Felix is the type of guy to beg you to put on a horror movie despite his well-know poor tolerance for them. He'll be convincing, smooth voice promising that he won't back out midway, pecking off the skeptical frown that creases your face.
Felix is the type of guy who uses his cowardice as the perfect excuse to slip under the covers while you're distracted. heart beating faster, you barely notice his disappearance until a warm palm slides down your legs, soothing the arising goosebumps.
Felix who'd ignore the confused questions that leaves your mouth, answering them through his actions by pressing a kiss to the expanse of your thigh.
Felix is the type to hush you, telling you to focus back onto the movie. but it's just impossible when he's rucking your shirt up your stomach, planting slow kisses to your tummy and below your belly-button. nibbling onto the meat of your thighs. the movie fades into white noises.
Felix who kisses you over your panties. a tease before licking a strip of the damp fabric, groaning at the faint taste that hits him. soon growing sick of his own antics, pushing the fabric aside to his meal.
Felix who wastes no time in enveloping his puffy lips around your clit, sucking lightly before laying his tongue flat against your folds. licking a fat stripe off your arousal.
Felix whose confidence spikes with how you grip the covers above him, arm sliding underneath the sheets to take a hold of his hair. the fact that you can't see him turns him on the most.
He'll feel you getting closer, bridging over as he eases you through it with slow, loving, movements of his mouth against you. well, that's how he views it. for truth, he's spreading your folds apart, tongue diving and making out with your cunt. low groans vibrating through your clit as he sucks on it. taking in your shakiness, he'll let you cum all over his face, happily slurping the fluids that leaks out of you.
Felix is the type to heave back up jolly. cute smile adorning his expression while his mouth glistens under the dim lighting of the movie. Pecking your lips while assuring you that you did good. however, he brings your wrist to his bulge, palming the fabric of his pants. relationships are give and take, right? he's scared too, please take care of him.
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other member ver: bangchan lee know changbin hyunjin han felix seungmin i.n
Minho x Reader (fem.)
Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature
Warnings: mentions of drinking, cursing, pregnancy & abortion, power play, physical harm, somewhat proofread
WC: 6.8K
A/N: Would LOVE to hear everyone’s thoughts/reactions 😁 Feedback is always welcome, enjoy!
── MASTERLIST
Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.
Family dinners were never a good occurrence in the Lee residence, still they loved to pretend and pick at each other’s words in the pretense of a get-together.
The awkward tension in the dining room was palpable. Each member shifted uncomfortably, as if they all wanted to speak but were holding back.
The seats at the ends of the table were empty, Lee Joohyeon, still unofficially exiled, Lee Jihoon, who had likely found a place to hide for the evening, and Lee Jookshin, who had recently given birth, were all missing.
“Why does everyone look so tense? You should be happy. The Parks want L Corp. to have sole industrial contract with their Rose Garden Resort.” The grandfather observed, noting the somber atmosphere.
Lee Mooyoung cleared his throat, casting a glance to his right at his wife, then across the table to where Doyoung sat next to Minho.
“Park Hyunmin insisted on signing the contract only if Minho was on the board.” Lee Mooyoung said coldly, his irritation clear.
Minho looked up at the mention of his name, but before he could respond, Lee Doyoung’s hand slammed on the table.
“What’s wrong with my son being on the team? He’s the reason we got the deal. Besides, it was the daughter’s decision.” Doyoung argued.
Minho clenches his jaw at the words “my son”, which he had come to despise, words used only when they wanted to boast about his achievements.
“So what?! Jungshin has done a lot too!” Mooyoung retorted at his brother with the same anger.
The oldest daughter-in-law laughed scornfully and leaned toward Minho.
“Is it because you managed to rekindle something with Y/N Park that they made this proposition? Just a few days ago, you barely spoke to each other.”
Jungshin watched as Minho smiled at his mother, then glanced back at him. The older brother’s frustration grew. He had been trying to win over Y/N Park for months, only to be met with indifference. She didn’t even heed to his advances.
“I don’t mix personal and professional matters, Aunt. I’m sure they had a reason for their decision.” Minho said calmly.
The grandfather groaned, drawing the family’s attention back to him.
It wasn’t deja vu perse, this was more of a routine. They all got together, argued over petty things while the old man ate his dinner alone in their presence.
A meeting disguised as family dinner.
“I’m sure Minho will do a good job. If not, we can always have Jungshin clean up his mess.” Chairman Lee stated.
Jungshin broke his silence, glaring at the head of the table. “But why am I the second choice? I have an impeccable reputation, and I’m sure people will take me more seriously than this young kid.” He pointed
The grandfather set down his utensils, his expression stern.
“You’re lucky to even be a second choice. Y/N Park didn’t even consider you.” He admonished, signaling Secretary Cha that he was finished with his meal.
Jungshin fell silent, unable to argue back. He got up angrily, muttering an “excuse me” before storming out the room.
The older daughter-in-law watched the younger one snicker behind her wine glass. Mooyoung clenched his napkin tightly, visibly upset.
The old man finally stood up.
“Minho, I need to speak with you. Follow me.” He said, heading out of the room.
Despite the chaos, one comment lingered in the Chairman’s mind.
The twenty-seven-year-old vice-president was significantly younger than others at his level, and there was a limit to how seriously he could be taken. He needed to prove his trustworthiness and dedication. He needed to do something that made them find him more responsible.
“Minho. It’s about time you get married.” The old man said abruptly.
Minho blinked back at his words, taken aback.
The young vice president did not see that coming. He should have. But he didn’t.
He had been distracted.
───────────────────────
The Lee family was known for its business sense, though it varied among them. Each had their own responsibilities.
Every child in the Lee family had a special talent, whether it was a way with words or good luck. Though they all had potential, not everyone pursued it. Take Lee Jookshin, for example. Unlike her mother, who was a trophy wife, Jookshin was highly intelligent and excelled in school. However, in their society, her smarts were less important than finding a husband who could support her, while she provided ideas.
The saying went, “Behind every successful man is a woman.”
Then there was Lee Jihoon, the fourth grandson.
Sure, the man had a list of wild hobbies like racing cars and flying planes. He was nothing but ordinary, unremarkable in the eyes of his family.
And to complicate matters further, Jihoon was gay.
Growing up, Jihoon struggled under the weight of conservative norms that pushed him to rebel. He was always getting punished, often ran away from his parents, family, and responsibilities. From himself. He tried to fit in, dating models and elite women to please his family, as if to show he was making an effort. To prove he was contributing something to the overly expectant Lees.
The first man he kissed was the son of Sorewa Airlines’ founder. This older man left Jihoon, then twenty-three, in a whirlwind of confusion, frustration, and exhilaration.
The first man he kissed promised him the world, only to turn around and marry a woman from their circle instead.
Jihoon hated this damn circle. The world he was trapped in.
He hated the attention, the unspoken rules.
And most of all, Jihoon hated L Corp.
Everytime he returned after his spontaneous “run-away” trips, he was tied down by someone in his family, whether it was his mother, his father or even that damn Secretary Cha who was just an extension of his Grandfather’s reach. He’d be stuck in their world for a few months before another chance to escape came along.
Two years after his first male lover chose to conform to societal norms and married the daughter of a big-name entrepreneur, Jihoon saw him again at a banquet. Though Jihoon knew the man would be there, the banquet being hosted by his family, he didn’t expect to be so affected by their meeting.
Ben Choi, the son of Sorewa Airline’s head, stole fleeting glances. As Jihoon stood behind his father, who was exchanging hugs and greetings with his grandfather and the rest of the Lee family, he felt the man’s gaze on him. Ben stood with his wife, who smiled brightly at everyone she met. Jihoon tried to avoid looking at him, but with Minho being led away by Y/N and his siblings scattered around the banquet hall, he had no choice but to stay near his grandfather. The Chairman gave him a stern glance, his out-there choice of clothing, something the old man wasn’t fond of, but still he smiled at his old friend, laughing.
Jihoon thought he could enjoy the banquet without running into Ben Choi directly, but as soon as he let his guard down, there he was, alone with his ex-lover. He had slipped out to the balcony for a break from the classical music and to clear his head. The alcohol had him buzzing, and his arms were sore from playing pool.
When the balcony door creaked open, Jihoon quickly tried to hide his lit cigarette. He froze, his expression softening when he saw Ben step outside.
“I see you haven’t kicked the habit.” Ben said, his voice still deep, as he slid his hands into his pockets, approaching.
Jihoon turned back to the gardens, returning to his cigarette.
“How have you been?” Ben leaned against the railing, watching Jihoon closely.
“I’ve been well. You and—” Jihoon glanced back at the banquet hall. “Your wife?”
“Good. We’re good. As you can see from this grand celebration.”
Jihoon exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Yeah. The last time you had a big event, you announced your marriage. What’s the occasion this time? Kids?”
Ben laughed loudly, shaking his head in denial.
“Your sense of fashion is still impressive. I was surprised to see you like this.” Ben said, eyeing the blue of Jihoon’s suit.
Jihoon shrugged. “At least you can pick me out of a crowd of those boring outfits inside.” He nodded toward the balcony doors that lead back inside.
Ben’s smile faded, and his expression softened.
“I’d be able to pick you out from anywhere.” He stated quietly.
Jihoon was silent for a moment before laughing.
“Except you didn’t pick me, Ben.” He crushed his cigarette on the stone railing.
The balcony door swung open abruptly as Y/N stepped outside, looking for Lee Minho, who had ditched her earlier than usual. She had noticed a mess of spilt wine on him, but now he was nowhere in sight.
As Y/N scanned the balcony, her eyes widened in shock when she saw Ben Choi and Lee Jihoon passionately kissing a few feet away.
The two men froze, surprised at her arrival, Ben shoved Jihoon back instinctively, who stumbled back and collided against the nearby bench with a crash.
Y/N gasped, stunned by the scene. Stunned by the action.
Ben reached out to Jihoon, who was on the ground and appeared hurt, but faltered. He stepped back abruptly and quickly turned to leave. Both Jihoon and a stunned Y/N watched him pass by her figure and run away.
“Ha. ‘Pick me out’ my ass.” Jihoon muttered, wincing from the pain in his lower abdomen after the collision.
He sat up and looked at Y/N, who now stood in front of him, arms crossed and head tilted.
“What are you staring at?” He grunted, slowly standing and brushing off his clothes.
Y/N remained silent, her heels clicking on the granite floor as she approached him. Her eyes felt like they were burning him with scrutiny, judging him, squinting as if examining an exhibit in a zoo.
“Yeah, I like cock. So what?” Jihoon snapped angrily.
But instantly froze, eyes widening as he realized he had said that. Out loud.
Y/N blinked, stunned once again. Speechless at his bold confession.
Jihoon looked away in humiliation and frustration, running his hands through his hair. He then glared at Y/N, trying to maintain his composure.
“What are you going to do about it?” He demanded, clenching his jaw and trying to appear calm, though he was shaking inside from being caught.
She sighed and uncrossed her arms. “I have my own boy issues to deal with. I don’t have the time or interest to deal with your little affair.” She pointed.
For a moment he felt relieved, but he couldn’t breathe just yet. Everyone knew Y/N was closely tied to Minho, who listened to his parents and grandfather.
“I know many people in our society who are gay, but have you ever heard me spill those secrets?” Y/N said, as if reading his mind.
“I was just surprised because Ben Choi is a married man.” She added.
Her words jolted Jihoon back to reality. He had forgotten that Ben Choi had a pretty wife to get back to. And would never acknowledge Jihoon as more than a business acquaintance. His bruised ribs were a painful reminder.
“Minho was heading to the bathroom with that that Ryu whatever her name is.” Jihoon muttered, brushing past her and returning to the hall.
Lee Jihoon was good at pretending, he was also good at dropping off the map. Finding ways to escape the clutches of his grandfather who seemed to have eyes everywhere. He’d party on the beaches of Bali, sail the waters of Thailand, sleep with European men. He could be himself. Jihoon pretended he wasn’t afraid of his family, always acting out, always rebelling.
But Chairman Lee’s power was a constant source of fear. When Chairman Lee finally discovered Jihoon's secrets. Throwing the pictures of his grandson in the arms of another man at some nightclub, he covered it up, leaving Jihoon feeling cornered.
“Starting tomorrow, you’ll be working at L Corp.”
And just like that, Jihoon was trapped.
The old chairman had always been traditional, clinging to old ways. He started his business from scratch, driven by the desire to be highly sought after but lacked the funds. He seduced a wealthy investor’s daughter, using her money to grow his company and attract more investors. He had children young, raising them with a businessman’s mindset and marrying them off early.
His rich wife, once a valuable asset for him, became a show-piece in his house after her family name and money was no longer needed for her husband to get his foot into doors, slowly fading away. And suddenly one day, he was a middle-aged widower.
As he got older, he realized that the sons he had conditioned to be the best, the sons trained to take over his company, were incapable.
No, his sons were idiots, and their children were doomed the moment they were born. It was a disappointment he couldn’t bear. He could never disrespect his life’s work like that.
His eldest son spent his time drinking with frauds posing as investors, while his younger son chased after a young maid in the family home.
Both were pathetic.
But the Chairman was no better.
The first time he saw the young assistant was when Secretary Cha introduced her in his office. She stood nervously, straight-backed.
“Welcome. I hope you assist my secretary well.” He said.
She nodded, shaking his hand quickly and expressing how honored she was to work at L Corp.
The Chairman chuckled and patted her shoulder, trying to ease her nerves.
And throughout their meeting, he watched her scribble notes, tap her foot in anxiety, and fidget with the cross around her neck. When she noticed him watching and smiled, she returned the gesture.
In high society, scandals were unacceptable. One either avoided them or paid to keep them hidden. A messy private life could lead to plummeting stocks, and the Chairman was determined to do anything to maintain L Corp’s pristine image.
The young assistant was driven by greed. She wanted more than just a paycheck. She desired to be the madam of the house, to hold a significant share of the company. She aimed to seduce the Chairman, and she even succeeded.
Though he was just a man, he was also calculating, conniving. Always thinking ahead.
“Why did you have to be so greedy?”
───────────────────────
The celebration of Lee Jookshin’s firstborn was a grand affair, hosted by her delighted parents, now finally grandparents. Although the baby wasn’t a Lee, he was the first great-grandson of Chairman Lee, making him special.
The mansion bustled with guests. The young prince was showered with gifts, and his parents beamed with pride.
Jihoon scanned the grand hall, now more crowded than usual, with familiar faces moving past him to see the new nephew. The boy would soon learn that the world had a way of surprising him.
His grandfather entertained old friends, while Secretary Cha took a rare break. How he managed to stay glued to the Chairman after all these decades makes the young man ponder in bewilderment everytime he thinks of the secretary.
Everyone was there, but Minho.
That prompt man was always present for events like these, always kissing ass, always at arm’s length. But right now, he was missing.
Jihoon took a drink from a passing server’s tray and glanced around. Park Hyunmin was engaged in conversation with his uncle and father, while his wife mingled with other women. Y/N was busy entertaining Jungshin, though she appeared visibly exhausted by his incessant babbling.
Then he spots Ben Choi. His ex lover.
Ben had aged over the years Jihoon had not seen him. He was still with his pretty wife. He was a father now. Yet, Jihoon no longer felt the sharp pang of emotion for the older man. Even though Ben’s gaze lingered on him with the same intensity as it had six years ago on that balcony, Jihoon no longer cared. He decided to find some other entertainment.
Minho glanced around as he climbed the back stairs to the second floor of the family mansion. The celebration below filled the grand hall and garden with noise, but the second floor was quiet and serene in comparison.
The youngest son of the family walked cautiously, pausing outside the double wooden doors of Chairman Lee’s study. He glanced back to ensure no one had seen him. The last time he had been here, his grandfather had insisted he get married and had presented several profiles of young women from high society. Minho had promised to review the files, but his attention had been drawn to something else when Secretary Cha opened the file cabinet to retrieve them.
His mind stuck on it ever since.
It was only a brief glance from a few feet away, but Minho’s attention was immediately captured by a file at the very bottom of the cabinet. By a familiar name that rang in his mind from time to time.
The youngest son entered the dark, silent study, closing the wooden door behind him with a soft creak and a final click. He made his way to the large curtained window overlooking the back gardens, peering through a crack to scan the guests below. He spotted his grandfather next to some familiar face. Minho knew he needed to act quickly before the Chairman noticed his absence. His initial plan was to slip in and out unnoticed, but after his aunt spotted him and he had made up an excuse about forgetting a gift in his car, he was already running behind. Ten minutes had passed, he had missed a call from his father, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before they became insistent.
As Minho opened the cabinet where he remembered the files had been, he held up his cellphone’s dim flashlight. His fingers froze when he noticed the lock. He hadn’t considered that the cabinet might be secured. He had assumed it was just a regular one.
He suddenly wondered why the cabinet was locked. What could possibly need to be password-protected?
He inhaled sharply with narrowed brows, frustrated before pressing generic combinations, ones an old man might remember.
Wrong.
The machine beeped, flashing red.
He had two more attempts before it would ring loudly. Something he definitely didn’t want. He tried again, thinking hard about any possible combination.
Wrong again.
“Fuck.” He muttered.
Before he could attempt and most likely fail with a final combination, his phone buzzed, startling him. It was his father, again.
Minho walked back to the curtains, peeking outside as he answered the call.
“Yes, Father.”
“Where are you? Your grandfather is looking for you. He wants to introduce you to a friend. Get here now.”
“Yes, I was entertaining some guests by the front.” Minho lied.
The call ended abruptly. He sighed in defeat, glancing one last time at the locked safe, ultimately making a shuffled exit.
Minho entered the well-lit garden, greeting everyone he passed with a smile.
“Ah, Mr. Wang, great to see you.” He said, shaking hands as he made his way toward the group where his grandfather and father were gathered.
Chairman Lee’s face lit up with a grin upon seeing Minho. He spread his arms wide in welcome.
“Look who’s finally arrived, my favorite grandson!” He boomed. Mooyoung’s discomfort was palpable before he exchanged a glance with Jungshin.
“You haven’t met yet, Minho. This is my old friend Son Hyungdon. He moved to Italy about fifteen years ago.” Chairman Lee introduced.
The older, bigger man chuckled heartily and shook Minho’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You’ve really made a name for yourself at L Corporation, haven’t you?”
“You’re giving me too much credit, sir.” Minho replied with a polite smile.
Mr. Son laughed again, glancing at the Chairman and then at the other guests.
“Humble. I like it.” He patted Minho’s arm before letting go.
As the older men engaged in small talk, their circle gradually shrank. Minho scanned the area for the face he was looking for, and his eyes brightened up spotting Y/N at one of the tables, sipping her drink and observing the scene with a detached air.
God, was she as radiating as ever. He just wished to stride over there and envelop her in his arms, inhale her sweet scent.
“And what about your granddaughter, did you manage to bring her back from Italy?” The Chairman asked, his words bringing Minho back to their boring conversation.
“She’s somewhere around here, she’s a little introverted you see. Not a big fan of big crowds.” Son Hyungdon replied.
Minho nodded, scanning the crowd for someone who might be related to Son Hyungdon.
“Is she in the kiddie section?” The grandson asked, glancing back at the older man.
There was a second of silence before both old men chuckled loudly.
“I didn’t know your grandson was a jokester too!” Hyungdon laughed while Minho stood genuinely confused.
“I’m flattered you think I’m young enough to have tiny grandchildren. But she’s actually twenty-three.”
Minho nodded slowly, letting out a soft “Ah” as he realized his mistake, feeling a bit embarrassed.
“Why don’t you go find her and keep her company?” Chairman Lee suggested, nudging him.
“She goes by Sky.” Mr. Son added, both old men practically shooing him away.
The grandson blinked, puzzled by their insistence, wondering why the name sounded so familiar. Despite his curiosity, he began searching for the so-called introverted granddaughter, though he was tempted to find some lame excuse to go bicker with his secret girlfriend.
Then he spotted her and understood why the two old men were so eager for him to meet her.
Sky.
Or, Son Haneul, twenty-three.
One of his marriage candidates.
God damn it. His grandfather was truly a sneaky old man.
He bit the inside of his cheek and slipped his hands into his trouser pockets as he observed the young woman sipping champagne by a stone bench near the rose maze. It took her a few seconds to notice him observing her.
“Oh. Hi.” She blurted out, startled.
