once against the railing before going still again.
The more you looked at him, the more bizarre tonight felt.
This was Kim Seungmin.
You'd known Kim Seungmin for years.
How was this the first time you'd ever really, truly looked at him?
You'd been missing out.
The wind shifted again, carrying the distant hum of traffic from the street below. Beside you, Seungmin remained quiet, his attention fixed somewhere beyond the railing.
For a while, neither of you spoke. You weren't sure whether it was because you were both trying to figure out what came next or because neither of you wanted to be the one to take that step.
Eventually, Seungmin exhaled deeply.
"You know," he started, eyes still fixed ahead, "you don't have to worry about it."
"Worry about what?" You frowned.
His fingers tapped once against the railing before going still. "About what Felix said."
Your first instinct was to deny it.
You weren't worried.
Were you?
(YES.)
You watched him carefully, trying to parse out his own thoughts on the matter.
His expression remained neutral enough, but there was something restrained about it. Something that reminded you of all the years you'd spent thinking Kim Seungmin simply didn't have much to say.
Now you suspected he'd always had plenty to say. He just picked and chose what escaped.
"We can just..." He shrugged one shoulder. "Forget it happened."
You stared at him. Surely, you were mishearing, right?
"Forget it happened," you repeated blandly.
"Yeah."
"What?" you asked, confused.
"Well, you've heard all there is to say. Cat's out of the bag, the dam's broken, my cover's blown." You watched as he steadily worked himself up before he took a deep calming breath. A faint, sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "If it's going to make things weird, we can just forget it happened."
This caught you off guard, and you'd already been quite off-kilter.
Part of you understood why he was offering. You weren't stupid. This was simultaneously giving you an out, a way to return to normal without having to reject him, and giving him a way to spare himself from hearing an answer he might not want.
The realization made your chest ache.
"That's dumb." The words slipped out before you could stop them.
"Excuse me?" he sputtered.
"I don't want to pretend this never happened."
"Why not?" he asked quietly.
Because those moments you'd spent replaying meant something now. Because now that you knew, you couldn't unknow it. Because the idea of going back to avoiding each other in rooms full of mutual friends felt strangely disappointing.
"I just..." you blew out a breath, "I know I don't want things to go back to the way they were before."
His eyes flicked to yours, and you continued before you could lose your nerve.
"I think I'd like y—" You stopped yourself. "I think I'd like to actually get to know you. I'd really like to try being... friends with you first. Real friends?"
The second The Word left your mouth, you regretted it.
It became clear to you by his reaction that he'd heard the word friends and shut down. Panic surged through you.
"No, wait," you backtracked. "I didn't mean let's be friends and that's all."
The sentence hung between you, and you forged ahead.
"I meant maybe we start there? And see where that takes us?" you offered and your voice softened. "Maybe nowhere. Or maybe we figure out there is something."
You shrugged helplessly, flinging your arms out in a way that made the folds of his jacket fan out, and you saw him smile.
"I don't know." A small and nervous laugh escaped you. "But I'd like the chance to find out."
Seungmin didn't answer right away.
He looked at you for a second, then away again, attention catching on something distant near your shoulder before drifting back. His fingers shifted against the railing once, twice, like he was weighing something he didn't want to say out loud.
You almost filled the silence just to save yourself from it, but then he spoke.
"We weren't friends?"
It came out flat enough that you took it for genuine offense.
"No!" you laughed in his face. "What we had before was not friendship."
"I know, I know." His subtly growing grin turned amused. "I'm messing with you."
Right, you'd have to get used to that. The teasing he was known for, his friendship trademark. The thought made you jittery, if you were being honest.
And what he said next made it so much worse:
"If friends is what you want first, I can do that. I want to try that," he assured before pausing. "But I also need you to know it won't always feel like that for me. I like you... a lot—Yongbok may have even downplayed it a bit—and I'd understand if that thought makes you uncomfortable."
His gaze flicked briefly to your face, then away again, giving you space in the most literal way possible without actually moving.
You huffed out a breath, a little disbelieving, and fanned your face despite the nippy chill.
"You can't just say things like that," you muttered.
Seungmin let out a quiet laugh through his nose first, like he wasn't entirely sure he was allowed to, and then it turned into something fuller and brighter and maybe even uncontrollable when he saw your stunned expression.
You cheered internally, recalling how much you'd wanted this earlier. Victory sure was sweet.
You watched him for a beat longer, waiting for his chuckles to taper just enough, before responding to an unspoken question.
"I'm not uncomfortable," you said simply.
His eyes lifted to you again, a little more focused now, but still warm at the edges.
"But I'll tell you if that ever changes," you added. "And you can do the same?"
Seungmin's laughter faded slowly and he exhaled through his nose, still smiling faintly to himself as he looked away for a second, collecting whatever composure he had left. Then his attention came back to you.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Of course."
The wind shifted again, colder this time, slipping between the space you were both pretending wasn't different than it had been ten minutes ago. You pulled his coat a little closer around you out of instinct, and his eyes flicked to the motion before returning to your face.
He shifted, pushing off the railing.
"We should go," he said, but there was no real urgency in it.
"Yeah," you agreed with a nod, though you didn't necessarily want to leave this little bubble that you'd made for yourselves either.
But the cold insisted on being a cockblock.
The walk back started the same way it had ended outside—quiet at first, the kind of silence you'd always had with him before, except now it didn't feel empty in the same way. Even still, you didn't let it stay silent for long. If you guys were going to be friends, you guys needed to pick up the pace.
"You're going to get yelled at," you said after a while, glancing ahead.
Seungmin didn't even pretend to misunderstand. "For what."
"For making Felix cry."
"He cried?" His head swung to look at you.
"As good as," you said.
He groaned to himself and you smiled.
The rest of the walk filled itself in without effort after that with small things, the blooming friendship things that you guys needed to speedrun:
He asked if you were still cold, and when you said "a little," he didn't comment—just shifted slightly so you were walking on the side of the path that wasn't catching the wind as badly. (This may have been a little more than friendly, but you decided you were okay with it.)
You asked him something about Minho's food, if he'd even gotten the chance to eat it, to which he replied honestly that he'd had no appetite. You apologized, but he waved it off by saying it looked burnt beyond belief, anyways.
You learned that Seungmin remembered an alarming amount about conversations you'd long forgotten having. Meanwhile, you had to repeatedly admit that you had absolutely no recollection of certain interactions. (This was not a flattering look for you, but he seemed to find it more amusing than anything.)
By the time the apartment door came into view, you felt very confident in your decision to try out the label of friends first. Kim Seungmin was a super cool guy, just like you figured.
When you walked up to the door, he reached for it first, holding it open without looking at you.
You passed him, shoulder brushing his just slightly in the narrow space.
Many pairs of eyes turned to you from the living area beyond.
Perhaps it was because they saw you wearing Seungmin's coat or just because you had come back together (which could only mean one thing in their small brains), but cheers went up around the room, all sounding congratulatory.
You and Seungmin glanced at each other, sharing an awkward look.
You did your best to tell him silently through your expression that you did not want to be the one to break the news. Lucky for you, he understood perfectly.
He sighed and lifted a hand before the noise could build any further, palm facing outward in a quiet attempt at control.
It worked only marginally. The volume dipped, but not the enthusiasm.
"Relax," he said. "We're starting as friends."
The room paused for half a beat, likely thinking about how best to react.
"Oh." Jisung was the first to break the silence. "I mean, oh! Friends are cool. Yay for friends!"
"With benefits?" Hyunjin just had to ask, and Changbin smacked him upside the head.
Your face went hot and you thought you saw Seungmin's ears go a little pink, too, but he rolled his eyes. "No."
"And..." Chan started, eyes flicking between you and Seungmin. "You're both... okay with that?"
"It was mutual," you answered with a nod and the guys all seemed relieved by this.
Hyunjin, however, was still not done. Of course not.
"So, friends," he said again, now grinning. "Sharing jackets is a little cozier than friends, in my opinion."
You fiddled with the sleeves of Seungmin's coat. You probably could have taken it off before coming back inside to avoid exactly this situation. And you probably could take it off now that you were inside, but something inside you wanted to keep it on.
"We share clothes all the time," Jeongin muttered. You appreciated him so much.
Hyunjin opened his mouth, probably to escalate further, but Chan lightly tapped him with the back of his hand before it could spiral.
"Leave it," Chan said mildly.
"Fine, fine," the man heaved and whispered something suspiciously like, "Friends to lovers is peak, anyways."
As things finally started to die down, Felix made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a sob. Then, without warning, he crossed the room and flung himself at Seungmin.
"I'm sorry," Felix said immediately, voice muffled against Seungmin's shoulder. "I will never tell another one of your secrets ever again. I'm the worst. I'll make it up to you, I swear."
Seungmin went still for half a second. Then, slowly, he exhaled through his nose.
"Yongbok," he said flatly.
"I know," Felix mumbled immediately, still half-buried against him. "I've disgraced myself as a human being and a friend and as a roommate too."
"That's not what I was going to say."
"It's fine, you don't have to be nice to me. I deserve honesty right now."
Seungmin paused for a beat. "...You're going to suffocate me if you don't move your head."
Felix finally pulled back just enough to look at him, still holding onto his sleeves like letting go would make everything worse again.
"It's fine. I'm fine," Seungmin insisted, and his eyes glanced up over his shoulder to catch your gaze. "More than."
Your stomach swooped, and your jaw kind of dropped at that. His eyes remained on you, the small upward twitch at the corner of his lips returning as he noticed your shock.
Felix was still clinging to his sleeve, still talking softly about how he was going to "repent through acts of service for the rest of his life," but neither of you really reacted to that part. Your eyes broke apart as Felix's voice dropped low again:
"I'm still sorry," he said again.
"I know," Seungmin replied. Then, after a beat, "Now stop talking about it."
"Okay." Felix nodded rapidly. "Yes. Silence. I will be silent. Like a monk."
"That's not—never mind."
You couldn't help it—you laughed then.
It slipped out before you could decide whether it was the appropriate emotional response to the situation, and Seungmin's eyes flicked to you again at the sound.
The corner of his mouth twitched just slightly.
Something settled in your chest after that. Not completely. You doubted it ever would. Not tonight, anyway. There were still too many things to think about, too many things to figure out, and an insane amount of retrospective embarrassment waiting for you the second your head hit a pillow.
(You were going to spend at least three hours staring at your ceiling and reliving every interaction you'd ever had with Kim Seungmin, because you were sure there were more hidden in the crevices of your brain. This was a guarantee.)
Life carried on.
Funny how it did that.
Because despite how monumental tonight had felt, despite how much it seemed like everything had changed, tomorrow would still arrive. The day after that, too.
There would be group dinners, movie nights.
Long conversations, short conversations.
There would be awkward moments and comfortable ones and moments where neither of you were entirely sure which category you belonged in anymore.
You'd spend the next few months learning things about Kim Seungmin that probably should have been common knowledge by now.
He'd learn things about you, too.
Some of those discoveries would be meaningful; others would be completely useless.
You'd learn how he took his coffee.
He'd learn that you couldn't be trusted with directions (he now drove you pretty much everywhere, even if it was out of his way).
The friendship part, it turned out, wasn't nearly as difficult as you'd expected.
The everything-else part was another story.
Kim Seungmin wasn't your friend.
Not really.
Even after everything you'd discussed on that overlook. Even after all the mutual agreements and sensible decisions and mature conversations that followed.
Friend didn't feel quite right.
Not before.
Not now.
He existed somewhere in that strange space beyond it. A place without a proper label yet. A place neither of you seemed particularly interested in rushing.
what to know: bang chan x gn!reader, sfw but suggestive themes, getting together, fwb's, kissing, chan's a nerd of an interesting variety, mentions of sex, very little dialogue, contracts and legal jargon
one day I'll write a bangchan one shot that isn't just a 'getting together' plot, but today is not that day
word count: 3.0k
recommended listening: what if love - up10tion
"I thought the NDA was the only thing I needed to sign?" you asked, sliding the binder—a literal binder with three rings and tabbed dividers and was this all color-coded?—closer to yourself to flip open.
The first page was mostly blank, save for a title.
Private Partnership Agreement
Below it, in much smaller text, was:
Revision 7.0
You wondered if he'd known it would be this serious from the very first draft. You wouldn't put it past him.
The next page held a table of contents, and even that was no light reading with headings and subheadings galore.
"The NDA protects me," Chan answered as you skimmed. "This isn't really the same thing."
"It looks pretty similar," you muttered. Only difference was that he'd chosen a far better font.
"I promise it isn't," he swore. "The NDA is there because of my job. This would've existed even if I wasn't an idol."
You glanced up at him briefly, acknowledging that, before flipping to the next page where a Purpose heading stared back at you.
The purpose of this agreement is to establish expectations, boundaries, responsibilities, and procedures regarding the private relationship between the undersigned parties...
(To be honest, you skipped most of the rest as it turned into legal jargon. If it was truly important, you trusted that Chan would put it in bold or underline it.)
The Background section began on the next page. Just at a glance, you could tell it was long. You peeked at the following pages to see that it spanned at least three. Even without reading you could tell Chan had recorded and written down every single little thing that had led to this moment. You were simultaneously horrified, impressed, and endeared.
"I'll let you read," he said after clearing his throat, pushing himself away from the table to go busy himself elsewhere. "Let me know if you have any questions. I'll just be... around."
He walked out of the dining area, presumably to pace around and likely clean things that were pretty spotless to start with. He did the same thing whenever he sat you down to listen to his working tracks. For all his accolades, he still struggled with being judged.
You sighed and looked back down.
The parties have maintained a close personal relationship for approximately three years and seven months. During that period, said relationship has evolved beyond the parameters of a typical friendship while remaining undefined in nature.
You snorted.
(He'd go to his grave refusing to say the words friends-with-benefits.)
Over the last twenty-two months, the parties have developed a pattern of communication significantly exceeding that of a conventional friendship. Relevant examples include but are not limited to:
• A daily average of 127 text messages exchanged over a twelve-month period.¹
No wonder your battery was always dead.
You read the associated footnote:
¹ This figure excludes social media interactions, shared videos, and communication conducted through group chats.
Jesus Christ.
You made a mental note to ask how he'd calculated that later.
• The parties have established a pattern of prioritizing one another during periods of personal, professional, or emotional distress.
He provided in depth examples that led you on a nice stroll down memory lane.
There was the time he'd driven an hour out of the city because you'd texted him that your tire was flat. He hadn't known how to change said tire, but you learned together on YouTube once he got there.
The time you'd left a family gathering early because he'd had a rough week and sounded exhausted over the phone. This one had been for mostly selfish reasons, if you were being honest. You'd needed a good excuse to get away from your meddling aunts and uncles. But Chan had clearly thought it was a knight-in-shining-armor moment.
The time he'd cancelled plans with half his friend group to sit in an emergency room with you for six hours after a particularly unfortunate encounter with a paring knife (‘Who even uses those?’ he’d asked you). You remembered that one particularly well, mostly because you still had the scar and also because he'd spent the entire night arguing with the nurse about whether you needed more pain medication. The nurse had eventually started addressing questions to him instead of you.
