🥀mads🥀

she/they || 22 y/o ||

[madsspector]

HELLO!!!

~˚✧。name: madison

~˚✧。nickname (preferred): maddie/mads

~˚✧。pronouns: she/they

~˚✧。age: 22

~˚✧。gender/sexuality: bisexual/demigirl

~˚✧。hobbies: listening to music, writing fanfiction, editing, making memes

~˚✧。interests: avatar, five nights at freddy's, stray kids, godzilla/monsterverse, horror, marvel, dc, etc.

~˚✧。Rules: HERE

~˚✧。masterlist: HERE

~˚✧。DNI: minors, racists, zionists, queerphobic/transphobic, ableist, pro-ICE/Trump, etc.

[joyracha]

tequila sunrise

being a travel blogger has its perks; you get to travel the world, eat delicious food, and…dance with a mysterious, handsome stranger on a cruise?

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader genre: fluff, smut content: oral sex (f + m receiving), fingering, coming untouched, unprotected sex (p in v), choking, a mirror is involved word count: 5.2k a/n: i'm so sorry for being late! thank you for your patience with me pls enjoy this reader simping for hyunjin and him being the beautiful man that he is ♡ ♡ m.list

a wet hot skz summer event masterlist ☼ schedule

The words you choose to live by are as follows: do something worth writing, then write something worth reading. And that’s exactly what you’ve been doing for the past four years. You have, arguably, one of the best jobs in the entire world. As a travel blogger for a major publication, your sole purpose in life is to see the world and write about it, and hopefully inspire others to see it too.

The breeze on the top deck feels warm as it hits your face, and the smell of the fresh salty air makes you feel hopeful for the rest of your trip. You’ve scored a trip on the Starlost for this assignment, the cruise line’s latest and most luxurious ship. Your company has given you a full suite with an ocean view, and they prefer that the readers have the inside scoop on the ultimate experience.

You pull out your phone and take a few shots of the view. The ship is huge—you’re honestly not sure if you’ll have enough time to explore everything in the next five days, but you’re determined to try.

After spending some time wandering the ship and mentally cataloguing all of the places you’d like to visit, you decide to check out one of the ship’s main attractions. It’s the perfect time, right as the sun is going down, and all of the families with young children head to bed.

Club Miroh is the hot spot of the cruise line for young adults, according to the information pamphlet you read when you got your assignment. The lights are dim and brightly colored, and the bass booms through the speakers. 

You sit at the bar, scanning the young crowd. You take a couple of photos of the atmosphere, hoping to convey the youthful and fun vibe to your audience. Maybe in the beginning you’d dance with a few strangers or chat it up with the bartender, but people watching was a hobby you slowly picked up and enjoyed far more.

A couple makes their way to the dance floor, and you imagine what their life must be like. Maybe they left the kids at home, determined to spend quality time together and go on adventures while they’re still young. Or maybe they just met tonight, two singles just looking for a night of fun.

“A tequila sunrise for the lady?” The bartender’s voice cuts through the music as he sets down the orange and yellow drink in front of you.

“Oh, I didn’t order that…,” your voice trails off as you shake your head.

“Ah, the gentleman over there sent it over.” He gestures to the other side of the bar to a man seated alone. You look over at the man and see him hunched over the bar, drinking a dark liquor out of his glass. Eyes trained directly at you.

He’s very handsome. No, scratch that, he’s gorgeous. His long black hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing a dark button-up and jeans that are probably worth your entire paycheck.

You tip your glass to him before taking a sip as a thank you. He lifts his own glass in return, a sly smirk appearing on his face. Before you know it, he’s sliding into the stool next to you.

“Hyunjin,” he says as he introduces himself, his voice low and sultry. It’s not often that a stranger leaves you speechless by looks alone, but he definitely does.

Other than your obvious nervousness, the conversation flows quite well. He’s an artist from Korea, and also flying solo on this cruise. You don’t ask why, whether he had someone he was supposed to come with, or if this was his plan all along.

It’s a quarter to midnight when he leans in close, the spice of his cologne filling your nostrils, and whispers in your ear, “Come dance with me.”

The floors vibrate as you step onto the dance floor, guided by Hyunjin. The flashing lights reflect on every nearby surface and illuminate the crowd. You sidestep a couple of drunken passengers, leaning into Hyunjin for support. He smiles at you as he lets you hold onto him.

He takes your hand and starts to move to the beat. You’re not the greatest dancer, but you try your best to loosen up. You accidentally step on his foot, and you look up at his face in horror as you profusely apologize. But he just laughs it off. His laughter is contagious, and for the first time this trip, nothing exists beyond this moment.

He leans in close and says the words you’ve been waiting to hear all night.

“You wanna get out of here?”

You’re no stranger to a hookup in international waters. It’s not exactly a common occurrence, but it does happen. You just skip over that part of the night when you go back to write about it the next day, your boss never the wiser.

Your back hits the door as it locks, Hyunjin’s lips attacking yours once you’re both alone. His hands held your hips firmly as he rolled his into yours. You can feel his cock straining through his pants, eager to be free.

He peels you off the door and guides you to the bed. Your knees hit the edge, and the two of you topple over onto it.

His hands move from your waist to your thighs, hiking your dress up. He moves his mouth to your neck, kissing and nipping up the side. Your hands are busy tugging at his clothes and his belt all at the same time.

He steps back to unbutton and snatch his shirt off, then undoes his belt and jeans with one hand while leaning over you. He is so fucking sexy, you almost wish you had gotten to know him a bit better before doing this.

You pull him closer with your legs, craving his touch. He hikes your dress even higher, and dips his head even lower, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your belly just above your waistline.

“Fuck, Hyunjin—please,” you plead, raking your hands through his gelled-up hair.

He doesn’t reply, he just kneels on the floor in front of the bed. He slides your lacy black panties down before spreading your thighs wide. His fingers part your folds, giving him a perfect view of your cunt. And then, he lets a string of spit fall directly on your clit.

He’s playing with his food. That’s how you feel anyway, not that you’re complaining. You let out a whine, partially from impatience but mostly because you can’t believe he’s so hot and a little freaky. Then, finally, you let out a noise that sounds like somewhat of a cross between a sigh and a moan once his tongue finally touches you. 

The man eats like he’s in a desert, and your juices are the only thing that can quench his thirst. His tongue is long, reaching in spots you didn’t even know existed. He leaves long licks from your entrance to your clit, savoring every drop you give him.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he hums, sucking your juices up.

He uses his thumb to trace your folds, taking note of what makes you squirm so that he can do it again. It’s not long before he’s pressing two fingers inside of you, curling them just the right way to make you see stars.

“Fuck—keep going, I’m gonna come,” you cry.

“That’s the goal, sweetheart.” He’s smug, which makes him hotter. You want to roll your eyes from annoyance, but they end up rolling for entirely different reasons.

He picks up his pace, fucking you with his fingers while his tongue circles your clit. Your cunt is making the juiciest sounds, and he’s eating all of it up. He’s rutting against the side of the bed, chasing friction for himself, making the bed squeak under the two of you. 

He’s intense, but not in an overstimulating way. Everything he does is just perfect. You thank the stars in your head because not once have you had to give him instructions, a rarity these days. You’re straining to keep your orgasm back, wanting to feel this for as long as possible.

“Come on, give it to me,” he says, and you can’t hold it back any longer. 

Your orgasm crashes over you, hard, and you cry out in pleasure. Your cunt pulses around his fingers, and your thighs latch on the sides of his head as he coaxes you through it, slowing his movements down gradually. Your legs are still shaking by the time he leans down to plant a kiss over your clit.

“Holy shit,” you say, because they’re the only words you can think of after having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life.

He stands up to lean over you, wiping your juices on the back of his hand before leaning down for a kiss. You reach for his waist and start to pull his boxers down when he stops you, grabbing your wrist.

You look at his eyes, waiting for an explanation.

“You don’t need to—,”

“I want to.” God, what you wouldn’t give to have this man’s dick inside of you.

“No, it’s not that. It’s—I, um…I already came.”

You blink at him. He stands up straighter to show you, and sure enough, you look down and see a wide wet patch on the front of his boxers. Your brain doesn’t compute because it’s the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen.

“I, uh, tend to get off on other people’s pleasure more…” His voice trails off as he explains himself. 

You think about getting down on one knee, right then and there. 

“I hear there’s a chapel on the ship,” you joke.

He laughs, trying to hide the blush that’s forming on his face. “You trying to make an honest man out of me already?”

“After that—absolutely,” you chuckle, still coming down from your high. “But I’ll buy you dinner first.”

“How about a shower first?”

The water runs off your back as you watch him lather himself up. You were expecting this to be more awkward, or maybe he’d want to bolt right after. But his lingering presence felt more comforting than you’d expected.

You almost invite him to spend the night, before stopping yourself. He’s a stranger that you just met, maybe he has other plans, other people he wants to see. You don’t insist when he goes to leave.

“I’ll see you around, I hope,” he says as he’s getting dressed. And you really, really hope you do, too.

He excuses himself from your room, and the silence fills the cabin with the click of the lock. You feel a smile creep across your face before you can stop it. This trip is going to be one for the books, you can already tell.

The pool deck is crowded when you arrive shortly after lunch. The sun is especially hot today, given the lack of trees and buildings to provide shade while at sea. Still, you strap your bikini on and find a quieter corner to sunbathe in while dipping your toes in the pool. You throw your head back, soaking up the sunlight, and relax.

“Is this seat taken?” A voice breaks through your thoughts and startles you.

You open your eyes to a man you don’t recognize. He’s on the shorter side, and he could definitely use some sunscreen, judging by the bright red that coats his skin. He’s really, really not your type.

He sits down next to you before you have the chance to protest. At first, he sits way too close, so you scoot out of his way, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible. You’re polite, nodding your head to whatever he’s saying, which is a long-winded speech about how fascinating cruise ships are. 

It’s boring. Mind-numbingly boring, and this man is not attractive enough for you to pretend to be interested.  You should really leave. You’re not interested, and you don’t want to waste the man’s time, or yours, any longer than necessary.

“I should go—,”

“Wait wait, one more thing—,”

“Darling?” you hear as a familiar figure approaches from your peripheral vision.

Hyunjin. He looks down at the two of you, loose tank top, dark swim trunks, and sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose. You can’t help but beam as he sits down.

“Hi, honey,” you say sweetly, leaning into his shoulder. “This gentleman was just telling me about…sorry, what was it about boats?”

“It was cruise ships, and never mind, you’re clearly not interested.”

He gets up before you can give him a polite goodbye, which is probably for the best. Maybe you should have said something sooner, but the look on that man’s face when Hyunjin sat down was priceless.

What are you even thinking? He probably just saw you from across the way, noticed the uninterested look on your face, and decided to step in to save you from embarrassment. He’s not yours, he’s just a nice guy.

“Thank you,” you stifle a laugh as the man walks out of view. “I had no idea what he was talking about.”

“You looked like you were in trouble,” he says with a smile. “And like you needed a refill.”

He places a cold glass into your hand, the same pinkish orange drink you’d sipped on the previous night.

“Another one?” you ask, playfully. “Careful, or I might start thinking you like me.”

“I do,” he says plainly. “You like me, too.” He laughs as he finishes his drink. You feel a flutter in your stomach, like he knows exactly what you want to hear. 

“Says who?” you ask, eyebrow raised. You definitely like him, but you’re not about to give him the satisfaction just yet. 

“Says God. I went to the chapel and asked him myself.”

“There is not a chapel on board,” you laugh, snorting a bit. “I made that up.”

“There is. I just went.” His straight, convincing face makes you laugh harder.

“You’re very humble, you know that?” you tease, pushing his shoulder a bit. 

“You love it,” he winks, and your heart does a stupid little flip. To your surprise, he excuses himself, stands up, and leaves you to finish your drink and sunbathe alone. He disappears into the crowd of people, and you’re still smiling to yourself. 

You want to ask him out, maybe to dinner at your next port, but you decide against it. You like him a bit too much, you think, and it’s easier not to let yourself have something if it’s just going to be ripped away from you in the end. Korea’s far, after all.

You go to bed that night wondering what it might feel like to fall asleep next to him.

Who are you to deny yourself the finer things in life? That’s the question you ask yourself as you’re pacing back and forth in your suite, getting ready for the evening.

Maybe Korea is too far. Maybe it’s too far for anything serious, but this is a vacation. It’s five days of living your life to the fullest so you can go back and tell everyone how cool the world is. And living your life to the fullest means asking out the man who made you see stars and not caring where it ends up.

You check yourself in the mirror. It’s a beach port, and you’re hoping to spend most of the day relaxing in the sand and swimming in the ocean. Your swimsuit shows off your body, and your coverup leaves little to the imagination—exactly how you want it.

Making stops in different countries is one of your favorite parts of a cruise. It’s fun to see the beaches, the different towns, and maybe do a fun activity or two while you’re there. The locals are always helpful, pointing out the best restaurants and the places you must see.

But today you have a different mission.

You spot him hunched over the beach bar, laughing with the bartender. He notices you almost immediately, his smile wide as he waves you over. His hair is wavier today, curling at the ends. It’s fluffy, and you have to resist the urge to find out if it’s as soft as it looks.

He orders you the same drink he’s ordered for you the past few days, before leaning in close. “I want to show you something.”

You follow him down the beach, drink in one hand and your sandals in the other, before you reach an area where the beach curves inland. It’s more secluded, away from the big crowds, and the water looks calmer.

“I swear it looks bluer from this side,” he says, sitting down in the sand. You’re close enough to the water to see the bubbles from the waves, but far enough so you won’t get wet. The sight is beautiful, with the sun starting to go down, and the colors in the sky complement the ocean well.

“Why tequila sunrises?” you ask him as you look down at your drink, taking a sip.

He glances at the glass, then shrugs his shoulders. “You didn’t complain the first time.”

You huff out a laugh. “So you’ve just decided that’s my drink forever?”

“Until proven otherwise.”

“What if I wanted something else?”

His lips curve into a smile. “You’d tell me.”

It’s not a romantic answer, but something about the simplicity of it makes your heart warm. The suggestion that if you wanted something different, all you had to do was ask and he would oblige has the butterflies in your stomach going wild.

The conversation begins to dwindle as the sun sets. You look beside you, and Hyunjin isn’t looking at the sunset anymore. He has a book in his lap and is delicately flipping through the pages.

“What’s that?” you ask, gesturing to the pad of paper in his lap.

“A sketchbook.”

“Oh yeah, you’re an artist. What do you draw?”

He flips through the notebook and shows you tons of tiny sketches of different figures. A man holding a child’s hand on the beach. A couple leaned against the railing, staring fondly at each other. A woman quietly reading a book in a corner.

They’re all people. Different kinds of people, from all over the world. 

“They’re my muses.”

It’s beautiful. Not just the drawings, but the craft itself. The skill it takes to see something and then draw it out on paper, the patience it takes to make sure the lines are all right, the passion and the will to want it to get it right—it’s all so inspiring.

He has such a beautiful view of life. And not only life, but the people who make up the world you live in. 

“Can I do one?” you ask. You may not be an artist or really the best at drawing in general, but you recognize the art and the beauty behind it and want to give it a go.

He flips the book to a fresh page and hands it to you along with a pen. You look around the beach at all the people, and decide there is only one person worthy of drawing.

You turn your body to face him confidently, staring at the features on his face. He gets the hint and poses with a hand on his chin and a big smile on his face. His cheeks are all bunched up, and his eyes are squeezed shut. The sight of him makes you laugh. He looks a bit ridiculous, but it fills you with a warmth you find hard to describe.

“Sit still,” you say after a couple of minutes of silence. Your lines are jagged because you can’t stop laughing, and the light is getting lower as the sun goes down. You hope that he doesn’t judge your awful drawing, but there’s nothing you’d change about this moment.

“You look cute when you’re concentrated.”

“Shhhh! I’m working.” He barks out a laugh.

It’s hard to concentrate when every time you look up, he’s staring at you. There’s a certain glint in his eyes that makes your heart skip.

“Done,” you finally announce. 

He scoots back towards you to get a closer look. You hand him the sketchbook to show him, and he bursts out into laughter.

“It’s not that bad!” you argue, crossing your arms in defense.

“No, no, no. It’s beautiful.”

It’s objectively terrible. His eyes are uneven as hell, his nose is crooked, and his hair….you’re not even sure you gave him enough hair. And you forgot about his ears.

“It doesn’t even look like you,” you say, pouting a bit. You did try really hard, but it’s just not your thing.

“Well, I love it anyway.” 

He’s so much softer than you first thought. You admire so much about him, from the way he carries himself to his outlook on life and how he views the people around him, even strangers. 

You don’t even realize that your eyes are locked on his until he starts to lean in closer. Your lips meet, much softer than the first. He brings a hand to your cheek, caressing you gently. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, and he follows. You swear the only thing missing is fireworks behind your head.

“We have to get back on the ship,” he pulls back to whisper. “Come to my suite.” 

You nod, and he helps you to your feet, brushing sand off both of you before walking back onto the dock.

His suite is massive—on the top level of this side of the ship, with a beautiful ocean view. The king-size bed sits perfectly in the middle of the space, and there’s even a fireplace. Your company would have never put you up in a place like this.