Minho thinned his lips into a smile Y/N would hate to see on his face, and walked toward this young woman
“You must be Sky.” He extended his hand.
His marriage candidate blinked a few times, either mesmerized by his beauty or surprised by his sudden approach, it was hard to tell.
“Ah! Yes. I am Sky.” She responded awkwardly, taking his hand for a gentle handshake.
Minho let out a chuckle, nodding.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Lee Minho, Chairman Lee’s youngest grandson.”
Her mouth opened slightly in silent understanding as she nodded.
“Your grandfather sent me, asked me to keep you company.”
“You really don’t have to. I was just admiring the roses.” She glanced down shyly.
Minho chuckled again and returned his hands to his pockets.
“I can show you around the garden if you’d like. We have more than just roses here.”
She paused for a few seconds before nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Y/N rested her chin on her palm, her elbow propped on the high table behind which she stood. She watched, irritated, as her boyfriend shamelessly flirted with another young woman.
That asshole.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Jihoon’s voice, sudden and close, almost made her jump.
She turned to him in surprise. Her reaction prompted Jihoon to laugh, placing his empty glass on the table and glancing back at the duo by the flower garden.
“She seems a little young, don’t you think?”
“That’s because you’re like one hundred years old.” Y/N muttered, downing her drink.
“I spoke to her briefly earlier. She’s definitely from a foreign country, has a distinct accent... I’m thinking European.” The older man continued, more to himself than to Y/N.
Y/N sighed in frustration. “You really don’t have any friends, do you?” She remarked snarkily.
Jihoon shrugged, glancing around the garden.
“The only person here worthy of being my friend is the newborn inside.” He responded with a laugh.
“Besides, you don’t have friends either. The one you had is over there laughing up a storm with that young child.” He said, pointing with his empty glass toward Minho and Hanuel.
“Minho isn’t my friend.” She spat bitterly.
“Right, right.” He nodded slowly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Do you want to leave this lame party and do something fun with me?” He asked, leaning into the table with a grin.
Y/N squinted, trying to figure out exactly why he had approached her.
“Come on, fun with Jihoon, or party for a newborn?” The older man uses his hands as an imaginary scale, weighing the choices.
Y/N looked around, her parents, busy in their own conversation, socializing to their maximum.
Her boyfriend was clearly distracted, and the only people who had approached her, aside from those trying to curry her favor, were that weirdo Jungshin and now his chatty brother.
“Fine, let's go.”
Minho laughed with Sky, correcting her slip of the tongue due to the language barrier. But his eyes follow Y/N, trailing behind girlfriend and Jihoon, one of his eyebrows raise.
Y/N glanced back and smirked in his direction. He was definitely watching her.
You want to play games, Minho?
But the very next morning, Y/N’s eyes flew open, staring at the white ceiling brightly lit by sun rays filtering through the drawn curtains. Her body shot up, scanning the very familiar room.
She could hear the distant sound of water running in the bathroom. Grabbing her head, and hissing in a sudden pain, she slowly climbed out from under the covers, still dressed in last night’s jumpsuit. Y/N looked around for her purse, grabbed it from the bedside table, and was almost out the door when the door behind opened with a click.
“Really. Are you really going to bolt on me now?”
She turned around, sheepishly grinning at her boyfriend, who stood half-naked in the bathroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
“No, I was-uh, thirsty!” Y/N attempted to lie, but both their eyes trail to the glass pitcher of water on his bedside table. She groaned and rolled her eyes, sinking back onto the bed.
“How’d I even end up here?” She asked, rubbing her face and looking down at the bandages on her elbow and knuckles.
“You and Lee Jihoon got into a fist fight.” Minho said nonchalantly, striding over towards the bedside.
“Huh?!” She exclaimed, staring at him in shock.
“You headed to his favorite bar, got drunk. Argued over—I think—who was the better looking brother amongst us, then that clearly escalated.” He said, pointing at her bandages before reaching for the glass and pitcher of water.
“You’re telling me, I actually hit Jihoon over a stupid drunken argument?” Y/N was still in disbelief.
“Yeah, hair-pulling and all.” Minho shrugged with a soft chuckle, pouring the water and handing it to her.
“You called me crying, saying you’d beaten him up and were scared he might die.”
Y/N covered her face in embarrassment, starting to remember bits and pieces of her “fun night” with that stupid Jihoon.
Then she recalled why she had gone with Jihoon in the first place and glared at Minho.
“I’m sure it must’ve broken your heart to leave your new foreign friend and rush over to help stupid me right?” She jabbed.
Minho stifled another laugh, shaking his head because he knew exactly who she was referring to.
“Why would it break my heart?” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“I’m meeting Miss Son again for lunch.”
He watched her expression darken, brows narrowing as she glared at him.
“That’s fine, I have to meet and apologize to Jihoon anyways.” She downs the water.
It was obvious.
Y/N was jealous.
But she’d never admit it.
He sighed, taking the empty glass from her.
“If you keep hanging out with him, I’ll get jealous.” He said instead.
His response immediately made her grin, her usual sassy expression returning. Automatic fingers intertwined with his.
Ever so easy to please.
“I had a question—” Minho began, his words cut short by her pull.
“Am I close with Jihoon? Not really. He kept going on and on about a fun time so I just humored him—”
“No, not that.” Minho laughed, shaking his head.
He sat up, playing with her fingers, a little reluctant to ask while Y/N blinked, waiting for him to continue.
“If you were an old man, right…”
She narrowed her brows, wondering where this was going.
“Let’s say you had to come up with a four-digit password. What would you set it as?” He asked.
Y/N thought for a moment, the room fell silent with Minho waiting for her response.
“How old am I?” She countered.
“In your seventies.”
“Okay…um, probably something easy to remember, like—”
“It’s not your birthday or an important anniversary,” Minho interrupted, completing her thought.
Y/N scratched her neck, thinking again. Truly confused.
“Does this old man have a favorite person or someone important, like a wife or child? It could be their birthday.” She suggested.
Minho began to think but then cut himself off, his mind returning to last night.
“My favorite grandson.”
The woman in his grasp touched his arm, leaning in, bringing him out of his thoughts.
“Who is this old man anyway?” She asked, genuinely curious.
He smiled and shook his head, brushing it off.
“It was just a question to get your brain working after all that drinking.” He said playfully, poking her temple. He stood up, and she scrunched up her face.
“I made breakfast, let’s eat before we have to part ways again.” He smiled at her, fingers gripping her wrist lightly.
Y/N knew it wasn’t just some question. Minho was clearly referring to Chairman Lee. And it had to have been weighing on his mind for him to ask her for help.
Y/N smiled back at him and followed.
It wasn’t something she would have to worry about.
She tried convincing herself.
───────────────────────
There Minho was again, a tall figure in the dark, his eyes locked on the safe’s buttons, illuminated only by the light of his cell phone.
It was much more challenging to sneak in this time. The last time, he had exploited the celebration of the newborn to slip into Chairman Lee’s study again. Finding another opportunity had taken a week and a half.
His grandfather was out with Son Hyungdon at some wineries and wouldn’t return until this evening. Minho was set to join them for dinner, so now was his only chance to access the safe.
Who knew when the old man would leave his office unattended again?
On top of that, he had to watch out for Secretary Cha. There was no time to waste.
His thoughts drifted back to Y/N’s comment about the old man’s favorite person. The possibilities of his safe combination, limited yet still a mystery.
Chairman Lee loved no one but himself. Minho found it hard to believe he had a favorite.
Yet the memory of the Chairman’s smile, the warm welcome at the party, and the words “my favorite grandson” rang in his ears.
It couldn’t be.
Still, Minho pressed the buttons
0-9-2-4
The safe beeped with an error sound.
He was disappointed, for some reason and let out a strained sighed in the dark. It would have been too easy for his birthday to be the password to such an important safe, even if he were the old man’s so-called favorite. Now he was convinced it was just sweet talk spewed in the presence of his friends.
The sound of footsteps jolted him from his thoughts. He turned his head toward the double doors, eyes darting around for a place to hide.
Shit.
The doors creaked open, and footsteps echoed across the tiles. The desk lamp was turned on.
It was Secretary Cha. The old man was always punctual, even on days he wasn’t trailing behind the Chairman.
Minho held his breath, pressing flat against the floor, peeking through a small crack between the desk and the sofa where he hid. The angle was perfect for watching the secretary’s actions.
Secretary Cha tidied the desk, sorting through some files. He picked up a few, then opened the cabinet and pressed the buttons with ease.
1-0-2-5
Minho frowned, trying to decipher the significance of these numbers to the Chairman. The secretary placed the files into the safe, pulled out a small flash drive, and tucked it into one of the corner compartments.
The safe locked with a quick click, and Secretary Cha turned off the lamp and left, closing the study doors behind him.
Minho remained hidden behind the sofa, waiting until the footsteps faded away. Slowly, he got up and approached the safe. Glancing back at the doors, he opened the cabinet door, turned on his phone’s flashlight, and aimed it at the keypad.
1-0-2-5
The light flashed green, accompanied by a different beep, and the safe opened.
Minho blinked, surprised. He knew the numbers represented days in a month, but what did they signify?
There was no time to ponder.
He pulled open the metal door of the locker, scanning the files inside. One was labeled “Lee Doyoung,” another “Lee Joohyeon.” The Chairman had a file on every family member, some thick, some thin.
Minho wasn’t surprised.
He had uncovered some dirt on his so-called family himself. There was even a file for him, but he had no interest in that. His fingers searched through the files until he found the one that had caught his attention. His hand froze as he read the name.
Yoon Sooyeon.
His birth mother.
Of course the bastard son knew who his mother was. He had been taunted throughout his childhood, his brothers teasing and bullying him, calling him names.
“Dirty Blood”
“Maid’s Son”
“That Yoon Sooyeon must have bewitched my husband.”
All directed to a ten year old.
The file was thin compared to the others. Minho opened it, and his breath hitched.
A photograph.
He picked it up slowly, an unknown emotion spreading through his body as he took in the image of the woman.
This was his mother.
“Yoon Sooyeon.” He whispered.
But the emotion vanished quickly, replaced by unease as he read the death certificate beneath the photo.
Yoon Sooyeon died on September 22nd. Two days before he was even born.
Minho’s heart raced, a tightening sensation in his chest. His mind struggled to process the information. He didn’t know whether to cry or be angry.
He was simply… confused.
How could his birth mother, the maid who had supposedly “bewitched” his father, have died before he was even born?
There had to be a mistake.
No, there must have been some error, either with the date of her death or his birth.
Then something clicked in Minho’s mind.
The passcode numbers.
Was he born a month after the date he’d celebrated his whole life?
Frustrated, he quickly rummaged through the files again, pulling out the one with his name on it, easily finding a copy of his birth certificate.
September, Twenty-Fourth
His parents were the people he’d known as his “mother” and “father” all his life.
But Minho wasn’t convinced. As he sifted through the old man’s collected information, he noticed his school certificates among the documents.
Number one in Math.
Number one in Science.
Number one in Politics.
He hadn’t realized he’d accumulated so many certificates.
His hand stopped flipping through the files as he pulled out a wrinkled, creased paper. Another birth certificate.
Lee Minho.
Born on October Twenty-Fifth.
The names of his parents, blacked out.
He wasn’t shocked. Just, more confused and lost. The deeper he dug, the more in the dark he felt. His gaze returned to the password keypad of the safe.
1-0-2-5.
His real birthday.
But that didn’t explain why Yoon Soo-Yeon’s death date was a whole month before his actual birth.
His brows relaxed, drawing a conclusion.
This woman… was not his real mother. The woman whose name had been imbedded into his head was not his birth mother.
Minho swallowed, trying to ease the dryness in his throat.
A shiver ran down his spine. His gut told him he wasn’t going to like what he was about to discover.
Did he truly wish to uncover such a truth?
───────────────────────
“What do you mean pregnant?!”
Chairman Lee’s words was strained, shock and a hint of anger in his voice, his wide eyes fixed on the young assistant.
“Yes. I’m pregnant and it’s your child.” The young assistant whispered, her voice trembling with nerves and fear.
The silence in the office was deafening, the then unretired chairman blinked, looking around as if unable to process what he was hearing. He should have known better.
What else did he expect after taking a fondness to the young assistant, who always drew his attention whenever she entered his office. It was clear now that it was all a ploy, planned to use her beauty and fragile words to catch his eye.
“Get rid of it.” He said coldly, turning towards the window and sliding his hands into his pockets.
Her head shot up, eyes wide with disbelief.
“How can you say that? It’s your child. You have to take responsibility!” She yelled, instinctively placing a hand over her stomach.
He turned swiftly at her stupid remark, his cold eyes locking onto hers.
“What kind of responsibility? We were just having some fun. What do you want me to do? Marry you and tell the world I was seduced by a young secretary assistant only months after my wife passed away?”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she glared at him with disgust.
“You shouldn’t have slept with me if you didn’t want to marry me.” She snapped, her face reflecting her anger.
The chairman strode forward and grabbed her by the neck, choking her. She clawed at his fingers desperately, gasping for air.
“That’s not how the world works. If I’d known you were just trying to trap me into marriage, I would’ve dealt with you a long time ago.” He said, tightening his grip as her face turned red. She struggled to free herself.
“Listen, like a good girl, and disappear from my sight.” He muttered as he finally released her.
She collapsed onto the floor, coughing profusely and clutching her neck, tears streaming down her face.
“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll make sure you’re gone for good.” He warned, walking out of the room.
Secretary Cha hurried to his side as he exited his office.
“Get someone to keep an eye on her. I don’t want another mess.” Chairman Lee instructed as he entered the elevator.
The chairman was already dealing with a mess created by his sons, who had soured relations with one of their major clients. A client he himself had built strong ties with years prior.
Upon his arrival at the Lee mansion, he was greeted by the loud screams of a young Jungshin yelling at his caretaker.
“If you force me to eat I’ll get my father to fire you right away!” Young Joohyeon shouted, arms crossed over his chest.
The grandfather watched with a frown.
These spoiled brats.
He had thought he would be able to be at peace once his sons began slowly taking over the duties at the company. But he was hit with disappointment after disappointment, and looking at the spoiled grandchildren around the house, he couldn’t help but see a doomed future for L Corp.
A few weeks later, Secretary Cha entered his study and closed the door behind him, standing seriously in front of the chairman’s desk.
“She ran away from the city and is headed towards her hometown.”
The chairman’s expression softened, recognizing who his secretary was referring to.
“She hasn’t gotten rid of the baby.”
The room fell silent as the older man contemplated.
“What do you want to do, sir?” Secretary Cha asked.
A sharp thought flashed across the chairman’s mind, his eyes almost lighting up at how brilliant it was.
“Leave her.” Chairman Lee said.
He suddenly saw this as a chance to start over. A chance to raise another version of himself.
Chairman Lee had always been a conniving and calculating man. A businessman through and through.
“How can I just waste it all now?”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
to be continued.
── ask to be tagged! - @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23, @tsunderelino, @thecutiepieme, @candyquokka
The smell of Spring was in the air as Minho stood at the back door of his family’s vacation home. He leaned up against the open door frame while crossing his arms of his chest and smiling softly as he spotted Minduelle walking through the field behind the house. He watches as she smiles softly and lets her hand gently graze along the tops of the tall grass, she’s dressed in a pretty sky blue sundress that’s dotted with little yellow flowers. Her hair is tied back from her face but flows freely down her back as the soft wind makes it flutter and dance behind her. She’s a picture of beauty and he can’t help but to pull his cell phone out and capture her picture quickly before he pushes off from the door frame and heads down the steps into the field.
It takes him no time to reach her and he’s easily sweeping her up into his arms and spinning her around in the air much to her squealing delight as she braces her hands against his shoulders while gazing down at him lovingly. He stops spinning her and slowly lowers her down the front of his body, feeling her every curve against him as her feet gently touch the ground. Her face is flushed and her eyes sparkle with delight as she looks up at him adoringly, her hands come up to cup his face and he watches as her eyes dart around taking him in quietly with a soft look on her face.
”What is it Mindeulle?” He asks softly as his own hands come up to cover hers.
”Just wondering what features our ssang-dung-i-duel will have from you and which ones they’ll have from me.” She says sweetly. Minho frowns softly at your words before he watches one of your hands fall from his face to cover your stomach. He blinks once, twice, thrice and you chuckle softly at his confusion before suddenly things start to click into place in his mind.
He had noticed your hesitation to have breakfast in the morning the past couple of weeks but you had only reassured him that it was just the changing of the seasons as Spring started to make itself known. But now as he stared down at your patiently waiting eager face and then lower to your hand covering your stomach he finally understood.
”You’re pregnant? With twins?” He asked in a soft tone as his eyes widened slightly at the knowledge.
”We’re pregnant with twins. You helped make me this way.” You corrected him with a gentle eye roll and he smirked softly at your implication before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips heatedly.
”We can do that again.” He teased and you rolled your eyes once more at him as you scoffed.
”This was supposed to be a sweet moment. How did you already turn it dirty?” You asked exasperated and he smirked down at you.
”Didn’t you know that’s my super power?” He asked smugly and you scoffed softly at him before he cupped your face and pulled you into a kiss. “My heart is so full right now. I can’t tell you how happy I am right now. We’re going to have two little ones.” He whispered against your lips and you beamed happily up at him before pressing your lips to his once more. “Twins.” He whispered and then you watched it sink in and his eyes widened comically. “Oh shit, twins.” He said softly and you began to chuckle at his shock.
”Relax, we’ll be fine.” You soothed him and he eyed you still shocked and surprised but there was a happy glitter in his eyes that made your heart melt. “We will get through this together. It will be fine.”
*-*-*-*
Everything was not fine as you had promised. Your morning sickness had suddenly amped up within the last month and it found you almost every morning in the bathroom emptying your stomach for the better part of an hour. Minho had grown concerned when everything that the doctor had suggested to help you wasn’t working and you hadn’t been able to keep much down.
In his desperation he had called not only his mother for ideas on ways to help you keep things down but also your mother. Both women had easily descended on your home and had been coddling you excessively. Minho knew that you hated to be coddled like this but he couldn’t think of any other way to get help with your morning sickness. None of the books he had read about pregnancy had been all that helpful and he was really starting to grow concerned with your inability to keep anything in your stomach.
As it came closer and closer to the end of your first trimester Minho was worried that this would continue for the rest of your pregnancy. He couldn’t remember the last time that you were able to eat and keep down anything more than a few crackers, broth and water. Even your favorite tea managed to upset your stomach and he knew that it saddened you, you always loved a good cup of your favorite tea.
Right now as he placed a bowl of simple broth in front of you and a small stack of soup crackers he watched as you looked down at it before looking at his own soup bowl that was filled with vegetables and delectable thin slices of meat. Your stomach grumbled in hunger as your eyes took in his bowl of soup and Minho frowns softly wondering if he shouldn’t torture you by eating his meal in front of you, but he knows you’d protest not taking you meal with him. It was one of your favorite moments of the day, when the two of you would come together and just talk about your day while eating.
“Has the doctor said anything else about how to help your morning sickness and nausea?” he asked softly, still worrying about your inability to keep anything substantial in your stomach. He knew it couldn’t be healthy for you but he also worried that it wasn’t healthy for the babies either. He watches as your eyes stay glued to his soup bowl as he begins to eat before you answer him.
“She said that if it doesn’t get better once I hit my second trimester than she’ll have to put me on medication.” you tell him as you pick up your soup and drink your broth as your eyes still gaze at his bowl longingly. Minho nods his head before he begins to dig into his bowl as his eyes dance along your frame. “I’ve got half a mind to ask her to put me on the medication already, I’m so hungry.” you confess to him and he grimaces knowing that there wasn’t anything he could to help you with that unfortunately. “Being pregnant is rough enough already and then to not be able to eat anything besides crackers and broth.” you say with a frown, Minho watches as you pick up your chopsticks and steal a piece of water chestnut from his bowl and before he can stop you you slip the vegetable into your mouth still talking around it while you chew. “It’s not fair really, I mean I’m the one growing our twins and they’re stealing nutrients from me every hour but yet they won’t let me eat peacefully!” you complain goodnaturedly and Minho watches with wide eyes as you quickly steal another piece of water chestnut from his bowl and slip it quickly in your mouth before you groan loudly and let you eyes fall shut. He waits for your stomach to start rolling and for you to rush for the bathroom but when you continue sipping your soup and dipping your crackers into your broth he’s surprised.