Additionally, both parties have repeatedly engaged in behavior generally inconsistent with established social expectations regarding platonic relationships:
• Consistently selecting seating arrangements that resulted in unnecessary physical proximity.
• Maintaining physical contact for extended periods without apparent necessity.
• Utilizing personal pet names not commonly employed when addressing other friends.
• Sharing most, if not all, streaming accounts across personal devices.
• Repeated instances of third parties incorrectly assuming the parties were romantically involved.²
According to the footnote, apparently there had been twenty-three separate incidents (that you guys knew of).
While the aforementioned behaviors may individually be explained through circumstances, context, or existing friendship dynamics, the frequency and intensity of such behaviors has increased significantly within the last six months.
Over the previous six-month period, the parties have spent an average of four nights per week in one another's residences.
Four? That couldn't possibly be right.
But the more you thought about it... yeah. Yeah, you did spend quite a bit of time 'round his, and he at yours.
The parties have increasingly demonstrated an expectation of access to one another's personal space without prior arrangement or invitation. Examples include entering residences without knocking, possession of spare keys, and taking up space in refrigerators and dressers without permission.
The parties have repeatedly defaulted to one another as primary companions for events, activities, and experiences generally associated with romantic partners.
Documented examples include, but are not limited to, the following:
a. June 18, 2025 – Kim Family Summer Barbecue
The Second Party attended a family event hosted by the First Party despite having no familial obligation to do so. The Second Party remained at the event for approximately eight (8) hours and was subsequently included in multiple family photographs.
Note: Three (3) separate relatives later inquired as to the status of the relationship. The parties elected not to answer directly.
b. October 27, 2025 – Halloween Event Attendance
The parties arrived at the event separately but departed together. Additionally, the parties coordinated what could only be described as a stereotypical 'couples costume'.
Photographic evidence attached in Appendix C.
c. February 14, 2026 – Valentine's Day Dinner
The parties attended dinner together after both independently claimed they had "no plans." The reservation was made three (3) weeks in advance. Neither party acknowledged the significance of the date.
The drafting party believes this avoidance was deliberate.
d. April 6, 2026 – Coastal Weekend Trip
The parties traveled approximately four (4) hours to attend a weekend festival. A total of six (6) hotel rooms were available to the larger group. The parties nevertheless elected to share one (1). When questioned regarding this decision, both parties stated it was "easier."
No further explanation was provided.
You turned the page.
The next divider was blue and the tab sticking out from the side read: Current Relationship Status.
Following a review of the circumstances outlined in Section II (Background), the drafting party has determined that the current state of the relationship is no longer sustainable in its present form.
The relationship currently operates within a space that informally incorporates many of the benefits, expectations, and behavioral patterns commonly associated with romantic partnerships while simultaneously refusing to acknowledge or define said arrangements.
The drafting party further notes that continued reliance on phrases such as "we're just friends," "it's not like that," and "don't make it weird" has become increasingly ineffective.
While friendship remains a significant component of the relationship, it is the opinion of the drafting party that friendship alone no longer accurately describes the current circumstances.
Furthermore, existing attraction between the parties has been acknowledged repeatedly and by both parties. Recent events have rendered continued ambiguity increasingly impractical.
On May 14, 2026, the parties mutually agreed to pursue a physical relationship.
Subsequent discussions resulted in a mutual decision to explore said relationship in a manner intended to preserve the existing friendship while allowing for physical intimacy. The drafting party acknowledges that this arrangement was initially viewed as a practical solution to circumstances already present.
However, further review has revealed several concerns.
Primary concern: The proposed arrangement assumes the existence of a friendship capable of remaining unchanged.
Accordingly, the drafting party believes it would be irresponsible to proceed under the assumption that physical involvement represents the sole objective of this agreement.
The next heading read:
Risk Assessment
The drafting party has identified several risks associated with proceeding under the framework of a purely physical arrangement.
Risk #1: Existing Behavioral Patterns
The parties already engage in activities commonly associated with romantic relationships. As a result, distinguishing between "friends engaging in physical intimacy" and "romantic partners" may prove operationally difficult.
Risk #2: Escalation
The drafting party has concerns regarding the assumption that feelings, expectations, or attachment levels will remain static following the introduction of physical intimacy.
Historical evidence suggests the opposite outcome is more likely.
Apparently "historical evidence" referred to every previous attempt either of you had made to draw boundaries when every single one had failed. The friendship had simply absorbed the boundary and kept moving.
No overnight stays. Failed.
No calling after midnight. Failed.
No introducing each other to family members. Failed.
No becoming emergency contacts. Failed.
No kissing. Failed (spectacularly).
You found yourself smiling, mostly because you'd forgotten half of these were supposed to be boundaries in the first place. They were just a part of who you were together now.
The drafting party respectfully submits that the relationship has demonstrated a troubling tendency to become more serious whenever efforts are made to prevent it from doing so.
Risk #3: The Drafting Party
The drafting party has attempted to evaluate this proposal from a practical perspective. This effort has been largely unsuccessful.
The next divider was green, and the tab read: Conclusions and Recommendations.
Following review of the circumstances outlined herein, the drafting party submits the following conclusions:
Conclusion 1: The relationship ceased to qualify as a conventional friendship some time ago.
Conclusion 2: Existing emotional investment between the parties exceeds that which would reasonably be expected from a casual physical arrangement.
Conclusion 3: The introduction of physical intimacy is unlikely to simplify the relationship and may, in fact, complicate matters considerably.
Conclusion 4: The parties are already operating under many of the expectations commonly associated with a committed romantic relationship.
Recommendation:
That the parties discontinue efforts to maintain an artificial distinction between friendship, physical intimacy, and romantic attachment, and instead acknowledge the relationship for what it has already become.
You turned the page. The final sheet was almost entirely blank with a short blurb at the top.
Proposed Agreement
The undersigned parties hereby agree to enter into an exclusive romantic relationship and to approach said relationship with honesty, communication, mutual respect, and a willingness to stop making things unnecessarily complicated.
For a moment, you simply stared at it.
The entire binder had essentially been building toward this, and you'd figured that out pretty early in the game. Twenty-something pages of supporting evidence only for Chan to arrive at the pièce de résistance that could have easily fit into a text message. He had never been the type to do anything halfway, though, and apparently that included asking someone to be his girlfriend.
Anyone could buy flowers. Anyone could plan a fancy dinner. It took a very specific kind of person to create a thirty-page report proving he had feelings for someone.
Your gaze drifted further down the page.
The signature section occupied the bottom half. There were lines for signatures, dates, and initials, naturally. You would have been more surprised if there hadn't been.
The left side had already been completed.
You recognized Chan's signature (and not the one he used for autographs—his true signature), the familiar looping handwriting sitting neatly on the line beneath his printed name, Christopher Chahn Bahng. Next to it sat the date he'd signed it, which was yesterday, presumably the day he'd printed it all out. Below that, pressed into the corner with bright red ink, was a dojang stamp.
The only blank line left was yours.
Your eyes lifted toward the kitchen. He was out of sight, but you could almost sense him freaking out in there, probably biting his fingernails down to nubs.
"Is this why you never let me play games on your laptop?" you called, flipping through the appendices that followed the signature page. You smiled, seeing screenshots of text threads, pictures of you both engaging in what was indubitably PDA, and even a transcript of a drunken voicemail you left him (he really had no mercy). "You were afraid I'd see this sitting in your docs?"
Chan appeared in the doorway, and you nearly laughed in his face.
You'd known him for years. You'd seen him perform in front of thousands of people. You'd seen him handle interviews, negotiations, deadlines, and more stressful situations than you could count.
And yet, you had never seen him look quite this embarrassed.
His face was bright red, from his ears all the way down to his neck.
"You know," you said, resting a hand on Exhibit E-7 (a scan of a photobooth strip where you kissed his cheek), "most people just ask."
"I know." Chan rubbed the back of his neck. "In my defense, I wasn't planning for it to get that long. The first draft truly was just about sex."
Your interest piqued as you straightened brightly. "Can I read that one?"
"Absolutely not."
You'd read it someday, with enough needling. But that could only happen if you signed the new dotted line he'd provided you with.
Poor you.
You picked up the fountain pen he'd dropped off with the binder earlier, and you saw his eyes follow your hand. You leafed through the pages with deliberate slowness, letting the them fall into place until the signature sheet was visible again.
You brought the pen down near the signature line. The tip touched the paper for half a second, and you felt his breath catch in a way he probably didn't realize was audible... and you lifted the pen again, leaned back in your chair, and smiled to yourself.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and you knew he was physically trying to remain patient. When he opened them again, he looked more resigned than anything else. "If you have a question, just ask it."
You glanced up at him. "Just one?"
"I will answer as many questions as you like," he said kindly, though his smile looked strained.
You considered that for a moment and proceeded to abuse the privilege.
"Okay. First question."
Chan nodded.
"What changes?"
His expression softened slightly, probably because that was a real question. "Not much, honestly."
"Christopher." You raised an eyebrow.
"I'm serious." He stepped further into the dining room, resting a shoulder against the wall. "We already spend most of our time together. We already know each other's families. We already have keys to each other's apartments."
"All true."
"We already act like..." He trailed off.
"A couple?" you supplied.
"Yeah," he admitted, the word visibly giving him a shiver. "That. It’s merely an official label."
"Okay." You smiled to yourself and looked back down at the signature page. "Follow-up question."
"Go ahead." He sighed.
"If not much changes, why does this matter so much?"
That wiped the amusement clean off his face.
Yes, okay, you were aware that your words were unnecessarily combative. But you were always told to get all the info before signing anything to avoid scammers (of course, Chan was not a scammer, but the it’s the principle of the thing).
For a moment, he was quiet. Not because he didn't have an answer—he always had an answer. But he was probably writing it out in his head, reading it over and fixing typos.
Eventually, he exhaled. "Because the whole point of a casual arrangement is that it's temporary. There's an understanding that it isn't permanent. Maybe someone starts dating someone else. Maybe feelings change. Maybe life gets busy. Maybe somebody decides they're done."
You stared at him and he stared right back.
"I don't want to build something with an expiration date." He practically stared right into the depths of your soul. "Not with you."
"You think I'm going somewhere?" you asked through the raging beat of your heart.
"I don't wanna risk it," he said.
You stared back at him for a moment, and then another. And somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, the smile that had been threatening at the corners of your mouth finally won.
Chan must have noticed with the way his shoulders loosened considerably. The poor man had probably been monitoring your facial expressions the same way he'd monitored the rest of your relationship. You'd have to tell him to take it easy once in a while, seriously.
You picked up the fountain pen again and held it over the page. You debated asking one teeny tiny last question, but finally deciding you'd tortured him enough for one evening, you lowered the pen to the paper.
You took your time. Partly because fountain pens were difficult, partly because if you were going to sign a relationship contract, your signature was going to look nice. (It was never too early to practice for the marriage license, right?)
The nib glided across the paper, and by the end of it, your name sat neatly next to his.
For a moment, you simply looked at it.
At his name.
At yours.
They looked good together.
You leaned back in your chair, admiring your work for a second more before reaching for the cap of the pen, when suddenly the chair lurched and scraped backwards.
You yelped, unbalanced.
"What the—"
Chan had somehow crossed the entire room in a single instant, one hand gripping the back of your chair as he dragged it away from the table with the strength of a hundred men.
"Chris!"
The laugh barely made it out of your mouth before he was kissing you, and any witty comment you might have had disappeared immediately.
You and Chan had kissed plenty (particularly in the last couple months, but even before then too), so you thought you were familiar with his kissing, with his lips, by now.
Oh, how wrong you were.
He was hungry. Just utterly starved. That was the only way you could describe it.
He kissed you deeply, completely, as though he intended to make up for every moment he'd spent second-guessing himself over the last few months.
His hand slid from the back of the chair to your jaw, thumb brushing briefly against your cheek as he leaned down further.
The angle forced your chin up, and he followed instinctively, deepening the kiss until your fingers (which had long since dropped the pen somewhere on the ground) found the front of his shirt just to steady yourself. The fabric twisted beneath your grip, but he didn't seem to notice. If anything, he leaned into you more, crowding you in the chair until the dining room, the binder, the table—all of it—fell away.
You could feel the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth even as he kissed you.
When he finally broke away, it lasted all of half a heartbeat before he was back again, stealing another kiss that was somehow softer than the first without being any less consuming. You laughed quietly against his lips, the sound muffled between you, and he answered with another grin you could feel more than see.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, a thought surfaced.
Sealing deals must really get him going.
permanent taglist: @niku0704 @irikara (wasn't sure if you wanted to be on the general taglist or just for the seungmin series so erred on the side of caution lol lmk if you don't want to be on this taglist)
warnings: not proofread yet, cock warming, slight smut (mdni).
tags: established relationship, fluff and smut, emotional hurt/comfort, domestic fluff.
summary: You spent the entire day thinking about one thing: Han Jisung. More specifically, getting him into bed. Unfortunately, he comes home with tears in his eyes instead.
a/n: two in one night, I'm on fireeee. i still have Yang Jeongin left.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
You’ve been stupidly horny all day. So horny you think you’ll explode if you don’t get a dick inside you — preferably your boyfriend’s.
It was probably the fact that you stayed home, and you had spent all day watching thirst traps of your boyfriend. Or the fact that your period was coming in exactly three days.
Probably both.
You knew Jisung wasn’t at home, but you still made your way in, kicking off your shoes and grabbing a blanket before wrapping yourself up like a burrito on the couch.
You texted Jisung earlier to let him know you were on your way to his place. He said he would be there soon but didn’t tell you when.
So you waited, eyes closed tightly, trying to ignore the pool in your panties, imagining the way Han Jisung would fuck you the moment he crossed the door.
You’re afraid that grabbing your phone would make things worse, knowing that your For You page was full of his videos, your wallpaper was him shirtless, and your gallery was full of pictures of him.
You don’t know how long you wait, but you finally hear the door open. You don’t move yet, though. Maybe you can make him think you are asleep, maybe you can make him feel bad for making you wait while you are in heat for god knows how long.
And then the couch dips beside you.
You wait.
Five seconds.
Ten.
He’s quieter than usual.
You were expecting him to try to wake you up, but since that doesn’t happen and you still feel like you might explode, you sit up and climb on top of him, filling him with kisses.
“What took you so long?” you ask, in between kisses. “I missed you,” you mumbled, going straight to his neck, sucking gently and being careful of not leaving any marks. “I’ve been needing you so badly.” You move your hips over his sweats, pushing yourself down to make the friction harder.
His arms wrap around your waist, and just a second later, you think you hear him sniffle.
You frown and look at his face for the first time that night.
Your stomach drops.
His eyes are red.
“Hannie, you okay?” Your hands grab his cheeks, your eyes full of worry, and you start feeling like the worst girlfriend ever.
“I had a really bad day, Y/n,” he says, his voice small like he’s trying not to start crying again.