“Wow,” you say, gaping at the room. “How successful of an artist are you?”

Maybe the question is in poor taste, but when he said artist, you assumed it was a “starving artist” kind of vibe. Not this.

But he laughs it off. “A couple of my paintings sold at a charity auction not long ago.”

Successful enough to have paintings sell at an auction, apparently. Wealth isn’t something you’d normally care about, but being successful at doing something you love is so hot.

There’s no point in dancing around it anymore. You want him badly. A grin spreads across your face as you pull him towards the bed. The nerves flutter in your stomach as you lie down, guiding him on top of you.

He kisses you with a burning passion, like you might never see each other again after tonight. He moves down from your mouth, kissing along your jawline. You thread your fingers through his hair and let out a small gasp when you look up.

There’s a mirror on the ceiling. A gigantic mirror, right above the bed. You can tell whoever designed the space tried to be fancy, adding some kind of etching details on it. Quite a choice for a cruise line, but maybe a bit exciting nonetheless.

He looks up at you when he hears you, and follows where you’re looking before bursting out in laughter.

“I’ll be honest, I had no idea that would be there when I booked this.”

“It’s kind of hot though,” you reply. He looks at you with wide eyes for a moment before going back to kissing you.

You’re barely wearing anything for him to take off, but something about him carefully untying your bikini strings sends your head spinning.

He works his way down from your neck to your chest, before kneading at your breasts and taking one in his mouth. He moves his tongue around your nipple before sucking gently, and you let out a moan when he lets go with a pop.

“I love it when you make that sound,” he sighs, taking your other breast into his mouth.

You tug on his tank top, signaling him to take it off. He peels it off his back and tosses it on the floor somewhere. He reaches down between the two of you and tugs your bottoms lower, sliding them off to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Your legs part for him instantly, and you can already tell you’re soaked. He sucks at your neck at the same time he dips his hand between your legs, and collects some of your juices before bringing it up to his lips for a taste.

“You taste so good,” he whispers in your ear.

“Let me taste you, too,” you say softly. You reach down to palm him through his shorts, and he lets out a moan into your ear. 

You push him back gently, feeling up his toned torso and pressing your lips to his neck. He still smells good after a day at the beach. You suck at the spot just above his collarbone before you work your way down to his chest, leaving a trail of kisses as you go.

“Leave as many marks as you want,” he says gently, combing his fingers through your hair. Something possessive inside you triggers, and you leave several bruises down his torso.

You reach his sharp V line and pause for a moment, untying the strings on his swim trunks and sliding them down slowly, licking your lips. His hardened dick hits his torso with a heavy thump. He’s gifted in more ways than one, to say the least.

You start by licking a slow stripe up his shaft before you chicken out, earning you a moan from him.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he says, voice low as he slides his hand through your hair to pull it out of the way. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

His words embolden you as you drag your tongue up his length again, slower, before swirling it around the head of his cock. The taste of his precum hits your mouth, making you hum around it.

“Fuck, just like that,” he says, grip tightening in your hair. He tries to keep from bucking into your mouth too soon, letting you set the pace.

You take him in slowly, relaxing your throat and letting him sink all the way in. Your head bobs up and down, your hand stroking at the base of what you can’t fit.

“Shit, your mouth feels incredible,” he groans. “Look at me, I want to see those pretty eyes.”

You glance up at him through your lashes, hollowing your cheeks as you take him deeper. His moans are getting louder, and he can’t stop his hips from bucking up into you.

“Fuck, come here,” he says, guiding you off of him slowly. “I’ll come right now if you keep looking at me like that.”

You crawl your way back up his body, licking the salty taste of his precum from your lips. He pulls you in for a kiss, and you grind down against him, the skin-on-skin contact driving you wild.

“I need you inside me,” you gasp between kisses. “Please.”

He flips the two of you around, and you giggle as your back hits the mattress. You pull him in for another kiss before inhaling sharply as he dips his hand between your legs.

“Tasting me really got you goin’, huh?” he teases, slowly running his fingers through your folds. 

“Fuck—Hyunjin, please, I need you.” You’re not ashamed to beg for him, hoping your desperation turns him on.

“I got you, baby, just wanna make sure you can take all of me.”

The stretch burns as he nudges the head of his cock inside. Your legs wrap around his legs instinctively, pulling him closer. The two of you let out a chorus of moans as he sinks in deeper, much too slow for your liking.

“Holy—fuck, you’re so tight,” he hisses in your ear, hand gripping your hip hard.

He slams in the rest of the way until he’s buried to the hilt. The fullness is overwhelming in the best way. You look up at the ceiling, the visual of him fucking you makes your head spin.

“You gonna watch while I ruin you?” he grunts in your ear as he starts to move. 

You can’t even bring yourself to respond, the feeling of him sliding against your walls makes your brain fuzzy.

“Harder,” you manage to get out.

“Yeah? You want it rough?” He brings a hand to your throat, squeezing the sides gently. The circulation being cut off sends your eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

He sets a punishing pace as you watch the reflection of him fucking you. The sounds of skin on skin clapping together fill the room, mixed with his grunts and your moans.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans, slowing to kiss your temple. “Fucking made for me.”

Your cunt clenches around him at his words. “I’m yours,” you mutter out as he picks up his pace again.

“Come for me, baby. I’ve got you.” He moves his hand from your hip and slides it between you, rubbing quick circles on your clit. At the same time, he gives your throat a light squeeze. His thrusts get sloppier as he gets closer to his own release. 

The combination sends you over the edge. You see stars, and you cry out his name as your orgasm hits you hard. Hyunjin follows right after you with a deep moan, burying himself deep as his cock pulses inside you.

He stays inside for a long moment, letting you both catch your breath. He leans down to wipe loose strands of hair from your face and press a soft kiss to your lips.

Your mind starts to race when he pulls out to get a clean towel for the two of you. You really, really like him, and the idea of flying home and never seeing him again feels like a punch to the gut.

Hyunjin opens the balcony door to let fresh air in before lying down next to you. Neither of you speaks for a long while, just cuddled up in each other’s arms, tracing lazy patterns over each other’s skin.  

“Korea’s too far,” you mumble, the sadness evident in your voice.

His hand stills for a moment before he lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, it is.” He smiles down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

It’s too good to be true, too perfect to keep. You want to bottle up these small moments you’ve had together and hold them close forever. 

“I have an idea,” he says. “What if we book this same cruise next year? Same dates, same place, same ship. I’ll even book the same room so we can have the mirror again.”

You laugh, giving him a playful slap on the arm. But you look up at him and nod your head. “I think I like that.”

“We don’t have to figure everything out tonight. But maybe we can have this again. Maybe a little more next time.”

You bring his jaw closer to yours, kissing him slowly.

“Deal.”

a/n: ahhh thank you for your patience my life has been crazy! sorry if this one feels rushed! please let me know if you liked i've been going back and forth about it all week ahaha ♡

permanent taglist: @11racha @jisuperboard @kloversung @sourtae @binniebb @b4echo @hanjinology @lynsbng @eyyyylucieeee @bbyyuuu @viisstrayy @starlostjisung @stryscribbles @miniseungkimcami @embobema @sssoulesss @awkwardlyshawna @fuzzylard @0omillo0

event taglist: @fatbitchgeek-blog @skzcodered @kloversung @viisstrayy @starjely @channlust @lynsbng @mxmx09 @clingy-ass-bitch @taekwondoe @embobema @sage-burrow @tonkshamsandwich @starlostjisung @fauxontherun @jup-exe @b4echo @madaboutminho @skzhotpot @tsumiyaa @felixstarz @deffnot-ramiyah @onthesynth @bleepracha @poody1608 @angellixmar @avchannie @ykikleekn0w @wolfchan4life234 @majessticallyme @cchapssaltteok @yessirfelix @geni-627 @monainthemoon @lorerambles @mikachux3 @hanstattoos @angelchannieeee

[joyracha]

it started out with a kiss

you meet by chance at a baseball game, so he asks you to be his plus one for a wedding. the catch? pretending to be his girlfriend for a whole weekend. what happens when you actually start to like him?

pairing: seungmin x fem!reader genre: fluff, smut content: ft. mina and sana from twice, fake dating, one bed, kissing after a couple drinks, drama! but not that much, explicit smut, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), creampie, happy ending word count: 5.2k a/n: this is my last fic for the event and i’m kinda sad it’s almost over!! thank you for all the love and support from the past month, we’ve really appreciated it! absolutely not proofread <3 ♡ m.list

a wet hot skz summer event masterlist ☼ schedule

The stadium is sweltering hot, the crowd is screeching between innings, and if one more guy spills beer on you, you might actually lose it. You usually love baseball games, and have so much fun shouting for your favorite team and eyeballing the hot players in their tight pants. Usually.

Maybe you just haven’t had enough to drink. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be having fun with your friends, leaning into them and whispering about the game, or more commonly, the players you have a massive crush on.

Or maybe you’re sitting there thinking about your date from last night, the guy who talked way too much and didn’t ask a single question about you. You didn’t even want to go, he was a friend of a friend, and you owed her a favor, and he was kind of cute, so you figured, why not? Big mistake.

You haven’t sworn off dating, but your recent string of bad dates has become particularly exhausting. You love your friends, but there’s a part of you that wants to go to these games with somebody else. A partner. Preferably in a romantic capacity. 

There’s a group of guys on the right of you, and Mina keeps leaning forward, trying to make jokes with them. They laugh and joke back, and you try your best to laugh and play along. You catch a few of their faces when you glance over, and Jesus fuck, they’re all good-looking.

Your friends are on the other side of you, definitely drunk, and having the time of their lives. You resort to actually watching the game, trying to focus on something to drown out the chaos around you. A batter on the other team strikes out, so terribly that you almost feel bad for them.

“Ouch…that’s embarrassing," you mutter under your breath.

“It’s one strikeout,” a voice from next to you says, almost annoyed. “There’s plenty of game left to play.”

You whip your head to see the man sitting next to you, smirking as he sips his beer. There’s a Giants hat on his head, which makes you laugh. They’re losing pretty badly right now.

“Giants fan?” you ask, as if it isn’t obvious.

“I take it you’re not,” he observes.

“I don’t really have a favorite,” you say honestly. “But there’s at least 5 more teams I’d pick before the Giants.”

He scoffs at that, but you catch a faint hint of a smile as he turns back to watch the game. He’s really, really handsome. You turn to your friends to hide your smile as you sip your drink. 

You make snide comments as the game goes on, and he dishes them right back at you. One of the players on your team drops a ball, and you let out a groan.

“That’s your guy?” the man whispers next to you. 

“Hush,” you say back, because it’s the only thing you can think of without making prolonged eye contact and stuttering over your words. You try to hide your smirk but can’t deny the flirty edge that the conversation has. 

You’re only half listening to Sana drone on about how she hates her new boss when the giant screen above you flashes pink. Bold words appear on screen.

KISS CAM.

The camera bounces around from couple to couple, a series of cheers echoing throughout the crowd. Sometimes it’s cute, like when the people on screen are obviously dating, but half the time it looks so awkward when random strangers pucker up just because of a little attention from the camera.

It takes a second to register when your face pops up on the screen.

Your face. And the man next to you. The man you met today, the man whose name you don’t even know.

“Do it!” you hear your friends laughing beside you, egging you on.

You turn and see his friends doing the same, patting him on the back and hollering at him. You make eye contact with him and can’t help but laugh. 

You give him a shrug. “Why not?” you say. It’s harmless. Plus, he’s stupid hot, and you’d be dumb to turn down a kiss from a hot stranger, even if it is in front of thousands of people.

“Ah, what the hell.” He sighs, smiling, and leans forward.

Your lips connect, and you hear the crowd erupt around you. You feel the sound vibrate through your seat more than you can hear it. His lips are so warm and soft, and everything fades away for a moment. It’s tender, surprisingly so. 

You break the kiss first after a few seconds. Four seconds? Or ten? You lost count, honestly. You pull back in time to see his eyes flutter open. He smiles at you, warm and genuine. God, he is really handsome.

The crackle of the announcer over the loudspeakers catches your attention, and you remember where you are all at once. You feel your chest tighten, suddenly very aware of what had just transpired.

“I’m Seungmin,” he says, and you snap out of the panic you were about to enter. 

You introduce yourself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“That’s one hell of an icebreaker,” he jokes. You both laugh, turning your eyes towards the field before the embarrassment sets in again.

You find it increasingly hard to keep your eyes off Seungmin as the game continues. He bumps your elbow every time he leaps out of his seat to cheer on his team, and you have to pretend you don’t notice. You smell his cologne when he leans in too close to make a snide comment, and you have to roll your eyes to avoid making eye contact with him. Trying to act cool, like he doesn’t do anything to you, is pure torture.

The game ends 6-5. You didn’t pay too much attention to the score, just enough to tease Seungmin when the Giants slipped behind. It didn’t matter though, they ended up pulling through and winning tonight.

“I never doubted them for a second,” he says smugly.

“You probably should have,” you say back, laughing.

Your friends get up to leave, and you turn to follow them, collecting your empty drink cup as you walk out. Just then, you feel a tug on your wrist.

“Wait! Uh…can I get your number?” Seungmin asks, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Your eyes light up as you look back at him and nod. The two of you exchange numbers, ignoring the way both of your friend groups snicker and tease behind you, before going your separate ways. 

The whole walk back to the train, your friends talk about the day, their plans, and their lives, but you’re not really listening. It’s hard to when your mind is full of the handsome stranger you’d just met minutes ago. And you especially can’t stop thinking about the kiss.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Mina says, nudging your shoulder. 

You shrug your shoulders and turn to stare out the window. “Just tired. We had a long day.”

She doesn’t buy it, leaning closer into your space to get a better look at your face.

“Are you thinking about the Giants guy?” she says, definitely teasing you. You shoot her a glare and roll your eyes, but you feel your face grow warm and hope it doesn’t show.

You get home, you shower, eat some leftover pasta that’s been marinating in your fridge, and collapse into bed. By this point, you’ve mostly convinced yourself that today was a one-off. A funny story to bring up at dinner. “Remember that one time…” your friends will say. That’s just what happens. You meet someone fun at an event, and then life takes over.

But as soon as your head hits the pillow, your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Unknown: giants won btw. in case you needed a reminder.

You roll your eyes before saving the contact and typing a reply, smiling to yourself like an idiot.

You: a whole text JUST to brag? Seungmin: just making sure you knew Y: I was THERE S: yeah but did you watch or were you distracted Y: no idea what you’re talking about S: mhm… Y: congrats on the win, don’t let it get to your head!

You find yourself checking your phone more than you’d like to admit over the next few days. Your heart skips a beat every time you get a notification on your phone. Sometimes, he says good morning and asks about your day. Sometimes he just sends a dumb meme with absolutely no context. Or provides commentary for whatever game is on that night. 

Today’s message from him starts differently than usual.

Seungmin: hypothetically You: hypothetically… S: if I needed a date for a wedding Y: okay… S: would you go with me? Y: what’s in it for me? S: you get to feel REALLY GOOD about yourself for doing a favor for little old me S: and a free trip to Jeju…

Your eyes go wide at that.

Y: it’s in JEJU!? S: yeah my cousin’s loaded or something Y: hypothetically it would be a yes S: okay great! S: another hypothetical… Y: mhm S: ….i told my mom i was bringing my girlfriend? Y: you have a girlfriend? S: NO no no i don’t have a girlfriend, that’s the problem Y: i see… S: so uh would you also hypothetically pretend to be my girlfriend? Y: you can’t tell your mom you were lying? S: it’s…complicated. i’d rather not be lectured or have her try and set me up with all of the bridesmaids

You’d also prefer that, but you don’t mention it.

Y: hmm…hypothetically one weekend wouldn’t kill me S: oh my god you’re a lifesaver Y: hypothetically? S: super not hypothetically. very realistically actually Y: okay fine. when is it? S: next weekend Y: you’re good at planning things S: please? Y: if i say yes too fast does it make me look like a loser for not having any plans already S: if you say yes too fast it makes you look like an absolute saint for saving my ass Y: would you look at that! i’m free

You close your eyes, excited for the upcoming weekend. But not too excited. That would be too obvious.

The airport is crowded and much too noisy for this early in the morning. Seungmin finds you easily, waving you down by the check-in counters. He’s taller than you remembered, cleaned up nicely, but definitely sleepy.

“Hi, stranger,” you say as you walk up to him. He greets you with a sleepy smile, and you notice how cute he looks bundled up in a hoodie and his tousled hair.

“Ready to lie to my whole family?” he says, laughing, like he can’t believe he’s about to do exactly that.

To be honest, you’re not sure. You hardly know this man, but if there’s a chance you continue seeing him, the last thing you want to do is put on a false persona or lie about your guys’ history.

By the time you settled into your seats, Seungmin insisted on getting the window seat, and you had a couple of hours to get your story straight.

“How long have we been dating?” you ask as the plane steadies after takeoff. 

“Sorry?”

“In your hypothetical world that you told your family about. How long have we been together? Where did we meet? We need to get our story straight!”

“Ahh okay. So, we’ve been together four months.”

“Specific, believable, I like it. How did we meet?”

“The truth. Baseball game kiss cam. I literally couldn’t make it up if I tried,” he laughs.

“Okay, fair.”