“Mindeulle, sweetheart.” he says softly and you look up at him with a furrowed brow. “You just ate two water chestnuts. Is your stomach feeling alright?” he asked worriedly and you tilt your head cutely at him before your eyes widened comically along with his.
“I don’t feel sick. Minho! I don’t feel sick!” you rush out hurriedly as excitement fills your face and he can’t help but grin widely at how adorable you looked to him. “Is there more water chestnuts in the pot?” you asked him quickly as you stood from the table.
“Now wait, don’t overdo it. We don’t know if this is your body finally getting over the morning sickness or if it’s just accepting water chestnuts. It might reject all the other vegetables and meats.” he cautioned you and you nodded your head at his words.
“I want to try though. At least I know I can now have water chestnuts. That’s better than nothing.” you begin to ramble and he follows you back into the kitchen to help you get some vegetables to put in your soup. He takes the bowl from you and begins to put a few water chestnuts in your bowl before selecting one vegetable each from the others he had prepared. Just as he’s selecting the last vegetable you burst into loud sobs and Minho flinches with worry as he quickly turns to you still holding your bowl.
“Mindeulle! What? What is it? Are you okay? Is it the babies?” he asked panicked and you shake your head quickly trying to reassure him as tears continue race down your face as sobs rack your body. Minho sets your bowl down and quickly pulls you into his arms rubbing his hands down your back trying to soothe you. “Tell me, what’s wrong?” he tells you pleadingly and you look up at him.
“I’m just so happy that I can eat water chestnuts.” you sob and Minho stands there still rubbing your back before he begins to laugh loudly at your words. He knows he shouldn’t laugh but just the simple fact that you can stomach water chestnuts has you sobbing like your world was ending.
“Oh sweetheart.” he coos softly at you as he tries to stop his laughing. He pulls you close into his body and envelops you in his warmth. “My poor agi.” he coos softly as you begin to calm down. Cupping your face he tilts it up to gaze into it before he leans forward and kisses you deeply.
After he gets you settled back into your place at the dining table he quickly shoots both your mother and his mother a text letting them know that your stomach has eased and you’re now happily eating vegetables in your soup. When they both respond in positive praise he then returns to his place at the dining table and watches you quietly as you eat your fill of vegetables and broth with a soft smile on his face.
*-*-*-*
Minho taps his hand against the steering wheel excitedly as he carefully watches traffic flowing around his car. A pop song plays on the radio before it’s suddenly changed to another station with a rock song, he smirks softly as his eyes dart over to you as you settle back into the passenger seat while your hand comes to lay flat against your rounded stomach.
You’re now half through your second trimester and your baby bump is more prominent which has made Minho’s aegyo almost uncontrollable. He just loves looking over at you and seeing your round tummy knowing that the twins are in there. He’s constantly filled with love and awe every time he looks at you and he can’t control himself to keep his hands to himself anymore. You’ve begrudgingly accepted it even when you don’t want to be touched, you’ve told him that while you may not want to be touched the way his face lights up every time he sees you makes your heart melt and your body feel like jello.
“So will there be an ultrasound today?” he asks for the millionth time and you huff at him before shifting in your seat once again. As the twins continue to grow within you your discomfort skyrockets and Minho can’t imagine how uncomfortable it must be to have two babies growing within you.
“Yes Min. I told you this. You know this.” you say tiredly with a long sigh as you try not to snap at him. He knows that your irritable attitude lately has only been because of how uncomfortable you’ve gotten so he tries to keep you as peaceful as possible but sometimes he knows he gets too excited for you. “I hope it won’t too long of a wait, they always ask for a urine sample and the twins are doing somersaults on my bladder.” you say softly as you huff out a breath while shifting once more in your seat. Minho gently takes your hand in his before raising it to his lips trying to ease you.
“Well you tell those two to cut it out and give their Eomeoni a break.” he says firmly and you smile beautifully at him before your eyes begin to tear up. “Oh no, no, no, no. I didn’t mean to make you cry agi.” he coos softly and you quickly brush under your eyes catching the tears as they fall.
“It’s okay, I’m just a mess lately.” you say quickly and Minho smiles softly at you giving you a moment to compose yourself as he pulls into the parking lot of the doctor’s office.
“What caused the waterworks this time?” he asked gently as he parked the car and you scoffed softly at him causing him to grin widely at you.
“Calling me their Eomeoni.” you confess quietly and he beams over at you. “Don’t start, it just hit me a little harder than normally.” you warn him and he quickly gets out of the car before rushing around it to your door and helping you out. He wraps his arms around you loosely and rubs his nose gently against yours before pecking your lips. “Don’t make me cry in the parking lot.” you warn him and he grins down at you feeling his heart swell to its limits at how much he loves you.
“I won’t, I won’t.” he promises and you nod your head at him before he begins to guide you towards the doctor’s office eager to see what the twins look like now since the last ultrasound. He idly wonders if he can convince the nurse to let him keep all the pictures they take today.
*-*-*-*
“Mindeulle, are you sure that’s what you actually want to eat? That sounds disgusting, soy sauce and vanilla ice cream? That’s going to give you heartburn.” he said into the phone as he walked down the freezer aisle looking for the ice cream.
“Please Minho, I need it. In fact it’s a straight order from the twins and you wouldn’t deprive them would you?” you whine over the phone and Minho chuckles softly at you.
“Well if it’s a straight order from the twins how could I deny them?” he humors you and hears you huff softly at him and he chuckles softly. “What now?” he asks softly and hears your soft grumble.
“You’d deny their Eomeoni but if it’s from the twins you get them whatever they want.” you gripe out softly and Minho bursts out into happy laughter.
“Are you really jealous of our twins right now?” he asks amusedly and you huff at him. “And am I not at the grocery store right now picking up soy sauce and vanilla ice cream for the three of you?” he asked smugly.
“Yes, yes but it’s because the twins need it.” you counter and he laughs at you again.
“I love you crazy woman. I’ll never deny you of anything unless it’d harm you.” he tells you honestly and you sigh wistfully over the line.
“How can you annoy me one second and then make my heart melt the next? It’s not fair. How am I supposed to not jump your bones as soon as you walk through the door?” you whine softly and Minho straightens against the grocery cart with interest at your words.
“Is that so?” he asks softly and you huff softly in his ear.
“I’ve been needy for you since you left. It doesn’t make any sense. I want the food but I want you too. So much.” you whine softly and Minho quickly rushes to the ice cream section before grabbing the most rich vanilla ice cream he can spot before heading to the registers.
“You better be naked on the couch waiting for me when I get home.” he says in a heated whisper into the phone.
“But the ice cream.” you whine softly and he huffs softly at you.
“I will feed it to you while you sit on my cock.” he grunts out and you keen loudly in his ear. Minho doesn’t bother to put the shopping cart back in its rightful place as he pays for the ice cream and runs out of the store to his car as he hears you shuffling in the background removing your clothes.
*-*-*-*
Your living room has exploded with Christmas wrapping paper, bows, bags, and name tags among the boxes of gifts that you may have overdone purchasing for everyone you loved. But as you sit in the middle of it all with Jisung and Gongjag sitting on the sofa and the armchair helping you keep everything organized and helping with the wrapping of the gifts. The Christmas tree that you and Minho had set up and decorated sat in the corner twinkling with its sparkling lights and eclectic assortment of ornaments kept catching your attention and distracting you.
This morning Minho had to leave early to head into the office for an issue that couldn’t be handled remotely. He had told you he hadn’t wanted to leave you so close to your due date, it was still two weeks away but the doctor had cautioned that you could go into labor at any moment now. Not to mention the twins had been more active lately not being able to settle or lay still for very long which had caused you quite a bit of pain effectively causing Minho to become more overprotective of you. But he ultimately had to leave you for the day to finish up work. He had made a call to Jisung and Gongjag asking them to stay with you today while he was away. You hadn’t agreed with his reasoning of having to bother your friends to keep watch of you but you had to admit that you enjoyed the company as you laughed at Jisung sticking his tongue out at his wife from the armchair as she flung a bow at him.
You burst into uncontrollable laughter when the bow stuck to his head as you stood there in the middle of the multiple rolls of wrapping paper. As you continued to laugh as Jisung flinched back and tried to remove the bow as Gongjag teased him you suddenly felt a wet warmth form and then flow down your legs and you looked at Gongjag with wide eyes as you gasped loudly. Gongjag looked over at you worriedly before her eyes widened in her face and she quickly jumped from the sofa and rushed over to you.
“Your water broke. We have to go to the hospital. C’mon let’s get you changed quickly and we’ll drive you.” she guided you softly as you stared at her worriedly.
“Minho, we have to tell Minho.” you gasped out softly when a sharp pain raced across your stomach causing you to grip it tightly with your hand.
“Okay, we’ll tel him. Breathe through your nose remember.” Gongjag instructed as she guided you out of the living room and towards your bedroom. “Jisung grab her hospital bag! Put it in the car!” Gongjag called out to him over her shoulder and you could hear him rushing around the apartment.
“On it!” he called before the front door slammed shut. Gongjag easily helped you out of your wet yoga pants and handed you a fresh pair of underwear and sweats before bending down to help you step into the clothes.
“I’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing.” you rushed out worriedly and Gongjag shook her head as you stood after dressing you.
“Don’t worry agi. We all love you and are gonna help you birth these babies.” she cooed softly at you and you burst into tears at her kind hearted words. “Oh agi. No tears, this is a happy moment. You can tell the ssang-dung-i-deul all about how their Auntie helped them come into this world when they’re older. Preferably on the eighteenth birthday in front of everyone.” she said conspiratorially and you chuckled watery at her words as you nodded your head. You hissed suddenly as another contraction gripped you and Gongjag looked at her watch timing the contraction before leading you out of the bedroom towards the front door where Jisung stood waiting anxiously as he shifted from one foot to the other. You burst out in stilted laughter as you spotted the bow still stuck to his head and Gongjag rolled her eyes at him.
“The babies are coming!” Jisung suddenly rushed out and you chuckled once more at him as the bow bounced on his head as he erratically moved trying to find the best place for himself to be helpful.
“Ji pabo. You go first and get the car started.” Gongjag instructs him. “Then come back and wait at the bottom of the stairs while I walk Mindeulle down.” You huff softly as another contraction grips you as you all walk out of the apartment before Jisung rushes off down to the car. “I swear he’d lose his head in an emergency.” she says softly to herself and you laugh softly at her words while you nod your head.
“But he’s too sweet for his own good.” you tell her and she nods her head avidly at your words.
“Oh absolutely. He wants to help, he just doesn’t know what to do or how to help. My sweet clueless jagiya.” she says softly and you chuckle softly as you come up to the stairs leading down into the parking lot. Just as Jisung came walking to the bottom of the stairs and you had made it a little more than half way down the stairs a contraction hit you so intensely that it made you double over on the stairs. Jisung immediately wrapped his arms around you and guided you down the stairs as you hissed and tried to suck in air through your nose.
“I got you Mindeulle.” he said softly as his hand came up to cover your stomach. “We gotta tell these little ones to cut you some slack.” he teased and you grinned at him while walking to their car. Jisung helped you into the backseat before sliding in on the other side while Gongjag sat in the driver’s seat and began pulling out of the parking lot quickly.
“We have to call Minho.” you gasped out softly and Jisung nodded his head while pulling out his cell phone as Gongjag drove as safely and quickly to the hospital.
“Yah Minho!” Jisung greeted anxiously as you gripped his hand tightly in your own as you did your breathing exercises. “You need to meet us at the hospital!” Jisung said worriedly before crying out loudly as you gripped his hand tightly as a contraction ripped through your lower half as you cried out loudly in pain.
“Easy Mindeulle, we’re almost there.” Gongjag tried to reassure you as Jisung nodded his head at you.
“Minho, just get to the hospital!” shouted Jisung into the phone before hanging up. You knew that Minho would probably be in a panic now after that phone call and probably after hearing you in the background but you couldn’t focus on that as you felt the contractions start coming closer and closer together as you squirmed in the backseat of the car.
*-*-*-*
Minho rushes through the emergency doors of the hospital gasping for breath and looking around frantically at everyone that was in the waiting room. He spotted the nurse at the front desk and rushed over to it feeling out of breath and worried beyond belief.
“Excuse me” he panted softly and the nurse looked up at him concerned.
“Can I help you?” she asked curiously and he nodded his head.
“My wife, she’s giving birth and was rushed here by our friends.” he tried to explain to her but his words came out staccato.
“What’s the last name dear?” she asked kindly with a soft smile on her face.
“Lee.” he told her and she nodded her head as she typed in the name hurriedly before looking through the records in the computer.
“Third floor, room three hundred forty one.” she told him. “Take the elevators right over there to the third floor.” she instructed him before pointing towards two elevators in the corner of the room. Minho nodded his head and thanked her quickly before rushing to the elevators. He anxiously waited for the elevators to arrive before quickly getting into them and pressing the button for the third floor. He shifted on his feet as the elevator rose from the first floor and tried to calm himself down to not be completely panicked.
When the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened Minho quickly walked out and was greeted by a nurse at another front desk.
“Can I help you?” she asked kindly and Minho walked hurriedly over to her.
“My wife is giving birth in room three hundred forty one. I need to be with her please.” he rushed out and she smiled widely at him.
“Can I see your i.d. please?” she asked quickly and he easily pulled his wallet out before showing her his i.d. She smiled while nodding her head and pressed a button that unlocked the door leading further into the maternity ward. “Right down the hallway on the left.” she instructed and Minho nodded his head before quickly rushing down the hallway.
When he came to the door for room three hundred forty one he could hear you groaning loudly from within before he knocked quickly on the door. It opened suddenly and Minho was greeted by a panicked looking Jisung.
“Oh thank god you’re here!” he cried happily before pulling Minho into the room. Minho stood there for a moment quickly taking in the room before he spotted you on the bed sweaty and panting softly as you gritted your teeth.
“Are you the husband?” asked the doctor who was moving towards the end of your bed and Minho nodded quickly before he moved to your side. You looked over at him and sighed softly when your eyes connected with his.
“You almost missed it.” you said sorrowfully and Minho shook his head quickly before pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” he whispered to you before guiding you to sit forward as he climbed into the bed behind you and wrapped his arms around your body like the two of you had planned for your birth. Your body fell heavily back against his chest and he sturdily kept you upright as he pressed sweet kisses to the side of your face. “You’re doing so well agi. So well. I’m so proud of you.” he whispered in your ear.
“Alright Mrs. Lee, on the count of three I need you to push. We’re at the end now.” the doctor instructed you and Minho felt you shake your head at his words.
“C’mon Mindeulle. We have to push. Our ssang-dung-i-deul are coming.” Minho whispered into your ear and your head lolled back against his shoulder.
“I’m so tired.” you panted out and Minho nodded his head while interlacing your fingers with his as he shifted back against the bed.
“Alright, one, two, three!” said the doctor loudly and Minho leaned forward with you as you gripped his fingers tightly as you screamed in pain. “Good! There’s one!” said the doctor as he handed one baby to an awaiting nurse who quickly moved to clean up the baby. Minho gasped as the sound of a loud wail filled the room and he beamed proudly as he pressed more kisses to the side of your head. “One more time, count of three. Let’s get that little girl out here.” the doctor said encouragingly. “One, two, three!” Minho leaned forward once more with you as you screamed and gripped his fingers again. He watched wide eyed as your daughter was slipped from your body and handed off to another nurse who quickly moved to clean her off. When he heard the wail of his little girl Minho sagged back against the bed with you laying heavily on his chest and he began to chuckle softly as tears fell from his eyes.
“Here you are Eomeoni.” came the sweet soft voice of the first nurse and Minho watched in awe as she gently placed your son in your arms, laying him on your chest. Minho stared down at the two of you as his body began to shake with so much emotion coursing through him before the second nurse came over with your daughter and laid her on the other side of your chest. His arms came around the three of you protectively as he pressed kisses into your hairline while tears still slipped down his face.
He’s so enraptured by the beautiful moment of his little family expanding by two that he doesn’t notice Jisung proudly snapping picture after picture on his cell phone to later send to the happy exhausted parents.
Summary: Lee Know shows off his parenting skills both with his own baby and his cats, which surprisingly helps you understand better how to be a mom.
Type: Fluff 🧸, SFW 👍
Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, mentions of breastfeeding.
Word count: 2403 words
AN: This fic is a part 2 to Lee Know’s version of the He Knows Series. It can also be read as a stand alone. I didn’t include a lot of dialogue in this one, and yeah… I struggled but I got it and not to toot my own horn... but I think it's quite cute! Proofread but not too carefully.
“Minho…” you groaned as you turned on the bed, the loud cries from the baby’s room echoing through the apartment and through the baby’s monitor.
He groaned back, Doongie stirring where it laid curled into his side.
“Hmm…” he turned too, now facing you. “Is it my turn?”
You dropped your hand on his chest with your eyes closed, at least you hoped it was his chest where your hand landed.
“He’s probably hungry but I haven’t been able to pump any milk…”
Minho sighed and groaned loudly as he moved, rubbing his fingers up your arm in a soothing manner.
“I’ll give him some formula, don’t worry about it.”
You let your hand drop onto the warm space he left behind and nuzzled into the pillow with exhaustion. He got up and made his old man loud noises as he stood from the bed and put on his house slippers. His groans made you smile into the soft pillow.
The last few days had been incredibly difficult on you emotionally and physically, so being able to smile and relax was a highly appreciated opportunity.
From coming home after giving birth to realizing your plans of breastfeed were impossible as your body refused to cooperate. And on top of everything, there was the weird process of hormones going back to normal that brought along a whole lot of emotions forward.
You were thankful to Chan!Reader and Changbin!Reader for sticking out for you and talking to Chan so he would convince Minho he could stay home for a few days when the baby arrived.
You never needed him as much as you did those first few days. And he was incredibly good in his new role as a dad. If there was anything to say about your husband as a friend and a partner, it was that he always showed up.
Minho was a difficult person to understand sometimes. He had a tough exterior and was not the type of person to trust others quite easily, even joking with strangers was something he had to work himself into. Inside he was sweet and thoughtful. He protected his loved ones with everything he had, even if he seemed rude, he would always protect his friends. However, Lee know was gentle when he needed to be and he was generous with both his time and attention to his friends and family. You and Hojoon were no exceptions to this, in fact, he went all out for you.
Whenever he could he would cook with you and enjoy an evening on the couch watching whatever on the tv with you laying your head on his chest or half sprawled out against him. He loved to spend time hanging out with you and your friends from work whenever it was possible to him. A few times you were able to take days off and fly out to wherever in the world he was playing a concert, he loved those occasions; Lee Know treasured the time you two got to spend together. You were the peace and quite in his life, he trusted fame would never take his feet off the ground because with you he was not an idol or a public figure, he was your husband who forgot to do the laundry or gave the cats too many treats, or put his cold feet on her calf and woke her up... You were his wife who overthought things to the point of herself headaches, who cooked dinner every night, his wife who folded shirts weird but he said nothing about it... And as of most recently, you were his wife who braved out a difficult pregnancy with swollen feet and a sore back, with a belly that seemed to never stop growing; his wife who somehow managed to give him the most perfect baby boy.
So when Hojoon was born, Minho had a new person to share his time and love with, his affection was now put on his son. And you could not be happier as he was more than a little involved.
Lee Know liked to hold his son, keeping him close to his chest so he could hear his heartbeat and know he was being held.
Your husband was secretly glad you couldn't breastfeed because he enjoyed giving him the bottle and lolling him to sleep.
And Hojoon was beautiful, small and demanding. He was an awful lot like his dad already. He was loud and had a temper but he loved to hear your gentle whispering and enjoyed being in your arms. You thought it was a normal baby’s thing but watching how independent Seo Hajoon was, you thought maybe it was part of who your little boy would grow to be…
As you go back to sleep you think about the way Minho has jumped into action lately.
He quickly got the hang of things, and he seemed to be doing incredibly well with the late nights and the early mornings. If anything you were the one struggling the most with the new work of taking care of the baby. Most nights you still felt lost about how to calm him down as he got scared or startled at night.