“Aw,” you pull him in, hugging him and trying to make yourself as big as you can so he can feel protected. “What happened, baby?”
“It’s just…” he pouts slightly, almost like he doesn’t realize it. “Chan hyung and Changbin hyung and I were working on a song, and I kept giving ideas but this guy we were working with kept saying no to every idea I had and neither Chan or Changbin defended me. And I just felt frustrated and angry, and sad so I stormed out of the studio and Chan hyung scolded me,” his eyes got glossy again and you felt like you might start crying with him.
“He scolded you? Did you try to explain?” You asked, your hands going through his hair, to give him as much comfort as you could.
“I did. And I swear, baby, they were good ideas.” One tear slips out, and you clean it before bringing him in again.
“Do you want me to…” he interrupted you before you could finish your question.
“No, Y/n, you can’t kill them. I’d miss them,” he says.
You groan dramatically. “Fine.” That makes him laugh a little. “You know what? We can wear our matching pijamas, go on bed, cuddle and watch Howl’s moving castle, yeah?” You smile sweetly at him.
He nods. “Can we do that after I fuck you, though?” His face doesn’t match his words.
“No, Hannie. It’s fine.” You think he feels bad for making you wait all day, horny, just to not fuck you at the end, but then he grabs your hand, and makes you touch his dick over his clothes. He’s hard.
“You did this.”
You laugh. “It doesn’t feel right to fuck while you still have tears in your eyes,” you say.
“Usually you don’t mind,” he says, and you chuckle.
“Baby, not this type of tears.”
“If I don’t get my dick inside you, I might die,” he whines, wrapping his arms around you even harder, and the familiar tickling feeling comes back almost immediately.
“Tell you what? I can warm you, but no more, okay?”
He nods. “Fine with me.”
He loosens his arms, and you stand up to take off your sweats and your panties. He only lowers his sweats and boxers enough to take his cock out.
There’s no need to prep yourself because of how wet you are. It helps a lot to slide smoothly, but you still close your eyes tightly once he’s all in.
You moan because the feeling of being full of him makes you feel so good. Better than whatever you could’ve done with yourself at home, and you think it’s good that you’ve waited. He’s breathing hard, and none of you is moving, but he seems like he might burst any moment now.
“Feeling better already,” he mumbles. You chuckle and kiss his lips.
tags: friends to lovers, mutual pining, confession, cheating (past relationship), miscommunication, angst with a happy ending (yay, finally!), reconciliation, fluff.
summary: you were supposed to be grieving your cheating ex-boyfriend. Instead, all you could think about was your best friend. Or the fact that, somewhere along the way, you'd fallen for him.
a/n: hihi, i'm back. hopefully i'll be more consistent with posting. Han Jisung is next :p.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
The loud music only made your headache worse. The constant changes in lighting were annoying you, and the smell of sweat and loud talking made you want to vomit.
You drank the whole cup in a gulp, hoping the alcohol would lighten your mood. Nothing changed, though.
Any other day, the loud music would excite you — you’d be in the middle of the place, dancing with your friends until you got sweaty and your clothes got sticky.
But your head had been spinning the whole week. Having issues at work, with your family, with your friends. It had been exactly two weeks since you broke up with your boyfriend. You found him in the kitchen giving back shots to another girl.
The person you had spent a whole year with, using your own kitchen, to betray you.
But he wasn’t the reason why you were in such a bad mood, why you hadn’t been able to focus or do anything right throughout the whole week. He wasn’t the person who was in your mind right now while you chugged down your second shot.
It was your best friend, Changbin.
The person you had to push out of your life because your boyfriend wasn’t okay with you having a boy best friend —who he thought had a crush on you.
You tried to stay as busy as you could with work and anything else that kept you occupied to take your mind off it, because it wouldn’t be fair. And as much as you wanted him back in your life, you loved him too much to do that to him. By the end of the week, your thoughts got so loud that no amount of busyness would make him go away from your mind.
You skipped meals, your house—which was usually spotless—became a mess, you started messing up at work, and you got into fights with your parents.
Your friends and parents were understanding. They thought you were sad because you had just broken up with someone you had spent a whole year with, but it didn’t take you long to realize that it wasn’t your relationship with him that you were grieving. It was your friendship with Changbin.
You met Changbin in your second year of high school. You were both assigned to clean the classroom after school, and you instantly realized you had more in common than you could have imagined. You were inseparable since then. You both went to the same university and graduated at the same time.
Even when things got really busy, none of you went through more than a week without seeing each other.
Then your boyfriend got in the picture, and he kept telling you that he didn’t like Changbin. First, it was that he simply didn’t like Changbin —he didn’t vibe with him, he said. Then, he said he didn’t think he was good for you — “you get too distracted when he’s around”. And then he said he thought Changbin had a crush on you.
You told him he was crazy, that Changbin was like your brother, and that he had never ever tried to touch you in an inappropriate way.
And then that night happened — you both got tipsy, your legs draped over his, his hand resting absentmindedly on your thigh. A movie is playing on his TV. Then the food arrived, and though the movie was still playing in the background, you two started talking — cause it had always been that easy with you two. No matter how many times you saw each other in a week, you’d always find something to talk about even after years of knowing each other.
Your shoulders brushing, your leg on top of his, him feeding you his sushi, even though he never shares with anyone. He whines about you getting his couch messy and then catches the sauce that accidentally slips out of your mouth with his thumb, and he licks his thumb clean.
That's when it started — the butterflies in your tummy.
You gulped, and you wondered if he knew what was happening inside your mind because he stared at you so intensely that you felt like he'd burn holes into your skull.
You have no idea who got close to whom, but before you realize it, he's so close you can feel his breath against your face. His eyes lowered to your lips, just for a second, but it long enough for you to notice. And before you can stop yourself, your eyes are on his lips too.
"Break up with him," he says, and that brings your gaze back to him.
You think you didn't hear him properly. "What?"
He sighs slightly, like he wishes he could take it back. "You know he doesn't deserve you," he says, but his voice sounds so small it doesn't sound like your confident best friend.
You stare at him longer, your brain too slow to catch. Then you realize he's talking about your boyfriend. The one you'll be celebrating a one-year anniversary with next month, the one who has been asking you to stop seeing Changbin.
"Where is this coming from?" you ask, putting some distance between you two.
"He doesn't treat you well, Y/n. And I... I could treat you better," he says, and you take a minute to process what has just happened. Your stomach twists so hard you think you are going to be sick.
You don't look at him while you put the sushi down. Nor when you stand up. Nor when you put your jacket on, or leave.
Changbin doesn't stop you because he knows you better than anyone, and he knows that whatever he says, even if it's an apology, would make things worse.
He never pushes because that’s not who Changbin is. He gives you space whenever you need it, he knows when to be there, and he knows how to make you laugh without hurting your feelings.
The guilt starts eating you alive.
You start avoiding Changbin.
Start avoiding your boyfriend like you’ve fucked Changbin and are guilty about it.
Then your boyfriend corners you and asks you, and he genuinely thinks you’ve fucked your best friend. You explain that nothing happened. You are just feeling weird. And then he begs you to stop talking to Changbin — to choose him instead, and that he’ll treat you better. That you no longer need Changbin because you have him.
So you do. You stop answering texts, and you stop answering calls, and you stop showing up to his apartment, even though he is expecting you every Friday.
And then he’s knocking on your door, telling you he knows you are there and to please open the door for him. No one is home but you, so you hold your breath like he’s gonna be able to hear you. But your heart is twisting in your chest, and there are knots in your stomach, so the tears start spilling.
“Y/n, please… I'll never bring it up again, please, just…” You've never heard Changbin this vulnerable, so it makes your heart ache even more. "I don't wanna lose you."
He keeps asking you, and he says he won't mention it ever again. He waits for an hour. And then he leaves.
You receive a text the next morning.
I’ll give you space because it seems like that’s what you need. Please let me know whenever you are ready to talk. I miss you. And I'm sorry.
You don't reply. And he doesn't text after that.
Today, your friends decided it was enough and took you out.
Rather than the bar, it would’ve been better to go for a hike, maybe camping. You realized once you were already there, but your friends with very busy schedules had been planning on meeting at the bar for quite a long time, and they had dragged you there too. Hiking would come tomorrow, they said, even if they had to drag you out of bed — and themselves, depending on how much they drank.
You take your phone out of your jacket’s pocket because more than one drink means that you are starting to think that it’s reasonable to text Changbin, but you get startled by your friend's voice.
“No, Y/n,” she says, almost calmly but having to raise her voice so you can hear her over the music and the chatting.
“What?”
“You are not texting him.” She shakes her head. You look down at your phone and then at her, and you frown slightly, wondering how she knew you were about to talk to Changbin.
You sigh. “I need air,” you say, the environment making you feel suffocated.
“Uh, no. You are not going anywhere alone.” Your friend grabbed your hand before you could stand up.
You sighed. “Can I at least go to the bathroom?”
She raised a brow. “Give me your phone.” She extended her hand. You looked at her hand and then directly into her eyes, confused. “You are not calling him, Y/n,” she says, reminding you that you are supposed to be sad about breaking up with your cheating boyfriend. She doesn’t know you are itching to text Changbin —to apologize even if it takes him some time to forgive you for disappearing that way.
“I wasn’t…” You try to explain, but give up halfway through. You sigh one more time and leave the phone in her hands.
She gives you a big smile, like she’s telling you she’s proud of you.
You roll your eyes and make your way to the bathroom, feeling uneasy, dizzy, and wanting to throw up —not because you are drunk but because you miss him.
When you get to the bathroom, you look at the line and sigh one more time, but before you turn around to go back to your friends, you look at the emergency exit.
And your breath stutters, your hands find your pockets, and you wonder what would happen if you listened to that small voice inside your head.
Ten minutes later, you are out of the place, inside a taxi, your hands shaking, not because you are cold but because you are questioning every decision you’ve ever made. You are imagining everything that could go wrong, every scenario where he would tell you to fuck off and to go away — that it’s too late now.
You stand outside his door, cold hands reaching to knock on the door, but the door opens before you can even touch it.
The air leaves your lungs once you see him. With sleepy eyes, and the hoodie covering him.
“How did you know?” You ask, feeling your voice came out shakier than intended.
“I saw you through the camera,” he said. “It’s Friday,” he says and you feel like you want to cry.
You press your lips together, hoping you won’t start bawling before you are able to explain yourself. “I’m sorry,” you say, because it’s the most important thing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you like that. I’m sorry,” you repeat.
He stares at you for a second, like he’s trying to decipher you. And you expect him to say something, but he doesn’t; he keeps staring at you, expecting you to continue.
“That day… I think I realized I liked you.” You took a deep breath, hiding your hands under your jacket so he wouldn’t see them shaking. He didn’t miss it, but before he could make a comment, you continued talking. “I panicked because I had a boyfriend, and you had been my best friend for the longest time. I felt like I was cheating on him, even if we didn’t do anything. It was stupid, I know. And I hated myself every single day after, and I simply couldn’t stop thinking about you. Changbin, I…” You took a deep breath because you talked too fast; you forgot to breathe. “I missed you.”
He stares at you, and for a second you think he is going to tell you to leave, because that’s how every scenario you came up with had ended. But then you saw that small smirk he had when he was about to tease you, and your heart did a little flip. He looked to the sides, like he was expecting to see someone, and then said, “Are you done?”
You frowned, the familiar feeling of being constantly annoyed around him —in a good way— flooding you immediately. “Changbin-ah,” you complained, but before you could call him an asshole, he kissed you.
His hand flew to the back of your head, and the other one to your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your hands leave your pockets almost instinctively to hold his face.
He moans softly once your cold hands touch him, and he pulls back, your lips chasing after him for a bit, feeling like you are dreaming. “You are freezing,” he breathes hard, even though the kiss was short.
“It was a bit cold outside,” you mumble, looking at him, still trying to catch up with what was happening.
He smiles. “Wanna go inside?”
You nod only once before he wraps his hands around your waist, lifting you up to bring you inside. You giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist, and pulling him closer immediately, taking advantage of how close his lips were to kiss him again. You hear him groan, and he takes you inside, closing the door with his foot to not let go of you.
“I need to take my shoes off,” you mumbled against his lips. He chases your lips, gives you a peck before setting you on the floor again, and before you can lean down to get the zippers on your boots down, he kneels in front of you, and he does it for you. Once he's done, he looks up at you, and you breathe hard. "You are doing that on purpose, you asshole," you say, and he laughs hard at you before standing up again, his hands flying to your waist and yours to his chest. "Idiot," you say, because he's still laughing. "I'm sorry," you say again.
"I am the one that who is sorry. I shouldn't have put you in that position," he says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“You are so stupid, though. Why didn’t you text after?” You frown, hitting his chest slightly.
“I wanted to be respectful,” he says.
“You don’t always have to be respectful,” you say, and you sound breathier than expected. It takes you a second before your mind goes south, and you crack up, he laughs just a second after you.
“Did you just…” he starts, but you interrupt him.
"Shut up. Don't ever mention it again, or I'll kick your balls. I'm so serious, Seo Changbin," you say, and he laughs hard again.
"I'm serious, though. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have said that, I just... got selfish for a moment."
"We both made stupid decisions; it's what I'm getting from this," you peck his lips again, and then again and again — you are starting to think you are getting addicted.
He laughs into the kiss.
"You think kissing me is going to get you out of this conversation?"
"Maybe," you give him another peck.
"It isn't."
"But I can try," you say, and you kiss him one more time, but it's him who deepens it.
Context: Just some random text with your boyfriend Chan. ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀
Writers corner ݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆
· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·
Hey friends I hope you guys enjoyed boyfriend Chan fan fic Ik I do but guys my birthday is in two days slowly entering adulthood is crazy but life goes on ok baiii💋
Seungmin is the type of guy to invite you to the recording studio out of sincere 'boredom'. he has to record his lines and it's only him, 3racha and some staff in — it's not like he misses you or anything.
Seungmin is the type of guy to fix you as you peek inside, sheepishly greeting the staff and apologising for disturbing the session. his eyes keep track on you despite the glass-wall separating the two of you, already wishing that you could come to his side instead of taking a seat onto the personnel's couch.
Seungmin is the type of guy to give you those big, puppy, eyes during the entire session. idly swinging his arms, he'll drag the recording on purpose just so that everyone gets tired and postpone the rest for tomorrow.
Seungmin is the type of guy to not even attempt to hide his amusement as everyone begins to leave one by one. chan throws the keys at him, telling him to close up when he's done. you're still here, it's just you and him now.
Seungmin is the type of guy to ask you to come to his side, hand motioning in his direction. watching the door click shut behind you, approaching him. "want to try?"
Seungmin is the type of guy whose 'trying' results in him dropping to his knees in front of you, one leg thrown over his broad shoulder to keep balance as he buries his face into your cunt. "hm, look at how wet you are. were you thinking about this?" truthfully — he was. it's obvious that he was.