You talk about his family and what to expect for the rest of the flight. Every family has its drama, quirky relatives, and secrets. The flight wasn’t long enough to cover everything, but you feel confident you know who to avoid and who’s safe to talk to.

The plane lands, and you find yourself hoping they like you. Hoping that after all this, Seungmin still likes you too.

The hotel is massive, spewing bright neutral colors and modern accents. You’re still marveling at the lobby, looking at the ginormous chandelier above you, when Seungmin waves a keycard in front of your face.

“C’mon, I want to shower before dinner.”

And the room is just as nice as the lobby. It’s large, with a balcony facing the ocean attached. You’re high up enough where the noise from the street won’t bother you when you try to sleep, which you’re grateful for. The giant king bed sits in the center, surrounded by beautiful artwork.

Giant king bed.

One bed. Singular.

You set your stuff down, frowning at the arrangement. “It’s a little soon to share a bed, don’t you think?” You try to come off as playful, but your heart is beating faster at the thought of sleeping next to a man you hardly know.

“I know, I’m sorry. I should’ve mentioned that.” His apology is sincere, and you can tell this weekend is already stressing him out.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m just joking. I guess they wouldn’t really have believed us if you asked for separate rooms anyway, right?”

He relaxes his shoulders at your comment, nodding in agreement and putting down his stuff. He disappears into the bathroom, and you take the time to flop down onto the bed.

Everything’s going to be fine. People share beds all the time. Sana has slept in your bed more times than you can count after a night out, and you’re perfectly fine with her crowding your space or snoring in your ear.

You’re still thinking about a thousand different ways this weekend could go wrong when Seungmin comes out of the bathroom, showered and dressed. 

“We have a couple of hours to kill. Wanna go for a walk?”

And so you slip your shoes back on and head back down to the lobby.

The fresh air feels nice and warm with a hint of sea salt. The two of you make your way down to the beach and start to walk along the shoreline. Seungmin kicks off his shoes and rolls up his pantlegs before heading closer to the water.

You follow suit, slipping off your sandals and skipping towards the water. You flick a bit of water up with your toes, and it lands on him.

“Hey!” he shouts, laughing, flicking it back at you. You squeal and run, holding your pants up to keep from dragging them through the water.

The wet sand sticks to your feet as you pretend to run, only getting a couple of yards away before two arms wrap around you to stop you in your tracks. Your shrieks turn into laughter as you twist in his grip, trying to get away. Your feet kick in the air as he lifts you a couple of inches off the ground. 

“Put me down!” you cry out. He carries you a couple of steps before putting you down. You playfully push him, both of you still laughing. You notice the wrinkles around his eyes as he smiles, and your heart swells with joy. Just joking around like this just feels so comfortable with him. 

The two of you keep walking down the beach, commenting on the beautiful view or the temperature of the water.

“Thank you for coming,” he says after a while. “I know it’s weird and we barely know each other and—”

“Seungmin.”

“Uh…yeah?”

“Hush. I’m having fun.”

He nods, shoving his hands in his pockets and keeps walking, and you watch his worried face disappear into a smile.

The sun starts to set before he suggests you head back to change into clothes for dinner. You agree, and he loosely wraps his arm around you as you walk back to the hotel.

The rehearsal dinner is held in a banquet room just off the hotel’s main lobby. The room is draped in white fabric and well lit, the kind of setup that would cost at least three or four times your rent. You hardly have any time to admire it before you’re shuffled through conversations, meeting Seungmin’s relatives.

“This is my girlfriend,” he says about a dozen times before you have to remind yourself that that’s not actually true. You feel your heart flutter every time a relative comments on how cute the two of you are, though.

His aunt whispers something in his ear that makes his ears go red. His uncle tries to get the two of you to take shots with him before Seungmin eventually whisks you away from the conversation.

There are a few toasts, most of which drone on forever, with Seungmin fidgeting in his seat. You want to ask if he’s okay, but you have a feeling that he isn’t up to talking about whatever family-related issues are causing his stress.

“Almost done, I promise,” he says low in your ear as he guides you to what you’re hoping is the last group of people.

There’s a woman in a long white dress, not quite a wedding dress, standing at the front of the room towards the podium, accompanied by a tall man in a suit. You’re guessing the bride and groom.

“Seungmin!” The bride says warmly. “I’m so glad you came!”

“Hi, Yuri. Congratulations.” His voice is flatter than you’ve ever heard it before.

“Cousin!” his cousin exclaims as he pats him on the back. Seungmin introduces him as Jiho, his mother’s sister’s son.

“You must be the girlfriend! I’ve heard about you,” Yuri says. She flicks her eyes up and down, as if she’s assessing you. You’ve gotten it from most of his family members, but she’s been the most obvious one to do it tonight. Probably bride confidence, or one too many glasses of champagne.

“All good things, I hope,” you say, sipping on your glass of wine.

“We’ll let you get back to it,” Seungmin says quickly, leaving you almost no time to wish them a good evening before he guides you out of the room and to the elevators.

“Are you okay?” you ask. He’s noticeably stiffer, adjusting his clothes like they’re too uncomfortable now.

He makes eye contact with you and seems to realize that he’s sending a million different distress signals. “I’m fine, sorry. It’s just family stuff.”

You nod your head in understanding, not wanting to push it further. The elevator dings and you step into it, feeling the warmth of his hand on the small of your back.

“Do you think they suspected anything?” you ask as he unlocks the door to your room, trying to be lighthearted.

“Never, you did perfect,” he says, with a genuine smile you haven’t seen since earlier on the beach.

You sit on the bed, letting Seungmin use the bathroom to shower and change into pajamas first. This is possibly the strangest first date you’ve ever been on, if you can even call it that. You text your friends back, updating them on the day, and lock your phone before they can barrage you with questions you don’t feel like answering.

“All yours,” he says, stepping out of the steamy bathroom. He’s drying his damp hair with a towel, fully in his pjs, but he looks so handsome like this. You stop yourself from staring too hard before you take your turn getting unready from the day.

By the time you come out of the bathroom, Seungmin’s not in the room. You notice the balcony door is slightly open and see a figure standing outside, leaning against the rail. You slide the glass door open and join him outside.

“All good out here?” you ask.

“Yeah, just…thinking.”

“About?”

“I’m really glad you came with me.” He turns to look at you, sincerity written all over his face. He gently grabs your arm and pulls you in for a hug.

He smells so nice. You get a whiff of his shampoo mixed with his laundry detergent, but then catch something else underneath it all. It’s just Seungmin. A man you hardly know who has managed to weave his way through your every thought in just a few weeks.

You pull back a moment, offering a smile, and he tucks a damp strand of hair behind your ear. Your pulse quickens, the way it always does when he looks at you like that. 

“Can I…?” he starts, tipping his head down slightly, and you know what he’s asking.

You answer by closing the gap yourself.

It’s soft, much softer than the first. There’s no crowd counting down, no friends drunkenly cheering you on–just you and Seungmin, under the moonlight in a quiet moment. He wraps one arm around you to pull you tight against him, and you snake your hands around his neck to ground yourself. The ocean’s waves crash in the background faintly, and you feel the nerves from before fall away. It’s more comfortable than you were expecting, not that you were expecting anything.

When he finally pulls back, he keeps his forehead against yours. If he loosens his grip on you, you might fall over. You hope he doesn’t.

“Ready to lie to more people tomorrow?” he laughs sheepishly.

You laugh, kissing him again in response. If there’s something still unsaid between you, it can wait until tomorrow.

The morning is a bit of a blur. You get dressed and make your way over to the venue, a beautiful building that seems like it was made just for weddings. Seungmin is antsy the whole time, holding your hand through it all like letting go would mean certain death. The ceremony is beautiful, and you sit right beside him through it all. It’s been a lovely weekend being a plus one at a wedding for people you just met yesterday.

At the reception, you’re standing near the edge of the dance floor waiting for Seungmin to come back from the bar when Yuri comes over to you.

“Hi!” she says brightly.

“Congratulations again,” you say. “The ceremony was beautiful.” “Thank you so much.” She glances around, maybe looking for someone. “It must be so weird for you to be here.”

“Yeah, maybe a little,” you shrug. “I don’t know many people, but Seungmin’s been the best at introducing me to everyone.”

She takes a sip of her champagne. “You’re brave for showing up to your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend’s wedding. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it.”

Her voice replays in your head. Your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend's wedding.

Your head tilts sideways, and your heart sinks to the floor. Maybe you misunderstood her. “Sorry, what?”

Yuri’s face flickers with surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry. He must not have told you…”

Your heart feels like it’s going to fall out of your ass. You excuse yourself, setting your glass on the nearest surface and high-tailing it out of there. You pass the bar on the way and catch Seungmin’s surprised face when you don’t stop.

The elevator doors close, and you realize how fast your heart is beating. Who cares if the bride is his ex-girlfriend? You certainly don’t have room to be jealous, he isn’t actually yours to be jealous over. Still, it would have been nice to get a heads-up.

You throw your shoes off when you get into the room and head straight for the balcony. Your stomach starts brewing something nasty, and you feel like you might throw up if you don’t get your breathing under control soon. The breeze feels nice against your face, and the ocean serves as calming white noise as you take deep breaths.

The balcony door opens behind you, and you hear slow footsteps behind you. You don’t turn around.

“You could have told me,” you say, trying not to cry.

“I know,” Seungmin says as he approaches the railing next to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? Why are you even here?”

“I’m here for my cousin, and my mother would have thrown a fit if I didn’t come.” You scoff. “But still, I should have told you. I just didn’t know how.”

You stay silent for a moment. “I get why you didn’t.” The words surprise you as they come out of your mouth. But it’s the truth. You do get it. “It still would’ve been nice to know.” “That’s fair. I really am sorry.”

You both fall quiet for a moment before you break the silence again. “She’s marrying your cousin?”

He laughs for a moment and nods his head. “Yeah. Like I said, family drama.”

“I’m really sorry, that’s a lot to handle.”

“It’s fine. It was years ago. We dated in college, they got together after we broke up. I’m pretty sure there was some overlap, but it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Do you…,” you start to ask a question, but hesitate. You’re not afraid of the answer, per se. You’re afraid of the insecure girl bottled up deep inside, afraid that revealing her means showing your true feelings. Leaving everything out in the open, vulnerable. 

“Do you still love her?”

“No.” He answers quickly and without hesitation. It eases the butterflies in your stomach, but now he knows. He knows that you’d been thinking about it, that you care. 

You nod slowly, accepting his answer. He takes a step closer, grabbing a hold of your hand as it dangles by your side. The air on the balcony shifts as he takes a step closer, dragging his hand up your arm before resting it on your cheek.

“Let me show you.” It’s a request that you gladly accept with a nod as he leans in to kiss you. It’s gentle yet passionate, showing you he means what he says. 

He walks you backwards back into the hotel room, sliding the glass door behind you as he guides you back into the room. The lamp lights are on, and your shawl and heels are kicked to the corner as you try not to trip on them. The fan humming does little to mask the noise of your heavy breathing between kisses.

Seungmin’s hands are everywhere. Cupping your face, sliding down your neck, gripping your waist, making good on his word. He kisses you deeper, tongue sliding against yours as he backs you further into the room.

He guides you down gently on the bed, and you can feel how hard he is through his dress pants. It makes the heat between your thighs grow, your mind suddenly filled with nothing but want. He snakes a hand behind you to unzip your dress and pull it down.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” he says, kissing down your body. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

You’re left in your lace bra and panties, and his mouth comes down hot against your body as he leaves open-mouthed kisses all the way down. His hands cup your breasts, and you let out a moan when his thumbs brush against your nipples.

“Seungmin, please,” you breathe out as you pull him closer.

He unhooks your bra and drops it to the floor. His mouth closes around your nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue around it. You tug at his hair in response, basking in the feeling.

Your hands fight with his shirt buttons as he crawls back up your body to kiss you again. He takes off his dress shirt and peels off his undershirt, exposing his lean torso. He looks so hot all disheveled like this.

You reach for his pants next. “Off,” you demand. He sheds the rest of his clothes quickly, cock springing free. It’s hard and bright red, already glistening at the tip. You reach down between you to give him a couple of strokes, and he lets out a deep moan at your touch.

He hooks his fingers into your panties and rips them off next, grabbing at your thighs to spread them wide. You’re soaked, you can feel it. He stares in awe.

“So fucking perfect,” he mutters before situating himself between your thighs.

He places a kiss on your inner thigh before dipping between your folds, licking at your entrance. He works his way around your sopping cunt, and you feel the heat in your belly grow.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you moan as he moves to pay attention to your clit.

He hums against you in response, sending shockwaves through your whole body. He finds a rhythm that makes your head spin and your muscles tighten as you head barreling towards your peak.

“I’m gonna—fuck, Seungmin!” You cry out, hips bucking and shaking against him as you come in his mouth. Your body is trembling, and he slowly works you through your orgasm.

You pull him back up once your body stops shaking and taste yourself on his lips. You kiss him sloppily, not bothering to stop for a breath. “Need you, right now.”

He positions himself at your entrance, pausing for a breath. “Ready?” he asks. You nod, feeling like you’re going to explode if he waits another second.

He pushes in slowly, keeping eye contact with you the entire time. You feel the stretch inch by inch, feeling so perfectly full as he bottoms out. He drops his forehead against yours when he’s fully buried inside you.

“I could stay here all fucking night,” he moans. “You feel so fucking good already.”

“Seungmin, please move.”

He starts with slow, steady thrusts that quickly turn rough and passionate. The bed creaks below you in time with his movements. You wrap his legs around him, making him hit deep inside. You let your nails rake at his back, and he lets out a deep moan.

As soon as he angles his hips and hits the sensitive spot inside you, you’re seeing stars. His movements quicken, and the room is filled with the slapping of skin against skin. You feel the heat come back, about to bubble over once again.

One of his hands slips between you, thumb making circles around your clit in time with his thrusts. You feel your body squeeze around him, cunt pulsing, and your vision whites out.

“Holy shit, Seungmin!” you cry out his name over and over as he fucks you through another orgasm.

He follows moments later, the feeling of you clenching around his cock throwing him into his own orgasm. His hips stutter as he buries himself deep inside you, choking out your name as he comes. He collapses over you, and both of you try to catch your breath.

After a minute, he rolls over next to you and pulls you close, tracing circles on your back. Your skin is slick with sweat, and you feel sticky, but it all feels so right.

“Please stay,” he whispers against your hair. “After this weekend. I want to take you out. Properly.”

You nuzzle your face deeper into the crook of his neck. The balcony door is still cracked open, letting in a gentle breeze that cools your warm skin.

“I’d like that,” you say, looking up to give him a gentle kiss. 

It may have been a weird weekend, but you have no regrets. Not when it brought you here, on an island in the middle of the ocean, in the arms of a ridiculously dorky, handsome man.

a/n: thank you all so much for your support! sorry again if this feels rushed, i had so much fun writing it i've just been SO busy!!

permanent taglist: @11racha @jisuperboard @kloversung @sourtae @binniebb @b4echo @hanjinology @eyyyylucieeee @bbyyuuu @viisstrayy @starlostjisung @stryscribbles @miniseungkimcami @embobema @sssoulesss @awkwardlyshawna @fuzzylard @0omillo0 @jup-exe @jaziona92 @cassie264 @chikmentendies @inlovewithstraykids

event taglist: @fatbitchgeek-blog @skzcodered @kloversung @viisstrayy @starjely @channlust @mxmx09 @clingy-ass-bitch @taekwondoe @embobema @sage-burrow @tonkshamsandwich @starlostjisung @fauxontherun @jup-exe @b4echo @madaboutminho @skzhotpot @tsumiyaa @felixstarz @deffnot-ramiyah @onthesynth @bleepracha @poody1608 @angellixmar @avchannie @ykikleekn0w @wolfchan4life234 @majessticallyme @cchapssaltteok @yessirfelix @geni-627 @monainthemoon @lorerambles @mikachux3 @hanstattoos @angelchannieeee @niku0704 @vxyselectric @lrkshyejdyeuehsh @tboboee

[deadpanjisung]

𓇢 rupture 𓂅 ࣪

pairing: ex!seungmin x afab!reader

genre: smut, ANGST

synopsis: you see your ex a year after a messy breakup and seungmin decides that he wants to talk about it.

wc: 3k

cw: use of y/n, reader hates seungmin, manipulative seungmin, fingering, oral sex (m. rec), choking, unprotected piv, creampie.

a/n: another repost </3. i usually have a hard time writing seungmin for some reason but this is actually one of my favs i've written. (i also wrote this before i turned to the sub seungmin agenda). accidentally deleted this yesterday (this fic is cursed is2g)

It had been more than a year since you last laid your eyes on his frustratingly handsome face. The unfamiliarity that it brought to you made you feel uneasy. He looked as good as always, dressed in his usual luxury attire. He didn’t notice you at first, but you certainly noticed him; it was almost impossible not to look at Kim Seungmin when he entered a room. You hoped that he didn’t pay mind to your figure standing in the farthest corner of the room.

Your best friend invited you to her company’s anniversary dinner, promising that Seungmin would be on a work trip during that weekend. This weekend. But, of course, there he was, looking as gorgeous as ever. And, currently, staring right at you. You diverted your gaze, feeling like you incited him to look over at you by burning your stare on him. Seungmin quickly turned his face away from you to speak to a coworker. 