Your husband always had an answer; he rarely panicked. It was one of Lee Know’s strengths, he took things slow and went about them with care. You realized as soon as he told you he knew of your pregnancy that he was going to be on top of things. He did not miss a single one of your doctor’s appointments, even when he had things to do, schedules and commitments. He always made the time and made sure to be there. He also never left you alone, at least not truly alone. There was always someone checking up on you.
He would never be surprised or annoyed at Hojoon’s loud cries. He would hold him and sniff him, figuring out if it was his diaper that was making him uncomfortable. If not he would try to feed him, otherwise he would simply sit down in the living room with him, making him feel safe and comfortable.
So right now as he goes to find Hojoon in his crib you are thankful for him and all that he has been doing for you two in the last few days since your baby was born.
A long twenty minutes later Lee Know came back to bed, he rested his head on the pillow again with a sigh. She pulled her hand away and wondered what he did to put Hojoon down again so quickly.
“How did it go?”
Minho turned and looked at you with a small smirk on his face.
“Little man didn’t know what hit him,” he whispered triumphantly.
You touched his face softly and smiled. In the faint moonlight that entered your room through the window, he looked tired. His brown eyes carried slightly dark circles and his entire body seemed to sink deep into the mattress.
“How are you such a good dad? Where did you learn, hm?”
Lee Know smiled and hummed under your touch, he sighed and closed his eyes.
“I don’t know, you get used to taking care of little living things, I guess... Rest now, he’s alright.”
You giggled and rested your hand on his cheek. “Are you comparing parenting to… having cats?”
He hummed and rolled onto his side a little more, grabbing you by the waist he pulled you closer. You wrapped your arm around his waist too and sighed.
“He’s kinda like a little cat…” Minho whispered with his eyes closed. “All he really wants is to stay clean and have some milk, he doesn't even need to play too much. We can give him that alright.”
You smiled at how practical he makes it sound. He sighed, a clear sign that he was about to fall asleep. You did not dare distract him any longer and simply kissed his nose before you decided to try and get some sleep before it was your turn to get the little demanding baby.
You thought for a moment that your baby’s lips have that same pouty shape Minho’s have, that Hojoon’s chubby cheeks look so similar to Minho’s in his baby photos, how the small baby has you wrapped around his little finger just the same way as Minho does…
You fell back asleep and did not think much about his words for a few weeks until they resonated in your head. By then you had finally settled into a routine.
Mostly you would wake up and shower, then you would check on Hojoon, if he was still asleep you would have enough time to make breakfast and prepare his bottle before he woke up with those signature loud cries.
Because that was another thing about your little baby; Hojoon was a demanding little one, once he was awake it was all about him. Lee Know would try to deny it, but it was one of those things he could do too when he was home… want you all to himself.
You carried Hojoon around in a baby wrap all day, he was happiest that way. You would feed him in the morning and eat in the meantime. He would nap against your chest or in your husband’s arms when he wasn’t super busy with work.
Hojoon would make tasks take longer, but you learned to manage. He was inadvertently teaching you quite the lesson on patience. You would keep up with the housework while he napped in the wrap tied closely to do your body.
One night, after realizing that thinking of your responsibilities as a mom as more of a simple bunch of tasks made it easier for you to get those tasks done, you told Lee Know that he was right.
“You know,” you paused while he changed Hojoon’s dirty diaper at night. “You were right about him… kinda…”
Lee Know nodded, his dark hair fell over his eyes as he focused on using the wet baby wipe to clean up his son’s body.
He had been home a little earlier after his recording session and work out, now he was showered and wore his comfortable grey pants and a black shirt.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Yeah, I’m usually right.”
He gave you a quick little smirk as he threw the wipe into the trash can and grabbed another, muttering at his son: “you made a big mess, man… How are we ever gonna get the poop smell out? Hm?” he looked satisfied as Hojoon smiled up at him, his toes wiggling in Lee Know’s gentle grasp, “oh you want to be smelly?” The baby giggled slightly and your husband nodded at him with a soft smile on his face.
You watched him for a moment and smiled, a warmth setting in your chest at the sight in front of you. Minho finished cleaning your baby up and smeared a good amount of baby cream on his son’s delicate skin.
“What was I right about?”
You rolled your eyes but did not lose your smile as you passed him one of the diapers.
“Hojoon's only true worries are being clean and fed. And we are doing it right.”
He chuckled and his eyes flickered to your face for a brief moment.
“Excuse me? When did I say that?” He played stupid.
You laughed at the way he arches his brow and pretended not to know what you are talking about.
“Oh, when you said he,” you stepped closer and covered your baby’s ears as if to spare him hearing what you were talking about, “was like a cat…”
Minho’s eyes turned to the ground as Dori meows behind him, asking politely for his attention.
“They do have perfect timing, don’t they?” He looked back at you and then at Hojoon. “I will assume I was half asleep when I said this…”
You nodded.
“I found… it’s easier if I view it that way.” You explained, “not that he is a cat,” you let go of Hojoon’s ears and touched his head, short hair already growing on it. “I can look after myself and the cats… why would it be so hard to look after him?”
You picked up Dori from the ground and walked around Lee Know.
“You feeling better, then?” he wondered as he closed and secured Hojoon’s diaper in place.
He glanced back at you for a moment, watching you. He was well aware of your struggle coming down from the huge hormonal high that pregnancy and birth put you through. On top of that he knew you would be anxious, your overthinking made it hard even at the hospital when you had little to worry about as the doctors and nurses were taking care of you and the baby. Lee Know took the opportunity to ask and he meant it, he wanted to know if you were feeling better, more like yourself. More confident in yourself now you were a mom.
You nodded as you scratched the cat’s chin.
“Yes, I feel better.”
You replied honestly, a small smile formed on your lips and you looked at your husband with gratitude.
Lee Know pulled Hojoon’s onesie closed again and pulled a pair of tiny pants on him before picking him up and holding him against his chest. His open palm holding the back of his head while his other hand held his tiny bottom.
“That’s all that matters then,” He moved the baby in his arms and craddled him, grabbing Hojoon’s tiny hand and moving it up, playfully joking with you, “meooow! Heard that?”
“Oh, you’re going to be mean about this?” You laughed regardless.
Lee Know did it again. “Meowwww! Hey, I think it’s cat number 4…” He even looked around playing dumb.
You started walking to the door, still holding Dori in your arms.
“Wow…” You chuckled.
Minho meowed again and chuckled, “hey, that is the fifth cat!”
You turned to him with a frown and he came to you quickly, giving you a soft peck on the cheek. “ Jagiya… I couldn’t help it, I'm sorry.”
“Come on, our other sons are famished.”
He snorted at the comment and followed you with Hojoon in his arms, comfortable now that he’s had his diaper changed so meticulously by his dad.
————
Likes, Reblogs and Comments are welcome! Thank you for reading!
Chan was already exhausted from the long flight, but the second he stepped through the door and saw you standing there, something in his heart settled.
“I missed you so much, baby.” He pulled you into a long, warm hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
You hesitated, your fingers tightening around the small gift bag in your hands. “I have something for you.”
He chuckled. “You didn’t have to get me anything, love.” But when he opened the bag and pulled out a tiny onesie that said “Daddy’s Mini Me”, his smile froze.
His eyes widened. “Wait… is this—”
Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded. “I’m pregnant, Chan.”
For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, without warning, he dropped the onesie and wrapped you in the tightest hug, his body shaking. “Are you serious? We’re going to have a baby?”
When you whispered a soft “Yes”, he let out a breathy laugh, pressing kisses all over your face. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you so much.”
And just like that, he already imagined your little family—his family.
⸻
Lee Know – Shocked and Speechless (For Once)
Minho was unpacking his suitcase when you cleared your throat, your hands nervously fidgeting with your shirt.
“Hey… I need to tell you something.”
He glanced up, noticing the tension in your voice. “What’s wrong, jagi?”
You took a deep breath before holding up the positive pregnancy test. “I’m pregnant.”
Minho blinked. Once. Twice.
Then, with a completely blank expression, he said, ”…Huh?”
You bit your lip, waiting for him to process.
Seconds passed. Then his gaze slowly moved from your face to your stomach. “Wait. You’re… you’re actually pregnant?”
When you nodded, his lips parted slightly. For the first time in forever, Lee Know was speechless.
Then, suddenly, he scoffed—half disbelieving, half amused—and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh my God. I’m going to be a dad?”
He walked over, resting his hands on your waist before breaking into a soft smile. “I have to start learning dad jokes now, huh?”
And just like that, he was already planning how to spoil you and the baby.
⸻
Changbin – Immediately Protective and Soft
As soon as Changbin saw you, he engulfed you in a bear hug, burying his face in your neck.
“I missed you so much, baby. Tour was amazing, but nothing compares to coming home to you.”
You smiled nervously, biting your lip. “Binnie… we have something to celebrate.”
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What is it?”
Taking his hand, you guided it to your stomach. “I’m pregnant.”
His entire body stiffened. His eyes darted to your stomach, then back up to your face, searching for any hint of a joke. “Wait. Really?”
When you nodded, his arms instantly wrapped around you again, this time with even more care.
“Baby… you’re carrying our baby.” His voice was thick with emotion as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.
Then, his protective instincts kicked in. “From now on, I’m taking extra care of you. No heavy lifting, no stress, and definitely no skipping meals.”
You giggled. “Changbin, I’m not made of glass.”
“You are now.” He grinned, pressing a hand to your stomach. “And I swear, I’ll be the best dad ever.”
⸻
Hyunjin – Bursts Into Tears Instantly
Hyunjin barely had time to drop his bags before you blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”
He froze.
His lips parted slightly as he processed your words. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.
“You’re… what?”
You nodded, suddenly nervous. “You’re going to be a dad.”
Without warning, Hyunjin let out a soft gasp before covering his face with his hands. His shoulders trembled as quiet sobs escaped him.
“Jinnie?” You rushed toward him, only for him to pull you into the tightest hug imaginable.
“I’m so happy,” he choked out between tears, pressing kisses along your shoulder. “I can’t believe this. We’re going to have a baby.”
When he finally pulled away, his face was tear-streaked, but his smile was the brightest you’d ever seen.
“Our little family is starting.”
And just like that, he already swore to be the best father possible.
⸻
Han – Goes from Confused to Overjoyed
Han had barely taken off his shoes when you ran up to him.
“Hey, I have news!”
He blinked. “Okay…?”
You held up the pregnancy test. “I’m pregnant.”
Han stared at you. Then at the test. Then back at you.
“Wait. Hold on. What? No way. Are you serious?!” His words tumbled out at lightning speed as he tried to process.
You giggled. “Yes, Hannie. I’m serious.”
For a second, he just stood there, blinking rapidly.
Then, he let out the loudest excited scream before tackling you into a hug. “WE’RE HAVING A BABY?!”
You laughed. “Yes!”
“OH MY GOD, I’M GONNA BE A DAD!” He grabbed your hands, jumping up and down like an excited kid.
Then, suddenly, he gasped. “Wait. I need to write a song about this.”
And just like that, he was already planning a lullaby for your future child.
⸻
Felix – Sunshine Overload
Felix was still jet-lagged when he walked in, but the moment he saw you, his entire body relaxed.
“Hey, angel. I missed you so much.”
You bit your lip, holding back a smile. “I missed you too, Lixie. And… I have a surprise.”
“A surprise?” He perked up immediately.
You handed him a tiny baby sock.
He tilted his head in confusion. “What’s this—” Then, realization dawned. His freckles crinkled as his eyes went wide.
“Are you—?!”
You nodded.
Without hesitation, Felix let out a soft squeal before wrapping his arms around you, swaying side to side. “We’re having a baby?!”
His deep voice trembled with excitement as he pressed a hand to your stomach. “Oh my god. There’s a little bean in there.”
From that moment on, he didn’t let go of you the entire night.
⸻
Seungmin – Teases You but Is Secretly Emotional
You handed Seungmin a cup of tea with the words “World’s Best Dad” on it.
He raised an eyebrow. “You think I won’t notice you trying to butter me up?”
You rolled your eyes. “Just read it properly.”
After a moment, realization hit. His eyes snapped to yours. “Wait. No way. Are you serious?”
When you nodded, he let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “Wow. I didn’t know I was this powerful.”
But then, his teasing smile softened.
“I’m going to be a dad.” His voice was barely a whisper as he took your hand, squeezing it gently. “And you’re going to be an amazing mom.”
And just like that, his heart was yours all over again.
I.N – Soft but in Total Shock
Jeongin walked through the door, exhausted but happy to finally be home. He dropped his bags with a sigh and opened his arms. “Jagi, come here. I missed you so much.”
You walked over slowly, pressing yourself into his hug, and he hummed contentedly. “Mmm, this is the best part of coming home.”
You swallowed nervously before whispering, “Innie… I have something to tell you.”
He pulled back slightly, looking at you with curious eyes. “What is it?”
Taking a deep breath, you placed his hand on your stomach and smiled. “I’m pregnant.”
At first, he just stared at you, blinking as if his brain had short-circuited. “Wait… what?”
You giggled. “We’re having a baby, Innie.”
He froze completely. No movement, no words—just wide, shocked eyes. “A baby?”
You nodded, and his lips parted in disbelief. “Oh my god.”
Then, suddenly, he let out a breathy laugh and hugged you tightly, his face buried in your neck. “This is insane. I… I don’t even know what to say.”
After a few seconds, he pulled back, his eyes filled with wonder. “I’m going to be a dad?”
When you nodded again, his expression melted into the softest, most genuine smile. “Wow… I swear, I’ll take care of you both forever.”
And just like that, Jeongin’s heart had never felt so full.
-going through the ages of time with felix, from when you told him you were pregnant to seeing him braid your baby's hair.
@feelikecinderella I hope you like it it isn't something I usually write, but I adored writing it so thank you so so much for the request ♡
Paring ◦ Dad!Lee Felix x Pregnant!Reader
Words ◦ 4,506(this was originally supposed to be 1,000 words 💀)
Genre ◦ Fluff, Dad!Lixie headcanons, MY FIRST REQUEST MWAHAHA.
Warnings ◦ Felix being the sweetest man in the whole world, super unrealistic ngl, descriptions about pain, crying, reader being kinda moody, sexual content but its literally like two lines and it just says that you give him head and him giving you an orgasm no details at all, felix being hot asf, felix being a model father, a few big bad fuck words, I'm 19 i dont know how pregnancy works so bear with me babes💀, I know their has to be at LEAST 12 spelling errors, not edited (forgive me I have no time) uhhh nothing else I don't think
A/N ◦ I love this so much it was so cute and I stand by the fact if my husband isn't like this with kids I'm not having one (also is anybody else traumatized by their present absent dads my dad was always in my life and I love him to death great father terrible husband never did anything to help my mom out which makes me really scared to have kids can anyone relate?) I just want to apologize in advance for my rambling tendency please forgive me 🙏 Also this isn't in actual bullet point because Tumblr is stupid.
~cookiecreates 🍪
Mommy-to-be!Reader who gets that feeling all mothers get when another body is currently being knitted together inside them. The month you missed your period also helped with the suspicion, but the three pregnancy tests with two thick pink lines screaming at you really confirm your hypotheses that you are indeed pregnant, and it is 100% Felixes.
Mommy-to-be!Reader who is first overwhelmed by all the thoughts that have gathered in your head—the preparations, the options—if you want to keep the baby or not, what are you going to do if he doesn't want to? Oh no, you didn't think about what you would do if he didn't want to keep the baby. How would he react? Your overwhelm quickly changed to an anxiety that bubbled in your stomach when you thought of all the possible outcomes of what could happen to your relationship because of one simple accident. No matter how secure your relationship with Felix is, it's terrifying to think that he might leave, seeing his dreams of being an idol as more important than being a dad.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who was just sitting on the couch fiddling with his computer, when you walk in with your tear-stained face and trembling hands, he immediately goes to comfort mode. "What is it, darling whats w-" he stops in his tracks, seeing the test in your hands and definitely seeing the thick pink lines that tell him you're pregnant...
Daddy-to-be!Felix whose immediate reaction is to gather you up in his arms and twirl you around in the air, overwhelmed by a feeling of unadulterated joy. His whole face is lit up like a Christmas tree, really making his sunshine title shine through.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who can’t really believe it, “Your pregnant.” “Apparently” “Oh my gosh, we're pregnant.” “I don't think that's how that works.” You chuckle, still in mild denial. “Oh yeah, it is part of my DNA is currently inside of you.” He stops, really letting it sink in. “Holy shit, we're going to have a baby! You don't think either of you has ever smiled so big in your lives.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who goes and tells the group the next day, too ecstatic to keep it to himself.
Uncle-to-be!Group who congratulates the hell out you and Felix, promising to take care of the baby any time you two need a babysitter. Cue spontaneous gift-giving as well; one day you find a stroller on your front porch from Chan, a box of baby clothes from Han, and a diaper bag from Minho, all on the same day.
Uncle-to-be!Chan who promises to spoil the hell out of your little sunshine, letting Felix rant about all his fantasies, how he's going to be the best dad, how you're going to be a wonderful mom, how he's going to buy her the cutest clothes, and how- Chan loves Felix, but he stopped listening after the 25th compliment about how wonderful you are doing with your pregnancy.
Mommy-to-be!Reader who figures out that Han's girlfriend, your best friend, is also pregnant, so you won't have to deal with your pregnancy alone, while Felix is understanding and supportive; he is a guy after all, and some things like how your boobs hurt and are oddly getting bigger, he just won't understand, and that's okay because at least you have a friend who you can rant about your boobies too.
Mommy-to-be!Reader who promises not to tell anyone about Han's girlfriend's pregnancy. Due to her request, she and Han have already agreed that they are planning a very big event to tell the boys, and she doesn't want it to be spoiled because of your loose lips.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who's so gentle with you, even during the days when your bump is so little, it's almost nonexistent, always asking if you're okay or if you need some food, water, or if the baby is okay? Is she hungry? Maybe thirsty? You have to remind him that the baby is nothing more than a gathering of cells right now and can't partially talk.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who guarantees that your baby is a girl and no amount of convincing can persuade him he's definitely projecting.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who would refuse to let you get up from nuzzling his face in your practically flat stomach. "Felix, I have to pee." "Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?" He looks up from your tummy with big boba eyes. You deadpan. "Yeah, okay, you're right. You've got this." Basically, giving you little praise hand emojis🙌, even though his worried eyes stare you down all the way to the bathroom.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who sends 'how are my girls doing' texts every day at practice, "You know, you don't actually know if it's a girl or not." "I have a feeling."
Daddy-to-be!Felix who treasures you even as you sob into his chest about your nightmares from the Euphoria TikToks you've watched about parents whose relationships crumbled because of having a baby, he dusts kisses over your face, whispering promise after promise on your skin that no matter what relationship won't crumble, this baby is going to make your relationship stronger, closer, better. He loves you too much, just like how he would love you if you were a worm and how he would kiss the prettiest person in the room with the choice between you or the prettiest person in the room because the prettiest person in the room is you (all true conversations you've had in between sobbing sessions).
Daddy-to-be!Felix who deals with all your shit with a smile on his face because he understands how hard it is to carry a fuckabigillion pound baby in your belly, so if you feel like yelling at him because he's home late, then crying in his arms because you regret yelling at him, begging him for forgiveness, he'll do both gladly. Not the forgiveness part; he doesn't forgive you because you didn't need it; he was never mad at you in the first place.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who starts getting concerned when your belly starts getting bigger at a faster rate than the average rate of time that one's belly gets bigger.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who shuts down every accusation that he's been doing research on your pregnancy and that he just happened to know the statistics about rates in which baby bumps grow (what can you say, he's a smart guy🤷)
Daddy-to-be!Felix who makes you promise to tell him all the days that your ultrasounds are on so he can make sure everything with you and his little princess is okay, especially since your bump is getting so big so fast, which he just happened to know and definitely did not do research about.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who gives you the best princess treatment all the time without fail. You don't like your nails; the money is on the counter for a new pair. You want to go shopping for maternity clothes because your jeans are starting to get too tight; he's at the door with his card and a big smile on his face, practically skipping out the door to give you the best day of your life. You want him to hold your bags as you walk around the mall, spending his money on anything you think looks even remotely cute; he'll do it with a sparkle in his eye. Your feet hurt from walking all day with this watermelon-sized child in your stomach; he'll lean down on his knees and stay there, rubbing your feet for hours. No matter what, even if he's exhausted from practice, his girls come first. Which ties into...