Seungmin is the type of guy to rejoice at the sound of your moans being loud and clear inside of the recording booth, each sighs and gasps echoing against the walls deliciously. his heart is racing, he didn't even lock the front door, knowing that any of the members could walk in right now, or worse — a staff. but the risk is what makes the overall experience more exciting.
Seungmin is the type of guy to run his teeth softly across your bud or folds just to feel you jolt above him, indulging in the painful pleasure before soothing it with a wet kiss. tongue falling out to tease at your entrance.
Seungmin is the type of guy to pull away the second you're about to reach your high, turning to suck at the swell of your thighs instead. blatant in his mocking with how he laughs at your coiling expression.
Seungmin is the type of guy to finally give you a chance as your fingers rush into his hair, a harsh tug that burns at his scalp. feels so good to have you desperately grind against his face, basically riding your clit on the curve of his nose.
Seungmin is the type of guy to moan at your sudden pace, tongue rolled out for you to use at your pleasure. flat as your folds glide over it, pussy throbbing with a threat of cumming.
Seungmin is the type of guy to smile wide as you gush around him, arousal wetting his mouth and chin. cleaning you up at his own accord until you're pushing him off from sheer overstimulation.
Seungmin is the type of guy to get turned on when a knock thuds against the door, a voice asking if there's anyone inside. a palm lays over your mouth, urging you to keep it down as his other hand slides between your thighs. once again, he's not done with you yet.
—
other member ver: bangchan lee know changbin hyunjin han felix seungmin i.n
( 애인 ) you don't expect anything to come out of rating your exes—well, you don't expect them to see it. but it doesn't go as awful as you'd think...
💭 :: 27ss dirty jokes/innuendos allusions to sex reader is lowk #thatgirl jeongin gets his own warning seungmin barks han is precious sunoo/ni-ki/megan cameo
𑣲⋆ note ⸝⸝ this is for my lovely amazing thoughtful kind talented pretty girlfriend @kloversung because it's our one month (everyone cheer 🍻) i hope she knows how much i love her & i wanted to write a silly smau for her ♡ i love you ky baby (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
࿐ the party & the after party - ft.hyunchan (MDNI!)
You don’t know how long it’s been. an hour? Two hours?
You lost track when Chan first pushed you back onto the bed, his mouth hot against yours, while Hyunjin’s hands slid up your thighs. Time blurred when they switched - Hyunjin’s lips capturing yours, all tongue and teeth, while Chan’s breath ghosted over your stomach, going lower, lower, until you arched off the mattress with a choked gasp.
Then it was Chan pinning you down, fingers tight around your wrists, as Hyunjin’s mouth worked between your legs. You whimpered, thighs trembling, but Chan just shushed you, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone like he was soothing you even as he held you in place.
When they swapped again - Hyunjin’s weight pressing you into the sheets, his hands roaming - you barely had time to catch your breath before Chan’s tongue dragged up your slit, slow and filthy, and you sobbed into Hyunjin’s shoulder.
Now, one of them - you dont remember who - turned on a playlist, some song by the weeknd playing in the background. you’re sprawled across Hyunjin’s lap, his cock hard beneath you, his fingers playing idly with your nipples, twisting, making you squirm.
Chan is inbetween your spread legs, one hand gripping your hip, the other guiding himself into you with a low groan. “Fuck,” he mutters, sliding in deep, and you gasp, head tipping back against Hyunjin’s chest.
Chan’s fingers tighten on your hip, pulling you down onto him, and you choke out a moan as he starts moving, slow at first, then deeper, rougher. “You take it so well,” Hyunjin murmurs in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His thumbs circle your nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks before pinching just hard enough to make you whimper.
Hyunjin’s hand drifts lower, fingertips tracing circles over your stomach before dipping between your legs. His touch is light, teasing, just barely brushing your clit until you jerk against him with a sharp gasp. “Oh my- Fuckk” you whine, hips bucking involuntarily, but Chan’s grip tightens on your waist, holding you steady as he thrusts deeper, dragging a ragged moan from your throat.
Chan’s hands slide up your body, fingers tracing the curve of your throat before settling there, pressing justtt hard enough to make your breath hitch. His grip tightens as he fucks into you harder, his hips snapping forward in a rhythm that has your vision blurring.
Hyunjin’s fingers circle your clit faster, the pressure building until you’re writhing between them, gasping for air that won’t come.
“Please-” you manage, voice ragged, but Chan just shakes his head, “You can take it,” he murmurs, his own breath uneven. “Just a little longer.” His thrusts stutter, deeper now, and you choke on a moan, nails digging into Hyunjin’s thigh.
Hyunjin exhales sharply against your ear, “So fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, voice full of admiration. His palm slides up your chest, tracing the curve of your breast before cradling your jaw, tilting your face toward his. “so perfect,” he breathes, and then his mouth is on yours, tongue sliding against yours in a slow, filthy drag. You moan into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his lips, as Chan’s hips snap forward, filling you so deep your toes curl.
Hyunjin breaks the kiss just enough to pant against your lips, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Love hearing you,” he says, “Love feeling you shake.” His hand drops back to your breast, squeezing just shy of too hard, and you arch into it with a gasp, your hips rocking back against Chan’s thrusts.
“I can’t- I can’t take it,” you gasp, voice cracking, your body strung tight between them. “Please, please let me-”
Chan’s grip on your throat eases just enough for you to drag in a shuddering breath. His hips slow, grinding deep inside you instead of pulling out, his cock twitching where he’s buried to the hilt. “You wanna cum?” he murmurs. His other hand slides down your body, fingertips tracing the sweat-slick curve of your waist before settling between your legs, pressing hard against Hyunjin’s fingers still circling your clit. “You wanna come on my cock while he plays with you?”
You whimper, your whole body trembling, the words catching in your throat. “Yes or no, baby,” Chan asks, his hips rocking forward, the drag of his cock inside you slow, maddening. His breath hitches when you clench around him, your thighs shaking. “you're gonna have to say it.”
You sob, your hips bucking uselessly between them, oversensitive,“Yes- yes, please,” you gasp, the words slurred, your voice breaking. “Please let me cum, please-”
Chan’s grip tightens on your throat just enough to cut off your next whimper, his hips snapping forward in one sharp, brutal thrust. “Then cum, baby” he says, and that’s all it takes- your body seizes, pleasure ripping through you so hard your vision whites out.
his rhythm stutters, his hips grinding deep as he groans, his cock pulsing inside you. You feel him cum, the hot spill of it, the way his fingers dig into your hip hard enough to bruise.
Hyunjin’s hand leaves your breast, sliding down to press against your stomach, right where Chan’s cock is buried inside you, and you sob at the pressure, oversensitive, “Fuck,” Chan breathes, his voice thick, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he rides out his orgasm, his thrusts slowing to lazy, rolling grinds.
Hyunjin’s fingers curl into your hair, tilting your head back against his chest as he murmurs, “Good girl,” against your temple, his lips brushing your skin. His other hand still works your clit, slow now, drawing out the last waves of your orgasm until you’re squirming.
Before you can catch your breath, Chan’s hands are on your hips again, flipping you over with a rough, effortless tug. The sheets scrape against your stomach as he maneuvers you onto your knees.
Your face lands inches from Hyunjin’s cock, the heat of it against your cheek. You don’t hesitate- your mouth opens, tongue dragging along the underside before taking him in. Hyunjin groans, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you deeper. Chan’s cock slides back into you from behind, just as a new song plays.
a/n: gov ball hyunchan made me do it now you guys deal with the aftermath #thankyouforcumming
summ: one needy girlfriend on his lap and suddenly jisung can’t make it through a phone call without embarrassing himself.
⋆ pairing: nerd!jisung x f!reader, established relationship
⋆ genre: smut (minors dni)
⋆ tags/cw: dom!reader, pet names (jagi, baby), lots of whining and whimpering, teasing, kissing, biting, marking, grinding, handjob, hair pulling?, chair sex, riding, edging, cumming, cream pie, unprotected s*x, degradation? (slightly)
⋆ words: 3.0k
a/n: we're so back! gosh- life's been kicking my ass lately, ngl. anyways, i come bearing new sub jisung content, as i should. the sub jisung propaganda must continue. i love throwing jeongin into these fics as the friend, so watch me do it over and over again. hope you enjoy this one! <3
jisung was two hours deep into an explanation that probably only mattered to him and the person on the other end of the call.
“no, but that’s exactly what i’m saying,” he insisted, barely spinning in his desk chair. if you use that build from the start, you’re just wasting resources.”
the glow from his monitor lit up half of his face. his glasses kept slipping down his nose every time he moved his head. one hand rested on the desk while the other held his phone wedged between his shoulder and cheek.
he was focused. completely absorbed. impossible to pull out of his own world whenever he talked about something he liked.
“no, listen. listen.”
you walked into the room without announcing yourself, and jisung barely lifted a hand in your direction. an automatic greeting without even pausing his conversation with jeongin.
“if you get to level three with less than-”
you nudged his chair a few inches with the tip of your foot, making him cut himself off for a second. he shot you a look somewhere between confusion and expectation before immediately turning back to the monitor.
the way he talked with his hands and his entire face whenever he got excited about something. the way his voice would go a little higher, lightly spinning in his chair as he rambled.
honestly, those little habits would've melted you completely if you hadn't spent the entire afternoon trying to get some time with him.
“exactly! so if you calculate the total damage-”
you approached him from behind, letting your hands rest on his shoulders, almost absentmindedly. you felt him tense beneath your touch, letting out a quiet sigh before forcing himself back into the conversation.
“doesn’t matter. just trust me and use the right build, jeongin.”
you slowly circled around the chair, fingers trailing along the length of his arm. it wasn't until you leaned down in front of him and brushed a hand through his hair that jisung's eyes fluttered shut for a second.
you could still hear jeongin talking on the other end, clearly confused by jisung's sudden silence. you laughed when you heard him let out a shaky breath.
his eyes opened immediately, locking with yours. he was pleading. you knew that look perfectly well.
you just weren't sure if he was begging you to stop or begging you to keep going.
“jisung! dude, are you even there?” jeongin's complaint came through the speaker loud and clear, making jisung jump and snap back to reality.
“a-ah, yeah!” he answered quickly, voice shaky. “w-what were you saying?”
jisung shot you an embarrassed look, biting down on his bottom lip and giving a tiny shake of his head.
your smile only widened when you felt him lean into your hand anyway, silently asking for more.
and it widened even further when you watched his cheeks flush after slipping your knee between his legs and brushing teasingly against his crotch.
“s-sorry... could you repeat that?”
your hands slipped underneath his shirt, earning a quiet sound from him before he quickly covered his mouth. your warm palms slid across his cool stomach and chest, stealing embarrassed little sighs from him.
he genuinely tried to continue the call. for several minutes he managed to keep himself together despite your increasingly suggestive touches and the constant distraction pulling at his attention.
but the moment you leaned closer to his ear and he felt your warm breath against his skin, he practically melted into the chair.
he pulled the phone as far away as possible just to let out a muffled whine while you left a few lingering kisses along his jaw and neck.
“b-baby, please...” he whimpered, voice needy and wrecked. “i-i’m gonna finish... the call! just give me a few minutes...”
his big doe eyes stared up at you pleadingly. unfortunately, that only made things worse.
“then do it,” you said. “i can’t wait anymore.”
your hand traveled slowly down his stomach before settling lower, fingers squeezing lightly and earning a visible shiver down his spine.
jisung brought the phone back to his ear, breathing unevenly.
“j-jeongin, i gotta go. i have... i have something i need to do.”
but apparently jeongin still wanted to keep talking because jisung pressed the phone harder against his ear, shooting you a nervous glance.
you rolled your eyes with a grin and decided to take things one step further.
you pulled back just enough to hear a disappointed sound left him. you settled yourself onto his lap, one leg on either side of him. the chair creaked beneath the combined weight and jisung immediately went rigid.
“j-jeongin... i-i’m serious. i have to go...” he insisted, sounding completely wrecked.
his free hand wrapped around your waist automatically, helping steady you without even thinking about it.
your lips brushed his ear and rolled your hips slowly, deliberately. jisung's breathing instantly fell apart. you adjusted the angle until you found the exact motion that made him let out a helpless whine.
then you reached over and took the phone from his hand. jisung watched with wide eyes, already looking halfway gone as you brought it to your ear.
you cleared your throat and fixed your hair with an innocent smile.
“sorry, jeongin,” you said sweetly. “i promise i'll give him back eventually.”
you heard a loud, scandalized laugh from the other end of the line before a joking goodbye.
you tossed the phone onto the bed without much ceremony, and when you looked back at him, he was still staring at you like he'd just witnessed something impossible.
“jagi...” he whispered, pleasantly surprised.
“what else was i supposed to do?” you leaned down just enough to press a quick kiss to his lips. “you've been ignoring me all afternoon”, you pouted.
jisung let his head fall back with a breathless laugh.
“i wasn't ignoring you.”
“mhm. still had to compete with jeongin for your attention.”
you rolled your hips again, slow and torturous, noticing how he was getting even harder beneath you, how his hips jerked helplessly against your center every time you pressed down, harder enough to pull broken little gasps from him.
jisung closed his eyes for a moment, like he already knew he'd lost this battle.
your hand slipped down between the two of you again, feeling his entire body tense immediately. you hooked your fingers beneath the waistband of his sweats and freed him with very little grace.
he felt hot and heavy in your palm. already leaking, needy. you wrapped your fingers around him. jisung felt an intoxicating wave of heat rush through his entire body, making him jolt involuntarily. his fingers dug into your waist before he could stop himself, a shiver running down his spine.
“fuck- jagi- p-please...”
the sentence died halfway out.
you stroked him slowly from base to tip, deliberate and firm, stealing incoherent whines and shaky sounds from him with almost no effort at all. completely sensitive.
“god...”
his breathing was starting to fall apart. every exhale came out heavier than the last.
you twisted your wrist slightly as you kept moving your hand, listening to his uneven breathing and muffled sounds against your chest.
“is that what you want, sungie?” you asked softly, never slowing down.
“y-yeah...” jisung always reacted like this when you spoke to him that way. “yeah, fuck-”
the answer dissolved into a frustrated sound. his eyes were glassy now, shining with excitement, completely clouded over by the constant pleasure. he nodded way too fast, brow furrowing as he hissed quietly through his teeth.
you sped up slightly, feeling him tremble beneath your fingers, hearing every involuntary sound that slipped out of him. the excitement pooling low in your stomach with every tiny reaction.
“want me that bad, huh?” you murmured, leaning closer.
the question settled between you like a carefully calculated provocation.
“all you have to do is ask for it.”
his breath caught. he looked embarrassed, as if hearing the words out loud was too much. but need was winning the fight far too quickly.
“baby...”, his voice came out broken. “please...”
his hips started pushing against your hand, chasing that slippery friction. his breathing had become messy and desperate, small whines breaking into higher-pitched sounds he couldn't quite hold back.
you studied every twitch in his expression. every clumsy movement of his hands searching for more contact.
and when your thumb slowly brushed over his sensitive, aching tip, jisung completely lost the thread.