“Hey, Y/N!” Chan greeted excitedly when he spotted your table. “How are you?” He gave you a quick hug. You hugged him back.

“I’ve been okay. How are you, Channie?” You asked. “It’s been a while.”

“I’m good! Work’s been crazy lately. I started studying for my PhD in so i can get a higher position.” He answered, raising a cup of wine to his lips. You proceeded to have some small talk before he said, “I have to leave now, but I’ll come back. It was so nice to see you!”

You nodded in agreement, waving at Chan as he left. You avoided meeting face to face with Seungmin, spending the whole night glued to your best friend’s side. You greeted many people that you knew when you were still dating him, talked about your life in vague detail, and drank your sorrows away with expensive white wine. 

The last time you saw him was at your shared loft, in your bed. You had spent the previous few months arguing and ignoring each other. All of which led you to your inevitable breakup. You had sex one night after breaking up, before he moved out and he promised you that you’d talk about things in the morning. Nonetheless, when morning arrived neither Seungmin or his things were around. You had avoided seeing him or hearing about him since then; having spent too much time sulking about your break up. 

“Earth to Y/N!” Your friend interrupted your thoughts. “I’m going to get something from my car, stay put.” You opened your mouth to say that you’d accompany her but she was already walking down the stairs.

You realized that you lost sight of Seungmin too and decided to play it safe by waiting for your friend in the bathroom. Your heart was beating at a mile per minute, feeling anxious to be alone, to be vulnerable enough to bump into Seungmin. You stared at yourself in the mirror. Your calm demeanor betrayed your innermost feelings of anxiety and uncertainty at that moment. Your friend still hadn’t returned, she would’ve texted you. With a sigh, you decided to return to your table. 

“So, my eyes didn’t betray me, then?” You heard a familiar voice behind you, as you walked out of the bathroom. You stopped dead in your tracks when you heard him. “Nice to see you, Y/N.” Your heart sunk. How can he be so casual after everything you went through?

“I’d rather you never talk to me again, Seungmin.” You turned on your heels to face him. Seeing him up close made your head and heart ache. “Take a good look because if things go my way, you’ll never see me again.” You turned around again and descended down the same stairs your friend took. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as every emotion you had felt during the last year took over you at once. The cold night would bother you if you weren’t so angry at Seungmin. So angry that you nearly ran over to you car, in heels nonetheless. Your friend was nowhere to be seen and in that moment, you decided that a goodbye text would be enough for her as she was comfortable around her coworkers. 

You sat in your car for a good moment before your friend called you.

“Hi, Y/N. Is everything okay? I didn’t see your message and I had EVERYONE looking for you. Seungmin said you left. I’m sorry for leaving you alone.” She spoke frantically.

“Don’t worry. I was just a little shook from talking to him after all this time. I’m fine.” You downplayed but the lump in your throat gave you away.

“Where are you? You don’t sound fine.”

“I’m on my way home,” You lied. “I wasn’t feeling too hot, anyways. I’m fine. Thanks for the invite!” 

“Do you want me to come over?” She asked.

“No, honey. I’m going straight to bed, honestly.” You fake chuckled.

“Okay, Y/N. Take care, please. Call me if you need anything.”

You hung up after that. Finally deciding to leave the parking lot. You took the long way home, distracting yourself with music, with tears blurring your vision and your astigmatism wasn’t helping. Still, driving alone made you feel content. 

About 20 minutes later, you pulled up at your apartment building, marking your passcode on the keypad, You took off your heels, walking barefoot to the elevator’s cold floor. You sulked as you watched the elevator ascend through the different floors. Your makeup was a mess, of course, your eyes were barely visible with the running eyeliner and mascara. This is your all time low.

Or so you thought.

As soon as you stepped outside the elevator, you were faced with Seungmin; who was startled to see you so devastated. He didn’t say anything, just pulled you into a hug. You tensed up, feeling foreign in his arms. You cried on his shoulder, staining his expensive suit; you didn’t regret that. Then, you felt angry. You pushed him out of your way and walked towards your apartment without looking back to him. But, you felt him hot on your tracks. You tried to unlock the door as quickly as you could, but he was already behind you.

“Y/N.” You heard him say. 

“Seungmin, what the actual fuck are you doing here?” You asked, turning around to face him with the door open. His expression was nonchalant, he just softly pushed you aside to enter your apartment. “You can’t just come in here! What the fuck, Seungmin? Go away.”

“Nah.” He deadpanned. “You should really change your passcode, though.” You sighed. 

“I’m calling the cops.” You threatened.

“You and what phone?” He asked, raising your phone in his hand.

“I hate you! I hope you know that.” You said, “what are you fucking doing here?”

“I wanted to check up on you.” He replied, casually whilst sitting down on your couch.

“Are you fucking for real right now?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Because! Where the fuck were you when I was depressed out of my mind after you abandoned me and never spoke to me again?” You shouted at him. “Or when I got laid off work because they found out that I wasn’t the rich dude’s girlfriend anymore? Or when I had to beg for my parents to pay for this goddamned apartment for a few months because they almost evicted me? Fuck you, Seungmin. Don’t act so concerned. You’re just pissed because I bruised your ego.”

“God, what the hell? You could’ve called me if you were struggling so much!” He raised his voice. You laughed.

“How could I, really? After you told me we would talk things over. But I wake up to see that you used me for sex and left without a word!” 

“You told me you didn’t care if I left!” He argued.

“Well, you certainly showed me that you didn’t care.” You snapped. “You knew that I was struggling, but you didn’t give a fuck.”

He stared at you for a minute, while you paced around the kitchen.

“You have twenty seconds to get out or I’ll go to the neighbor’s and fucking call the cops, I swear to God.” You warned him.

“Okay.” He answered and stood up, walking towards the front door. He exited your apartment and instantly entered again. “Okay. The timer’s reseted.”

“Fucking hell.” You cursed under your breath. “What do you want, Seungmin?”

“I told you, I’m here to check up on you.” He repeated. “Maybe a year too late… I guess.”

“You’re horrible.” 

“So you’ve told me.” He said. “I’m not leaving until you chill out, though.”

You scoffed and walked over to your bathroom, taking your time to wash off all the ruined makeup and tears that this night left you. You changed into your usual nightgown and walked back to the living room. You were pissed off at how comfortable he looked in your apartment.

“Are you happy now?” You asked, “can you leave?”

“Not yet.” He said. “Some guy texted you.” Your blood boiled at that comment. “He seemed concerned.”

“So?”

“So, who is he?”

“Why do you care?” You inquired, he answered with a shrug.

“He seems to care about you.” He pointed out. “Is he your boyfriend?” You rolled your eyes. 

“Not every guy I talk to is my boyfriend, you know.” 

“Just asking.”

“Why do you care, anyways?” You scoffed, sitting down on the couch opposite to him. He sighed and took his time to answer.

“I don’t know…” he started, “I think a part of me wanted to get back together with you.”

“As if.” You snickered. “You’re just pissed that I don’t worship the ground you stand on.”

“I mean, yeah. But, I haven’t found anyone that matches the chemistry that we have.” He looked at you with a smirk. 

The same smirk that made you take notice in him, you felt the same pull that you always did when you fought while you were together. The truth was that you couldn’t resist Seungmin’s cold charm, which made you melt for him. You knew that you were scooping low. You were throwing away all the progress you had made during the last year with just a smirk from the person you most despised and adored in this universe.

“I hate you, Seungmin.”

“Too bad because I think I love you.” He said, scooting over to you.

Almost every fiber in your being was telling you to leave. Almost every fiber. You undeniably still wanted Seungmin. You couldn’t resist him, that was a fact. Such a fact that you leaned over to meet him in the middle despite knowing that this would not end well. 

Things never ended well when it came to Seungmin.

He crashed his lips against yours, making you feel electricity; something that you hadn’t felt since he left. You wanted nothing more than to kick him out… and to welcome him in. His lips felt hot against yours, his warm hands caressed your bare cheek, ever so lovingly that you almost forgot what he did. Your lips moved in unison for what felt like an eternity. Seungmin’s hands explored the exposed skin on your body, until they tugged at your nightgown; enticing you to take it off. 

Without a thought, you took off your nightgown, leaving you in your underwear before a very clothed Seungmin. He smirked when he saw you, hands grabbing at your waist. Your hands found Seungmin’s dress shirt, carefully unbuttoning it until his broad shoulders and lean torso were entirely visible. He kissed you again, the kiss that made your world spin; the kiss that represented everything for you. Your lips burned in lustful detest. And you felt yourself fall deeper into the trance you fought so hard to get out of.

You ran your hands through his bare torso, leaving goosebumps on his soft skin. He moaned into your kiss, separating from you. He looked at you for a moment, your lips missing the heat of his. He dove into your neck, sucking harshly against it, trailing dark marks all over your neck in silent possessiveness. 

“I’d rather do this in my room.” You moaned while he continued kissing down your neck. He gave you one last kiss before standing up and walking towards your room’s door. He looked back at you. You still couldn’t comprehend that this was actually happening. That he was back in the comfort of your home, where he last broke your heart. 

You walked towards your room, entering behind Seungmin in silence. You heard him unbuckling his belt, lowering his suit pants and underwear alike. Seeing Seungmin naked was a sight that you were never tired of. From his strong shoulders, the moles on his skin, the veins in his cock; you loved everything. You took everything in, suspecting this would be the last time you saw him like this. 

His fingers found their way into your seeping core, the wetness inside you welcomed them warmly. Oh, how you missed having a part of him inside you. You cursed at yourself for letting him in again in the first place. The feeling of his digits inside you was unmatched to anyone else’s, the way he thrusted them in and out of you, made you moan louder than you usually allow yourself to.

The hardness of his erection pressed against you, dribbling the slightest bit of precum on your skin. He pressed harder, grinding his hips into your bare ass. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groaned. You let his fingers slip out of you, quickly lowering yourself onto your knees. 

Seungmin took his chance to grab your hair into a ponytail as you took his throbbing member into your mouth. It took you some time to get used to the saltiness of his precum when you swirled your tongue over his cock. His grip on your hair tightened with every bob of your head. Your mouth felt heavenly around him, and his cock felt heavenly inside of your mouth. You took him in deeper, feeling the patch of hair on his pubic bone tickle your nose. Seungmin abruptly pulled himself from you, enticing you to stand back up.

“If you kept going, I would’ve come.” He explained. “I know your pussy has been waiting for me.” 

You nodded, lowering yourself onto the bed. His lips captured into a passionate kiss, the calm before the storm. You felt his swollen tip prodding against your own swollen folds. You sighed, knowing that there will be no turning back once he’s back inside you. Seungmin looked at you for approval, you nodded in silent agreement. 

He thrusted into you gently, then all at once. You moaned at the feeling of his long cock inside of you, a feeling that you missed more than you admitted to. Seungmin groaned when he was fully sheathed inside of you. Your warmth engulfed him entirely. The toxicity of your relationship would shift into a secondary plane whenever you felt each other like this. Impossibly together; nothing better to mend it than the sexual chemistry that you both had. 

Seungmin thrusted deep inside of you, setting a slower pace at first; taking his time to feel your cunt flexing around him. You took your time to remember how every vein of his long member felt inside of you too, to feel how he filled you up so casually yet so intimately. You almost cried remembering the last time that you found yourself like this with him. To see how things have changed in a year, still how deep Seungmin had you in his grasp. The magnetic pull that he had on you was everlasting, you’re certain about that. You understood that sometimes soulmates weren’t meant to work out, that such profound a connection would’ve been too powerful for such a simplistic world. 

You were so lost in the feeling, trying to etch it in your soul that you barely even notice Seungmin’s moans as his thrusts sped up. You were so full of him, a feeling that you had forgotten over the year. And you couldn’t help but curse at yourself for allowing something so intimate to happen again. Seungmin thrusted deeper into you and you felt his sizable length against your cervix, a painfully delicious sensation. You moaned his name during your trance. And he whispered that he loved you before coming inside of you. 

Your moans became louder once you felt the ardent ropes of his seed filling your insides. Another feeling that you wouldn’t get tired of. Seungmin’s expert fingers found your clit, rubbing senselessly at your sensitive bud. You grabbed his free hand, bringing it up to your neck. Seungmin hesitated before wrapping his long fingers around your throat, his grip was soft, but enough to take you over the edge. You swore that your life flashed before your eyes as you came with a soft curse, followed by his name. Your cunt gripped his softening cock as he attempted to pull out of you. You hissed at the empty, yet full feeling of his cum inside you again. Seungmin kissed your shoulder as he laid down beside you, panting.

“Fuck, Y/N. I fucking love you. I can’t live without you.” He whispered and placed a kiss on your lips. “You’re the love of my life.”

You sighed.

If only sex could resolve the myriad of issues between the two of you. 

The following morning, Seungmin woke up to the rays of sun shining through the window and an empty bed. He sprinted up to his feet, to find you, to profess his love to you. He wanted to beg for you to take him back, to forgive his wrongdoings, to fall in love with him once more. He had had sex many times since you broke up, but nobody ever felt like you did. He couldn’t moan love confessions to anyone but you.

He made his way to the kitchen, seeing a piece of paper next to a fast-food chain bag. 

‘Thank you for closure. You have two days to bask in this apartment. You didn’t even notice that I was moving out. Tell the landlord thanks for me, the lease is still in your name. Take care. Love always,  Y/N’

In that moment, Seungmin’s eyes filled with tears. So, this is how you felt when he left. What a catastrophic experience. Nonetheless, he is certain that his heart will find you again.

It always does. 

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵

© deadpanjisung || reposting, translating, modifying or plagiarizing is strictly prohibited

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵

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[seo--changbin]

𝐄𝐯𝐞'𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐞

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy"

bang chan x fem!reader | 1.5k words warnings: tension, infidelity, slight dubcon, heavy sexual tension, they are implied to have sex in the end, a lot of religious references

The light in the janitor’s room briefly flickers with a distant buzz, and you gulp, attempting to swallow down the uneasy feeling bubbling in your chest as you stay cornered between the shelf and his arms caging you in, leaving you no room to escape.

“There’s nowhere to go now.”

He’s looking at you with eyes hard with determination and something else that you’re too afraid to admit you understand. He’s only a breadth away, nothing but air filled with tension and every last bit of your morality that’s separating the two of you and stopping you from doing something you’d regret once you’ve sobered up from the lust that’s flooding your system. 

His eyes dart to your lips, the ones you’ve applied cherry lip gloss to moments ago—watching how you dart your tongue over them absent-mindedly because of how dry they suddenly felt—before returning to your eyes, holding your wide-eyed stare. He feels the slight shudder in your breath as your pulse spikes, your pupils blown wide as adrenaline courses through your veins. 

“You can say no.”

His face inches closer, and you find yourself holding your breath, your body tensing up and freezing you on the spot. And as he stops by your neck, his lips centimeters away from your skin, you wonder if he could hear how hard your heart is drumming against your chest.

“You can push me away, curse me out, run.”

Your vanilla-scented perfume floods his senses, the kind that smells even richer, sweeter, the longer you wear it, the one you rolled on hours ago with precision, right at your pulse point because you've read from somewhere that it helps make the scent stay longer. 

It's the kind of scent that drives him absolutely crazy. 

He hums before stating the obvious truth. 

“But you don't want to,” he huffs out an airy chuckle. “You wouldn't.”

You can feel his breath fanning against your neck, mirroring yours, deep and ragged with every ounce of self-control quickly draining away. When his nose brushes against your skin, just to inhale more of you— “Chan…” you whimper, your hands moving to push against his chest to create a little more distance, yet he doesn't budge. Not when your arms do not push hard enough to get him away from you, and you realize that he's right. You can run. You could push him away and curse him out and leave this cramped janitor's room and call it a day, and yet… you couldn't. 

You didn't want to.

But the moment your eyes catch the glint from your engagement ring that rests on your finger as your hand stays on his chest, you're suddenly reminded that you're playing a very dangerous game.

You wouldn’t even be here in the first place if you would've just ignored it all—ignored him and the way he quite literally tumbled into the conference room on his first day, fashionably late and interrupting the meeting, all the while sporting a sheepish smile and muttered apologies, disheveled hair, with his tie haphazardly tied around his collar with zero finesse. You could have ignored the way he sat beside you, being the only spot unoccupied, fumbling to fix said tie in a way that made you realize that he has absolutely no idea what he's doing; you just had to butt in and offer to help. And you could have, and most definitely should have, ignored the way your cheeks heated up when your eyes met with his when he thanked you with a dimpled smile, or the way the smell of his perfume still lingered in the air the moment he got up to leave the conference room once the meeting was done. 

But you didn't. 

Instead, you decided to play along, to gamble even though you were sure to lose, just because you thought that everything between the two of you was innocent—or at least, that was what you tried to convince yourself. 

Coy smiles, stolen glances, innocent touches that linger way too long, and jokes that start to blur the lines between humor and flirting—temptation really has a way of luring you into its trap, like a snake that would coil around you, wrapping around you so tightly as it sizes you up before devouring you completely. 

Venom drips from Chan’s fingertips as he tilts your chin up so your eyes look up at him again, tearing your gaze away from the diamond that sits heavily on your finger. 