Daddy-to-be!Felix who demands time off. Demands it or he's done, leaving the team. (He's not actually going to, but he needs to let the company know he's not going to take their shit). His girls always come first. Reluctantly, they agree that he can take a 4-week break while you are pregnant and a 6-month leave after the baby comes. He glares at them before realizing that that's a pretty good chunk of time, but he's relentless, folding his arms in front of his chest, "and I get to leave whenever they need me." "I don't know about that." Daddy Bear mode activated. The woman trembles, looking at him. "Okay," she mutters reluctantly. Back into teddy bear mode. "Thank you so much. I hope you have a beautiful rest of your day." He turns and walks away like he didn't just make this lady shit her pants. (i highly doubt this is actually how this works but idrc this is called a fanFICTION for a reason )
Daddy-to-be!Felix who doesn't mind one bit doing the dishes and sweeping the floor as long as he sees you safe and sound in your bed, snoring away with your legs stuffed between a fluffy pillow.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who went with you to one of your ultrasounds, and ended up with only 10 minutes to get ready before a photoshoot. He had never felt so many glares in one room. Newsflash: It was worth it, even though they had to rearrange the whole schedule just for him. Han sent him a smile, knowing exactly how he felt.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who gets the worst cuteness aggression as you waddle around.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who just holds you when you burst into tears, feeling so useless as you cry from the pain, not knowing what to do when you start balling because the weight of holding a baby beginning to be too much to bear, so he just holds you, not being able to keep the tears that swarm his vision at bay, especially when he holds your bump, feeling how heavy it is just for him; he couldn't even imagine how heavy it is to carry that around inside of you.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who calls his mom right after just to thank her for going through all the shit of baring a child because he sees how hard it is for you and literally can't believe women all around the world have been going through that for all of time, it genuinely baffles him, he trips out about it for a hot minute.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who takes it up as his personal mission to make you feel like the prettiest woman on the planet when you're with him, especially since he can tell you feel insecure with all the changes your body is making. He sees them, notices them, he doesn't mind them at all, what he minds is how much they are hurting you and he just can't have that. Let's just say the amount of kisses and orgasms he has given you in the past 6 hours makes you feel like the hottest bitch in the world for about 4 weeks after.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who convinces you not to do a gender reveal because he wants it to be a surprise, you are hesitant because you don't like not knowing which gender to buy certain clothes, but you know you currently have a closet full of both baby boy and baby girl clothes because of ✨princess treatment ✨and with a black card and pregnancy hormones, all the clothes at the mall looked cute. What can you say? You're just a girl. 🤷
Daddy-to-be!Felix whose biggest fear is that he's going to be away when you have the baby, and he's not going to be able to comfort you through the most memorable and painful time of your life. It quite literally brings tears to his eyes. You comfort him, telling him that it's okay even if he isn't there. You know he loves you, and you wouldn't mind, but he reminds you constantly, "I don't care if it's in the middle of a concert, a fansign, a meeting that determines my whole entire future; your water breaks, I run."
Daddy-to-be!Felix who is so relieved that your water breaks in the middle of the night when he's home, where you can screech as loud as you can to attempt to get his attention.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who jumped up from bed so quick, grabbing you and leading you down the stairs, racked with guilt that he couldn't pick you up because A) he literally can't, and B) he's too terrified, he'll fall and hurt you.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who if all the anxiety he has ever experienced in his entire life could be multiplied and put in his body, it would still be so minuscule compared to the way he's freaking the FUCK out right now, but he still tries to calm himself down, and be sober-minded for you.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who when you get to the hospital, they have got him FUCKED UP to think he's ever leaving you. Holding your hand through it all, a part of him has to be on you the entire time. It doesn't matter if he doesn't sleep; he's an idol. Not sleeping is what he does.
Daddy-to-be!Felix who falls in love with you all over again, seeing you push through all the pain—admiring your strength and dedication— he loves you so much and makes sure you know, even in some of the most inconvenient times. “Big push,” the nurse calls out from under you. “I love you so much, baby, so fucking much, holy shit.” He kisses your hand. “Shut up, Felix, please.” You scream, your body vibrating with pain. “Yes ma'am, shutting up right now.”
Daddy-to-be!Felix who praises you constantly, “You're doing so well, baby.” "Keep pushing; do you see that, you're almost done?” "I'm so fuckin' proud of you, darling." "The only reason I'm going to see my beautiful baby is because of you. Do you know how much I admire you? I literally can't find the words." “SHUT UP.”
Daddy-to-be!Felix who lets you hold onto him while you go through all the contractions, digging your nails into his skin, drawing blood, "Ow baby," "sorry," "it's okay, I understand." You obviously are not very sorry, cause two seconds later you're digging deeper into his wounds.
Dad!Felix who is just as ecstatic about them telling him it's a boy as he would be if they were telling him it was a girl, he just has to change his dreams about brushing his little girl's hair to teaching his little boy how to tie a tie (which he is very bad at, but for him, he will attempt to learn).
Dad!Felix who never knew that you could love somebody so deeply without ever even knowing them, but when he holds your little ball of sunshine in his arms and feels their heartbeats intertwining, it all seems so much more real. He has your eyes. His nose, your hands, his toes—he sees bits and pieces of the two of you in every breath he takes. He has just met your baby, and yet he immediately feels like he would burn the whole world down for him.
Dad!Felix who panics when you suddenly start having even more contractions.
Dad!Felix who breaks down in tears when they hand him your second baby, a little girl, whose freckles dust across her cheeks just like his. If he thought he was feeling happy before knowing he gets to experience the best of both worlds at the same time, makes his already bursting heart about 10 times its size.
Dad!Felix who is sobbing happy tears, a smile plastered on his face as he cuts the umbilical cords off of both his little balls of sunshine, never thinking he would be so excited to do something in his life.
Dad!Felix who at this point is so surprised that he hasn't had a heart attack with the amount of scares he has gotten in the past 12 hours, especially when his heart jumps out of his chest, as the doctor informs the both of you that you need to be stitched up from where you tore, you are mostly confused because you didn't know you tore. It must have blended in with the excruciating pain that was firing from all areas of your body. "What does that mean? Is she okay? Is she going to die? Is she-"
Dad!Felix who is literally going to pass out because he actually thinks you're going to die.
Dad!Felix who feels real fuckin stupid when the nurses just chuckle and tell him you're not going to die, your vagina ripped while giving birth, that it happens quite often; they just need to sew you up.
Dad!Felix who watches them like a hawk as they sew you up, making sure that they aren’t messing anything up.
Dad!Felix who literally refuses to let you do anything for at least 3 months after your birth, researching the hell out of what can ease your pain, forcing you into bed rest while he takes care of the kids, giving you massages for your aching muscles, pouring you warm baths with rose petals when your stitching hurts or itches, he's so kind and attentive, hating seeing you in pain.
Dad!Felix who is so eager to do anything; getting up when the babies are crying, changing diapers, giving bottles, singing the babies to sleep…
Dad!Felix who loves to sing the babies with his deep calming voice, knowing it puts them to sleep instantly.
Dad!Felix who loves to eat you out when he finally puts the twins to bed about just as much, noticed the way you were looking at him as he was singing in that deep, sexy voice.
Dad!Felix who goes right back to the kids 30 minutes later when your moans wake them up.
Dad!Felix who just can't get over how awesome it is to see how different your babies are, not just in gender but in personality as well.
Dad!Felix who literally despises having the babies cry, does anything he can to stop it, not because it's annoying him, but because it hurts him to know his little angels are sad.
Dad!Felix who will cook dinner with both babies held carefully in his arms—something that seems atomically impossible, but he figures it out.
Dad!Felix who sees the guilt bubbling up on your face, rushing it away with gentle kisses and soft reassurances, ushering you away with a smile. “I know you're tired and hurting. Go take a nap, love, and I'll wake you up when dinner is done.”
Mom!Reader who wakes up from her nap, sees the house cleaned, the dishes done, the babies fed, and put to bed with a steaming meal in front of you, you are more than happy to suck him to the heavens after. Hey, everything's 50/50, right?
Mom!Reader who begs Felix to get the babies because she can hear them crying through the baby monitor.
Dad!Felix who does it without a second thought. Never once complaining about how you guys could count the amount of sleep you have gotten combined on just one of your hands, he understood the twins were ornery—having a bad case of colic—so to calm them down, he sings to them just like he always does.
Mom!Reader who panics hearing such a deep voice over the baby monitor. In a fit of half-asleep—panic-induced—sleep deprivation run into the baby's room, ready to kill somebody if needed, but your heart melts instead when you meet Felix holding your sniffling twins, rocking them carefully in his arms. Tears pool in your eyes seeing the way his face glew with pure love; even though he looked exhausted, even though there were deep bags under his eyes and spit up on his shirt, no matter how hard life was, at least you know that with Felix, you’d never regret it, not even for a minute.
Dad!Felix who looks up, surprised to see you in the doorway. "Hi baby," he whispers. "Go back to bed, darling. I've got this." You look at him like he hung the moon, and for you, he would.
Dad!Felix who is the most patient father any child could ever ask for. (I will never get over this. Definitely the type of dad who would help clean up the milk and not just yell because it was spilled)
Dad!Felix who would rather die than yell at his kids, is definitely the gentlest parent known to man.
Dad!Felix who dresses your angels like the next Louis Vuitton ambassadors, "Really, Felix, our four-month-old babies do not need a Louis blazer and jumpsuit." "Who says?” he shrugs. “Um, me, because they're 4 months old.” You enunciate every syllable as though you were talking to one of the babies in question. “Do they even sell this in stores?" “Um, no, I had it custom-made, duh." "Oh my gosh," you facepalm, not before facepalming a little harder, pulling out a Louis pair of sunglasses and a Louis purse just small enough to fit tiny hands. ”You bought the baby a Louis purse?" "Of course, my princess can be without a bag. Look deeper; there's something for mommy in there too.” You pull out a Louis Vuitton diaper bag. 🤦
Dad!Felix who has never really liked confrontation, but when a paparazzi accidentally bumped into you holding the twins because he was trying to take pictures of the group; he almost killed him, saw red, got so close to using those Taekwondo skills he spent years practicing. The team was the only reason he didn't rip someone's head off. Bangchan's glare would have been enough, but yours, his, and the whole group were enough for the man's face to go red and curl into himself, definitely regretting all of his life choices.
Dad!Felix who's the type of father who wants to protect his little angels from the world, is literally willing to glue pillows to all areas of the house so that they will never get hurt. You stare at him blankly, wondering if he's serious.
He is.
Dad!Felix who gets genuinely disappointed that you obviously oppose, so instead he baby-proofs the ever-loving shit out of the house, sharp objects gone, all corners covered, outlets concealed.
Dad!Felix who if anyone were to talk about his family online, would not be silent, would go into a fit of rage, aggressively typing on his phone, getting ready to post a long paragraph on his story that you or his team would have to keep him from sending because, you know, his job or whatever, speaking of job…
Dad!Felix who knows he has to leave for work eventually, and his 6-month hiatus from the group was not permanent. A lot of tears are shed as he holds you and your beautiful babies, knowing he isn’t going to be able to see them for a whole 3 months while they start their tour. He can't bear thinking that he might miss such pivotal moments as the first rollover, the first steps, the first word. He can see his little munchkins' lives flashing right before his eyes as he looks at the packed suitcase in the corner. “Felix, we are going to be fine, I promise." “Are you sure?? I can leave the group; I would leave them for you; I promise I would; you just say the word and I'm gone; we can buy a house in the suburbs-” You giggle, overwhelmed with admiration for his dedication to your family, “Don't be silly, Lix. I know you love your job and your team, plus we wouldn't be able to afford a house without you working." He sighs, knowing you are right. “Fine,” he mutters, holding you all close. “Just promise to call me every single day, okay?”
Dad!Felix who gets up early enough in the morning to feed the kids and get them dressed, trying to spend as much quality time with them as possible before he has to leave.
Mom!Reader who, being the mom you are, still freaks out when you wake up, scared Felix is going to miss his plane. While you're putting your son's shoes on, you run into the room and say, “Come on, lix-” You stop dead in your tracks, seeing him beaming while brushing your little girl's hair, humming a sweet melody as the paddle goes smoothly through her locks. She looks up at him like he hung the moon, and for her, he would. Your bad mood dissipates as you remember why you got into any of this in the first place. Everything is going to be fine. You're going to be fine. Felix looks up, feeling your presence. He smiles wider. "Do you like it, momma?" He asks, clearly proud of his work. She smiles toothless and full of glee. You take her in your arms, spinning her around. "Well, of course, I like it. Did Daddy do this for you, baby?" She spits out gobbly gook, which you nod your head at, acting like she just recited pie.
Dad!Felix who brushes the little girl's hair every day before work without fail, even looks up tutorials on YouTube about different strategic hairstyles. He's terrible at them. Doesn't stop your heart from melting into a puddle on the floor while he's attempting French braids, though.
Dad!Felix who proposes to you a few years later, so he can have your two beautiful babies standing beside him as he proposes: his little princess in a cute white dress holding a bouquet of picked flowers, and your little prince in an adorable little tux holding a heart of chocolates. Everything is just so perfect, you'd be a certified idiot not to say yes (not that you were ever considering it).
Husband!Felix who when you finally get married, agrees that your baby boy is going to be the one who walks you down the aisle with your little girl being his best wo'man', right beside Hyunjin and all his other members, of course.
Extra for the ones who endured my rambling
Mom!Reader+Hans girlfriend who had a baby boy the same day that you had your little girl. When you found out the good news, you immediately started planning for the wedding, knowing this couldn't be anything other than fate, already thinking about ship names and wedding dresses.
Dad!Felix+Han who glare at the two, Felix not liking the idea of his perfect princess being anywhere near the male species, Han not liking the idea of his girlfriend cuddling with someone that isn't him. But eventually, Felix eases on his glare, his heart melting as you giggle about the color of the bouquet.
Last but not least
Husband!Felix who will always love the way his family looks at him, like he hung the moon because, for them, he would.
In the middle of a freezing winter night at 3 AM, heavily pregnant Y/N wakes up with an intense craving for spicy ramyeon and random convenience store snacks. Her husband, Minho, doesn’t hesitate—he bundles up and braves the icy streets to get everything she wants, proving once again that he’d do absolutely anything for her and their soon-to-arriving little one. This fluffy, sweet fanfic highlights Minho’s doting, protective side with tender moments, humor, and pure husband devotion.
۶ৎ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬:
Late-night pregnancy cravings, Minho being the ultimate caring husband, Freezing cold 3 AM walk to a Korean convenience store, Sweet domestic fluff, belly kisses, and teasing banter, Heartwarming return home with snacks and cuddles
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the heater struggling against the February chill seeping through the windows. You shifted on the couch, one hand cradling your very round belly, the other pressing against your lower back. At almost nine months, every position felt like a temporary compromise.
Then it hit, the craving. Sharp, undeniable, ridiculous.
“Spicy ramyeon… with extra sausage… and maybe those cheesy corn chips… and ice cream? No, wait, the strawberry one with the chocolate bits…”
You groaned, glancing at the clock. 3:04 AM.
Minho was asleep in the bedroom, face half-buried in the pillow, one arm flung out like he was still reaching for you even in dreams. He had practice earlier and needed rest. You tried to ignore it. Really.
Five minutes later, the baby kicked hard, as if personally offended by your restraint.
“Okay, okay,” you muttered, waddling toward the bedroom. “Minho?”
He stirred instantly, cat-like reflexes kicking in even half-asleep. His eyes cracked open, dark and concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Contractions?”
“No, no—cravings.” You pouted, feeling a little silly. “The really bad kind. Like… convenience store level bad. At 3 AM. In this weather.”
Minho sat up slowly, rubbing his face. The tip of his nose was already pink from the cold air in the room. He looked at you, taking in the way you were hugging your bump like it might run away if ignored.
“What do you want?”
You listed it sheepishly. He nodded like you’d just given him mission coordinates.
“Got it. Stay here, keep warm. I’ll be back in twenty.”
“You don’t have to—”
He was already pulling on his thickest hoodie, then his coat, scarf, beanie. Layers upon layers. “I know. But I want to.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then dropped to his knees and gently kissed the top of your belly. “Both of you behave while Appa’s gone, okay?”
You melted a little. “You’re gonna freeze.”
“Small price.” He smirked, that signature Lee Know mischief in his eyes. “Besides, I’ve danced in worse.”
The wind hit like a slap when he stepped outside. Seoul’s streets were empty, streetlights casting long shadows on frost-covered pavement. His breath puffed in clouds as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and started the ten-minute walk to the nearest 24-hour CU.
He muttered under his breath the whole way. “Spicy ramyeon… sausage… cheesy corn… strawberry ice cream… chocolate bits… got it, jagi.”
Inside the bright store, the ahjumma behind the counter gave him a knowing look as he piled items onto the counter: two cups of the spiciest Buldak ramyeon, a pack of sausages, cheesy chips, the exact strawberry-chocolate ice cream bar you liked, plus a random pack of kimbap and banana milk, just in case.
“Cravings?” she asked with a small smile.
“My wife,” he replied simply, ears turning red under the beanie. “Very pregnant. Very specific.”
She chuckled and added a free hot pack. “Take care of her well.”
“I’m trying.”
The walk back felt twice as long, plastic bags swinging, wind biting his cheeks. His toes were numb, nose running, but the thought of your face lighting up kept him moving.
When he finally pushed open the apartment door, shivering, you were waiting, propped up with pillows, eyes bright.
“You’re back!”
“Missed me already?” He kicked off his snowy boots, set the bags down, and immediately went to you. Cold hands cupped your cheeks gently. “Still freezing. Don’t hug me yet.”
“Too late.” You pulled him in anyway, burying your face in his scarf. “You smell like winter and convenience store.”
“And love,” he deadpanned. “Don’t forget love.”
You laughed, then gasped when he pulled out the treasures one by one.
“Everything?”
“Everything.” He knelt again, pressing another kiss to your belly. “And extra sausage, because our baby apparently has expensive taste.”
While the ramyeon cooked (he insisted on making it properly, even at 3:30 AM), he sat beside you, rubbing your back in slow circles.
“You didn’t have to go out in that cold,” you murmured.
Minho shrugged, eyes soft. “I’d walk to the moon if that’s where the snacks were.” He leaned in, voice dropping. “You and this little one? You’re my entire world. A little frostbite is nothing.”
The microwave beeped. He got up to finish the food, then brought it all back, steaming bowl, snacks arranged like a mini buffet.
You took one bite and sighed in bliss. “You’re the best husband.”
“I know.” He smirked, but his gaze was pure adoration. “Now eat before it gets cold. I didn’t almost turn into an ice sculpture for nothing.”
Later, after the bowls were empty and the ice cream devoured, you curled against him under the blanket. His arms wrapped around you both, your bump pressed safely between you.
“Thank you, Minho,” you whispered.
He kissed the top of your head. “Anytime, jagi. Literally anytime.”
And as the city slept outside, the three of you drifted off, warm, full, and completely loved.
synopsis being the ceo of a marketing and pr consultancy service at just 25 in the cutthroat Korean entertainment industry is not easy. especially if the leader of the group of your first big project is adamant that he does not need your help. but is that all he thinks?
── SH☆☆TING STARS (CHAPTER 5)
HOW DOES IT FEEL DATING A LOSER?
synopsis being the ceo of a marketing and pr consultancy service at just 25 is not easy. especially if the leader of your first big project is adamant that he does not need your help. but is that all he thinks?
warnings mentions of dying as a joke, swearing, brief mention of pregnancy and a friends with benefits relationship
screenshot count 18
word count 990 words
a/n i love dropping tiny easter eggs with my nefarvous intentoons also look at me making a regular post
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Today was your first ever client project for Stray Kids and absolutely nothing was going right. First, you were stuck in traffic while travelling to work and skipped breakfast. Then, when you finally got to the JYP building, it turned out that Jeongin was pulled for last-minute studio time as well.
You certainly had some thoughts regarding the timing of Jeongin and Chan’s last minute studio time.
Finally, Lee Know and Seungmin just seemed physically incapable of not arguing. You thought back about how Chan wished you luck and couldn’t help but think about how ominous the statement had seemed. Evidently hearing the chaos of Lee Know and Seungmin, the rest of the group, bar Jeongin, Chan and Hyunjin, spilled into the dance room. There was a ruckus all around and finally you had enough.