“fuck! baby, please…! mmmh- ’m so close...”
the words came out as clumsy, trembling pleas.
you sped up even more, your slick hand sliding along his throbbing length. his head fell back against the chair, thighs trembling beneath you from the impossible effort it was taking not to come right then and there.
a satisfied smile tugged at your lips.
“gonna beg for it? pathetic.”
his expression completely fell apart.
“that’s not fair, jagi... please, let me-”
the protest barely had any strength behind it. and that was exactly how you knew he was done for. he wasn't trying to hold onto his dignity anymore. he just wanted to convince you not to stop.
and right when his cock started throbbing warningly beneath your hand and you saw his stomach begin to tense, you stopped. you pulled your hand away completely. you watched it fall uselessly against his abdomen.
jisung's eyes flew open immediately. confused, disbelieving, devastated.
“f-fuck... no, no- please, jagi, don't stop now...”
his hands tightened around your waist, searching for something to hold onto before he completely fell apart. his hips moved instinctively, chasing something that wasn't there anymore.
his hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat. his glasses sat crooked on his face. his lips were swollen from how much he'd been biting them.
“i- i need- ah- p-please, just let me...”
he looked at you like you'd personally betrayed him. and somehow he still looked ridiculously adorable.
“use your words, jisung.”
the frustrated sound he let out almost made you laugh.
he buried his face against your chest for a second, like he was gathering strength. like admitting it was harder than anything else.
“i’m begging you,” he sighed, voice cracking. “need to be inside you... want- need to fuck you so bad... god, i’m so close it hurts-”
you smiled wickedly and sat up so fast that jisung felt his heart drop into his stomach. for one horrible second, he thought you were leaving. thought you were actually going to walk away.
but instead of leaving, you started stripping away the clothes separating you from him in one quick motion.
the relief that washed over jisung's face was almost comical. he just stared, completely fascinated. like he'd forgotten how to breathe properly.
his eyes followed every movement with shameless hunger.
“holy shit...”
the words slipped out so quietly it sounded like he hadn't even realized he'd said them.
he shoved his sweats down in one motion, hissing softly when the cool air hit him.
you climbed back into his lap, feeling bare skin meet bare skin. the chair creaked beneath the combined weight as you settled above him, and jisung immediately seemed incapable of focusing on anything else.
your fingers wrapped around him again, guiding his flushed tip toward your entrance. your breath caught completely when you felt him begin to press inside.
he was big. and the fullness made your legs tremble. jisung let out a broken sound, dropping his head against your chest once more.
his hands found your waist on pure instinct. the room suddenly felt too small. too warm, too quiet.
jisung let out a shaky breath as he pressed his forehead against your collarbone.
“oh my- so fucking good...”
the sounds leaving him barely resembled words anymore. small, messy, involuntary.
you steadied yourself on his shoulders and started moving, rolling your hips slowly. the sensation was overwhelming. taking him deeper each time. feeling his warmth fill you completely.
“look at you.”
your voice alone was enough to bring him back to reality. and seeing you smile like that destroyed whatever dignity he still had left.
having you this close, your hands on him, your perfume mixing with the suffocating warmth of the room. the blue glow of the monitor outlining your figure.
everything felt too good.
far too good for someone who'd spent the entire afternoon trying to act like a functional human being.
his face disappeared into your neck almost immediately. his mouth found your skin, leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses everywhere he could reach. like he couldn't decide what to do with himself. whether to hide his embarrassed sounds there or completely lose himself in the taste of your skin.
without hesitation, he started leaving scattered marks along your neck. every little sound he managed to pull from you seemed to affect him more than the last.
you could feel it in the way he clung to you. in the way his breathing became more uneven against your throat. a shiver ran through you when he moved lower.
his mouth found your chest with the same desperation, leaving slow kisses between distracted sucks that made him groan directly against your skin. the vibration shot straight through you, pulling an involuntary hiss from your lips as your nails dug deeper into his shoulders.
“mmmh- you feel so good… made for me…”
his voice came out muffled as he kept sucking and biting hungrily.
“seriously... i don't think I've ever wanted anything this much. you feel so tight...”
the confession came out so sincere it almost made you laugh for a second, because he immediately buried himself against you again, scattering careless kisses across your skin like he genuinely didn’t know where to stop.
the pleasure was starting to build into something unbearable. his warm mouth, the pressure of his hands, and the obsessive way he seemed focused entirely on you all blended together into something impossible to ignore.
you slid a hand to the back of his neck and tugged gently at his hair, forcing him to look at you.
“jisung.”
he lifted his head only a few centimeters before immediately leaning back into you again.
“can't,” he complained quietly, hiding a smile against your skin. “you look too good.”
a moan slipped from your lips before you could stop it and that seemed to completely destroy him.
his hands dug harder into your body, awkwardly guiding your movements. there was nothing left of the composure he'd tried so hard to keep during the call. he was completely gone.
“fuck...” he gasped, eyes falling shut. “yeah- just like that...”
each word sounded more wrecked than the last.
you ended up burying your face in his neck, looking for somewhere to unload the overwhelming sensation building beneath your skin. he answered with a shaky laugh that quickly melted into another moan.
his hips started moving with completely unchecked urgency. every movement seemed to pull another broken sound from him, another embarrassed whine he failed to swallow down. he was gone. completely gone.
and when the pleasure finally hit you all at once, your body tensed against his. a moan cracked in your throat as you clung to him, feeling everything become too intense too quickly.
your body reacted around him, making him moan audibly. his movements stayed relentless as his hands gripped you firmly, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.
“oh, shit! yeah... yeah, just like that, baby...” he breathed between pants, an incredulous laugh slipping through his words. “mmmh- you're milking me...”
his voice sounded completely gone.
the change in your breathing, the way you clung to his shoulders, the way your body reacted around him. it all seemed to shatter whatever control he had left. his movements became even less coordinated.
you buried your face in his neck, kissing his skin to muffle the sounds you couldn't hold back. the scent of his cologne mixed with the warmth of his skin wrapped around you completely, making everything else feel distant except for the way he kept saying your name between breaths.
“fuck...” he breathed against your ear. “fuck, baby...”
every word came out more desperate than the last. you could feel him trembling, feel him trying to keep up while the pleasure finally caught up to him too.
and when he finally came, a completely broken moan tore from his throat. his arms wrapped around you tightly, like he needed something to hold onto while the sensation tore through him.
and for a few minutes, the only thing filling the room was the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath.
the bluish glow of the monitor still lit up one corner of the room. some game screen remained open, an icon blinking on the taskbar, completely ignored.
jisung let out an exhausted sigh before hiding his face in your neck.
“i can't believe you actually did that...”
“did what?” you asked, brushing his hair back.
“you humiliated me in front of jeongin,” he pouted.
and the indignation in his voice would've been a lot more convincing if he wasn't currently clinging to you like a koala. you laughed before answering.
“you humiliated yourself.”
jisung looked offended. “i absolutely did not.”
“you did. you're so sensitive and loud...”
the smile he tried to hide completely ruined whatever argument he'd been building in his head.
you adjusted his glasses, completely crooked after all the chaos.
“besides... jeongin already suspected,” you added, your voice dripping with amusement.
“that definitely doesn't help...”
you laughed again and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. jisung frowned for barely a second before collapsing back against you, defeated.
“i'm gonna have to block jeongin,” he muttered miserably.
right after that, the sound of a vibration interrupted the moment. his phone buzzed somewhere on the bed.
jisung immediately squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his heart sink straight into his stomach.
“i'm not looking at that. i think i'm actually gonna die.”
his dramatics died almost as fast as the kiss you pressed to his forehead. no matter how much he tried to keep complaining, he ended up smiling anyway.
and when he settled more comfortably against you, wrapping both arms around your waist, the rest of the world, and whatever embarrassing consequences he'd have to deal with later, suddenly seemed a lot less important.
『 ↳✧･ﾟ CW: Friends to lovers???, idol!Chan. Overworked reader, breakdown, confessions, etc. Chan referred to as Chris.
『 ↳✧･ﾟ A/N: Very, very self indulgent. Wondering what else to do to stay even more busy and outrun my own feelings. Lowkey shoutout to my favorite little Korean spot in my city.
(pictures are not mine. Credits to their respective owners!)
Chris had always been kind and gentle. It was his essence to be a true gentleman.
It was very heartwarming, at first. Then, it was platonic, like an older brother sort of thing, once you grew close. But with time, feelings dug deep. Wove themselves into the roots of the friendship you had for years.
Maybe that’s why none of you said anything. Just let it be what it had to be.
Lingering around each other, fleeting glances, a touch on the shoulder here, a giddy smile there. Just small things that meant everything or nothing. No explanation needed.
Today, on your day off, you grabbed an early dinner after volunteering.
Chris was already there, sitting at the wooden table tucked away in the corner. The spot you'd shown him years ago. The one you'd both kept coming back to.
He wore a simple black hoodie and basketball shorts. No Stray Kids logo. No stage persona. Just Chris.
You smiled when you saw him. "Hey, sorry. Things ran long at the center."
Chris stood immediately, pulling you into a hug. "You're good. I'm glad we could meet."
"Yeah." You stepped back. "I'll eat with you, but I want to head home after. I'm beat."
His expression softened. "Okay." He didn't ask questions.
After dinner, he offered to drive you home. For once, you handed over the keys without arguing. The ride was quiet. Music played softly through the speakers while city lights drifted past the windows. Every so often, he glanced your way. You looked tired. Not the kind that a nap would fix. Tired from weeks, maybe months. Like you were emotionally drained.
You let him inside your apartment.
It was small but comfortable. Photos of friends, a few struggling houseplants, mismatched cushions on the couch. There were no pictures of him anywhere amongst the ones of your friends.
Maybe because neither of you knew where this stood.
You filled a glass with water for him. You tried to, but the glass slipped from your hand and hit the tile with a sharp crack. The glass shattered and water spread across the floor.
You froze, then immediately bent down. "I got it." Your voice came out tighter than you intended.
Chris crouched beside you. "Y/N."
"I said I got it." Your hands were shaking like you were trying to hold your own pieces together.
Before you could grab another piece, he gently took it from your fingers and set it aside.
"Hey. C'mere." His hand cradled the back of your head. A hug that tried holding all of it: grief, fatigue, loneliness.
That was all it took.
A small, choked sob escaped you first. Then another. And then the dam cracked.
You buried your face into his chest, fingers clutching the fabric of his hoodie like an anchor as weeks—months—of running finally caught up to you. No dramatic sobbing or screaming. Just tears that shook your whole body and came from somewhere deep and raw where all the pain had been stuffed down for too long.
Chris didn’t flinch, didn't pull back. He just held on tighter.
[...]
The apartment was quiet now. Just the soft sound of glass being swept into a dustpan. Chris moved carefully, not wanting to make noise and disturb you.
You had ended up on your sofa, curled under a blanket while he cleaned up in silence. Swept the glass fragments and made sure there were none left. Because he knew you liked walking around barefoot.
“Please be careful with the glass,” you finally spoke.
He looked up at the sound of your voice. It was hoarse from crying. He gave a small nod, his expression gentle.
"I'm being careful," he spoke back—not too loud because he knew your head probably hurt from crying so much.
He came back to you when he was done; kneeled like it was nothing, and petted your head with so much love. Like you were precious and fragile, like this wouldn't blur the lines even more.
"I think we should talk about it." He whispered.
You looked away. "Nothing to talk about."
His hand paused. "Y/N."
"I'm fine."
He gave you a look that made it obvious he didn't believe you. "You cried over a broken glass."
"I got overwhelmed."
He exhaled quietly. "You're working two jobs. You're volunteering on your only day off. You're exhausted all the time." He sighed. "I hate seeing you do this to yourself."
"So what?" You laughed bitterly. "Should I just sit around feeling sorry for myself because I'm alone?"
"No." His answer came immediately. "You just shouldn't have to carry everything by yourself." You swallowed hard. Chris held your gaze. "You deserve someone who checks if you've eaten. Someone who worries when you're tired. Someone who cares." His voice softened. "I'm here, Y/N."
You shuddered, looking anywhere but at him. "I-I don't think you know what you're saying."
"I do." He said with a certainty that made your heart stutter. "I want to be the person you call when things get hard. Don't act like you don't know how I feel."
Of course you knew. That was the problem.
"Y/N?"
You closed your eyes. "I don't think I can love anyone right now."
Something flickered across his expression. But he didn't look away. Instead, he reached for your hand and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. "I don't need you to. I just want to be here while you heal."
Tears burned behind your eyes again.
"That's not fair."
"Why?"
"Because I can't love you back." The words came out broken. "I can't think about anything except being tired."
For a moment, he looked hurt. Then he pulled you closer. Until your forehead rested against his chest. "That's okay."
You shook your head. "No, it isn't."
"It is." His arms tightened around you. "You don't have to be ready. I haven't asked for your love." His hand moved gently through your hair. "I've only asked you to let me stay."
The apartment fell quiet. Just Chris cradling you in his arms.
"And if all you can do right now is let me sit beside you," he murmured, "then that's enough."
your new roommate has the body of a literal greek god and the heart of a gentleman. you never expected to want him in more ways than one, but a sudden incident sparks a craving you can't ignore — and a little 'extracurricular practice' lands you straight onto his cock.
#002 — he in my tummy, bye bye to my ribs
watching your best friend get bigger and bigger was a test of patience you were already losing. who knew a little praise slipping from his mouth would be the exact thing to break you, leaving you whimpering under him ?
𑣲 minho .ᐟ
#001 — rockstar
his voice on stage is pure sin, but you’re the only one he wants to ruin tonight. the second he steps into the dark, that heavy focus shifts, making you completely helpless under him.
#002 — the pleasure is all ours ft. jisung
confessing your feelings to your best friend is hard enough. but confessing to two — especially when they’re already in a relationship together ? it feels impossible. except, it isn't. because they want you right between them just as much as you want them — and the pleasure is all theirs.
#003 — zero eight zero one
having minho in the flat right beside yours means there's nowhere to hide from the tension. a single wall is the only thing keeping you apart, and it’s only a matter of time before that thin line completely disappears.
chapter 1: a loafer full of fur
chapter 2: a crumble in the shared wall
chapter 3: a splash on the composure
chapter 4: a dent in the pillows
chapter 5: a tremor in the proximity
chapter 6: a breach through the lace
chapter 7: a sizzle in the resolve
chapter 8: a graze of the lips
bonus: smau
#004 — knuckle in — i meant, buckle in
being a brat was fun until minho decided to teach you a lesson. now, there is no running and no backing out — all you can do is buckle in and find yourself completely at his mercy.
𑣲 changbin .ᐟ
#001 — jackhammered
he overheard every single word you said to your friend, and now there’s no taking it back. he’s ready to make you live through it —no slowing down, no breathing room, just him taking exactly what he wants while you beg for a single breath.
𑣲 hyunjin .ᐟ
#001 — buckle up, buttercup
it started with a simple invitation for a late-night drive, but the second your boyfriend pulls over, the tension completely shifts. he looks at you with that slow, dangerous smirk — knowing you have absolutely no idea what you just stepped into.