“I know you want this,” he breathes out. “I know you want me.” Goosebumps break out on your skin when his thumb grazes your lower lip, the gloss sticky under the pad of his finger. “So stop resisting it. Give in.” 

"I… I can’t,” you whisper out. “I’m getting married soon and—” You shake your head as you pull away from his grip, shutting your eyes tightly as the shame and guilt creep up on you. “If Minwon finds out, who knows what will—" 

“If he finds out,” Chan’s words were laced with venom, dripping and intoxicating, the light above the two of you casting a dangerous glint in his eyes. “But you wouldn’t let that happen, won’t you?” He coils a piece of your hair around his finger, the strands gliding against his skin. “Wouldn’t wanna ruin this little piece of paradise between us.” 

Paradise. 

You swore before that there was no harm done, that you were only being friendly to the new guy at work, and the coffee Chan leaves on your desk every Monday and Wednesday morning meant nothing. Or that the lingering touches that he leaves at the small of your back every time he has to squeeze past you in between cubicles during working hours were just a figment of your imagination. You didn’t pay any mind to how, every time you had to work overtime, Chan was always there, more focused on helping you finish your reports instead of focusing on his own tasks, his body towering over yours as he clicked away at your work computer, his cologne filling your senses as he fixed the charts you were stressing over. You tried not to eavesdrop on your coworkers’ conversations in the break room, talking about how Chan was such a good lay and how he was able to draw out orgasm after orgasm just by using his hands and his lips—god, how much of an amazing kisser he is. 

You tried not to think about it while on the train home, especially when you’re in the same space as Chan, offering to ride home with you after work just because he gets off a stop before you. You tried not to think about his hands and how their veins popped out as he gripped the pole beside you, shielding you from the other passengers as the cab got cramped, swallowing the desire brought by curiosity as you remembered your coworker’s conversation. When you got home that night, with your fiancé fast asleep beside you, you tried to forget about Chan’s warmth and how broad he felt behind you, and tried to sleep away the thoughts about what it might be like being under him and how skilled his hands might be and how his lips would feel against yours.  

“You know, I really don’t mind waiting,” he says, tucking the hair behind your ear, fingers grazing your cheeks. His touch scorching your skin. “You can go home with your lover and play house while the fun lasts.” Chan finally cups your cheek, turning your head to face him. “But when you’re with me, we both know that you’re mine.” His lips nearly graze yours, almost touching. “You’ve been mine since the day I laid eyes on you.”

As Chan’s hand travels down to your neck, his fingertips brushing against the thin chain of your necklace, the snake tightens its coil around you, trapping you, his gaze locking you in place. “Say it,” he says, voice controlled but demanding. “Say you’re mine and I'll give you heaven.” Your heart thrums against your chest, desire pooling in your core; the human desire you kept locked up pulls against its restraints. And when he pulls you even closer to him by your necklace, gold twisted in his fingers, the shackles break and set your selfish desires free as he promises, “I might even take you there.” 

Your lips finally crash into his, a raw, desperate moan ripping from your throat as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him in even closer. Chan’s hands greedily roam all over your body, strong hands squeezing your breast and your ass, hiking up your leg to wrap around his hips just so he could press himself against you. Buttons fly in all directions as you claw at his dress shirt, just so you can run your hands across the broad expanse of his chest. And when you pull away, just so you can mark his neck, nipping at his Adam’s apple, your phone rings at your desk. 

Minwon sits alone at a fancy dinner table, wondering if you can still make it to your 8pm dinner reservation. 

a/n: it's been a while since i wrote something and this has been marinating in my drafts for quite some time. i wanted this to be a longer fic but in the middle of writing, it seemed fiting that this would be a shorter oneshot blurb kinda thing. anyway, let me know what you think!

[madsspector]

Just Like Candy

________________________________________

★ Synopsis:

“She's just like candy, she's so sweet,

But you know that it ain't real cherry, know that it ain't real cherry”

Or

Hyunjin eats you out.

★ Pairing: Hyunjin x reader

★ Additional information: Written in 2nd person, Established relationship, Inspired by the song “Candy” by Doja Cat

★ Warnings: Reader has a vagina, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Face sitting, Penis in vagina sex, Multiple orgasms

You have been watching him. Your eyes focused on the lollipop held in between fingers as he mindlessly scrolled on his phone. He has multiple within the last hour. The artificial cherry flavoring has stained his lips and his tongue. You eventually break the silence.

“Babe, that’s the third lollipop you’ve had in the last hour.”

“Yeah… what about it?”

“Your entire mouth is stained red.”

Hyunjin huffed humorously. “So? It won’t kill me.”

“Uh huh…” you said.

He just shrugged and went back to scrolling. You let out a soft sigh. If you were being honest, you were bored. That comment was just to get a conversation going. When you spend time with him, his presence alone was enough. Not this time. You wanted his attention. Some excitement. Anything.

Suddenly, a thought crossed your mind. A smile appeared on your face. Maybe this will get his attention. You weren’t sure how this was going to turn out. It was a bold move, but you were bored. 

Only one way to find out.

“You know…” you snickered. “If you needed something sweet to lick and suck on… you could’ve just asked me.” You did your best to keep away the smug look that threatened to appear on your face.

That certainly got his attention.

He halted his movements. His thumb stopped scrolling and he stopped sucking on the candy in his hand. He put down his phone and sat up to look at you. The expression on his face was one of curiosity.

“Is that right?”

“Mhm.” 

Hyunjin stood up and walked over to you. He hunched over where you sat on the couch. You felt caged with how his body hovered over yours. The intensity of his expression made you gulp.

“If you wanted my attention…” he muttered. A thumb reached up to brush across your bottom lip. “You could have just said so.”

Before you could reply, you were swept up and away from the couch into the bedroom. He dropped you onto the bed. “What are you doi— mmph!” You asked but was interrupted by his lips on yours.

He kissed you with such urgency it gave you butterflies. His lips were warm and plump. They had a residual stickiness from the sugary lollipop. He tasted like cherry. His lips. The tongue that made its way into your mouth. Everything. 

His body slotted between your legs. Its heat melded in with the heat of the passion between you. He had a slender hand placed on your face, a thumb brushing across your cheekbone. His other one traced up and down your thigh. Your hand moved into his hair, giving it a light tug. A moan slipped out of him. 

The kiss ended sooner than what you wanted when he pulled away. When he did, a string of saliva was the only thing keeping you connected. Both of you were quietly panting. You could feel his breath fanning on your lips from close proximity. 

His lips found yours again, but in a slower, deeper kiss. The hand from your thigh had slithered under your shirt. It went further up until you felt it grab your chest. You gasped against his mouth when a thumb swiped across your nipple. It traced circles until it was hard before alternating to the other side.

It wasn't long before his hand drifted back down your torso. “I look forward to tasting you…” he whispered. He traced the hem of your pants. “But I want to touch you first. I want to feel you.” 

He dipped his hand into your underwear. Your evident arousal left no resistance when his fingers glided along the sensitive flesh. You took in a sharp inhale when he found your clit. Slow, circular motions had pleasure pulsating in your nerves. 

His fingers started moving in quicker motions. You gasped when he switched to dip his fingers in you. “You're so wet. Is this all for me?” He muttered. “So warm…”

He pumped them in and out of you. You pressed yourself up against his hand. Fingers like his were perfect for this. Just long and slender. Efficient in filling you up and hitting spots you might not be able to reach yourself. 

His eyes were on you, watching you closely. Studying every micro expression. Every furrow of the brows. Every hitch in your breath. When he curled his fingers, you moaned. Your hips jolted.

“You like that?” he said. You nodded, but he just shook his head. “I want you to tell me.” 

He knew you did. It annoyed you because he already knew exactly what made your body sing. “Yes,” you breathed. “Please keep doing it.”

Your prayers are answered and the speed picked up. Every other thrust, his fingers curled within you. The pleasure was thick and syrupy in your belly. You whined, hiding your face in his neck. 

The sounds he pulled from you had him throbbing. “Does that feel good?” Hyunjin whispered in a husky tone. “You're doing so well.”

“S'close…” you slurred. Your words were muffled by his neck. 

He pulled you away so your face was visible. “Don't hide. I want to see you come apart on my fingers.” 

You were grinding against his hand. Obtaining any pleasure from the fingers in you and the thumb rubbing your clit. Your orgasm was approaching quickly. The burning in your belly threatened to boil over.

A few more pumps of the finger and circles against your clit finally pushed you over. Your body convulsed in waves. You moaned as you clenched around his fingers. Your pussy throbbed. You rolled against his hand to ride it out before relaxing against him. 

Heavy breathing faded into soft pants. Intense pleasure was replaced with a tingling sensation. You winced when he pulled out his fingers. He put them in his mouth and groaned. The taste that hit his taste buds was delectable. He needed more.

“You taste heavenly…” he said. “Let me taste more of you. I need to devour you.” He grabbed your hand and pressed it against him. “Can you feel what you do to me? You… your taste… it drives me crazy.”

Your hand felt his cock. He was hard and aching in his pants. You groped him, which earned a deep groan in your ear. The sound reverberated through you down to your pussy. Fuck, you were throbbing again. 

“Please…” you begged. 

Your pants and underwear were then removed from your legs. He grabbed onto you, flipping over so you were on top. “Sit on my face, baby,” he said. “Lemme taste you. Please.”

You crawled up until you hovered over him. There was no time to prepare when he grabbed your thighs and sat you on his mouth. You gasped loudly when you felt his tongue. It was wet and warm against your cunt. 

It didn’t take long before he started licking and sucking at the flesh. You were still sensitive, so every touch had you jolting. It was overwhelming and intense. You were moaning, nonetheless.

He moaned loud the moment you touched his tongue. You tasted divine. He devoured you like a starved man. Loud and messy like he was drinking up the nectar of ripe fruit. 

You were sweet. Like the lollipops he ate earlier. You weren't any real cherry, but neither were the sweets. It was addictive. Good thing he had a sweet tooth. If you were candy, he could eat you until it made his teeth rot. 

“Nngh fuck,” you groaned. “So good…”

You gasped when he stuck his tongue in your soaked cunt. He stiffened it so he could thrust it inside you. Molten pleasure pooled in your lower abdomen. Burning hot within you. You rolled your hips, fucking yourself against his tongue. His nose was used to grind your clit against.

He groaned when you started grinding against his face. His hand palmed himself in his pants. You grinding on his face had him throbbing. He wished he could sink himself into that pussy instead right now, but he focused on you. If he were honest, he could cum from this alone. 

You seemed to have other plans.

You stopped moving, but he kept going. “Baby wai—” you got cut off with a moan when he sucked on your clit. You pat his head. “Baby, wait. Let me ride you.

He pulled away and looked at you. The bottom half of his face was glistening. His eyes were dark, swallowed up by his pupils. He was shakily panting through his lips. He stared at you with barely contained lust. It made you shiver.

“Yeah?” he breathed out.

You nodded. “Yes. I need you in me. Please.” How could he ever deny such a sweet plea?

His hands fumbled with his clothes. He shoved his pants and underwear down, enough off his hips so his hard cock sprung free. It was aching and dribbling precum. He couldn't be bothered to pull his clothes off all the way. He was completely desperate and needed you now.

No time was wasted when you scooted downward and over him. You sunk down on him with no resistance. A collective moan left both of you. Watching you put him in with ease had him groaning. You were so warm and tight. He felt like he could cum right then and there.

You had no patience to wait because you started moving shortly after. “Shit. I needed this cock badly,” you moaned. “So big, baby. Filling me up so good.” 

He grabbed onto your hips. The wet sounds of skin slapping filled the room. You could smell the sex in the air. It was exhilarating. You couldn't get enough.

“Needed this pussy too, baby,” he said. “Feels amazing.”

When you decided to lift yourself off and sink back down, he thrusted up to meet halfway. You cried out when it hit a spot that made you see stars. No one else's cock satisfied you like this the way his did. 

Your second orgasm was approaching, but so was his. You were bouncing on him at a relentless pace. It was looming closer. He just groaned, gripping onto your hips.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “ ‘m gonna cum.” 

“Me too. I'm so close.” 

You kept moving, now without abandon. Release was just around the corner. He beat you to your next move when he rubbed quick circles onto your clit. You wailed when your orgasm crashed into you. Your body convulsed with pleasure. 

He hissed. “Fuck—”

Your pussy clenching around him pushed him over. He arched his back and came with a guttural groan. His hips jutted forward, coating your insides with warm cum. Slowly, the high faded and the two of you were left exhausted.

You pulled yourself off. Some of his cum dribbled out of you. You laid on top of him and kissed him. He tasted less like artificial cherry and more like you. You pressed one more chaste kiss on his lips before laying your head on his shoulder.

“So…”

“So?”

“Was it as good as the candy?”

He let out a breathy laugh. “Even better,” he muttered, kissing your forehead.

“Just what I'd like to hear.”

[historyfilms]

wrong idol! - hyung line

pairing: skz!ot8 x idol!reader

summary: now why did you make your crush’s contact name similar to your best friend’s????

ss: 15

── .✦ smau, abbreviated swearing, other idols cameo, accidental confessions, do some of these count as angst?, use of y/n, tried to keep it gn!reader

a/n! i ran out of room so this is two parts lol

maknae line

── bang chan! ⋆˙⟡

── lee know! ⋆˙⟡

── changbin! ⋆˙⟡

── hyunjin! ⋆˙⟡

⋆ pictures aren’t mine, everything is from pinterest

⋆ everything here is fictional and isn’t meant to be a proper representation of any real life people <3

[historyfilms]

wrong idol! - maknae line

pairing: skz!ot8 x idol!reader

summary: now why did you make your crush’s contact name similar to your best friend’s????

ss: 15

── .✦ smau, abbreviated swearing, other idols cameo, accidental confessions, do some of these count as angst?, use of y/n, tried to keep it gn!reader

hyung line

── han! ⋆˙⟡

── felix! ⋆˙⟡

── seungmin! ⋆˙⟡

── i.n.! ⋆˙⟡

⋆ pictures aren’t mine, everything from pinterest

⋆ everything here is fictional and isn’t meant to be a proper representation of any real life people <3

[o6frog]

felix and his skz.

[lahbarsaglini]

👑 characters | skz-ot8 (member x reader format)

💡 plot | a collection of short scenarios where each member of stray kids realizes they're falling for you. these are the small turning points when friendship begins to blur into something deeper, and the heart perceives what it wants before the mind can fully catch up.

💛 genre | romance, fluff, slice of life, idol AU, soft angst.

🔔 warnings | slow burn, emotional vulnerability, a tiny bit of alcohol, very mild angst, implied romantic tension, overthinking/insecurity, mentions of idol lifestyle pressures and long-distance relationship concerns.

bang chan

it finds him between responsibilites, when his guard is lowest.

he’d killed the ceiling lights earlier, to let the studio settle into blue and purple. the colorful LED has always been one of his favourite things about his space whenever he was working by himself. 

the track is looping, still unfinished, waiting for him to decide what comes next as he rolls his shoulders back, stretching in his chair. his phone is face-up beside the keyboard. he checks it without thinking.

seen.

no reply.

he knows why. you fall asleep like this often—mid-conversation, the warmth of your bed overtaking you before you can say goodnight. he knows because you always apologize in the morning, even when you don’t need to. he knows you’re tired, because you’ve been getting home later than usual because of work. he knows which days leave you the most drained. he knows you’ve been having trouble waking up even with the alarm on, and he has this sixth sense telling him that you’ve been skipping breakfast.

he knows too much now.

the little things. the patterns. 

the way you soften when you’re tired. the way you pretend you’re not.

he types, deletes, types again.

his final decision is that he would never forgive himself if he woke you up because your notification sound was on.

so he lets you sleep. schedules the message instead.

good morning

hope you slept well

no apologies, okay? at least one of us is getting some sleep ㅠㅠ

don’t forget your breakfast

he stares at the screen longer than he should, guilt pressing into his chest. 

this is the part where he’s supposed to stop.

he knows what this is becoming, and he knows he can’t let it grow. 

it feels like crossing a line and drawing one at the same time.

there’s too much work. responsibility stacked on responsibility. seven people who trust him to stay steady, to stay focused.

so he chooses discipline.

but care still slips through the cracks.

lee know

he's always trusted hiw own rhythm, but it starts quietly syncing to yours.

he’s never thought twice about bending his life around anyone. 

he does whatever he wants, whenever he wants.

until he starts following your schedule without noticing.

he’s in the middle of rehearsal one day and doesn’t complain when you text him last minute, saying you’ve got twenty minutes free for a quick bite.

he doesn’t mind eating standing up, doesn’t mind rushing, doesn’t mind both of you checking the time religiously because you have to be in a meeting soon or because he’ll be on a plane in an hour.

he notices it then—how natural it feels. how easy.

none of it bothers him the way it should.

over lunch, he watches you talk with your hands, and the way you wrinkle your nose when you think, honestly, just every detail.

he drops comments that sound casual but aren’t—mentions how he doesn’t like wasting time, how he prefers clarity, how he’s not the type to linger on maybes.

then he looks at you and says it simply, smooth:

“i’m leaving for a bit, because of the event in macao. think about it while i’m gone.”

when you ask "about what?", his mouth curves, just barely.