“Everyone! Sit down wherever you’re standing right now,” you said as loud as possible.
Honestly, you couldn’t even blame the boys for all the drama. There was an accidental double booking of the studio space done before NOVIA were given the Stray Kids contact and while choreographers for ITZY were on one side of the room, you were there with Stray Kids on the other.
Suddenly, that gave you an idea.
“Do you think you could call Bang Chan, I.N and Hyunjin right now? I promise it won’t take much time,” you ask Jo Hyunmin. He nods and sets off to place the call while a smile plays on your face.
Chan doesn’t know what to expect as he walks into the dance studio, but complete and total silence isn’t it. He steps inside with Hyunjin and Jeongin and quirks an eyebrow at the show you're running.
It should be pure chaos, but somehow it isn’t.
Some of the boys teach the girls from ITZY their choreography while Yeji explains the Tunnel Vision choreo to Minho and Changbin. Somebody takes a video of all these ongoing events while you stand with your team and formulate what Chan assumes is an estimate of when to upload this video. There is so much laughter and liveliness and dance that even Chan finds his lips slipping into a smile watching the sight before him.
Stray Kids and ITZY practically grew up together. The ITZY girls weren’t just their fellow idols. They were their sisters in every way that mattered. But ever since debuting, every single interaction they’d had with any female idol had been carefully thought out. Even supposedly candid conversations during those rare dance challenges that Changbin and Hyunjin would do with Chaereoung and Yeji were fabricated. The last time Chan could remember either group being in such close proximity with each other, even in company quarters to avoid dating rumours, was during the Stray Kids show.
Chan turned as he heard your voice cut through the noise. “That’s perfect guys. Are we ready to film?”
Chan watched Ryujin talk to that intern in your company with a slight blush creeping up her face. He watched Jisung try to steal the bucket hat Lia was wearing and Seungmin and Felix play UNO with Yuna. Finally, his eyes rested on you. And he watched you, brow furrowed in concentration as you put a bandaid over the tiny bleeding cut he saw on Jeongin’s fingers that he got flipping the pages of the lyrics.
Chan felt the slightest hint of being grateful, but quickly quashed the feeling. The last time he felt grateful to an outsider, he nearly died. He wouldn’t let his family suffer like that.
Chan walked over to you. “You run a tight ship.”
You shrugged, keeping your eyes on the idols dancing, “Your team really lives up to their name.”
Chan laughed humourlessly. “That we do.”
You turned to face him. “There was no requirement for studio time, was there?”
Chan sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes, “No, there wasn’t.”
“And you didn’t need Jeongin either.”
“No, I didn’t. But I needed to know how you would handle the two most unpredictable members of our group, who also happen to be very blunt and honest.”
This time, it was your turn to let out a bark of laughter. You gave him an incredulous look, “This was supposed to be a test? I skipped breakfast, skipped lunch and had to babysit a bunch of 20 something olds because their leader was giving me a test?”
Chan caught his lower lip between his teeth. He realized how this sounded. And he knew that he had to make peace with you. Not because he trusted you, but because he didn’t trust you enough to know whether you would tarnish his reputation amongst your industry peers or not.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Chan said, because he did feel a little bad for making you skip meals. Then, he put on his most charming smile and used the only solution he knew was absolutely foolproof. “Let me make it up to you by taking you out to lunch one day.”
Your face went from incredulous to disgusted. “Are you seriously asking me out on what, an apology date right now?” you asked.
Chan's smile slipped. Never in his entire life, even his career, had he ever gotten that response from somebody for his proposal. “Sort of?”
You just shook your head at him and snorted, “I’m literally your PR manager. I know you want me fired, but don’t drown your own career doing it.”
Chan scowled. “That line usually works on people.”
This time you laughed - really laughed - and how pleasant it sounded caught Chan off-guard. It sounded like water running over stones and Chan couldn’t help but think that he wanted to hear it again. What was wrong with him?
“You won’t get me fired by flirting your way out of situations,” you replied.
Chan raised his eyebrows. “Just you wait. I’ll get you fired while winning you over.”
You snorted, “You wish, music boy, you wish.”
post chapter notes.
y/n and bang chan banter is something you are NOT ready for
ryujin is basically minho's younger sister
scene behind is y/n's genius evil plan to take over the world
JUSTIN ML IS YEARNING
dropped the tiniest jeongin fic easter egg btw lol
⤷ part of the weight of love: eight ways to STAY series
you didn’t plan for any of this—losing your boyfriend, finding felix, or the baby that changes everything. it builds slowly, in shared space, quiet routines, and moments that linger longer than they should. and somewhere along the way, you start to realize some things were never meant to be temporary in the first place.
pairing best friend!felix x reader
genre best friends to lovers ; slow burn
rating mature, 18+
word count 11.3k
warnings themes of infidelity ; unplanned pregnancy ; insecurity ; explicit & detailed smut ; p in v sex
𓄲 okay i legit loved writing this. felix is someone i struggle writing for usually, not sure why, but i literally fell in love with him in this. this is also my favorite trope in the whole world, so that probably helped. we're more than half way done with this series and it's blowing my mind. enjoy hunnies, and let me know what you think! excited to hear your thoughts <3
m a s t e r l i s t ⋆ i n b o x
You meet Felix before you know how badly you’re going to need him.
Back in college, he is the quiet kind of constant. The boy in your friend group who notices when your cup has been empty too long at parties, who slides his notes over when you miss something in lecture, who dragged you into his car for a spur of the moment road trip. He never makes care feel like a performance. He just shows up with your favorite boba tea, silence, and a soft smile that makes the world feel a little less sharp.
You are studying social work, and he is studying physical therapy, both of you learning different languages of healing. You joke once that he fixes bodies while you fix people’s problems.
Felix only looks up from his textbook and says, “You don’t fix people.”
You blink at him from where you’re lying across his dorm room floor. “I don’t?”
He shakes his head. “You help them remember they’re not broken.”
You throw a pen cap at him because you don’t know what else to do with that kind of sincerity. He lets it hit his shoulder and smiles like he knows exactly why you did it.
That is how Felix becomes your best friend. Not all at once, but through late-night study sessions, cheap takeout, shared exhaustion, and years of him standing quietly beside you while the rest of life changes shape.
Even when you start dating Eunwoo.
Eunwoo is charming in the beginning. Confident. Attentive. The kind of man who makes you feel chosen because he knows exactly how to look at you when he wants something. He asks you out during your last year of college, and when you tell Felix, he only asks, “Do you want to go?”
“I think so.”
“Then you should.”
You remember watching his face, searching for something you never let yourself name. “That’s it?” you ask.
Felix’s smile is small. “Do you want me to tell you not to?”
You say no.
So he doesn’t.
For a while, Eunwoo is good to you. He brings flowers. He helps you move into your first apartment because Felix is visiting family. He tells you he’s proud when you get hired at a family services agency, even if he never fully understands why your work follows you home in the slump of your shoulders.
Felix graduates too. He becomes a physical therapist at a rehab clinic, spending his days helping people trust their bodies again. You and he don’t drift apart, exactly. Life just gets busier. Your friendship becomes voice messages, lunch-break texts, and calls on your walks to your car because he knows you leave work after dark.
Then, on a rainy Thursday, everything with Eunwoo ends.
You come home early from work, exhausted from a home visit that has left your chest tight and your head pounding. Eunwoo is supposed to be at a client dinner.
Instead, there are unfamiliar heels by the door. A woman’s laugh from your bedroom.
For one suspended second, your brain refuses to understand what your body already knows.
Then you open the door.
Eunwoo says your name like he is the one who has been hurt. The woman scrambles for her clothes. The bed is unmade, the sheets twisted, the air full of betrayal so obvious it’s insulting.
You do not scream, but you almost wish you did. Screaming would make you feel powerful in the memory. Instead, you go quiet in the terrible way your body does when the unthinkable happens.
You pack like someone escaping a fire. Clothes, documents, medication, your laptop charger. Nothing neat. Nothing careful. Eunwoo follows you from room to room until you finally turn on him.
“If you say my name one more time, I swear to God.”
He goes silent.
You call Felix from your car without thinking. He answers on the second ring, voice warm and tired. “Hey. You okay?”
You try to say yes. Try to stop the tears from flowing. Your lips from trembling. Instead, you break.
There is a shift on the other end of the line. Fabric rustling. A chair scraping back. “What happened?”
“He cheated on me, Lix.”
Felix goes quiet before asking, “Where are you?”
“In my car.”
“Are you safe?”
That is what makes you cry harder. Not—are you okay? Not—what happened?
Are you safe?
“I’m outside the apartment.”
“Can you drive?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then don’t,” he says, voice steady. “I’m coming.”
“Felix, you don’t have to—”
“I’m coming. Stay on the phone with me.”
So you do.
When he arrives, he gets out of his car without an umbrella. Rain darkens his hair almost instantly, but he doesn’t seem to care. He opens your door and crouches beside you, worry written all over his face.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers when he sees you.
It is not pity. Not at all. It makes it worse.
You fold into him before you can stop yourself. Felix catches you with one arm around your shoulders and one hand at the back of your head, shielding you from the rain like that is the thing hurting you most.
“I’m sorry,” you choke out.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t know who else to call.”
“You called the right person.”
That first night, he gives you his bed and sleeps on the pull-out couch.
You argue, because even heartbroken you are stubborn. “Felix, no.”
“Yes.”
“It’s your apartment.”
“And?”
“You have work tomorrow.”
“So do you.”
“I’m not sleeping in your bed while you sleep on the couch.”
He stands in the hallway with a pillow under one arm, soft but immovable. “You are tonight.”
You lose the battle.
In the morning, there is tea on the nightstand, a glass of water, two painkillers, and a sticky note in Felix’s neat handwriting.
Don’t go to work today. I already called your supervisor. You can be mad later.
You sit up slowly, read it three times, and laugh for the first time since your life split open.
One night becomes three. Three becomes a week. Then two.
Going back to the apartment with Eunwoo still there feels impossible, so Felix goes with you to collect your things. He waits until you ask him inside. He stands near the door, hands in his pockets, jaw tight, while you pack.
You find a pair of earrings on the nightstand that are not yours, staring at them until your vision blurs.
Felix notices when you go quiet. “Hey,” he says softly.
You shake your head. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
You pause as you let that sink in. “I know.” Your voice cracks, and he is there before you fully fall apart, arms around you, holding you in the middle of the bedroom that no longer feels like yours.
He clears out two drawers. Then half the closet.
Back at his apartment, he ends up buying the shampoo you like because you mentioned that his dried out your hair.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you say from the bathroom doorway.
Felix is brushing his teeth, one of your claw clips holding his hair back. He rinses, shrugs, and says, “I was at the store.”
“You don’t even use this.”
“But you do.”
That is always the trouble with Felix. He says devastating things like they are nothing.
The weeks in his apartment begin to rearrange you. At first, you live like a guest, keeping your things compact, apologizing for taking too long in the shower, folding blankets you used only because you are afraid of taking up space. Felix never calls you out directly. He just makes room until you begin to believe you are allowed to fill it.
He learns which silences mean you need to talk and which ones mean words will only make it worse. You learn the sound of his keys in the door. He brings home dinner when your case notes swallow the evening. He covers you with a blanket when you fall asleep on the couch. He asks, “Long day?” instead of making you explain things you cannot carry twice.
Some nights are dangerous because of how gentle they are. Those are the nights you talk.
You tell him you feel stupid for not knowing. He says, “You trusted someone. That isn’t stupid.”
You tell him you feel replaceable. He goes still.
“I keep wondering what she had that I didn’t,” you admit one night, sitting on the kitchen counter while he makes tea. “Was she prettier? Easier? More interesting? Was there something about me that just…wasn’t enough?”
Felix turns the stove off. “Don’t do that to yourself.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“I know.”
“But I keep thinking about it.”
He sets the mugs down and steps closer, careful not to crowd you. “Nothing about you is not enough.”
You laugh weakly. “You have to say that.”
“No,” he says. “I don’t.”
You look down because his face is too sincere, too warm, too much.
“You don’t have to believe me right now,” he says quietly. “But I’m not saying it because I’m supposed to.”
After that, something changes.
It slips into the apartment in small ways. The brief touch of his hand at your back when he moves around you in the kitchen. The way his gaze lingers and then disappears. The way your body starts recognizing his warmth before your mind has time to argue.
You tell yourself it is gratitude. Loneliness. Healing attaching itself to the nearest safe thing.
Then one night, you wake from a dream about Eunwoo.
You are back in that apartment. Back at that door. Back hearing that laugh from the bedroom.
You wake with your heart hammering.
Felix is asleep on the pull-out when you step into the living room. The blanket has slipped halfway to the floor, his hair messy against his forehead. You almost turn back around, not wanting to disturb him more than you already have.
His voice catches you. “Hey.”
You freeze. He sits up immediately, reaching for the lamp.
Warm light spills across the room.
“What happened?”
“Bad dream,” you whisper.
He pats the spot beside him. You sit, leaving space. He notices but only pulls the blanket over your lap too.
For a while, neither of you speaks.
“I keep thinking it’s over,” you say eventually. “And then it comes back.”
“Healing does that,” he says carefully, nodding his head.
You laugh under your breath. “Spoken like someone who helps people relearn how to walk.”
His mouth lifts slightly. “Sometimes they hate me for it.”
“I can imagine.”
“They get frustrated because it still hurts. They think hurting means they’re not getting better.” He turns toward you, voice low. “But sometimes hurting means the body is trying again.”
You stare at him.
He looks away first, ears pink. “That was cheesy.”
“No,” you say softly. “It’s true.”
The quiet stretches.
Then, because the room is dark and you are tired of being alone inside your own thoughts, you whisper, “Do you think he stopped wanting me before he cheated?”
Felix’s expression shifts.
“I keep wondering if there was this whole part of our relationship where he was already gone and I didn’t notice.” Your voice trembles. “Maybe there’s something about me that makes people leave before they actually leave.”
“Hey.” The word is gentle, but full can hear the firmness beneath it.
You look at him.
“That’s not true.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“Felix—”
“No.” He shifts closer. “I know you.”
You swallow the lump forming in your throat.
“I know how much you give,” he continues. “I know you remember things people don’t even realize they told you. I know you care until it exhausts you. I know you act like you’re fine because you don’t want anyone to feel responsible for you.” His voice softens. “I know he made you question yourself. But that doesn’t mean he saw you clearly.”
Your eyes burn.
Felix lifts his hand, then stops. “Can I?”
You nod.
His fingers touch your cheek, catching one tear before it falls. The tenderness of it hurts. “You deserve better than being someone’s almost,” he says.
The room changes. Or maybe it has been changing for weeks.
His thumb lingers near your cheek. His gaze drops to your mouth once, then returns to your eyes, but you’ve already seen it. He knows you’ve seen it.
Then he pulls his hand back. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
You catch his wrist before he can move away. “Don’t be.”
Felix looks at your hand around him, then at you. “You’re hurting,” he says.
“I know.”
“I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and feel like I took advantage of that.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“You’re being vulnerable.”
“So are you.”
That quiets him.
You loosen your grip, but you don’t let go. “I’m not asking you to fix me,” you whisper.
His eyes shine in the lamplight. “I know.”
“I just don’t want him to be the last person who touched me.”
Felix closes his eyes for half a second, like the sentence itself has hurt him. When he opens them, his voice is rougher. “That’s not why I want to kiss you.”
Your heart breaks into a sprint. “Why do you?”
He looks at you for a long moment before finally saying, “Because I’ve wanted to for a long time.”
You laugh once, breathless and disbelieving. “Terrible timing.”
“The worst,” he murmurs.
“Really inconvenient.”
“Extremely.”
“We should probably make better choices.”
“We should.”
Neither of you moves away.
Your hand slides into his. His fingers curl around yours slowly, giving you time to pull back.
You don’t.
The first kiss is soft enough to break you.
Felix kisses exactly how you think he would—careful with every breath, every pause, every place you might need him to stop. He asks if you are sure. More than once. You answer every time. And when the two of you make it to the bedroom, it doesn’t feel careless. It feels like a line crossed gently, with both of you looking at it first.
There is a condom. You remember that clearly.
Felix stops, breath uneven, hair falling into his eyes, and reaches for the nightstand. “Wait,” he murmurs.
Of course he remembers. Careful Felix. Gentle Felix. The kind of person who pauses even in the middle of wanting you badly because being responsible matters more than the moment.
He rolls it on and looks back at you. “Still okay?”
You touch his cheek. “Still okay.”
So you try to be careful. Both of you do.
That is the part that matters later.
You are not reckless. You are not thoughtless. You are tender, nervous, and trying to protect yourselves from consequences neither of you are ready to name.
You don’t notice anything is wrong until after.
At first, there is only quiet. The room is dim, the sheets tangled, Felix lying naked beside you with one arm under your head, staring at the ceiling like he is trying to come back to himself.
You laugh first, small and overwhelmed.
Felix turns his head. “What?”
“I don’t know.”
His mouth curves. “That’s reassuring.”
“I just…” You cover your face. “I don’t know what just happened.”
“I think we had sex.”
You peek through your fingers to glare at him.
He smiles, drained and soft and perfect.
“I’m aware of that part.”
“Good. Just checking.”
“Don’t make me regret this immediately.”
His smile fades slightly. “Do you?”
You immediately turn onto your side to face him. “No.”
His shoulders ease, reassured. “I don’t either,” he says.
Then he sits up to dispose of the condom, and suddenly his whole body goes still.
You notice before you understand. “What?”
Felix’s face changes, looking at the once tight rubber, leaking his release onto his skin.
“What?” you ask again, quieter.
He looks at you, pale now. “The condom,” he says.
The room shrinks. “What? What about it?”
His throat works. “It broke.”
For a moment, neither of you breathes.
Then your mind starts moving too fast. Dates. Risk. Timing. Panic. You reach for the practical part of yourself, the part trained to stay calm in crisis, but this is not a client. This is your body. Your life. Felix’s bed. Felix looking at you like the world has tilted under him too.
“Oh my God,” you whisper.
“Hey.” His voice is gentle immediately, even though you can hear the fear in it. “Look at me.”
You do.
“We’ll figure it out.”
You laugh once, sharp and terrified. “That’s what you say when the store is out of oat milk, not about this.”
“I mean it.”
“I know, but—”
“I know.” He reaches for your hand, then pauses. “Can I?”
You nod. His fingers close around yours, warm and steady, though you can feel the tremor in them.
That nearly undoes you. Because Felix is scared too.
“We were careful,” you say.
“I know.”
“We used protection.”
“I know.”
“This wasn’t supposed to—”
“I know.” His thumb moves slowly over your knuckles. “I know.”
The words sit there between you.
It broke.
It wasn’t because you forgot. Not because you were careless. Not because either of you failed to think.
It just broke.
“We can get Plan B,” he says. “Tonight, if you want. I can drive.”
You nod, but your mind feels far away.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs.
You look up.
“Not like that,” he says softly. “I just mean don’t go somewhere scary in your head alone.”
Eventually, you whisper, “This is messy.”
His mouth pulls into something too tender to be a smile. “Yeah.”
“And complicated.”
“Probably.”
“And we’re idiots.”
“A little.”
You give him a look. He lowers his eyes, but you see the smallest flicker of relief when your mouth almost twitches.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“For what?”
“For not checking. For letting this become something you have to worry about after everything else.”
“Felix.”
His jaw tightens.
“Felix, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
He looks at you like he wants badly to believe it.
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” you say.
The room settles, not peacefully, but enough.
You do not know yet that emergency contraception will not work the way you hope. You do not know that in a few weeks, you will stand in Felix’s bathroom with a pregnancy test shaking in your hand. You do not know that two pink lines will turn this night from a complicated memory into the beginning of an entirely different life.
Right now, you only know Felix’s hand in yours and the broken condom wrapped in tissue in the trash.
The rain starts falling softly against the window. And Felix stays beside you, worried and exhausted and still so painfully kind, making this the first disaster in a long time where you do not feel abandoned inside it.
He lifts your hand and presses his lips to your knuckles. “We’ll figure it out,” he says again.
This time, you believe him.
-
By the time Luna is three months old, Felix knows the difference between her hungry cry and her tired cry before you do.