#002 — gimme gimme more
continents apart, and he still manages to completely ruin you. with nothing but his text commands guiding your hands, he slowly pushes you over the edge — leaving you breathless, undone, and completely at the mercy of his words.
𑣲 han .ᐟ
#001 — lollipop ?
a single look from him is enough to make you completely forget what you were saying. you think you're the one playing games, but he’s just waiting for the perfect moment to taste exactly how sweet you can be.
#002 — the pleasure is all ours ft. minho
confessing your feelings to your best friend is hard enough. but confessing to two — especially when they’re already in a relationship together ? it feels impossible. except, it isn't. because they want you right between them just as much as you want them — and the pleasure is all theirs.
#003 — thick thighs save lives (pt.1)
the quiet yearning and academic rivalry were easy to maintain — until the lines between the classroom and the screen completely blurred. the secret you've been hiding behind a camera is about to collide head-on with the boy sitting next to you in the library. will he finally connect the dots and turn his wildest, late-night support into a shameless reality ?
#004 — can your thighs and my face have a meet-cute ? (pt.2)
the moment the masks come off, there is no going back to just being top-of-the-class rivals. discovering that the boy you’ve been pining for in real life is the same one worshiping you behind a screen changes everything. the hesitation is completely gone, and he’s ready to trade the quiet library stares for something incredibly enticing, proving exactly how loud things can get when your worlds finally collide.
𑣲 felix .ᐟ
coming soon
𑣲 seungmin .ᐟ
#001 — 'cause this type of love's the epitome
academic rivalry doesn't mean a thing when the library door clicks locked. between the quiet stacks, the strict self-control he’s famous for completely vanishes. your books are slammed shut, his hands are on your waist, and the only thing left to do is stifle your breaths against his skin before you get caught.
𑣲 jeongin .ᐟ
#001 — i let him taste it, now he diabetic
best friends aren't supposed to ask questions that make your breath hitch. but the second you admit, the boundaries shatter. he doesn't hesitate, dropping to his knees to show you exactly what you've been missing — and discovering a sweetness he never plans on giving up.
summary: loving Felix was easy. It was everything else that wasn’t. The waiting. The canceled plans. The way “tomorrow” always seemed more important than today. You tried to be patient. You tried to understand. But at some point, loving him started to feel like loving someone who wasn’t really there.
a/n: this was lowkey inspired by Olivia Rodrigo's new album title. Can't wait for the album, imma be sooo inspireeed.
── .✦
His hands were warm against your skin, moving up and down, pressing into you. Your feet had been aching all day, but the pressure of his hands against your skin was making you bite your lip to keep yourself from making any sounds.
“Feels good?” he asks. From his tone alone, you knew he was smirking.
You nodded, without opening your eyes.
You arrived an hour ago at your boyfriend’s apartment, complaining about work and how you hadn’t sat down in the past twelve hours, since your shift started.
You were studying to be a doctor. You used to think school was hard. Then the hospital started swallowing you whole. The worst part of all, you weren’t getting paid for it yet. They were mandated hours you had to complete before you could actually call yourself a doctor.
Felix moved up your leg, your whole body reacted before your mind could catch up, and you had to bite your hand to avoid making any weird noises.
“Lix, Lix,” you hurried to grab his hand to stop him. “I think that’s all I can take today.”
“Feels better, though?” he asks. You hum, nodding and then smile.
“Can’t wait to spend tomorrow together,” you mumble.
Felix smiles, but it twitches at the corner, like he’s trying not to give himself away, so you stare at him, your gaze dropping before you could stop it.
“Lix,” you say, and he realizes immediately what you are going to say, following your gaze. He chuckles quietly and opens up your legs so he can lie down between them, placing his head in your chest.
“Ignore it. The sounds you were making kind of had an effect on me,” he says, and you laugh. You use all the strength you have and turn him around so you can be on top of him.
“Let me take care of you, too,” you mumble, and his eyes go wide for a second, putting his hands on your waist so you won’t put your whole weight on his hard member.
“Baby, Seungmin is here,” he warns. You smile sweetly while leaning down enough for your nose to touch his.
“He’s asleep. He said he was too tired to even be third-wheeling today,” you repeat the exact words Seungmin had said after ten minutes of conversing with the two of you. “Besides, he’s probably already used to it.”
“You say that, but last time he caught us kissing, your ears turned as red as your sweatpants,” he said.
You smiled. “That’s because your hand was on my boob.”
He smiles too, and before he can say anything, you kiss him. Slow.
Not rushed—like you’re giving him time to pull away if he wants to. Like you’re still asking.
Your lips barely brush his at first, soft enough that it almost doesn’t count. A test – to see if he actually cares about Seungmin being not too far away.
He doesn’t move.
For a second, you don’t either—just hover there, breath caught somewhere between you, close enough to feel the warmth of him, the quiet hitch in his inhale.
And then he exhales against your mouth, and that’s all it takes.
You kiss him again, properly this time—still slow, but deeper. Intentional.
Your hand comes up without thinking, fingers curling lightly at the back of his neck, not pulling, just holding him there. Grounding yourself more than anything.
He responds—finally—like something in him gives in all at once. His hand softens on your waist, tentative at first, like he’s not sure if he should let go, and you let your weight press against his member. A soft moan escaped from his lips, and getting lost in yours.
The kiss lingers. Not desperate, not messy—just full.
You move your hips slightly, and his grip gets strong again, stopping you.
“Baby,” he breathes hard. And you can almost see the thread his self-control is hanging from.
“He’s asleep, baby,” you mumble, and attempt to move your hips again. He doesn’t stop you this time, but closes his eyes tightly, moaning so softly you barely hear him. Your lips find his again, his mouth opening to give you access without you having to ask.
You continue moving your hips over his erection, the friction between your bodies making your thoughts blur with every movement.
Your lips travel lower, sucking slightly on his neck, being careful not to leave any marks.
You knew that with the type of job he had, you couldn’t mark him the way you wanted to — the way he sometimes begged you to. So you didn’t suck, just featherlight kisses that didn’t show at all how bad you wanted him at that moment.
“Baby, please,” he groaned, his hips bucking up, seeking more friction.
You chuckled because usually, he is the one making you beg. “Please, what?”
“Let me fuck you,” he says, his hands grabbing your hips tighter, somehow pulling you closer to him.
You both moaned, and before either of you can move again, you hear the doorknob twisting, and you move as fast as you can off Felix. Felix gets up quickly and walks behind the couch on the other side, hiding his erection.
You cross your legs and hope that there aren't any wet spots on your sweatpants. You grab the bottle of water from the table and drink some of it, hoping your breathing will return to normal.
A second later, Kim Seungmin walks into the living room. Phone in hand, headphones in, and he sits beside you.
“You guys wanna watch a movie? I can’t sleep,” he says, grabbing the remote and taking the water bottle out of your hands to drink out of it.
“Wh- what movie?” you ask, avoiding Felix’s gaze, knowing that the moment you looked at him, you’d start cracking up.
Seungmin hums, thinking.
“You guys can watch it, I’ll go take a shower,” Felix says, and you have to bite your lip to not laugh.
Before Felix can leave the room, Seungmin says, “Oh. Felix,” he calls him, and Felix and you both freeze. “You should check the group chat; the manager has been trying to contact you.”
Felix turns his face to look at his phone on the table. You laugh and take it on your hands before showing it to him.
He smiles at you, “I’ll check it after I take a shower,” he mumbles, as if he’s afraid Seungmin will figure out why he can’t just walk to you and grab his phone.
Felix disappears down the hall and Seungmin starts talking about the new kdrama in netflix. But your attention is on Felix’s screen.
Felix, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 7.
Sorry, I know you wanted the day off, but things came up, and they want you tomorrow.
You mentioned you'd be gaming all day, so I can give you Friday off instead.
Your stomach sinks before your brain even finishes reading. You take a big sigh, and Seungmin looks at you, and he doesn’t have to ask to know what’s happening.
Because it’s the same story happening all over again.
And the voices get loud, because it’s always ‘tomorrow’. It is always ‘next time’, and it is always you pretending not to mind.
: ̗̀➛
Half an hour later, you are in Felix’s room. You are on your phone, checking your calendar, wishing you hadn’t spent the whole week saving tomorrow like it was something precious, and wishing it was easier to just call your boss and tell them you couldn’t work that day.
The last time you tried calling in sick, they made you come in anyway and handed you medicine before sending you to your shift.
It had been humiliating, especially because the nurse who had helped could clearly tell you weren’t sick at all.
You hear the door open, and you don’t move. Your back is facing Felix while you stare at your calendar. His phone is somewhere in the bed behind you, and you feel him reach for it.
After a minute, he sighs, and you know he read the message.
You turn off your screen and close your eyes, bringing the blanket closer to you.
“Y/n…” he whispers.
“I know, it’s alright,” you hurry to say. Mostly because you were still trying to convince yourself it was true.
You hadn’t seen Felix for the past three weeks, and he had promised you two were going to spend the whole day together to make up for it. It was a pattern at this point, and you had no idea why it still hurt like this, even if it wasn’t his fault, even if he had no power over it.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
You don’t say anything for a little while, because somehow, his apologizing for it makes you annoyed —because he shouldn’t. It wasn’t his fault at the end of the day.
You gather whatever is left in you and turn around, opening your arms to him.
“It’s late. They are picking you up early tomorrow, you have to sleep,” you say, and smile. He doesn’t smile back because he is still feeling bad about it, but he falls into your arms, his arms wrapping around your waist.
You close your eyes and try not to let the thoughts get into your head. And then he kisses your temple, and things feel alright.
When you wake up the next morning, Felix is gone.
: ̗̀➛
There are multiple moments that made you doubt your relationship with Felix.
It didn’t happen often, but when it happened, it became a thought so big you could barely contain it, and Felix was never there to help you with it either.
You loved Felix more than you had ever loved a boyfriend before. You met him a year ago, during one of his back pain check-ups.
Felix was one of the nicest people you’ve ever encountered in the hospital. It was unusual. You knew you had seen him before, but you saw multiple people all day long, so you never imagined he was the guy on the big poster on the bus stop… and everywhere around Seoul.
You guys started dating not long after. You have been together for nine months now, and you have fallen head over heels for him. He was gentle in all the places your life had made rough. Not many flaws to count, and you were sure he was your person.
But dating Felix came with conditions. You had to love him quietly, and sometimes—most of the time—from a distance. His love for you must not exist in front of anyone except you and the few people who are allowed to know.
You weren’t used to it — to love someone with so many conditions.
You sighed, gathering all of your stuff after a twelve-hour shift. Your coworkers were existing around you, while they gathered their stuff too.
“Do you guys have anything to do after this?” one of your coworkers asked.
“I swear if you suggest going out to drink –,” someone else says. You chuckle, tired, taking your phone on your hand and checking your notifications; 2 messages from mom, 5 from your best friend, 0 from Felix.
“You’d say yes,” they say.
“Not today, I feel like I have been beated up for twelve hours straight.”
“Y/n,” you hear your other coworker. You look up from your screen. “Do you have any plans today?”
You think about it for a moment. Short answer was no, long answer was that you didn’t have energy to continue existing. Your plan was to go home, maybe try calling Felix and then going to sleep. So yes, maybe you did have plans.
“Yes,” you say, putting your phone on your pocket.
“You didn’t know? Y/n has a boyfriend,” your other coworker says, and you blush immediately. You hadn’t said anything to them, but she caught a glimpse of your wallpaper, which was a picture of Felix while he was holding your hand. But you couldn’t see his face.
“What?”
“Yes, it’s the mysterious man of her wallpaper.”
“Why mysterious? Do you not want us to meet him? Are we not that close after working together three days a week for twelve hours for the past year or so?” she asks, and she’s making all of these exaggerated expressions that make you laugh.
“Is he like an idol?” your other coworker says and you freeze for a moment, but then he continuous, “Or a mafia member? Or a CEO?” he says, and you laugh again. You don’t know what to say, but thankfully, your other coworker says;
“Y/n has always been secretive about her life. Leave her alone, guys,” and then they move on and start talking about something else.
You hate it because your coworker is wrong. You are not secretive about anything else in your life, and you wish you could love Felix as loudly as your heart wanted to.
: ̗̀➛
Next time the voices get loud, you were supposed to go out with Felix and a couple of your very close friends. The only one that had met Felix so far was Lia, your best friend, but your other friend was close enough to trust them about the big secret.
You were excited since the two most important parts of your life were finally meeting, but as you were finishing up your make up, you received a phone call from Felix.
You pick it up, excitedly, thinking he is probably outside already, but then he says, “Baby, I’m sorry…” and you feel your heart drop. Your excitement folds in on itself before he even finishes the sentence, because you already know what’s coming. He gives you the same excuse as always: his job needs him. Chan got sick and can’t record a line they are supposed to have ready by tomorrow. You say it’s okay, that you understand. And then he promises he’ll make it up to you soon and that he loves you.
You think about canceling plans with your friends, but it’s been a while since you last saw them, so you put your jacket and shoes on and head to the restaurant.
Lia is the first one to see you. She stands up, her face stays soft, but her eyes give her away, and you can see the moment she realizes Felix is not going to come.
“Hey,” you say, before sitting on the other side of Lia. Your three friends are with their boyfriends, and you bow to each of them before taking a seat.
“Did you come alone? I thought you were coming with your boyfriend,” Haewon, your other friend asks.
“Something came up,” you say, taking Lia’s glass to drink out of it.
“Oh, no. I really wanted to meet him,” she pouts. “You talk about him all the time. I bet he is wonderful.”
“I’m sure you already know him,” Lia says.
Haewon’s eyebrows shoot up, and she tilts her head, waiting for her to continue. “Stray Kid’s Felix,” Lia mumbles so low, as if someone passing by would catch up with their conversation.
Haewon laughs for a second, until she realizes Lia isn’t joking because you are not laughing.
“The blonde guy that’s everywhere around the city?” she leans in, and you finally chuckle.
: ̗̀➛
The dinner passes by quickly. You had already met their boyfriend’s so it wasn’t too awkward.
When it’s time to go home, Lia and her boyfriend go home first. Lia has a presentation tomorrow that she needs to study for. And Haewon and her boyfriend offer you a ride home, which you accept, because it is eleven at night, and you are tired.
“Stray Kids’ Felix,” Haewon mumbles from the front seat.
You don’t answer because Felix isn’t Stray Kid’s Felix to you. He’s just Felix.
“Can’t believe that out of the eight members in Stray Kids, you bagged the busiest one,” she says. “No wonder he couldn’t come today. He is basically in every corner of Seoul. He is booked and busy,” she says. And you love Haewon so much, but you wish she would just be quiet.
So you look out the window, without saying anything.
“Are you okay?” She asks.
“Yeah. Why?” You sigh.
She takes a moment, before saying; “you look pretty sad for a girl so in love.”
: ̗̀➛
Felix has to leave in two weeks. He has a tour. Thirty-four dates overseas, which means six months away, until he gets a break and comes back before he continues.