“when I get back, we’re going out.”

changbin

he's never needed approval, but he starts asking for it.

he’s always trusted himself. his own judgement, his instincts. 

then suddenly, he wants your opinion.

if he comes off as intimidating. what he should learn how to cook first. whether he should keep something or throw it out.

he texts you a lot.

should i keep my hair short or do i let it grow? 

should i bulk more for the next comeback?

he knows you don’t understand training schedules or muscle groups, but he asks anyway. 

it’s not that he doesn’t trust himself anymore, he just uses it as an excuse to talk to you more often. 

to turn something serious into something shared.

he shows you his routine, tries to explain things over a video, but it doesn’t work. 

somehow, he finds a way to drag you to the gym with him.

as you are doing your own thing, he can’t help but glance your way more often than the mirror.

he can see you’re struggling a little, so he corrects your posture, hands always careful, but lingering for half a second too long. 

he gets shy about it, laughs it off, looks away.

but inside, oh boy, he’s glowing.

you didn’t have to be there. he knows you don’t enjoy working out. 

but you chose to. 

it hits him while he’s dead lifting and he has to stop his rep to sneak one more look while you’re drinking water.

you’re sharing his space, his effort, his passion, even if clumsily. 

that sincerity hits him deep. 

for someone who’s always been proud of his strength, this feels different, stronger somehow.

not something to prove, but something to offer. 

hyunjin

art has always been where he puts the things he can't name.

he only wanted a quiet night.

he texted his favourite florist as soon as his schedule was done.

the flowers were already waiting for him when he got home, fragrant and soft, filling the apartment.

he pours himself a glass of wine, lets that one song from yungblud fade into the background, and sets up his canvas.

his hands move freely. the sketch begins abstract, loose—until it isn’t.

the center of the flower curves into something unmistakable.

your eyes.

he freezes. doesn't know how it happened.

it felt instinctive, like something took over him. 

looks over his shoulder to check if changbin isn’t at the door to see what he’s up to.

he laughs under his breath, takes another sip of the alcohol, tells himself it’s nothing. 

but he adds the tilt of your gaze, the look you give him when he says something foolish.

leaves it unfinished. black and white. 

not important, he tells himself.

jokes on him, he doesn’t sleep.

all night, memories surface without permission—the way the wind moves your hair, the way you tuck it behind your ear, the way you look at him when you’re listening, really listening.

at dawn, he goes back.

dips his brush into watercolor and fills in your exact shade, carefully.

he knows what this feeling is.

he just doesn’t know how to offer it to you without breaking something sacred.

han

it starts with a slip.

you’re fixing your mascara while looking at your phone’s camera, frustration written softly on your face. 

without thinking, he says it—pretty. 

in korean. out loud.

the silence after is deafening.

you smile. thank him. go back to what you were doing.

he forgets how to breathe.

he tells himself it’s fine. tomorrow will reset him.

well, it doesn’t, joe. 

he grows awkward, overthinks his jokes, trips over his own confidence. 

embarrasses himself during a game with your group of friends, feels stupid when you laugh—until later, when you pull him aside.

“thank you,” you say. “i had a horrible day. but you made me smile.”

that night, his heart didn’t calm down. 

the next day, at rehearsal, he’s useless at hiding it.

someone comments on his smile. he doesn’t bother denying it.

he answers one of the boys with that line you love from your favorite TV show:

“we’re planning a june wedding.”

felix

he's always been careful with people's feelings. yours especially.

your phone buzzes while you’re away, lighting up again and again. 

he glances, thinking it might be urgent. he doesn’t mean to read—but the words stick.

your best friend messages you multiple times:

i think this is getting out of hand, sweetie

ur a smart, gorgeous and incredible person

and i know you like him a lot

u clearly care about him in more ways than one

but he’s an idol

he goes out there in the world and meet new people everytime

im not saying he wouldn’t be loyal but-

could you ever do a long distance relationship? can you handle the hate his fans might throw at u if they figure it out?

what if it ruins your friendship? he’s a precious person to you

he understands everything in that moment. he doesn’t want to be the reason you get hurt. 

doesn’t want his name, his face, his career to weigh on you like a burden. 

so he softens. he’s more careful. chooses his words a little bit better. makes sure you eat, that you get home safe, is aware if you’re not smiling as often. 

when you tell him that you need some space, that your exams are coming up (the perfect excuse), he smiles like he always does.

hits you with that:

“good luck ✨ i’ll always be here for you ❤️"

five days pass without a reply from you.

then he realizes—too late—how unfair the situation is for you.

probably thinks too much about it. 

plus, his mom told him how easily warmth can be mistaken as something else.

goes over and over about how he feels about you.

does he feel the same?

and then he realizes how he misses you—the absence of your laughter, the way your fingers used to twist his rings when you were thinking...

he wants to be the one you come back to. 

his phone lights up again after a week. he glances over without thinking, half-expecting a family call or something urgent because you’ve been silent. 

but when he sees your name on the screen, he quickly grabs his phone and secretly prays that you still think of him as more than a friend.

seungmin

it begins with music, the way most things do with him.

he shows you his playlist casually, under the excuse of practice, pretending he just wants something new to rehearse.

he watches your face carefully as you scroll down, as if the songs might reveal something about him he’s not ready to say out loud. 

when you hesitate, he nudges you gently. “Just tell me.”

you suggest a hozier track, “work song”, half-joking, unsure of yourself and if it would match his style.

he listens to it as soon as he get home, all the way through. you don’t have to know he rushed his driver thrice.

“very emotional song,” he texts you that night, and nothing else.

oh, but he spends the week rearranging it instead. 

he’s busy testing harmonies, adjusting keys, wondering why this particular song won’t let him go anymore. 

he records a version that feels like his, but also, somehow, like it’s meant for you.

well, you were the one to suggest the song after all. 

right? “right, seungmin?” he asks himself.

when he sends you the file, he checks his phone obsessively and that’s something that chan clocks it.

he doesn’t give a shit if his band mates are making fun of him for keeping his eyes on the screen.

he knows you don’t understand music the way he does. he’s very much aware that you don’t know the first thing about technique, so your feedback won’t be precise.

still, he waits.

it’s not validation he’s craving, but connection.

your reaction, your thoughts.

and somewhere between checking the phone and replaying your voice in his head, he realizes:

he wants to know what you felt listening to him.

about the song, of course.

but, maybe… also about him? 

i.n

he listens to you talk about your life—the ordinary parts, the parts he never had.

about deadlines and professors, about coworkers who frustrate you, about dreams that feel both close and impossibly far away. 

your life sounds steady, grounded in ways his never was. 

he’s been on the road since he was a kid—training rooms, stages, airports—always forward, always watched.

he admires how seriously you take your future, how you build something brick by brick while he’s been living in moments. 

it inspires him more than he’s ready to admit. 

he starts wondering what it would be like to exist beside you, not under lights, not as someone people point at.

just as himself. just as a man.

then doubt creeps in. 

you’re incredible—driven, capable, whole.

he wonders what he could offer you beyond stories and absence. wonders if he’s grown in the right ways, or just the visible ones.

and that’s when he knows.

he wants to become someone who can walk at your pace.

he wants to become someone worthy of growing with you.

not ahead or behind you, of course—but together.

[willowas519]

STOP PUTTING YOUR OC UNDER “X READER”!!!!! I DONT WANT TO READ YOUR STINKY LOVE STORY, *I* WANT TO BE THE LOVE STORY!!!!

[thereaderinyourmind]

PROLOGUE pt. 1

This story unfolds within walls that leave no escape, where time weighs heavily and emotions become more acute.

Walls that imprison the body but not the heart.

There are painful waits, words that don't come, looks that confuse.

Here, every emotion weighs twice as much: fear is sharper, sweetness rarer, love more dangerous.

There are silences that wound, gestures that save, and feelings that blossom where they shouldn't.

Those sensitive to mature themes, psychological tension, slow romance and moments of unexpected tenderness, are invited to proceed with awareness.

7:30 AM, January 20th.

NorthBridge Structural Group Offices, Midtown Manhattan.

CHAN

The elevator opens with a metallic clang, and Chan enters the still-nearly empty corridor of the executive floor.

He walks down the executive floor corridor with a stride meant to appear confident, but his body betrays him: slightly hunched shoulders, slow breathing, eyes lined by a night too long.

He's not wearing a jacket; he left it on his office chair hours earlier. The sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing tense forearms, crisscrossed by clearly visible veins.

The fabric is a little creased, like him.

The top button is undone, not for style, but for air. On his wrist, the stainless steel watch shows a time that shouldn't belong to a man who hasn't slept.

The room is still bathed in that milky early morning light, when the sun hasn't decided whether to shine or stay out. He holds a black folder under his arm filled with documents he's checked at least three times.

He holds it tightly as if it contains something extremely fragile.

After a few steps, he reaches his destination.

He raises his hand and knocks twice on his boss's door.

«Come in.»

Chan enters. The smell of strong coffee and fresh paper greets him.

His boss, Richard Hale, CEO of NorthBridge, sits behind the desk, glasses perched on his nose, his expression stern but not hostile.

«Good morning, Sir.»

«Good morning to you too, Chris. What do you have for me?»

Chan places the folder on the table and opens it with a precise gesture.

«These are the updated documents for the new building complex. I've reviewed the deadlines, recalculated the costs of materials, and verified the availability of workers for the start of construction.»

The boss flips through the pages, then looks at him over his glasses.

«You've been working all night, Chris.»

Chan breathes in slowly, as if trying to hide his fatigue.

«I wanted everything ready by this morning.»

The man shakes his head in exasperation and slowly flips through the pages.

«Has the cement supplier confirmed the timeline?» he asks without looking up.

«Yes. I spoke to them last night. We can start within two weeks.»

The boss nods, then looks up at Chan.

«And the workers?»

«Already assigned. I've prepared a list with shifts and skills. You'll find it in the last section.»

Silence.

The boss closes the folder and pushes it gently toward him.

«Great job, Chris. As always.»

Chan doesn't really smile, but his eyes do.

«Thank you, sir.»

He closes the folder and picks it up.

«Now go home and rest. You've been working like a madman for three nights straight...»

«But sir, i have to go to the sports center to check on the construction site—»

The man immediately interrupted him good-naturedly.

«You'll go this afternoon. The workers know what to do. You've done enough for now...you're not a robot, you're a human being. You need rest too...please.» says the middle-aged man.

Chan often stayed late at the office, even staying until the next day. The staff were now well acquainted with his habits.

«Okay, sir, i'll take your advice.»

The man smiled and nodded happily.

«Go on, son, i don't want to take up any more of your time...but before you go, stop by Hyunjin's office and compliment him on the floor plan he sent me yesterday. That boy is quite good with a pencil.»

Chan smiled at those words.

Oh yes, Hyunjin really knew how to use a pencil.

«Sure, have a good day.»

When he leaves the office, he pauses for a moment in the hallway.

He takes a deep breath, as if trying to free himself of an invisible burden.

He heads to the coffee maker on the floor and makes a coffee to take to Hyunjin.

He's probably stayed in the office to finish his work...

7:46 AM, January 20th

NorthBridge Structural Group Offices, Midtown Manhattan.

HYUNJIN

Hyunjin's office is a perfectly organized chaos: scattered papers, sharpened pencils, metal rulers, sketches hanging on the walls like works of art.

He is bent over the drawing table, wearing a soft white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The fabric slides naturally over him, revealing his slender yet defined forearms.

He wears elegant black pants, comfortable enough to allow him to move freely as he shifts from one sheet of paper to another.

His hair, slightly disheveled, falls in front of his eyes, and every now and then he brushes it back with a slow, almost distracted gesture.

Morning light streams in through the large windows and illuminates the drawing table where Hyunjin is bent over, headphones in his ears, his pencil gliding across the paper with an almost natural grace.

He is redesigning the main entrance to the complex.

Soft lines, precise curves, notes written in elegant handwriting.

A light knock makes him look up.

Chan is in the doorway, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

«Good morning, i see you've been up late too...» he says, entering with an amused smile.

He places the cardboard cup carefully on the desk, without making a mess.

Hyunjin removes an earbud and smiles slightly.

«Thanks, Hyung. You know, staying up all night reviewing tables has its benefits.» he says, taking his coffee slowly and carefully.

He blows lightly on the surface and takes a slow sip. As soon as the liquid touches his tongue, a satisfied sound escapes him.

«I still can't believe you don't drink coffee. With the work we do...without coffee, i could die...»

Chan chuckles.

«I told you, i don't like the taste.»

«What if you add sugar to it? Would you like it?» he asks curiously.

«No, i prefer water.»

Hyunjin smiles exasperatedly as he takes another sip of coffee.

«How are the floor plans going?»

The architect sets his cup on the desk and shows him the sheet he was working on.

«I'm sorting out the layout. I want the entryway to have more natural light.»

Chan observes carefully and then he smiles satisfied.

«Richard told me yesterday he wants to see everything by friday. And also, he liked your work that you emailed him yesterday. He really liked it.»

Hyunjin lowers his gaze, a satisfied smile touching his lips. «I had no doubts.»

Chan laughs softly.

«Arrogant.»

«I'm just being realistic.»

Chan shakes his head amusedly and leans against the table.

«I was thinking…this weekend we could all have dinner together. You, me, and the others. It's been a while since we've all seen each other. Work always keeps us busy.»

Hyunjin looks up, surprised but happy.

«I'm in.»

Chan nods, satisfied.

«Perfect. Then i'll organize.»

«Well, after i'm done here, i'll take a break. I'm going home to rest. I'll be back here tonight to finish the other projects.»

«Yes, I'm going home too. Richard made me, he said i have to rest.» he says, rubbing his eyes slowly.

«Hyung's right, you work too much...you need to rest.»

«Yes, but you need it too...» he says, gently scolding him.

«Not as much as you...now go, otherwise you'll distract me and i won't be able to finish the work.»

He picks up his pencil and ruler, continuing to draw.

Chan chuckles and turns to leave.

«Okay, see you tonight.»

«Bye.»

8:10 AM, January 20th.

Rikers Island Jail

CHANGBIN

The penitentiary is a place that never sleeps.

The fluorescent lights are always on, the hallways always filled with noise: footsteps, keys, slamming metal doors, voices bouncing off the walls.

Changbin enters his office with a tense expression.

He's already had a difficult morning.

«Hey, are you okay?» a colleague asks.

«No» Changbin replies without thinking. «Two inmates decided that this morning was the perfect time to start a fight. And one even tried to challenge me.»

The colleague whistles.

«Again?»

«Again.»

Changbin rubs the back of his neck, then sits at his desk. He opens a file, leafs through it, and makes a note.

Every now and then he sighs, irritated.

An inmate passes by in the hallway and makes a provocative remark.

Changbin looks up, his eyes hard.

«Do you want another disciplinary report? Or maybe you want me to extend your sentence for a few more years?» he says in a low, controlled voice.

The inmate immediately falls silent and is led back to his cell.

Changbin returns to his papers.

He's tired, stressed, irritated.

But he chose this job; it gives him an unnatural pleasure to see criminals behind bars.

9:32 AM, January 20th

Harlem Hospital Center

MINHO

The operating room is bathed in white, almost unreal light.

The air is cold, controlled, and the regular beeping of the machines sets a rhythm that feels like a metronome on everyone's nerves.

Minho enters last, as always.

The automatic door hisses shut behind him.

He's wearing a sterile gown, a mask, his hair tucked under a cap.

Only his eyes are visible: dark, focused, sharp like a freshly sharpened blade.

«Good morning, everyone.» he says in a calm voice as he approaches the operating table.

It's not a greeting: it's a signal.

The beginning.

The patient is already ready, monitored, asleep.

The operation is delicate: a cerebral vascular malformation, one of those that leaves no room for error.

Minho pauses for a moment, surveying the operating field like a general studying a war map.

Then he holds out his hand. «Scalpel.»

The nurse hands it to him immediately.

His fingers don't tremble.

They never tremble.

Minho begins to work with small, precise, almost elegant movements.

Every gesture is pure concentration and experience.

«Dr. Lee...» says one of the young specialists «the blood pressure is stable.»

«Good» Minho replies without looking away. «Monitor it every ten seconds. Not every thirty. Every ten. I want margin.»

The boy nods, a little tense.

Minho notices.

«Breathe.» he murmurs, still without raising his voice. «If you tense up, you'll miss the details. And details are everything.»

Then he continues operating.

«Bipolar forceps.»

The nurse hands it to him.

Minho uses it with a delicacy that contrasts with the tension in the room.

«Dr. Smith...» he says, turning to another assistant, «I want you to look at this. See this bifurcation? This is where many people go wrong. You don't have to follow the obvious line. You have to follow the most logical one.»

The assistant approaches, holding his breath.

«Understood, Doctor.»

Minho sighs softly.

«Don't tell me you understand. Tell me what you see.»

The assistant swallows.

«The bifurcation... it's deeper than it looks. The lateral vein is more fragile. If we touch it, we risk a hemorrhage.»

Minho nods.

«Exactly. Now shut up and watch.»

He continues working, his hands steady, his breathing slow.

The room is silent except for the beeping of the machines and the faint sound of the instruments.

«Suction.»

«Yes, Doctor.»

«Come on, guys.» Minho says, with that calmness that's more authority than kindness. «This isn't an operation. It's a balance. And we're the ones who mustn't let it fall apart.»