He knows that the little crease between her eyebrows means she is about to work herself into a full-body scream if someone does not pick her up within the next thirty seconds. He knows she likes being bounced more than rocked, but only if the motion is slow, steady, and paired with the song he made up during one impossible night when she was six weeks old and nothing else worked. He knows she hates being changed unless someone keeps a hand on her belly, warm and grounding, like she needs proof she has not been abandoned on the changing mat.
He knows she sneezes twice every morning. Always two tiny kitten sneezes that make him pause whatever he is doing, stare at her tiny face and whisper, “Bless you, bug,” like she has just done something remarkable.
He knows you too. That is the part you try not to think about too much.
Felix knows you forget to eat when Luna has a bad day. He knows you get quiet when your mother calls, not because she is cruel, but because she is inquisitive in the wrong ways, always asking questions that make you feel like you are being examined. He knows you hate pumping in the middle of the night because it makes you feel less like a person and more like a machine. He knows the exact face you make when you are about to say, “I’m fine,” and mean the opposite.
He knows which mug you reach for when you are having a good morning. He knows which sweatshirt you steal when you are having a hard one. He knows that you always sleep closest to the door.
You don’t know if it’s from habit, from fear, from motherhood, or from all of it tangled together, but Felix noticed the first week you moved into the new apartment.
The apartment is small, but it is yours in a way neither of you says too loudly. Two bedrooms and two bathrooms, one with a sink that drains too slowly, and a living room that has become more baby gear than furniture.
The second bedroom is technically Felix’s, though Luna’s stroller lives against one wall and a basket of folded burp cloths sits on his dresser most days. The master bedroom belongs to you and Luna, not because Felix offered it like some grand act of sacrifice, but because he looked at the floor plan, looked at the space, and said, “You’ll need room for the bassinet.”
Simple. Practical. Felix.
You argued anyway.
“You pay for more of the rent. You take it,” you told him, standing in the empty master bedroom with Luna asleep against your chest, still so tiny then that her whole body seemed to fit beneath your chin.
Felix was kneeling by a box labeled with your name, cutting through tape with his keys because neither of you could find the scissors. His hair was falling into his eyes. There was a strip of packing tape stuck to his sweatpants.
“No.”
“Felix.”
“You two are my responsibility. You and Luna get the bigger room.”
Your face warmed. You adjusted Luna against you even though she did not need adjusting.
Felix’s expression softened in a way that made your ribs ache.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You and Luna need the bigger room.”
That is what everything has become between you and Felix. Tiny almosts. Half-steps. Words that come too close to meaning something and then are gently redirected before either of you can bleed on them.
You are not together. Not officially. Not in any way that has been named.
But you are also not just friends anymore.
Friends do not kiss in the yellow spill of refrigerator light at midnight because the baby finally fell asleep and both of you are too tired to remember all the reasons you should be careful. Friends do not touch each other’s backs in crowded rooms with the easy familiarity of people who have learned the shape of each other’s bodies, the intimacy of their moans. Friends do not look at each other across a pediatrician’s office when the nurse says, “Mom and Dad can bring her over to the scale,” and freeze like someone has dropped a match into the room.
Mom and Dad.
The first time it happens, Luna is two weeks old and furious about being naked on the examination table.
Felix is holding her little socks in one hand and your diaper bag in the other. You are trying not to cry because postpartum hormones have turned your body into a haunted house with working plumbing. The nurse smiles warmly and says, “Dad, if you want to stand on this side, you can help keep baby calm.”
Felix goes still. You do too. For one tiny, horrible second, you both look at each other like you have been caught doing something illegal.
The nurse, oblivious, adjusts the paper on the table.
Felix recovers first. He steps forward, sets the bag down, and leans over your daughter with that impossibly soft smile she already recognizes.
“Hi, bug,” he whispers, touching two fingers gently to her chest. “I know. Very rude. No pants and everything.”
Luna’s screaming stutters for half a second, as if she is offended but willing to hear him out.
You watch him soothe her, watch the way his hand cups her tiny foot, watch the nurse write something on the clipboard without realizing she has just cracked your heart open.
Mom and Dad.
In the car afterward, Luna sleeps in the backseat, bundled in her little bear onesie, cheeks flushed from outrage. Felix drives with both hands on the wheel. You sit beside him, staring out at the passing buildings with the appointment summary folded in your lap.
“So,” you say finally.
Felix glances over. “So.”
“Dad.”
His ears go red.
You try to smile. It wobbles. “I mean…we are her parents.”
He lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, I know. We’re just doing it our own way.”
You hum in agreement. Then, “Did it bother you?”
He looks genuinely startled. “No.”
The answer comes too fast, too honest.
You turn toward him.
He keeps his eyes on the road, jaw working once before he says, quieter, “Did it bother you?”
“No,” you say.
And that is the problem. It does not bother you. It settles somewhere deep. Somewhere complicated.
After that, doctors call you partners. Receptionists call you family. Strangers in grocery stores look at Luna strapped to Felix’s chest in the baby carrier and then at you beside him, hair half-falling from your clip, dark circles under your eyes, and smile with the soft approval reserved for young parents surviving in public.
“She has your eyes,” an older woman tells Felix once in the produce section.
You are reaching for avocados. Felix is wearing Luna against his chest because she refuses to nap unless she can feel his warmth pressed to her little form. He looks down at the sleeping baby, then back up at the woman.
“I think she has her mom’s,” he says.
The woman waves a hand. “Maybe. But that expression? That’s yours.”
Felix only laughs quietly and tucks one hand over Luna’s back.
“Poor thing,” he says. “Already judging people.”
You snort despite yourself.
He looks at you, eyes bright.
For a moment, it feels too easy. How easy the three of you can look. How natural. How real.
At home, the reality is messier.
Luna is three months old and somehow both more predictable and more confusing than she was as a newborn. She has discovered her hands but not what they are for. She stares at ceiling fans like they hold ancient wisdom. She smiles now, not always on purpose, but often enough that Felix keeps trying to earn one like it is a professional achievement.
He comes home from the clinic each evening with tired shoulders and kindness still caught in the lines of his face. Some days, he barely makes it through the door before Luna starts crying from your room, and he drops his bag without hesitation.
“Don’t even try,” you call from the bedroom one evening, voice fraying around the edges. “Save yourself.”
Felix appears in the doorway anyway, hair mussed from the wind, ID badge still clipped to his scrub pocket. His eyes move from Luna squirming on the bed to you sitting cross-legged beside her with one hand pressed to your forehead.
“Rough day?”
“She has decided naps are propaganda.”
Luna kicks both feet like she agrees with this political stance.
Felix sets his badge on the dresser and washes his hands in the bathroom before coming closer. Always. Every time. No matter how tired he is.
“Hi, bug,” he says, leaning over her. “You unionizing?”
Luna’s face crumples.
“Yeah,” you mutter. “Against sleep.”
Felix scoops her up with that easy gentleness that still makes something in you ache. His hand supports her neck automatically, her little body settling against his chest as if she has been waiting for the correct pair of arms all day.
The crying slows as soon as she feels her father’s arms around her.
You stare at her. “Betrayal,” you whisper.
Felix’s mouth twitches. “She missed me.”
“I birthed her.”
“And she appreciates your service.”
You glare at him, but there is no strength in it.
He starts that slow bounce she likes, one hand warm against her back. “Go shower,” he says.
“I have to fold laundry.”
“I’ll do it.”
“You don’t know which onesies are daytime onesies and which ones are pajamas.”
He looks down at Luna, scandalized. “There are categories?”
“Yes.”
“She is three months old.”
“She has a wardrobe system.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“She’s yours too. Learn the lore.”
His eyes lift to yours. You both pause.
It’s true. She is his. That part is simple. It takes two to make a child. But everything after that…that’s a choice.
His shoes are by the door. His protein powder is in the cabinet beside your tea. His room is down the hall, technically separate, though lately he falls asleep on the couch more often than not after late-night feedings because he doesn’t want you getting up alone.
He continues to choose it. He continues to choose to take care of his daughter. He continues to choose to take care of you.
Still, saying it aloud makes the apartment feel smaller. Warmer.
Felix looks away first, focusing on Luna as she rubs her face against his shirt.
“I’ll learn the lore,” he says quietly.
Your throat tightens. You want to kiss him. Instead, you stand and brush invisible lint from your leggings. “I’m showering for ten minutes.”
“Take twenty.”
“Don’t be generous. It’ll make me cry.”
His expression softens. “Then cry in the shower. More efficient.”
You huff a laugh as you pass him, and his fingers brush your wrist. Not enough to stop you. Just enough to remind you he’s there.
That is Felix’s entire language. Not force. Not demand. Just there. Always there.
You kiss him three nights later. Or maybe he kisses you. It’s hard to know anymore where one person begins these things and the other answers.
Luna has been asleep for nearly an hour, which feels miraculous and suspicious. Felix is in the kitchen washing bottles, sleeves pushed to his elbows, hair tied back loosely with one of your hair ties. You are drying them beside him with a towel over your shoulder.
The apartment is quiet except for running water and the soft whirr of the baby monitor on the counter.
“You don’t have to do all of them,” you say.
Felix rinses a bottle nipple with intense concentration. “I know.”
“You worked all day.”
“So did you.”
“I don’t know if people count motherhood as a job.”
“You kept a human alive.”
“She screamed at me for most of it.”
“Still counts.”
You lean your hip against the counter, watching him.
His hands are red from warm water. There is a faint scratch near his wrist from where Luna’s tiny nails got him that morning. He looks tired, but still so beautiful in a way that feels unfair, all softness and patience and domestic light.
“What?” he asks without looking at you.
“Nothing.”
“Mhmm,” he hums back, unconvinced.
“You have soap on your arm.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Fine, be that way,” you bite back playfully.
He turns his head, and you kiss him before either of you can make a joke big enough to hide behind.
Felix stills for a breath. Then his wet hand finds your waist, careful not to soak your shirt, and he kisses you back with the kind of tenderness that always makes your knees feel unreliable.
It lasts maybe five seconds. Maybe less.
Then the baby monitor crackles as Luna makes one tiny sound.
Both of you freeze.
Another sound follows, softer this time, then silence.
You pull back, barely.
Felix’s eyes stay half-lidded, mouth still close enough to yours that you can feel him breathe.
“False alarm,” he whispers.
You smile before you can stop yourself. “She has terrible timing.”
“She gets that from us.”
You should talk about it. You know that.
The kisses. The shared apartment. The way he sometimes looks at you like he is waiting for permission to want more. The way you sometimes almost give it to him and then remember there is a baby asleep in the next room, a life still held together with careful tape, a friendship too important to risk on a name you are not sure you deserve yet.
So you do what you both keep doing.
You step back and Felix lets you. That is the problem with him. He always lets you.
Weeks pass in that almost-place.
A kiss in the hallway when Luna finally goes down after a two-hour battle. His hand resting on your knee under the table at a birthday dinner with friends, thumb moving once when someone asks how co-parenting is going. You falling asleep against him on the couch while he watches a video on infant stretches for gas relief, because he claims that his daughter’s gut health is working too well. A pediatric appointment where the doctor smiles at Luna and says, “Looks like your parents are doing a great job.”
Parents.
Your heart jolts.
The doctor types something, unaware of the fragile little storm she has kicked up between you.
On the way home, Luna sleeps in the backseat again. She always sleeps after appointments, exhausted from being perceived by medical professionals.
You stare out the passenger window.
Felix turns the music down. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He is quiet for a second. “That was a fake yeah.”
You sigh. “I’m fine.”
“That was its cousin.”
Despite yourself, your mouth twitches.
Felix glances at you, then back to the road. “Was it the parents thing?”
You look at your hands. “I don’t know.”
His voice softens. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
That is the moment something inside you twists. Because part of you wants him to make you talk. To stop giving you every exit. To want something loudly enough that you cannot pretend not to hear it.
But Felix has never been someone who takes more than you offer.
So instead of answering, you say, “It’s just awkward.”
“Yeah.”
“Because it’s true.”
The car goes very quiet.
You swallow. “And it’s kinda not true.”
Felix says nothing.
You wish you could see his face better, but the streetlights move across him too quickly, gold and shadow, gold and shadow.
“That’s what makes it awkward,” you add, weaker this time.
His hands flex on the steering wheel. “I know.”
The conversation ends there, but it follows you home.
It lingers through Luna’s bedtime routine. Through her bath, where she splashes one foot with startling aggression. Through Felix wrapping her in a towel and gasping, “Burrito baby,” like he has not said it every bath night for three months. Through you pretending not to smile as he carries her to your room, humming softly while you lay out her pajamas.
She falls asleep easier than usual, milk-drunk and warm, her little fist curled near her cheek. You stand over the bassinet for a long moment after Felix leaves the room, watching her breathe.
Every parent does it. You know that now. The watching. The counting. The silent terror of loving something so small.
When you finally step into the living room, Felix is sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely in front of him. The TV is off. Only the lamp is on, pooling warm light around him.
He looks up when you enter. Something in his expression stops you near the hallway.
“What?” you ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
But it is not nothing.
You know him too well now. “Felix.”
He looks down at his hands. “I don’t think I can keep doing this,” he says.
Your stomach drops so fast you feel dizzy. “What?”
His head snaps up. “No, not—” He stands immediately, panic flashing across his face. “Not Luna. Not living here. Not us being…” He stops, frustrated with himself. “I said that wrong.”
Your pulse is suddenly everywhere. “Then say it again.”
Felix drags both hands through his hair. He looks more undone than you have seen him in months, maybe since the night you told him you were pregnant. His eyes are bright, his mouth tense, like every careful word he has swallowed is finally too heavy to keep down.
“I don’t think I can keep pretending this doesn’t hurt,” he says. He laughs once, but it breaks at the edges. “And I know that’s not fair. I know you’ve had so much change already. I know Luna comes first, and work is hard, and your family has opinions, and my family has questions, and we’re both tired all the time.” His voice thickens. “But I can’t keep standing next to you at appointments while people call us partners and act like I don’t want that to be true.”
Your throat closes as you stand absolutely still, eyes locked on his.
He looks away, blinking hard. “I want it to be true,” he says. The words are quiet. Honest.
“I want to be your partner,” he continues. “Not just when it’s convenient. Not just on forms or in waiting rooms or when people assume it because I’m holding the diaper bag.” He presses one hand to his chest, like something there hurts. “I want to call you mine.”
Your breath catches and Felix looks at you then, fully.
“I want to say it at appointments without getting awkward. I want to stand beside you at birthday parties and family dinners and not have to figure out what we are before introducing you.” His voice trembles. “I want to go to Luna’s school meetings someday and sit there with you and know I’m allowed to be proud of both of you out loud.”
Your eyes burn, filling with tears.
He swallows, trying to steady himself, but it doesn’t work. “I am proud,” he says, and the words come softer now. Rougher. “I’m proud of being her dad. I’m proud every time someone calls me that. Even when it scares me. Even when I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m so proud of her.”
A tear finally slips down your cheek. Felix sees it, and his face crumples a little.
“And I’m proud of you,” he says. “For having her. For loving her. For getting up every day even when you’re exhausted. For letting me be here. For making room for me when you didn’t have to.”
You cover your mouth with one hand. He takes one small step forward, then stops himself because he is still Felix, still careful, still giving you room even while his heart is lying bare between you.
“I don’t want to be almost,” he whispers. “Not with you.”
The baby monitor crackles softly as Luna sighs in her sleep.
The sound nearly breaks you. Because there she is, your tiny impossible thing, sleeping in the next room while the person who has loved her from the beginning stands in front of you asking to love you without hiding.
“Felix,” you whisper.
His eyes close briefly at the sound of his name. “I love you,” he says.
The words land with impossible gentleness. You thought love would feel louder when it finally came. But from Felix, it feels like everything else he has ever given you.
A blanket over your shoulders. Tea on the nightstand. A hand held through fear. A bedroom surrendered without ceremony. A baby soothed at three in the morning. A quiet voice saying, Stay with me. Don’t go somewhere scary in your head alone.
“I love you,” he says again, like he wants there to be no mistake. “Not because of Luna. Not because we live together. Not because people already assume it. I love you because I know you. Because I’ve known you. Because somewhere along the way, being near you stopped feeling like enough, and I didn’t know how to ask for more without making you feel like you owed me something.”
You shake your head, tears spilling freely now. “I never felt like I owed you.”
“I know.” His mouth trembles. “But I was scared you might.”
“You’re always so careful with me.”
“I don’t know how not to be.”
The answer breaks something open in you. You cross the room. Felix watches you like he is afraid to hope too quickly. When you reach him, you stop close enough that you could count each individual freckle adorning his beautiful face.
“I was scared,” you admit.
His gaze softens, even now. Especially now. “I know.”
“No, I mean…” You look down, gathering the words from all the tangled places you have hidden them. “I was scared because I didn’t want you to become something I could lose.”
Felix stays silent, letting you speak, though every instinct within him is screaming at him to reach out and take you in his arms.
“You were my safest person before everything,” you say. “Then Luna happened, and you became hers too, and I kept thinking if we tried to name this and it went wrong, I’d lose the only place that felt steady.”
His eyes shine.
“But it already has a name,” you whisper. “Doesn’t it?”
Felix’s face shifts. Hope, fragile and sudden.
You reach for his hand. His fingers close around yours.
“I don’t want to be almost either,” you say.
His breath leaves him shakily.
You smile through tears. “And for the record, you are allowed to be proud out loud.”
A laugh breaks out of him, small and wet and disbelieving. “You’re sure?”
You squeeze his hand. “Felix.”
“I know. I just—”
“I love you too.”
And then you kiss him. You step into him, one hand at his jaw, and kiss him with every unsaid thing that has been living inside the apartment for months. The waiting. The fear. The gratitude. The want. The love that has been folded into laundry, mixed into bottles, whispered over Luna’s sleeping body, tucked into every corner of the life you have built without calling it by name.
Felix makes a soft sound against your mouth, half relief, half heartbreak. Then his arms come around you. Careful at first. Then sure.
When you pull back, his forehead rests against yours. His eyes are closed, lashes damp.
“Can I say it now?” he whispers.
Your thumb brushes his cheek. “Say what?”
His mouth curves, trembling. “My girls.”
Your heart folds in on itself. You nod because words are too much.
Felix exhales, pulling you closer. “My girls,” he says again, softer this time.
From the baby monitor, Luna makes another tiny sound. Another little sigh follows. Then silence.
You look at Felix. He looks at you.
For the first time, there is no awkwardness. No almost. Just the two of you standing in the living room of your small two-bedroom apartment while your daughter sleeps down the hall, love finally named and breathing between you.
Felix smiles, tired and tearful and impossibly bright. “Terrible timing,” he whispers.
You laugh, wiping at your cheeks. “She gets it from us.”
His hand slips into yours. “Come on,” he murmurs, glancing toward the hallway. “Let’s check on our daughter.”
Luna is still asleep when you reach the master bedroom.
The room is washed in the soft blue glow of the night-light plugged into the wall, the one Felix bought because he said the warmer one made the shadows look “too tacky,” as if your three-month-old daughter had strong opinions about ambiance. The bassinet sits beside your bed, close enough that you can reach her, and Luna is tucked inside it with both fists near her cheeks, her mouth parted in the shape of a tiny dream.
Felix slows beside you.
There is something sacred about looking at her like this, something that never stops making your chest ache. All the noise in your head quiets. All the words from the living room, all the fear and confession and relief, soften around the edges until there is only Luna breathing steadily in the dark.
You step closer and rest one careful hand against the edge of the bassinet. Felix stands just behind you, close but not crowding, his warmth brushing your back without fully touching. You can feel him holding his breath the same way you are, the two of you listening for the soft rhythm of your daughter’s sleep.
“She’s okay,” you whisper.
Felix’s hand settles gently at your waist. “She’s perfect,” he whispers back.
You look down at her, at the small curve of her cheek, the dark fan of lashes, the little pout that already looks so stubbornly like Felix when someone tells him he is tired and should rest.
“She has your mouth,” you say quietly.
Felix huffs a soft laugh against your hair. “Poor thing.”
“She’s lucky.”
Luna sleeps on, unaware of the way her whole tiny existence keeps rearranging the adults around her. You feel Felix’s fingers press lightly into your waist, not enough to pull you back, but enough to make you aware of him everywhere.
Then he leans forward and kisses the side of your head. “You’re sure?” he murmurs.
You turn slightly, careful not to disturb the bassinet. “About what?”
His eyes search yours in the dim room. They are still damp from the living room, still bright with everything he finally said out loud. “About me,” he says. “About this. About us.”