The doubt gets louder. Not all at once, but enough that you stop being able to pretend it is just a bad mood.
Felix doesn’t seem to notice — the way you stop texting back immediately, no matter how busy you are. Or the way you aren’t asking anymore when can he come over, or when can you go over to his place. He doesn’t seem to notice the way you start dimming.
The next time you two hang out, it’s Felix who insists on seeing you, exactly one week before he needs to leave.
He arrives late at night, all sweaty, and with his training clothes. He kisses you the moment you open the door for him and he holds you close by your waist.
“I missed you,” he says. You are so tired, you were fighting yourself to stay awake, waiting for him. So you just smile.
“Are you hungry?” You ask.
Something flickers across his face then, quick and scared, like he finally sees the distance sitting between you.
Felix shakes his head. “No, just wanna be with you,” he says. And his hand doesn’t let go of yours.
You smile, but still walk to your kitchen,and press one minute on the microwave, where Felix’s food is already waiting.
“I’m really not hungry. Can we go to bed?” you hear him mumble, and his voice comes out so small, like he already know’s what you are about to say.
“I need to talk to you, Felix,”you say, and you feel him tense before you even finish the sentence.
You had practiced this speech so many times, but now the words are just… gone.
“Can we do it tomorrow? I’m really tired,” he says, as if it’s the first excuse he can grab onto.
“You won’t have time tomorrow,” you say, your voice small again. You know how it sounds. You know it’ll hurt him. It’s still true.
He looks at you, like he’s waiting for it.
“I want to break up,” you say.
And the microwave starts beeping — the food you spent an hour and a half cooking was ready.
He doesn’t seem surprised when you say it. “You don’t mean that,” he says, too quickly.
“Felix, I’–” you are cut off by the knot in your throat. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I think it’s for the best,” you force yourself not to tear up, even when his touch feels like it’s burning now. “You’d stop feeling so bad every time you need to cancel and I… I’d stop having a ghost boyfriend,” you swallow.
Felix’s face changes.
Like something clicks too late.
Felix looks down at the floor, and it takes him a minute before he lets your hand go. “I’m sorry,” he says, and then he starts crying before he can stop himself.
Your body moves before your mind can stop it.
You pull him in.
And he lets you.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, softer this time.
You don’t know how long you stay like that.
At some point, his crying quiets down into uneven breaths, his face still buried in your shoulder like if he moves, it’ll become real.
You almost take it back.
The words sit right there, at the back of your throat.
Stay.We’ll figure it out.I don’t mean it.
But you don’t say them.
Because you’ve already stayed.
For months.
Eventually, he pulls away first.
Not fully—just enough to look at you.
His eyes are red, lashes clumped together, like he hasn’t quite processed it yet.
Like he’s still hoping you’ll fix it.
You don’t.
“Okay,” he says.
And it’s so quiet it almost doesn’t sound real.
He doesn’t fight you.
That’s what hurts the most.
He just nods, once.
And then he lets go of you completely.
The apartment feels bigger after that.
Too big.
Too quiet.
Felix grabs his things slowly, like he’s buying time—but for what, you don’t know.
He lingers by the door for a second.
“I love you,” he says then, like it slipped out before he could stop it.
And that almost breaks you.
Because you love him too.
That was never the problem.
“I know,” you whisper.
Your voice doesn’t sound like yours.
He waits.
Like maybe you’ll say it back.
You don’t.
And you think that’s when it really sinks in for him.
⤷ WC - 2k
⤷ Smut & Crack | boyfriend!Mihno x roommate!Seungmin
⤷ CW - Oral sex (m rec.), a kinda stupid voluntary cuck situation
⤷ Minho suggests something ridiculous. You say yes. Seungmin absolutely does not—at first
→ Masterlist
Your relationship has never been normal. Minho doesn’t really fit into anything that simple. Two years in, there’s been questionable choices you wouldn’t admit out loud and a few you’re pretty sure he’s proudly told his friends about. This, though, sits differently.
It started last night, mid cuddle session. He brought it up first, seemed to be thinking about it for a while.
“Do you find my roommate attractive?” You froze, who wouldn't? Cause the answer is yes. Minho's roommate—Seungmin—isn't ugly, far from it. In fact, if you didn't meet Minho first things might have gone differently.
You're honest, always honest, and it seems to work out in your favor. Minho vents, says that it's been nearly a year since he's seen Seungmin actually flirt with someone.
“It's like he's allergic to xx chromosomes, I'm getting concerned.” He went on for awhile, analyzing every little moment until he finally asked—
“This is gonna sound crazy, but would you sleep with him? Suck him off, something? You think he's hot and he stares at your ass, it's perfect.”
Now you're here, in Seungmin’s room, sitting on the edge of his bed while he and Minho argue.
“This is fucking stupid,” Seungmin’s sitting at his desk, arms crossed and leaning back in his computer chair. Too relaxed for someone who just got offered oral.
“What's stupid is the fact that it had to come to this.” Minho argues, picking up something from the desk, turning it over between his fingers then tossing it back. “You won't sleep with anyone else, so I have to lend you my girlfriend.”
Seungmin narrows his eyes, scoffing, “Lend me your girlfriend? That's okay with you?” He looks over at you. “Is this okay with you?”
You nod, a small, almost stupid smile on your face. “I'm fine.” Seungmin thinks that's ridiculous.
“This is ridiculous.” See.
Minho rolls his eyes. “Will you just agree, already?” he looks over at you, “grab a pillow, get on your knees.”
Seungmin sits up straighter, eyes wide like this all got too real too fast. “Woah, woah, woah I did not agree.”
You pause, halfway to the floor, looking between them. “I'm just gonna…” you lower yourself the rest of the way, hugging the pillow to your chest, legs crisscross.
“Why are you being difficult?” Minho whines. “She's good, really good, wanna see? Here.” He starts untying his sweats and Seungmin’s eyes nearly pop. He stands, pushing Minho's shoulder.
“Out.” He points to the door and Minho scoffs.
“You’re being impossible.”
“And you’re being a perv, so I think I'm the lesser of two evils.” he shoves Minho's shoulder again and then gets shoved back. You sit there like a kid watching saturday cartoons.
“So… am I sucking someone off or can I go order some food?” They both stop and look at you. Seungmin looks like he's been isekai'd, the exact opposite of Minho who's so ready for you to suck his friend off it's kinda concerning.
“How do I get you to say yes?” Minho huffs, looking back at his friend. “Like, morally, how would this be okay for you?”
Seungmin curses under his breath, an incredulous laugh coming up. “You want me to get a blow job from your girlfriend. Nothing about this is morally right. I'm literally–this is–Minho, what the hell?”
Silence. A beat, then two, three.
“So… what? Want me to stay? That way it's not a secret.” Seungmin groans, Minho groans, you’re close to walking out.
“I'm gonna get some onion rings, you guys want any?” You're ignored, you figured you would be.
Minho locks in.
“I'll stay, we can do it together.” Remember how Seungmin’s eyes were wide earlier? Imagine them wider.
“Oh, you're a fucking idiot.” Minho slumps, eyes rolling back far enough to hurt. “This isn't brotherly bonding, it's sex.”
“Ah, tomato tomato, same thing.”
“It is not—”
This goes on for another minute, then two. The back and forth goes on. Seungmin sits back down, stands up, can't stay still. Minho picks up a pen from the desk and chucks it at his friend, frustrated.
Then, finally— “Okay, okay, just shut up for a second.” Seungmin caves.
He sits, thinking, trying to make this make sense.
“I don't care if you stay,” he says to Minho, unexpected. “but I don't wanna see your dick.”
Minho narrows his eyes. "We've eaten from the same chopsticks."
“Not the same." Seungmin grimaces, "If you take it out I’m not looking. If she sucks you off I'm not looking. I don't want you here, but morally this is the only way it won't feel like cheating."
"That's stupid." Minho huffs.
"I don't care.” Seungmin scoffs.
“Okay so—love the energy,” They both look at you and you're already up on your knees, pillow snug beneath you. “I still don’t know if I’m sucking dick or ordering food though. No rush, but I could've been halfway through a combo meal by now.”
Minho looks at Seungmin, “take your dick out.”
“Jesus Christ."
It takes another minute—Minho chucks a pen at Seungmin again—and they land on something decent. Minho in the chair facing the desk, not looking, and Seungmin on the edge of the bed. Good enough.
Seungmin isn't looking at you, not really. He's half hard, you can see it, but he's in his head.
“Relax, this isn't that weird.” You give an attempt at comfort and he glares. “Okay, it is weird, but that's the hot part.”
“Please stop before I change my mind.” you roll your eyes, hand moving up to palm him over his sweats. He jolts, exhales slow.
“Just focus.” your hand works over him, stroking slow over the hardening length beneath thin gray fabric. Behind you, Minho turns back and forth in the desk chair.
“You have games on your computer?” You kick the leg of the seat, he protests with a dramatic “hey!”
“Hush, you're gonna undo my hard work. Literally.” You can hear the pout without even looking.
Seungmin watches your hand, the way you move over him, pressing just right like you know what he likes. He won't let himself moan, no sounds, just heavy exhales.
“Look at me.” He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “I'm literally about to have your cock in my mouth. Look at me.”
His shoulders slump, defeated. His lashes flutter slowly, reluctantly, then his gaze meets yours. You smile, just a little, just enough.
“It's just us.” You lean in, lips brushing over his thigh, then the growing tent in his pants. You adjust yourself, showing off more of your ass. Works like a charm.
His cock jumps against your lips, straining against the fabric now. You kiss it, slow, a little wet. Dark stains bloom with every kiss, your fingers crawl up slowly, thumbs tucking into his waistband.
“No way this is fucking happening.” He mutters, head tipping back to look at the ceiling.
You tug at his sweats, he lifts his hips and—
“Oh.” No boxers, just bare dick. Right there. “none?”
Seungmin’s ears are red, neck is red, eyes still on the ceiling. “Just–please, don't.”
You leave it alone. His sweats pool at his ankles, his fingers fist into the covers behind him, anticipation burning hot. Your hands come up, wrap around him.
“Fuck, your hands are cold.” Minho wheezes, laughing so hard his knee hits the desk. You suck your teeth. “No, seriously, are you okay? Jesus, that's–wow.”
You glare over your shoulder, look back, and spit down onto him. It hits slow, warm and wet and Seungmin’s hips actually buck.
“Better?” You spread it with two hands, working him slow and he bites back a groan.
“They're still freezing, but–ah.” You kiss him, wet and soft on the tip and then again on the other side. It's quiet again, Seungmin’s watching your hands again, you move slow enough for him to take it in.
“Is it in her mouth yet?” Minho whispers, pretending to peek.
“Hush”
“Shut up.”
You and Seungmin speak at the same time. Minho pouts again.
It takes a second for Seungmin to actually relax. You go slow, watching, pushing your chest up against the edge of the mattress and wiggling your ass just right. He melts bit by bit, his breathing turns shallow, the head of his cock starts to dribble. Ready.
You glance up at him, he meets your gaze, holds it, then you lean forward. He huffs a loud breath, nearly a curse. Your tongue trails flat up the underside, lapping up the sticky drops and leaving a sloppy kiss. Then again, and again, taking more and more of him each time.
“This isn’t real.” He breathes, head tipping back just for a second. “Can’t be real.” Minho isn't moving in the chair anymore, he's leaned back, focused.
“It's definitely in her mouth now.” Your boyfriend mutters. You kick the leg of the chair again, it jerks forward.
Seungmin ignores him, too focused on not busting the most ridiculously fat nut on your face in five seconds. His fist is tight in the cover beneath him, you take him all the way down and he can't help but moan.
You stay down, swallowing around him. Pull back, spit, go down again. It's wet, vulgar in the way that your lips smack.
“Oh my–fuck.” You choke, he's in it now. Fighting for his life.
Behind you, Minho's quiet again, too still. His own cock hard in his sweats, straining.
"Okay,” Minho mumbles, a bit rough. “That would be hotter if she wasn't choking on my best friend. Still really hot, though."
Seungmin groans, can't help himself. "You get it now."
Minho nods even though neither of you can see him. "Yeah, I get it now.”
You pull back, spit down on him again as if his cock needs to be any more slick than it already is. You pepper slippery kisses. The head of his cock is red, tight and threatening to give any second. It jumps with every kiss up his shaft, every lick you drag out.
“This is—I'm not making it another minute.” You take him in your mouth again, hum while bobbing your head. That damn near ends him. Your lashes flutter, big brown eyes looking right at him. Too pretty, too much. “Holy shit, like, seriously.”
Minho chimes in, “We won't judge you.”
“Hyung, shut the hell up.”
You add your hands, both of them, twisting over each other while you drool over the head. Each stroke makes a sound—loud, obscene.
“I'm gonna cum, gonna–gonna‐” he doesn't get to finish. His hips lift, stutter, and then he's spilling hot into your mouth. You take it all.
Minho claps like a plane just landed, you kick the chair again.
Seungmin comes down slowly, thighs shaking and eyes squeezed shut. You pull up off of him slowly, take your hands away and his cock falls forward. Wet.
It's quiet. Really quiet, only the sound of you and Seungmin’s breathing bouncing off the walls. Everyone is still, you don't think Seungmin is in his body. Minho moves first, standing quick, dick very hard.
“Well,” he sighs, grabbing your wet hand to help you up then physically cringing. “Ew, ew, ew.”
“You knew I just sucked a dick.” You shake your head at him. He wipes his hand on his pants, shaking it off for good measure.
“Okay, well, we're gonna go. That sounded like you needed it and now I'm gonna put her through a mattress.” Minho grabs your hand again, it's cold now. “Ew.”
You let him lead you towards the door. “Can I please get my onion rings now?” No one answers. You sigh. “Later, Seungmin.”
Minho pulls you out into the hall, you ask about onion rings again. He leaves Seungmin’s door open just enough to annoy him.
Seungmin is sitting there. Still exposed, wet and cold now. His eyes are on the ceiling, head tipped back, dick going soft. He hears Minho's mattress squeak, muffled words about a combo meal. He sighs, finally blinks.
“What the hell just happened?”
a/n: I wrote this for fun while being super sick and had the best time doing it. I write lots of small things for fun, all genres, but I rarely share them. Should I share my unfiltered stuff more? Maybe start a collection? Anywayyyy, Thanks for reading!
divder by @uzmacchiato
❥Thank You For Reading! Please Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕
summary: There are parts of you that Minho has never seen. Not because he didn't ask, but because you never knew how to show them without breaking something. This time, you don't get to choose.
── .✦
You met Lee Minho during your last year of high school.
He stood in front of your chair, forcing you to look up to him. He fixed his glasses while tilting his head slightly.
“You are not gonna eat?” You guys had never talked before this. The classroom was small enough to know your peers’ names, but not small enough to make you talk to them unless you were obligated to.
Lee Minho wasn’t popular, but he had a solid group of friends he hung out with every day.