Long, tense minutes pass, but Minho never loses control.

Every now and then he tilts his head, observes, evaluates, decides.

It's like watching an artist paint a picture that no one can afford to mess up.

Finally, after one last precise gesture, he steps away from the table.

«It's done.»

The assistants breathe a sigh of relief.

Minho removes his gloves with a fluid, almost elegant movement.

«Now cover the patient, take him back to his room and when he wakes up, call me immediately.» he says.

Then he adds, in a lower tone:

«And remember one thing: you're not here to be good. You're here to be reliable. Being good is a luxury. Reliability is not.»

He turns toward the door and leaves.

The operating room door closes behind him with a soft, almost muffled sound.

Minho pauses for a moment in the sterile corridor, letting the warmer air touch his sweaty skin beneath his cap.

He slowly removes his mask, revealing a tense face, his cheekbones slightly red from the effort, his eyes still focused, as if the surgery wasn't truly over.

He walks toward the filter area, his steps silent, measured.

Every movement is controlled, but his body betrays profound tiredness: his shoulders stiff, his back seemingly carrying an invisible weight.

He washes his hands with automatic, almost ritualistic gestures. The water runs over his fingers, washing away the sweat, but not the tension.

«Doctor, the surgery went very well.»

A young nurse smiles at him, trying to lighten the mood.

Minho nods slightly.

«I know.»

It's not arrogance.

It's awareness.

It's responsibility.

He dries his hands, then removes his cap. His hair falls to his forehead, slightly damp.

He runs a hand through his locks, as if to restore order within himself.

An assistant approaches, still emotional.

«Doctor...that bifurcation was really complex. I don't know how you—»

Minho interrupts him with a calm wave of his hand.

«It's not a question of how. It's a matter of not making mistakes.»

The assistant lowers his gaze, respectfully.

Minho sighs softly, then adds:

«Remember this: security doesn't come from trust. It comes from the fear of losing someone. It's what keeps you awake. It's what makes you precise.»

The assistant nods, impressed.

Minho turns, ready to leave.

But before taking a step, he leans against the wall for a moment.

Just a second.

A second that no one notices.

His breathing slows, deepens.

His eyes close.

And the thought comes, inevitable, like a whisper he can't ignore:

Every life I save...reminds me of how many I could lose.

He opens them again.

His expression becomes impenetrable, professional, perfect.

He pushes himself away from the wall and starts walking again. His figure recedes along the sterile corridor, straight and composed, but with a thin shadow trailing behind him.

A shadow no one sees.

A shadow he always feels.

10:15 AM, January 20th.

George Washington Educational Campus

JISUNG

The music room is already alive when Jisung enters, with his usual light gait.

The door closes behind him and the sound of the instruments hits him like a wave: guitars out of tune, drums beaten mercilessly, laughter, chatter, a chaos that would be unbearable for anyone.

For anyone but him.

Jisung puts his bag on the floor, runs a hand through his hair, and smiles.

A real smile, the kind that lights up his eyes.

«Okay, guys...» he says, clapping his hands once, loudly. «Let's pretend this is a civilized place.»

The students laugh.

It's always like this: he enters, and the atmosphere changes.

Jisung takes a guitar from the stand, lifts it delicately, as if it were a precious object.

He tunes it with quick, confident movements, then plays a short sequence of chords, soft and clean, that fills the room like a caress.

«This is today's rhythm. Listen, don't memorize. Feel it.»

The students fall silent.

It's amazing how he manages to capture their attention without raising his voice.

Jisung walks between the desks, watching the students' hands on the strings.

«You...» he says, pointing to a boy who is pressing too hard. «Not only are you hurting yourself, but you're hurting the guitar's feelings.»

The boy looks at him, confused, almost amused.

«But guitars don't have feelings...»

«Oh yeah, think about it for a second. Pretend that guitar is a girl...if you pluck the right strings, a perfect melody will come out, but if you pluck the wrong ones, well, she'll give you a hard time...and trust me, i know what that means...»

His students chuckle, and he smiles.

«Your fingers should be light, not heavy.»

He gently takes his hand and adjusts his fingers one by one.

The boy blushes slightly but nods and begins to play the correct melody.

«Better?» asks Jisung.

«Yes, professor.»

«Nah don't call me professor, it makes me feel old.» he says jokingly.

The students laugh at his statement.

Jisung smiles, but then turns serious, focused.

He approaches a girl who has been playing an out-of-tune note for five minutes.

He doesn't say anything.

He kneels beside her, takes her hand, and guides it across the strings.

«Like this. Slowly. Breathe. Music isn't about rushing...it's about expressing yourself through it.»

The girl looks at him, surprised by the sweetness of his statement.

Jisung stands up, runs a hand over the back of his neck, a little embarrassed.

«Okay, now everyone together. One, two...and three.»

The class starts.

It's not perfect.

It's not even close to perfect.

But Jisung smiles anyway.

Because he feels something warming in his chest: the passion, the growth, the life vibrating in the wrong notes of his students.

He walks among them, corrects, encourages, jokes, pauses, listens.

Every now and then he closes his eyes, letting himself be carried away by the imperfect melody.

And in a moment of pause, while the students laugh at a wrong chord, Jisung leans against the piano and thinks:

If i could stop time, I'd stop it here. In this room. In this chaos that makes me feel alive.

Then he straightens up and claps his hands again.

«Okay, break over! Let's start again. And this time...let's try not to destroy the harmony of the universe.»

Laughter.

Guitars start again.

The music fills the classroom again.

And Jisung, at the center of it all, smiling, unaware that that morning, so ordinary, so full of life...will be one of the last before everything changes.

10:30 AM, January 20th.

New York Capital Technologies

YONGBOK (FELIX)

Felix's office is a small universe that thrives on its own light.

The large window lets in a soft sun, which settles on the scattered papers as if illuminating them one by one.

There are Post-it notes everywhere: yellow, pink, green, with notes written in a slanted, rapid, almost anxious hand.

Three cups of coffee: one full, one half-full, one already cold. They describe his morning better than any words.

Felix sits at his desk, hunched over his computer.

His back is slightly hunched, his shoulders relaxed but not too much. His eyes, dark and focused, skim across the screen with a speed unlike anyone else's. His fingers move across the keyboard as if playing a piano.

He's developing a new program.

A complex function, full of variables that don't want to cooperate.

«Okay...if i implement this logic...» he mutters to himself, unaware that he's speaking aloud.

He pauses for a second.

He tilts his head.

His eyes narrow.

Then he starts typing again, faster, more decisively.

The phone vibrates.

Felix looks at it, sighs, and answers without taking his hands off the keyboard.

«Hey...yes, I checked the data. Yes, the revision too. No, I haven't slept much...»

Pause.

A tired smile softens his face.

«I know I shouldn't, but when I have an idea, I can't just leave it there.»

He listens, nods, then ends the call with, «Okay, we'll catch up.»

He puts the phone on the table and massages the back of his neck. His fingers slide through his slightly tousled blonde hair.

He has light circles under his eyes, but they don't detract from his vision: in fact, they give him the look of a boy who thrives on ideas rather than sleep.

He gets back to work.

The code scrolls across the screen like a secret language only he understands.

Every now and then he stops, drums his fingers on the table, then starts again.

It's a rhythm all his own: thought, pause, intuition, explosion.

An error appears in red.

Felix huffs, but doesn't get angry.

He smiles, as if it were a personal challenge.

«Ah, you really want to make my morning difficult, huh?» he mutters to the monitor.

He reopens a window, checks a function, corrects a missing parenthesis.

Then he presses "run."

The program starts.

It works.

Felix slumps back, raising his arms in a gesture of silent victory.

«Yes!» he says softly, a smile lighting up his entire face.

He gets up, stretches, and walks to the window. He looks outside: the city bustles, alive, noisy, far from his little world of computer code and coffee.

And as he gazes at the clear sky, a thought crosses his mind, light but sudden:

I wonder if one day all this will actually be useful to someone.

It's not sadness.

It's a sincere, fragile question, born from the heart.

Then he shakes his head, returns to his desk, and gets back to work.

Because that's Felix's nature: when the world is too big, he reduces it to lines of code he can control.

His calm is almost meditative.

It's as if he can find light even in the most monotonous things.

10:45 AM, January 20th.

The Baseball Center NYC

SEUNGMIN

The baseball field is already alive when Seungmin arrives.

The morning air is fresh and crisp, and the sun illuminates the ground with a golden light that sparkles in the dust raised by the boys' footsteps.

He walks along the sideline with his whistle in his hand, his posture straight, his gaze attentive.

He wears a dark blue sweatshirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and black workout pants. His hair is slightly tousled by the wind, but he doesn't care: he's in his element.

The school had given him that day to train the boys' baseball team.

«Boys, get ready!» he picks up his New York Yankees cap and puts it on.

His voice is clear, firm, not too loud.

He doesn't need to shout: they listen because they respect him.

The students line up on the field, some still sleepy, others already pumped. Seungmin watches them one by one, as if he can read their energy just by the way they hold their gloves.

«I swear, if you don't win the next school game... I'll kick your ass even harder at the next practice. Am I clear?»

«Yes, Coach.»

He whistles.

The sound cuts through the air.

«Passes! I want precision, not power. Power comes later.»

The boys begin to throw the ball back and forth.

Some do well, others... less so.

Seungmin walks among them, hands behind his back, his gaze alert.

He stops next to a boy who keeps receiving the ball late.

«Stop.» He gently takes his wrist, adjusts the position of his fingers.

«Look at my hand. Not the ball. My hand. Follow the movement, don't anticipate it.»

The boy nods, focused.

Seungmin tosses him the ball.

This time he catches it.

«Better.» Seungmin says, and the boy smiles as if he's won a game.

He continues down the field and stops next to two students arguing.

«Problems?» he asks, not harshly, but with the calm that keeps everyone in line.

«He says i run too slow.» one mutters.

Seungmin sighs.

«You're not here to compete with each other. You're here to compete with yourselves.»

Then he adds, with a half-smile: «And yes, you run slow. But we're working on it.»

The boys laugh, the tension easing.

Seungmin blows his whistle again. «Reception speed! I want rhythm. One, two, three... go!»

The ball begins to move from one player to the other, quickly, precisely.

Seungmin paces back and forth, checking the timing, correcting the postures, urging, calling, encouraging.

Every now and then he stops, observing the court from the sidelines.

The wind stirs his sweatshirt, the sun warms his face.

And for a moment, just a moment, he allows himself a thought:

I wish they could understand how proud I am of them, even when they make mistakes.

Then he shakes his head, turns serious, and whistles again.

«Last lap! And I want it to be the best!»

The boys give it their all, running, catching, throwing.

The ball flies, the pace increases, the energy rises.

And Seungmin, at the center of it all, feels that sensation he only gets here: the certainty of being exactly where he's supposed to be.

11:15 AM, January 20th.

Healthy Minds NYC

JEONGIN

Jeongin's office is a small refuge from the rest of the world.

The walls are painted in soft colors, a light green that's easy on the eyes. The shelves are lined with psychology books, as well as stuffed animals, board games and building blocks. On the soft carpet in the center of the room, a low table with papers and colored pencils.

The light from the window streams in gently, without being intrusive.

Jeongin sits in a low armchair, facing an equally low chair.

There's no desk between him and the child: just space.

He wears a simple white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and comfortable dark pants.

On his wrist, a discreet watch.

His appearance is neat, but not formal: he wants to appear approachable, not distant.

Across from him, Connor, a boy of about ten, clutches a stuffed animal. A small lion.

The fingers grip it tightly, as if it were an anchor.

«Is it okay if we talk about what made you angry this week?» Jeongin asks in a calm, soft, unhurried voice.

The boy looks up for a second, then looks down again. He nods slowly.

Jeongin smiles, but not exaggeratedly.

A small, reassuring smile.

«You don't have to tell me everything right away,» he adds. «We can start with a little bit. Whatever comes easiest to you.»

The boy plays with the ear of the stuffed lion.

«At school...» he murmurs. «They laughed at me.»

Jeongin doesn't interrupt him.

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes attentive, present.

«Why did they laugh at you?» he asks after a few seconds, delicately.

«Because...I read wrong in front of the class.»

The boy's voice trembles a little.

«My words got stuck. And they laughed. Even though the teacher told them to stop.»

Jeongin inhales slowly.

He doesn't get angry, he doesn't comment right away. He leaves space.

«And how did you feel?» he asks, choosing his words carefully.

The boy clutches the stuffed animal even tighter.

«As if…I were stupid.»

Jeongin shifts slightly forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees.

His voice becomes even lower.

«Can I tell you something?» he asks.

The boy looks up, uncertain but curious. He nods.

«Missing a word doesn't make you stupid. It makes you human.»

He pauses briefly, then adds: «And you know what I think? That it takes a lot more courage to read in front of everyone…than to laugh at someone who tries.»

The boy looks at him, his eyes a little watery.

«But they laughed anyway.»

«I know.» Jeongin replies, without minimizing it. «And that hurts. It's right that you say it. It's right that you're angry.»

He picks up a sheet of paper from the table and a crayon. He hands them to him.

«Do you want to draw how you felt in that moment? It doesn't have to be beautiful. It has to be real.»

The boy hesitates, then puts the stuffed animal beside him and picks up the crayon. He begins to draw something dark, confusing, full of broken lines.

Jeongin watches him silently.

Every now and then he nods, as if listening to a story told in colors rather than words.

«It looks like... a tangle.» he says softly, when the boy stops. «A tangle that's holding you tight.»

The boy nods.

«Yes.»

«Okay.» Jeongin continues. «Now let's do something together. Let's try to draw, next to this tangle, something that makes you feel a little better.»

He takes the box of crayons and hands it to Connor.

«What color do you choose for something that makes you feel a little better?»

The boy thinks about it, then picks a blue one.

He draws a small figure next to the tangle.

«Who is it?» asks Jeongin, with a faint smile.

«The teacher.» the boy replies. «Because she told me it wasn't serious.»

Jeongin nods, his eyes soft.

«It made you feel less alone.»

«A little.»

«And now...» Jeongin continues, «if you could say something to that you who was reading in front of the class...what would you say?»

The boy thinks about it for a long time.

Then, in a low voice, he says: «I would tell him... that it's okay to make mistakes. That he shouldn't be ashamed.»

Jeongin feels a tightness in his chest, but he doesn't show it.

He simply smiles, a proud light in his eyes.

«That's a very important thing to say.» he murmurs. «And you know what? I'd say it to him too.»

He leans back, letting silence settle between them, but it's a good silence, full, not awkward.

Then he adds, calmly: «Here, with me, you can make mistakes as many times as you want. I will never judge you for it. We'll use every mistake to get to know you better. Not to make you feel worse.»

The boy nods, clutching the stuffed animal again, but this time less tightly.

His shoulders are a little less stiff.

His gaze is a little less heavy.

Jeongin watches him and thinks, without saying it: If I could, I'd put a shield between you and the world. But for now... I'll teach you how to build it yourself.

He looks at the clock, but not impatiently.

Time flows differently in here.

«We can stop here for today,» he says sweetly. «You did a great job, I'm proud of you.»

The boy nods, smiling, gets up, and picks up the stuffed animal.

Before leaving, he turns around for a moment.

«Can I... take the drawing home?» he asks.

Jeongin smiles.

«Of course. It's yours.»

«Thank you, Mr. Yang.» the boy says with a smile.

Jeongin chuckles lightly.

«You can call me Jeongin. Mr. Yang makes me feel really old. I'm still young.» his tone is playful and exudes calm.

Connor chuckles and nods, running slowly toward the door.

When the door closes, the studio falls silent again.

Jeongin sits for a few seconds, looking at where the boy was sitting.

On the table, the blue crayon is still open, as if the boy might return at any moment to draw something else.

Jeongin inhales slowly, letting the tension slide off his shoulders.

Then he stands up, straightens his shirt, gathers the papers from the session, and carefully places them back in the folder.

A light knock on the door.

«Come in.» he says calmly.

The child's mother, Sarah, enters with an uncertain step.

She's clutching a bag, her fingers fidgeting with the zipper. Her eyes immediately search Jeongin's, as if needing a firm foundation.

«How...how did it go?» she asks, her voice low, almost fearful.

Jeongin gestures for her to sit.

She sits down in the chair, but remains rigid, as if afraid of receiving bad news.

He sits across from her, maintaining the same open and reassuring posture he uses with the children.

«It went well.» he begins, with a slight smile. «Today he talked about what happened at school. He was very brave.»

Sarah and her husband had recently separated because of his infidelity. Connor understood this and couldn't accept it. He saw his mother suffer, and in turn, he suffered. That's why Sarah had decided to take him to Jeongin. She'd heard so many positive things about him. He had a reassuring way of interacting with children and teenagers. He's the kind of person who makes you feel at ease just by looking at you.

Sarah lowers her gaze, biting her lip.

«He hardly says anything to me at home. I'm afraid...that he's suffering more than he wants me to see.»

Jeongin tilts his head, observing her carefully.

«It's normal. Sometimes children don't want to worry their parents. But here he opened up. He expressed anger, sadness...and even a little relief.»

The woman inhales slowly, as if she's been holding back an emotion for too long.