You had been skipping lunch for the past couple of weeks. You hated the school’s lunch but were saving money to earn your own apartment as soon as you turned eighteen, so you were saving every bit of your salary.
You weren’t about to trauma dump on a stranger, though. So you shook your head without saying anything.
Minho left, but came back ten minutes later with lunch for you -- like it was nothing.
He continued buying you lunch for the rest of the school year.
That’s how you became close to him.
Shortly after, you started dating.
Dating Minho felt like stepping into a completely new world.
After graduating, you guys spent most of your time together. He worked, and you worked, and after, you’d eat, go for walks, and he’d try to teach you self-defense.
But you never introduced him to your other world.
The world filled with yelling, pain, and things you had learned to keep to yourself.
Hanging out with Minho felt like a little escape world that you weren’t willing to give up on.
Minho did ask once. After quietly dismissing his question, he learned that there was not much you’d be willing to share, so he didn’t push. He did not want to cross the boundaries you were setting, even if it was fair for him to ask, since he was your boyfriend.
The closest he had gotten to opening up from you was that one time in his little apartment, you both were two soju’s in, but he was a lot more sober than you were. He had stopped drinking a while ago, realizing that one of you had to be sober enough to take care of the other.
“I think I’m falling asleep,” you mumbled, letting your head rest in his thighs.
“You think so?” he was laughing, and though his way of showing love was quite unusual, you felt loved by the way he was playing with your hair.
You weren’t used to it — to this type of love.
To any type of love, if you were being honest.
“Mmh,” you nodded. “I think I need to thank you, Minho,” you mumbled.
“For what? Cooking? I always do,” he lay his back against the couch, closing his eyes for a second, hearing the fan working a couple of meters away, the faint sound of the TV still on in the other room that had been forgotten an hour ago before you crashed into the living room’s rug in a try to get yourself water.
You giggled. “You always do, yes.” You smiled, then took a deep sigh, trying to get as much air in your lungs as you could. “But no, I think I need to thank you because I don’t think I’d still be alive without you.”
It had been so sudden, his hand stopped caressing your head, and his breathing stopped for a second, his eyes opening, to confirm he wasn’t dreaming. If you weren’t so drunk, you would’ve probably noticed.
“What?”
You took another deep breath. “Can’t believe I’m turning twenty-three next month. I thought I was gonna be dead by then,” you giggled, not noticing the way Minho went completely still.
You guys never talked about it again. He didn’t ask, and you didn’t bring it up. During the next times you got drunk, you were the silly type of drunk and not the 'I was planning on killing myself after high school' type.
By the time you turned twenty-five, you were able to afford your own apartment, and you thought you'd never have to think about your parents again. So you didn’t bring them up, wanting to leave them behind, and Minho didn’t ask.
Your mother reached out a couple of months after you moved out, though, and the first time you see her again, it doesn’t feel the same as before. It doesn’t make you want to jump in front of the first bus that passes by, so you keep in contact, even when she made you plan the exact way you’d kill yourself when you were fifteen.
She calls you every morning, sometimes when Minho is there with you, and though you hold your breath, hoping she won’t say anything that will make Minho realize why you don’t talk about her, she never does, and yet, you are still scared to fully present Minho to that side of you.
: ̗̀➛
You feel a hand on your butt before you are fully awake.
You open your eyes, and he is already awake, looking at you, hand resting on your ass, his other hand holding one of yours.
“Honey,” he says in a whisper. You stare at him, and you have no energy to speak, so you just hum in response. “I’m hard,” he says, and you start laughing.
“Yes, honey, happy anniversary to you, too,” you say.
You start rolling away, but he stops you, using the hand he had in his hold to make you touch his clothed dick. He is as hard as a rock, and you roll your eyes.
You lift your head to look at the clock on the nightstand; it’s barely six in the morning, thirty minutes before you both have to stand up to get ready for the day.
“It’s six in the morning,” you groan, letting your head fall back on the pillow, and though you are acting annoyed, you don’t take your hand away from his dick.
“This is your fault. Why do you decide to wear the sluttiest pajamas whenever I’m around?” He groans, his hand putting pressure on yours to give himself some relief.
“Lee Minho, you are the one intruding in my house. No one asked you to come,” you say, moving your finger on his clothed tip.
Your hand goes under his waistband, finding his cock, and you start jerking him off slowly.
His eyes, that used to be on yours, close inmediatly, his hips jerking up because of your touch, and you wonder how long he had been hard and staring at you hoping you’d wake up.
“Cat got your tongue, Lee Minho?” You ask. He giggles before climbing on top of you, his lips dangerously close to yours. You shake your head, grab his face, turning it to the side so you can talk.
“No, no. Morning breath.”
“I’ve been with you for nine years already. I’ve smelled worse,” he says. You scoff, open your eyes wider at his audacity, and push him off you before standing up.
“Get out, Lee Minho,” you say, while walking to the bathroom.
You hear a muffled groan, and you don’t have to turn around to know his head is buried on your bed while he complains.
You want to laugh, so you bite your lip so you don’t.
“Honey, please come back,” he says. “It hurts.”
“I have to make breakfast,” you mumble, though it’s still early and he's the one who usually cooks in the morning.
You are just testing how far you can take this before he decides he’d had enough.
You hear him groan again right before you lock yourself in the bathroom, where you finally allow yourself to laugh.
After brushing your teeth, you go straight to the kitchen, and Minho goes into the bathroom.
Once he is done, he stands not too far away, without saying anything, observing you. The tent on his sweatpants is too obvious, and you have to bite the inside of your bottom lip to avoid smiling.
You move around the kitchen, getting pans, and butter and before you can get to the eggs, you feel him right behind you.
“You are in my way,” you say.
He drops his forehead on your shoulder. And you feel him hard on your ass, almost making you feel bad. “I need you first,” he whispers.
And you melt immediately —like you always do with him. You press your ass harder on him.
One of his hands hold you from the waist while the other one grabs your face to make you look at him.
“You’ve been acting like a brat even if it’s our anniversary,” he says, before kissing you, not letting you answer right away, his hips rolling slowly against your ass.
When he finally breaks the kiss, you say, “It was you who woke me up with a hard dick instead of a happy anniversary cake,” you mumble.
“A cake? Is that what you want?” He asks, while his hand travels down to your clothed clit, pressing circles immediately.
You bite down on a moan. “I want you, Min,” you say.
He wastes no time before he pulls your shorts down, kissing your neck while his fingers work on your clit. You moan, pushing your ass even further, urging him to start.
“So desperate,” he chuckles, and you hear him pulling his sweatpants down, enough to get his dick out.
He pushes your chest down to the counter, aligning his dick with your entrance.
“You looked so pretty yesterday, I wanted to bend you over while you talked about your work drama,” he says, pushing himself slowly.
“You should’ve done exactly that then,” you say.
He pushes all the way in and stays still for a little bit, breathing heavy and drawing circles on your skin with his thumb on your waist.
“Sue me for wanting to be a good boyfriend,” he says, and you chuckle but before you can say anything, he starts moving, and whatever comeback you had for that completely leaves your mind.
His hand travels to where your tummy meets the counter, and he leaves it there, so his thrusts won’t hurt your hips, but you are too busy seeing stars to actually notice.
“Cat got your tongue?” he says. You don’t say anything; you are too far gone to make sense of his words.
His hand goes back to your clit, making circles, and making it impossible for you to last longer.
“Fuck, Min…” before you can warn him, you are cumming all over his cock. He gives a couple more thrusts before he cums as well.
His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you can feel his breathing on top of your shirt.
None of you says anything, but he slides out slowly, making you whimper. His hand comes back to your waist, and he kisses your shoulder.
“Happy anniversary, honey,” he says.
Minho and you take a shower together. He cleans you up and kisses you in between, and you smile at him and think about how fortunate you are of having him.
When you are done, he tells you he’ll make breakfast, and you can get ready. So you both do exactly that, he cooks gyeran bap, and you get ready for a long day at work.
When you are ready, you both sit at the table and start eating.
The table is quiet, and it’s not uncomfortable. That’s one of the things you love about Minho — neither of you needs to be constantly entertaining the other. And you know, that even if it’s silent, he doesn’t hate you or think you are boring.
You are both just really comfortable and happy about existing in each other’s universe.
A text message makes your phone light up. And your body reacts before your brain does, so you freeze at the name of your mom. It takes you a minute to remember there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore, so you take the phone in your hand and read:
“Excited to meet you later! ❤️”
You hadn’t quite forgotten, but it hadn’t been as present in your mind as it usually was. Maybe it was a sign of healing.
You leave the phone on the table again and take one more bite. While you are chewing, you start thinking about the best way to bring this up to Minho.
Minho had talked about marriage before. He mentioned it casually after a dinner with his parents. You had guessed that maybe his parents were pressuring him to, but you were also aware that Minho had been wanting to marry you for a long time now.
But in your head, there were steps to be taken to be able to marry someone. To begin with, you needed to fix your relationship with your mother.
The thought of having to marry the love of your life without your mom being there made you want to throw up. No matter how much you hated her as a teenager, she was still your mother. And the little girl inside you wanted to have her moment, just like everyone else.
“I’ll meet my mom today during lunch,” you said. He looked up to you, his feet lingering between yours under the table. He tried not to show he had been surprised by your comment, but you had known him for a decade now, so you didn’t miss the way his eyes went bigger for a slight second. “I’ve been thinking about having dinner with her, with you. Us. The three of us,” you explained. And he stopped chewing, probably wanting to hear you better. You give him half a smile before you look down at your food again. “I think it’s pretty obvious now that we used to not get along,” you give yourself a moment to think of the proper words to say. “She used to make me want to die, so I didn’t present you to her, because I was afraid she’d make you want to kill yourself too.” You were half joking when you said it, so you laughed. But Minho kept the same look on his face.
Minho wasn’t afraid of many things. He took care of the spiders in your apartment, walked you at night, had boxed a couple of times, and only stopped because you felt like your heart was about to leave your body every time he received a hit.
There were only three things Minho was afraid of:
Heights.
Losing his cats.
Losing you.
He didn’t have to think of losing anyone else. He hadn’t thought about that possibility until you mentioned you wanted to kill yourself.
“Would you be down to meet her?” You ask.
And he relaxes a little, gives you a half smile before saying, “of course.”
You smile. “Okay,” you take the last bite, and then look at the clock. “Gotta go. I’ll see you tonight for dinner?”
He nods. “Love you, honey,” he says.
You laugh. “Ew.”
“I take it back.”
“Love you too,” you say, before leaving the apartment.
: ̗̀➛
It’s 1 p.m. when your hour lunch break hits, and you rush to the cafeteria a block away from your company, where you had agreed to see her.
She was already there when you arrived. You smile, and she smiles.
Lunch goes by fast. Your heart doesn’t feel uneasy after the first five minutes. And you laugh more than you are used to around her. She seems laid back, comfortable, and for a second you wonder why you didn’t get to have this before, back when you were a kid, or a teenager, when you needed it the most.
But then you push those thoughts away and you start feeling grateful that you get to experience it.
You start to think about the best way to bring up Minho. You never told her about him, afraid that she’d want to meet him when you weren’t ready.
But before you can say anything, she laughs and says, “I’m glad you changed, you know.” You freeze — you genuinely do not know what she’s talking about.
“What?”
“You used to be so depressed back then. It’s easier to talk to you now,” she smiles, and though this is the woman who gave birth to you, she doesn’t seem to realize how that comment made your heart twist in your chest. “I’m glad you changed, sweetheart,” she says as she stands up, because it’s time to leave, and you stand up as well, your body moving automatically.
She hugs you, and you see her mouth moving, and you know she’s saying that it’s good to see you and that you should go out again soon. The same thing as always, but your head is too busy trying to catch up with your heart.
It was a simple comment, nothing really as bad as before, but it was a reminder that the old woman you used to fear is still there.
And it still makes you feel the urge to run away. So you do. You take your keys and your phone and drive away, because running away is your only way to respond to these kinds of things.
You drive for hours until you are in another city, and you find a beach, so you decide to sit for a while.
And just breathe.
Because killing yourself over a small comment isn’t an option. Because you are not that girl anymore. You can't be.
You sit on the sand and watch the ocean, wondering when you will stop feeling like a little kid around her.
It's complicated — loving someone who taught you how to hate yourself.
The sun goes down, and you take it as your sign to go back. Because your phone is dead, your tummy is empty, and your head is aching.
When you get home, you can hear footsteps going from side to side before you open the door.
And when the door opens, you see him, and he looks furious, and a different feeling you’d never seen in him before: fear.
“Hey,” you mumble.
“Y/n, for God’s sake,” he looks angry. And you are confused, so you look at him, expecting him to continue. “Where were you?”
“I was…” You don’t even know how to say, because you usually never share this side of you with Minho. You come in, close the door, and take your shoes off, looking at the clock on the wall, marking a little past ten. And then you freeze, when you finally remember; you were supposed to meet with Minho after work, exactly six hours ago. “God, Minho, I’m so sorry,” you mumble, and you look at the ground, because his angry eyes remind you a little too much of your mom, and it’s making your tummy upset.
“Sorry? Sorry for what, exactly? For not picking up the phone?” He raises his voice with every word, and you can do nothing except look at his feet. “For leaving me waiting for two hours before I realized you weren’t coming? For making me spend three hours cooking something that’s already cold? Or for making me think you were dead?” His voice breaks with that last part, and you force your eyes to meet his.
He breathes hard, and he looks up, putting one hand on his hip, like he’s trying really hard not to cry.
“I’m not— I wasn’t…” You don’t even know how to begin to explain, or how to ask. And then you remember what you told him right before leaving today.
“She used to make me want to die.” Right after telling him you were meeting her today.
“Minho, I wasn’t… I’m sorry,” you say in such a tiny voice. His heart aches, so he brings his hands to his face, so you won’t see the tears falling down his face.
You hurry and pull him in a hug, and he hides his face in the crook between your shoulder and your head.
“I looked for you everywhere, but I couldn’t find you.” He says, and you feel so sorry you can’t even begin to explain. “I called the police, and they said they couldn’t do anything unless 24 hours had passed, and it was driving me crazy.”
“Minho, I’m sorry,” you mumble, because there’s really not much else you could say. “I would… I would never do that to you, Minho”. You say, and you hope that he knows you mean it, because you’ve never really been good with your words.
The last time you saw Minho cry was when Soonie got sick, and he had to be taken to the vet for an emergency. He had eaten a full grape, and Minho had convinced himself that Soonie would die, only to be told an hour later that Soonie had thrown up with ease and that he was going to be okay.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry,” you say. You grab his face and force him to look at you. He doesn’t look angry anymore, and he doesn’t look scared anymore. Just a boy who loves you a little too much. You smile and give him a peck. “You are so dramatic,” you laugh.
He groans, turns around, and walks to the kitchen. “Next time you decide not to answer your phone, I’ll change the lock on your door and lock it.”
You laugh. “I pay for this apartment, mind you,” you mumble, running behind him to give him a back hug.
“Whatever,” he mumbles, but he still leans down to kiss your forehead.