«Did he say... something about me?» she asks, her voice faint.

Jeongin smiles, a non-judgmental smile.

«He drew a blue figure next to the tangle that represented his fear. It was the teacher. But that doesn't mean he doesn't trust you. It means she was there in that moment, and he perceived it as immediate help.»

The mother nods, her eyes shining.

«I wish... I wish i could be that figure.»

Jeongin leans forward slightly, his hands clasped between his knees.

«You will be.» he says with a confidence that isn't presumption, but experience. «It takes time. And perseverance. But he looks at you more than you think. And he leans on you more than he tells you.»

The mother wipes away a tear with the back of her hand.

«Sometimes I'm afraid I'm making a mistake.»

«All parents make mistakes.» Jeongin replies softly. «The difference is who tries to understand, who stays, who listens. And you're doing all of that.»

She takes a deep breath, as if those words have lifted a weight from her chest.

«Is there anything I can do... concretely?» she asks.

Jeongin nods.

«Yes. When he comes home, don't ask him right away how it went. Wait. Let him choose the moment. And when he speaks...don't correct him, don't downplay him. Listen to him. Even if he says things that hurt you.»

Sarah nods slowly, absorbing every word.

«And one more thing...» Jeongin adds. «Tell him you're proud of him. Not for what he does. But for who he is.»

The woman smiles, a shaky but sincere smile.

«Thank you, really. I don't know what I'd do without your help.»

Jeongin shakes his head politely.

«You don't have to thank me. It's my job.»

Sarah stands up, lighter than when she came in.

Before leaving, she turns around one last time.

«Can I ask you a question?»

«Sure, tell me.»

Sarah hesitates but then smiles amusedly.

«You're really young to be a doctor. You could be my son...are you engaged?»

Jeongin's eyes widen slightly. He blushes slightly and smiles awkwardly.

«Not really, but I'd like to one day...For now, I'm focusing on helping others.»

Sarah chuckles and shakes her head.

«Boys your age usually think about having fun.»

He smiles sincerely, the blush still on his cheeks.

«Well, knows business first, then pleasure. I've been taught that way.» he says, scratching the back of his neck lightly.

«Sounds fair, then...Goodbye, Doctor.»

«Goodbye...» he greets the woman kindly as she leaves his office.

He breathes slowly, leaning back in his chair, then runs a hand over his face, tired but satisfied.

If at least in here... I can make a little difference, then it's worth it, he thinks.

And he doesn't know that that morning, so full of small steps forward, will be one of the last before the world around him falls apart.

─────────────────────────────────

Here's the first part of the prologue. This is a Bang Chan x reader story, I want to remind you, but I also wanted to show you different aspects of the other's lives to get a bigger picture. (I'll also have to write spin-offs for the others. I wanted to show you what life was like before Chan was sent to prison.) I hope you enjoyed it, and stay tuned for the next part. We're going to see some great stuff. Bye.

PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

go back to the index

go back to skz prison series masterlist

─────────────────────────────────

© 2026 thereaderinyourmind (auroraackerman11), please don't claim my work.

[unanuvola]

:)

[yonglixx]

Felix＜RUN IT SEOUL＞ OFFICIAL MERCH MAKING FILM♡

[hugsandraindrops]

title. a photo of us

summary. falling in love when you’re nineteen

content warnings. none :)

summer rain. based off this song <3

💛💜💛💜💛💜💛💜💛💜💛💜💛💜💛💜💛💜

The first time you saw him was during one of Chan’s parties at his dorm. He, Changbin and Jisung had begged and begged for me to come, insisting you needed to “loosen up” and that it’d be “good for you to get some air”.

You couldn’t possibly deny the kind of magnetic pull you were feeling towards that place, so now you were there, standing in the middle of an apartment full of people who were both strangers and older than you, because of course the hosts had disappeared the moment you got there. You sighed, fiddling with your soda cup as you walked through the room, trying to reach the small terrace of the apartment to get some air.

And there he was. Seated in one of the chairs against the window, beer in hand, a military green sweater and denim jeans. He looked up when he heard someone approaching, his brown eyes hitting your soul like a pair of darts.

“Hi.” You said softly, waving awkwardly.

He waved at you, smiling almost shyly, with his damn dimples showing off and his eyes getting slightly smaller. “Hey” He said back. “you… wanna sit?” He asked, pointing at the chair next to him.

“I like your shirt” He said, fidgeting with his beer as you sat down. “I like the orange color, it’s a nice tone.”

“Thanks” You said, feeling slightly shy and very awkward. “I like your sweater.”

“It’s great! Isn’t it? No one has appreciated it the way it should be appreciated!” he said, immediately getting excited and passionate about his sweater.

And just like that, you ended up locked up in a conversation of random subjects, not even noticing when the rest of the people started leaving until you heard Changbin’s laugh through the window.

“Hey! Lovebirds! Time to go home!” He called out, laughing.

Your first date was a few weeks later, in some random arcade near JYP. The place was small, cheap, enough for a pair or 19 year olds and a raising idol.

The place was nearly empty, besides the workers and your giggles filling the place as you took photos in the Photo Booth.

“I’m keeping it!” He whined, still laughing as you walked through the streets, sharing an ice cream cone.

“No! I want it!” You laughed as you tried to snatch the photo from his hand.

“Why do you want it?” He laughed, his laughter somehow making his busan accent clearer. “Are you moving in into it?” He teased.

“I might!” You laughed as he lifted the photo over his head.

“I’ll give it back if we go dancing tomorrow.” He said, his lips turned upwards in that stupid smirk you had started to feel endeared by.

“Tomorrow? Tuesday?”

“What’s wrong with Tuesday?”

“Nothing, but to go dancing? Ain’t that better in a Friday?”

“We’re young, we can go dancing whenever” He said, rolling his eyes.

And you went.

He had gone pick you up in a car from the company, opened the door for you and holding your hand the whole way to the place. It wasn’t necessarily a club, more like a small bar with live music and a place for dancing. It had a couple of workers coming after their shifts and some great music.

By the moment you stumbled out the place, you were all tired and exhausted after dancing, laughing at some stupid uncensored joke he had thrown at you.

You still can’t really remember exactly what led to your first kiss. You couldn’t really recall how you ended up with your hand on the back of his neck and his own hands on your waist, lips on each other’s.

The rest of the drive to your place was a blur of lights, kisses and laughs.

“I like you” He mumbled in between kisses, smiling against your lips “saying that because I feel like it’s too soon for I love you’s” You chuckled, patting his cheek.

“Come over tomorrow? We can watch movies” you say, unbuckling the seat belt, he nodded, smiling his stupid dimple smile.

His cuddles were all you needed to feel better on down days, his smile feeling like the safest place in the planet, his eyes an open book of love.

“Hurry up” He whined, forehead against the steering wheel as you finished getting ready on the passenger seat.

“Patience” You teased, laughing. He groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically.

The years had passed, your new years together adding up, dates, cuddle nights, smiles, kisses and moments, but he would always be the love of the days you were nineteen.

[straykidsfein143]

₊𖥔Skz when they accidentally make you cry ໑୧

˚⊹skz hyung line x reader⊹˚

wc: 2.0k

Contains: angst → comfort, misunderstandings, apologies, reassurance, fluff ending, established relationship.

hyung line | maknae line

Chan₊˚⊹ᰔ

Chan had been in his studio all day. You'd texted him a few times to check on him, but you got no response. During stressful comebacks and other busy schedules, he sometimes neglected his own health.

You decide to pick up both of your favorite meals from a local restaurant. Once you grab the food, you drive over to the studio and make your way inside, approaching him with a soft smile.

"Hi, Channie."

Walking over beside him, you place the takeout bag on his desk.

"Hey," Chan replies flatly, not even bothering to look up from his laptop as he continues typing away.

"I brought you some japchae. I figured you probably haven't eaten yet."

"No thanks. I'm still working on something."

You pull a chair over and sit beside him.

"You've been working all day..." You pause, a little hesitant. "I know you haven't been eating properly lately, Chan."

He sighs, rubbing his temples before finally looking over at you.

"Look, the last thing I need is you pestering me while I'm trying to get things done, okay?" he says, a hint of sternness in his voice before turning his attention back to the screen.

It was a tone you'd never heard directed at you before.

A few moments of silence pass before the quietest little sniffle escapes you.

Chan immediately tenses, his head snapping toward you.

The moment he sees the tears welling up in your eyes, a deep feeling of regret washes over him.

"Oh, no... baby."

His work is instantly forgotten as all of his attention shifts to you.

"I'm so sorry, love... I didn't mean to upset you."

His arms quickly wrap around you, pulling you gently against his chest while one hand rubs slow circles over your back.

"I just got so caught up in work... I don't know what came over me," he says softly, holding you a little tighter.

After a moment, you finally lift your head to look at him. Your eyes are red and puffy, leaving a small damp spot on his shirt.

"I just want you to be healthy, Chan," you mumble through a shaky voice.

His heart sinks.

"I know... I know you do."

He gently wipes away your tears before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Then he reaches for the takeout bag.

"How about we eat now, hm, love?"

You nod quietly.

Chan takes your bowl out first, handing it to you along with your chopsticks before grabbing his own.

As the two of you eat together, he can't help but glance over at you every few moments, making sure you're okay.

Without even realizing it, he keeps one hand resting on you the entire time—as if he's afraid that letting go, even for a second, might somehow hurt you all over again.

Minho₊˚⊹ᰔ

It had always been a common thing for Minho to tease you. In fact, you liked it. The two of you were constantly joking around with each other, but this time, he accidentally took it a little too far and ended up hurting your feelings.

You were currently sitting on the couch in the living room of his apartment, waiting for him to come home. He had been at the studio with the other members of Danceracha, going over choreography for the past few hours. Whenever he had long practices like this, he always came home exhausted and woke up sore the next day.

You had been watching TV to pass the time when you heard the doorknob turn.

Excited, you quickly looked toward the door, watching him step inside with a bag slung over his shoulder. He looked worn out, just like you expected.

"Hi, Mimo. How'd it go?" you asked, standing up and walking over to him.

"Fine. I'm tired, so I'm going to go shower now," he replied, setting his bag down before making his way toward the bathroom.

"Already? I just got to see you, though," you pouted, stepping in front of him to block his path.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

"I'm tired, okay? I need to wash up."

"You don't stink that bad~," you teased.

A quiet laugh escaped him before he answered.

"You're annoying, you know that?"

He gave your shoulder a gentle pat as he walked past you, disappearing into the bathroom.

You knew he was only teasing, just like he always did.

...But this time, his words lingered in your mind.

While he showered, you changed into your pajamas before climbing into his bed, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone.

You tried to brush off what he'd said.

It was just a joke.

You knew that.

...Didn't you?

The more you thought about it, the tighter your throat became—that familiar sting that came right before tears.

Eventually, you couldn't hold them back anymore.

Quiet sobs escaped into your hands as tears streamed down your cheeks.

Minho finished his shower, dried himself off, and changed into his pajamas.

Just as he reached for the bathroom door, he paused.

...

Was that... crying?

He slowly opened the door, immediately finding you curled up on the bed.

His expression softened instantly.

"Hey..."

He walked over and sat down in front of you.

"What's wrong?"

You looked up at him through watery eyes.

"Do you really think I'm annoying...?"

His eyebrows knitted together.

For a second, he looked confused, then it clicked.

"Oh..."

His heart sank.

"Oh, jagi..."

"I was just teasing you. I promise that's all it was."

Without another word, he leaned forward and gently pulled you into his arms, one hand softly scratching your head the way he knew you loved—like he would with one of his cats.

"I know..." you sniffled.

"But it still kinda hurt, Mimo..."

His grip around you tightened.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was much quieter now. "I never wanted to make you cry."

He stayed there for a while, simply holding you until your breathing finally steadied.

When you had calmed down, he guided you farther onto the bed before lying down beside you, gently pulling you against his chest.

One hand slowly rubbed comforting circles over your back while the other continued to lightly scratch your head.

Before long, the hurt you'd been carrying melted away, replaced by the quiet comfort of being wrapped safely in his arms.

Changbin₊˚⊹ᰔ

It's definitely an understatement to say that your boyfriend is strong. You could literally stare at his biceps all day... and, well, other parts of him too.

Which is exactly what you're doing now.

You're sitting at the kitchen table, watching as Changbin scrambles eggs and fries bacon. Your eyes wander over him, quietly admiring how hard he works to stay in such good shape.

At some point, Changbin turns around and catches you staring.

"Caught red-handed, bunny," he laughs, walking over and setting your plate in front of you before sitting down across from you with his own.

"What? I can't help it!" you laugh, taking a bite of bacon as warmth creeps onto your cheeks.

"You're blushing~," he teases, clearly trying to get a reaction out of you.

"No, I'm not!" you protest with a laugh, immediately covering your face with both hands.

While your face is hidden, Changbin quietly pulls out his phone and starts recording you, wanting to tease you even more.

When you finally lower your hands...

...he's pointing his phone right at you.

"Yah! Give that to me!" you exclaim between laughs.

You quickly snatch his phone before taking off toward the living room, Changbin close behind.

"Give it back!" he laughs, chasing after you as the two of you run circles around the coffee table.

After a few laps, he realizes he's never going to catch you that way.

So, with another laugh, he reaches across the table and grabs your wrist, trying to stop you long enough to get his phone back.

He doesn't realize how much force he used.

You lose your balance.

Before either of you can react—

Thud.

Your shoulder collides with the edge of the coffee table.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as you instinctively clutch the sore spot.

Changbin freezes.

His playful smile disappears in an instant.

"Oh my God... baby!"

He's beside you within seconds, carefully placing one hand on your uninjured shoulder while trying to meet your eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm so sorry! I swear I didn't mean to—"

You slowly lift your head.

Tears have already begun to well in your eyes.

The sight makes Changbin's heart sink.

"Oh, no..."

His voice becomes much softer.

"No, no, no..."

He gently cups your face in both hands.

"Please look at me."

Once your eyes finally meet his, he feels even worse.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice full of guilt.

"I'm so, so sorry, bunny... I never meant to make you fall."

He looks like he might cry himself, but he's trying so hard to stay calm for your sake.

"I'm okay..." you sniffle, carefully rubbing your shoulder.

"It was just the initial pain that really hurt."

He lets out a shaky breath.

"Let me help you up."

Before you can protest, he effortlessly scoops you up bridal style.

"Binnie!" you laugh through your lingering tears.

"It's just my shoulder. I didn't hurt my ankle or anything."

"Doesn't matter."

His answer comes without hesitation.

"I made you fall and hurt yourself."

His expression softens.

"So now I'm going to take care of you."

He carries you all the way to the bedroom before gently setting you down on the bed as though you might break.

Instead of pulling away, he wraps his arms around your waist and carefully pulls you against his chest.

"I'm really sorry," he whispers again.

Already feeling better simply from being in his arms, you melt into the embrace.

Somewhere back in the kitchen, your breakfast slowly grows cold...

...but neither of you seems to care.

Right now, the only thing Changbin wants is to make sure you're okay.

Hyunjin₊˚⊹ᰔ

Hyunjin had been working on a painting for hours.

His headphones were on, his phone sat untouched beside him, and brushes of every size were scattered across his desk. You knew how important this piece was to him—it was one he'd been working on for days.

Not wanting to interrupt him, you quietly knocked on the studio door.

No answer.

You cracked the door open just enough to peek inside.

"Hyune?"

Still nothing.

You smile to yourself.

He must be really focused.

You walk over, planning to surprise him with the coffee you picked up on your way over.

Just as you reach him...

Your foot catches on the leg of a chair.

You stumble.

Trying to catch yourself, your hand bumps against his arm.

The paintbrush jerks across the canvas.

A long streak of dark paint cuts through the nearly finished painting.

Silence.

Hyunjin stares at the canvas.

His shoulders tense.

"...Seriously?"

Your heart drops.

"I'm so sorry—"

"I've been working on this all day."

His voice isn't loud...

But it's enough.

"I just needed five more minutes."

The words hang in the air.

You swallow hard.

"I... I didn't mean to."

"I know, but—"

He cuts himself off with an exhausted sigh.

You quietly set the coffee on his desk.

"...I'll just leave you alone."

The door clicks shut behind you.

Only then does Hyunjin really look at the painting again.

Then...

He notices the untouched coffee.

Your favorite bakery's logo on the cup.

You hadn't come to bother him.

You'd come because you were thinking about him.

His stomach twists.

"Oh..."

He finds you curled up on the couch a few minutes later.

You're wiping your eyes before he can see.

Except...

He already has.

He kneels in front of you.

"I'm so sorry."

You don't answer.

"I wasn't frustrated with you."

"I was frustrated with myself."

He gently takes your hands.

"I shouldn't have let you feel like you did something unforgivable."

"...But I ruined it."

"You didn't."

He smiles sadly.

"It's just paint."

"You..."

He brushes a tear from your cheek.

"...are much more important than a painting."

a/n: ahhhh this is my longest fic yet, and my favorite!! this was so fun but also kinda sad to write lol, but a poll is a poll and you guys just love to be sad loll🥹 I hope you guys enjoyed this and I will work on the maknae line the next opportunity I get! 🫶🏻

Taglist: @shinygubbins @whoschanandwhydoyallwannabanghim

[yonglixx]

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