You look from him to Luna, then back again. “I’m sure,” you whisper.
He takes your hand and leads you out of the room quietly, both of you careful with the floorboards even though you already know which ones complain. You glance back once at Luna before Felix pulls the door almost closed, leaving it open by a few inches so the monitor can catch every sound, so you can both hear her if she needs you.
He leads you to his room, the second bedroom that has never really felt like a bedroom so much as evidence of his restraint. There is a half-folded pile of his laundry on the chair, a bottle of lotion on the dresser, a stack of pediatric development books beside his physical therapy notes because of course he has been reading both.
The room smells like him. Clean cotton and the teakwood cologne he uses because you told him you loved it on him years ago.
You barely make it two steps inside before Felix turns back to you.
For a moment, he only looks. His gaze moves over your face as if he is memorizing the version of you standing in front of him now. Tear-streaked. Tired. Barefoot in the hallway light. The mother of his child. The person who has just told him yes without hiding inside a maybe.
Then he closes the distance. The kiss is different from the one in the living room. This one has weight.
His hands come to your face first, cradling you with that familiar gentleness, thumbs brushing beneath your eyes as if he can wipe away months of uncertainty with touch alone. You kiss him back just as deeply, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there is no careful space left between you.
Felix exhales against your mouth. “Move into the master with me,” he says.
You laugh softly because you are already kissing him again, because the sentence is so abrupt and so Felix, practical and life-changing all at once. “I’m already in the master.”
He kisses the corner of your mouth. “No. I mean both of us.”
His lips move to your cheek, your jaw, back to your mouth like he cannot decide where he wants the words to land. “I want your things with mine,” he murmurs. “I want to stop pretending my room is my room when I’m always listening for you from across the hall.”
“Felix—”
“And Luna can have this room.” Another kiss, softer. “Her crib will fit by the window. The dresser can go there. We can paint if you want. Or not paint. Whatever you want.”
Your heart stumbles at the image. Your clothes mixed with his. The master bedroom no longer divided by implication, no longer yours and not his, no longer shaped around the fear of asking for too much.
Felix pulls back just enough to look at you. “I want to wake up next to you,” he says, voice rough now. “Not because the baby cried and I came in half-asleep. Not because one of us passed out on the couch. I want to go to bed with you and know I’m allowed to stay.”
Your fingers tighten in his shirt. “You are,” you whisper.
Then he kisses you again, deeper this time, walking you backward until your legs meet the edge of his bed. You sit because he guides you there, because your knees have gone soft, because Felix is looking at you with so much love that standing feels impossible.
He drops to his knees in front of you. The sight of him like that steals the air from your lungs. His hair falls into his eyes. His cheeks are flushed. His mouth is swollen from your kisses, and still, somehow, he looks at you like you are the one worth worshipping.
“I want to marry you,” he says.
Your heart stops. Felix’s hands tighten gently on your thighs as if he already knows you might float away from the shock of it.
“Not tomorrow,” he adds quickly, then laughs under his breath, shaky and emotional. “Unless you want tomorrow. I’d do tomorrow.”
A stunned sound leaves you, half-laugh, half-sob. “Felix.”
“I mean it.” He presses a kiss to your knee, over your sleep pants, sweet enough to ache. “I know I should probably say it in a more romantic way. I should plan something. Flowers. A ring. Maybe sleep for at least four consecutive hours first.”
You laugh for real then, tears spilling again.
His face softens. “But I want it,” he says. “I want all of it with you. The paperwork and the rings and the awful seating chart and our families crying too much and Luna trying to eat someone’s corsage.”
“Oh my God.”
“She would.”
“She absolutely would.”
He smiles, but his eyes stay serious. “I want to stand in front of everyone and choose you where they can see it,” he says. “I want them to know. I want you to know.”
You touch his face with shaking fingers. He leans into your palm immediately.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” you whisper, but there is no warning in it. No rejection.
“I know.” He turns his face and kisses the inside of your wrist. “I’ve been behind for too long. I have catching up to do.”
Something in your chest gives way. You bend down to kiss him, and Felix rises into it, hands sliding carefully to your waist.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. “I want more babies with you,” he whispers.
Your breath catches for a different reason now, lower and softer.
He laughs once, embarrassed by himself, but he does not take it back. “Not right now,” he says quickly, eyes flicking toward the hallway like Luna might somehow file a complaint. “Obviously not right now. We have one tiny dictator and she doesn’t even pay rent.”
You wipe your cheeks, smiling helplessly. “She does contribute emotional value.”
“Barely. She screamed at me for twenty minutes because I changed her diaper.”
“She values consistency.”
“She better start valuing not getting a diaper rash.”
You laugh, and Felix looks at you like the sound has undone him. His hands come up to your face again.
“But someday,” he says softly. “If you want. If your body wants. If life lets us. I want more. I want Luna to have siblings. I want sleepy mornings and too many shoes by the door and someone yelling because someone drank all the milk and there’s none left for cereal.” His smile trembles. “I want a house that sounds like us.”
The words move through you slowly. You had spent so long trying to survive the life that cracked open behind you that you forgot the future could be something other than a place to fear. But Felix says it like he can see it. Like he has been carrying the picture gently, waiting for the moment you might be ready to look.
“I want that too,” you admit.
His eyes shine. “Yeah?”
You nod, unable to stop smiling even though you are still crying. “Yeah.”
Felix kisses you again, and this time it lingers, warm and deep and full of every impossible thing that suddenly feels possible.
He kisses your cheek. Your temple. The corner of your mouth.
“I never want you to doubt it again,” he whispers between kisses. “Not whether I love Luna. Not whether I want to be here. Not whether I want you.”
Your eyes flutter shut.
“I don’t want you to look at me someday and wonder if I’m staying because I feel responsible.” His mouth brushes yours. “I’m staying because I love you.”
Another kiss. “I love you when you’re tired.” Another. “When you’re scared.” Another. “When you overpack the diaper bag like we’re taking Luna on a survival expedition.”
You choke on a laugh. “We need options.”
“We need one backup outfit, not six.”
“She could have a blowout.”
“She is twelve pounds.”
“She’s powerful.”
“She is,” he concedes, kissing your smile. “Terrifyingly powerful.”
Your hands slide up his shoulders, feeling the tremble he is trying to hide.
His voice softens again. “I love you when you don’t believe me yet,” he says. “I’ll say it until you do.”
The ache that moves through you is almost too much.
You draw him closer. “I believe you,” you whisper. “I do,” you say again, because he needs to hear it as much as you needed him to say all of this. “I’m scared, but I believe you.”
His eyes close. For a second, he looks undone by relief. Then he laughs quietly, a little wet, a little breathless. “I should thank Eunwoo.”
You blink. “What?”
Felix opens his eyes, and there is something almost sheepish under the emotion.
“I hate him,” he clarifies quickly. “Just so we’re clear. I think he’s a complete asshole.”
A surprised laugh bursts out of you.
Felix’s mouth curves, but his eyes stay tender. “But if he hadn’t been stupid enough to lose you…” He brushes his thumb across your cheek. “I wouldn’t have this apartment. I wouldn’t have Luna sleeping down the hall. I wouldn’t have you looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like maybe I get to keep you.”
He kisses you again before you can answer. “So yeah,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Thank you, douchebag Eunwoo.”
You laugh into the kiss, and Felix smiles too, soft and bright and just a little wicked around the edges.
“For fumbling the best person I know.”
“Felix.”
“For making room for me.”
“That is a terrible thank-you speech.”
“I’m workshopping it.”
“You are not saying that at our wedding.”
His whole body stills. You realize what you said one second too late.
Felix stares at you, eyes wide, lips breaking into a smile.
Heat rushes into your face. “I mean—”
“No,” he says quickly. He grips your hands. “Please don’t take it back.”
Your heart pounds so hard you feel it in your throat. Slowly, you smile. “I won’t.”
The look on his face is something you will remember for the rest of your life. Joy, raw and disbelieving.
Felix surges up to kiss you, and this time there is no careful pause before his hands find you, no question about whether wanting this will ruin what you have built. He still moves with care, because that is who he is, because loving you has never made him careless. But there is certainty now too. A quiet confidence in the way he holds you. The way he guides you back onto the bed. The way he follows, warm and solid above you, one hand braced beside your head while the other cups your face.
The baby monitor rests on his nightstand, glowing softly.
Felix leans back to look at you, and the tenderness in his eyes turns your bones to water. “We have to be quiet,” he whispers.
You raise an eyebrow. “You have to be quiet.”
His mouth falls open in offended silence.
You smile.
He narrows his eyes. “Bold.”
You laugh, and Felix kisses the sound right out of your mouth.
His tongue traces the curve of your lower lip, and yours meets it, a gentle duel that sends a familiar, deep tremor through your belly. Your hands are already at work, fingers pushing under the hem of his worn t-shirt, finding the solid plane of his stomach, the heat of his skin beneath.
He mirrors you, palms sliding up your sides, over the thin cotton of your shirt. The fabric lifts, and you feel the cool air of the room touch your skin, followed immediately by the warmer brush of his fingertips. They skate over your ribs, circle the soft underside of your breasts, and you arch into the touch, a silent invitation. The shirt is gone, tossed aside without a glance. His mouth leaves yours, traveling down your jaw, your neck, a hot, open path that makes your eyes close.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thickened with more than desire. It carries the weight of new parenthood, of stolen moments, of love reforged into something steadier. His lips find the peak of your shoulder, and he kisses the spot like it’s a secret.
You tug at his shirt again, and he obliges, pulling it over his head. The sight of him, even in the dim glow from the hallway nightlight, is a familiar thrill. The definition of his shoulders, the dark trail of hair down his abdomen. You run your hands over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palm.
His hands come to your hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of your leggings. You help him, pushing them down along with your underwear, the movement clumsy and intimate. He kicks off his own pants and boxers, and for a moment you’re both bare, skin meeting skin. The world outside—the quiet hum of the baby monitor on the dresser, the faint scent of lavender from the nursery down the hall—frames this private universe.
He shifts, rolling to lie beside you, one arm draped over your waist. His other hand begins a journey, starting at your knee. His touch is a study. He doesn’t rush. His palm glides up your thigh, the pressure firm and reassuring. When he reaches the junction of your legs, he doesn’t plunge inward. Instead, his fingers spread, cradling the entire softness there. The heel of his hand presses gently against your slick entrance, and you feel a responding pulse, a slow bloom of warmth.
“Felix…” you whisper, the name both a plea and an affirmation.
His hand moves, fingers parting your folds with a tender precision. The first touch is a slow stroke, from bottom to top, a caress that gathers the gathering slickness there. He does it again, and again, each pass a little slower, a little more focused. Your hips lift, following the rhythm he sets. He adjusts, his thumb finding your clit, circling, applying a soft, persistent pressure that makes your back bend.
“You’re already so ready for me,” he says, his observation a husky note in the dark. He brings his fingers up, and you hear the faint, wet sound as he rubs them together. Then he brings them to your mouth. You open your lips, and he lets you taste yourself—a musky, intimate flavor that sparks a sharper need.
You reach for him, your hand finding his length. It’s already hard, thick, a familiar shape in your grip. You stroke him, from base to tip, feeling the velvet skin, the firmness beneath. He makes a sound, a deep, contained groan that vibrates in his chest. You lean over, kissing the side of his neck, your tongue tasting the salt of his skin.
“Wait,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly. He reaches toward the bedside table drawer, the movement careful. The foil packet is retrieved, and you watch him tear it open. The process is familiar. He rolls the protection down himself, his hands sure, checking to make sure there are no obvious signs of rips and tears, not wanting to make the same mistake so soon.
He turns back to you, his eyes finding yours. In the shadows, his gaze is dark, serious, full of a knowing affection. He guides you, his hands on your hips, turning you gently so you’re lying fully back. He moves over you, not mounting you immediately, but lowering himself so his chest brushes yours, his mouth finding your ear.
“Had to make sure,” he says with a small laugh.
You follow suit, shoulders shaking slightly with your soft giggle. “I know.”
“Now, I’m going to take my time,” he whispers. “Every second.”
He shifts his weight, one hand bracing beside your shoulder. The other guides himself. You feel the blunt, smooth tip of him press against your entrance. It’s a gentle pressure, a testing. He doesn’t push. He lets the tension build until your body relaxes around the suggestion, opening. Then, with an infinite slowness, he begins to sink into you.
The sensation is a slow, breathtaking stretch. You feel every inch of his cock advance, a hot, smooth glide that seems to deepen not just in your body, but in your mind. Your breath catches, but you hold it, letting the feeling expand. He goes deeper, and deeper, until he’s fully seated, his pelvis pressed flush against yours. There, he stops. The fullness is profound, a complete, warm anchor.
He stays motionless for a long moment, his forehead touching yours. “God, you still feel incredible,” he breathes, the words barely audible.
Then he begins to move.
The withdrawal is just as slow. He pulls back, a smooth retreat that leaves you achingly empty for a second before he pushes forward again. The pace is languid, a sensual tide. Each stroke is deliberate, a full journey out and then a full journey in. Your body adjusts, softening, welcoming each entry with a silent, internal clasp.
Your hands find his back, fingers tracing the muscles that work with each movement. Your nails dig in lightly, not to hurt, but to feel the solid reality of him. He responds, his rhythm unwavering, his breath becoming a steady, heated rhythm against your cheek.
The sounds are soft: the quiet, wet friction of joined bodies, the rustle of sheets as his knees shift, the shared, controlled exhales. The baby monitor sits silent, a reminder that keeps your pleasure contained, a secret flame in the dark.
His mouth finds yours again, and you kiss with a new desperation, tongues tangling as his body works within you. The kiss muffles the small sounds you start to make—the faint moans that try to escape as the sensations build. You feel the coil tightening low in your abdomen, a slow, gathering knot of pleasure.
He runs his free hand all over your, pausing to palm your breasts, sucking his thumb before rubbing the slicked digit along your pebbled nipples.
You arch at the feeling, gasping and clawing at him, silently begging for more.
He delivers, changing the angle of your bodies slightly, shifting his hips, and the next inward stroke brushes a different, brighter spot inside you. Another silent gasp leaves you, your mouth opening. He sees it, feels it, and he adjusts again to repeat the contact. Now, each slow, deep thrust grazes that place, sending sharp, bright sparks through your nerves.
“Right there?” he whispers, his voice strained with his own control, leaning down to press his forehead to yours.
You nod, your forehead bumping against his with every thrust. You can’t speak. The pleasure is becoming a thick, urgent pressure, building with each measured stroke. His pace quickens and the intensity of each contact amplifies. Your legs tighten around his waist, urging him deeper and faster, though he’s already as deep as he can go.
You feel his control beginning to fray. His breaths come quicker, though they’re still hushed. The muscles in his arms cord, holding his weight steady. The smooth rhythm develops a slight, urgent tremor. He’s close, too.
The peak approaches not as a sudden storm, but as a slow, inevitable crest. The pleasure swells, warming, tightening, becoming almost too much to contain within silence. You bite your lip, pressing your face into his shoulder to stifle the cry building in your throat. Your body begins to tremble, a fine vibration that starts in your core and radiates outward.
Felix feels it. His movements become shorter, focused entirely on that perfect, internal point. He watches your face, his eyes gleaming in the low light, seeing the struggle, the bliss. “Come with me,” he rasps, the command gentle.
And you do.
The release unfolds slowly, like a flower opening in reverse. It’s a deep, pulsing unraveling that starts at the very center of you and floods outward, warm and liquid and utterly consuming. Your vision blanks, your ears fill with a silent roar. You hold onto him, your fingers clutching his skin, your entire body arching into a taut, silent curve. A sound tries to force its way out—a scream of pure feeling—but you choke it down, converting it into a shuddering, breathless convulsion against his chest.
He follows, his own climax, a silent, powerful eruption. You feel it through the connection: the hardening pulse within you, the sudden, fierce tension in his entire frame, the hot, contained groan that vibrates from his chest into yours. He pushes deep, staying there, locked as the waves crash through him.
For long moments, you are both still, fused, breathing in ragged, quiet sync. The world returns slowly: the patter of rain, the soft green light of the monitor, the feel of his weight, now relaxed, upon you.
He finally moves, withdrawing with the same care he entered. The loss of him leaves a hollow, satisfied ache. He inspects the condom and, satisfied with the integrity of it, tosses it into the trash. He rolls back onto his side, pulling you with him, keeping you close. His arms wrap around you, his hand stroking your hair.
He kisses your temple. “I love you, Y/N.”
“I love you too, Lix.”
You close your eyes, cuddling closer.
“My love,” he says, and you stop moving for a moment.
He pauses immediately, lifting his head. “Is that okay?”
The question is so Felix that you almost cry again.
You touch his cheek. “Yes.”
His expression softens once more. “My love,” he says again, quieter this time.
The words settle over you. And when his hand slides into yours, fingers interlacing against the pillow, you hold on.
Felix runs his palm along your spine, soothing you and reminding you of how safe and sure everything feels with him beside you.
Your last thought before exhaustion consumes you, your daughter sleeping peacefully down the hall, the love of your life pressing kisses to the side of your face—what a wonderful life.
It was a normal day you were in Chris’s studio sitting at the soft black couch behind him. He was slouched over at the computer muttering, scribbling ideas on paper. You had been sitting at the couch for so long your legs tingled. You tossed your phone to the side, raising from the couch. You wrapped your arms around him, burrowing your head into his neck, breathing him in.
“hmm? What do you want.” He didn’t say it angrily just busy and annoyed by every distraction.
“I think you should go, stop by the coffee shop down the street. Take a break maybe?” You said slowly trying to ease his hands away from the keyboard.
He sighed deeply, “will you leave me alone if I do?” He asked. “Yea” you said smiling, laughing. He pressed save and took the flash drive out his computer.
“Fine.” He replied, pressing save on his computer. “I’ll be back soon” he said picking up his keys and smile tugging on his lips.
You estimated he would be gone for around 10-15 and decided to clean up his studio a little bit. Grabbing a trash bag you swept everything off the table in front of the couch into the trash, it was all your trash anyway.
Something hard bounced in the bag as you whipped trash off his desk, you brushed it off, must’ve been one of the energy drink cans. You quickly wiped down everything with a Clorox wipe. You heard a large truck pull down the road, you ran outside with the trash and dumped it all in the bin.
You relaxed on the couch scrolling on your phone waiting for Chris to come back. You glanced at the pregnancy test sitting in your bag, you’d reluctantly decided you needed to take it after your period was a few months late. You should’ve taken it much earlier but, you avoided the thought, the responsibility if you really were a mother. You had to take it when you got home though, if you were pregnant you didn’t want to figure it out inside the jyp building of all places. Just thinking about it made you nervous, before you started over thinking you heard Chris’s voice coming down the hall.
He pushed the door opened on the phone with what seemed to be one of his managers.
“- yes I have the demos ready. Yes. Yea I know they’re due today. I have them all on flash drive I’ll drop it off at your office right now. Yes, I’ll see you soon..” he told the manager annoyed, hanging up the call. He went over to his desk and as soon as he saw it he tensed up. He checked behind the computer and wildly opened and closed the drawers of his desk.
“y/n?” He said leaning over his desk, “Do you know where my flash drive is?!” He asked.
“ I don’t know I cleaned up a little but I’m sure I didn’t throw away the drive.” You replied.“you threw away stuff on my desk? Oh god! The hard drive was probably on there!” He yelled, bending on the ground searching the floor.
“Chrissie I’m sorry I didn’t realize baby!” You replied, hands shaking. If that had the demos for next comeback on it, Chris was fucked, and if it was due today double fucked.
“You didn’t realize! Is that it?! You don’t understand! That had EVERYTHING for our next single and our next comeback!! That is months of hard work in the fucking trash compactor!” He yelled, running a hand through his hair pacing around.
“shit shit shit! Thanks a lot y/n! Now what I am I supposed to-” he groaned, banging his hand on his desk.
“Oh my god. Baby I’m so sorry ok? Is there anything I can do to help?” You asked, he turned to you and scoffed.
“stop time for another few months maybe?! So I can redo everything! Oh no maybe rewind time and stop yourself from acting like a dumbass and check the trash bag first!” He spat.
Tears pricked your eyes, you fidgeted with your shirt. You had never seen Chan lash out like this, you felt so guilty you must’ve pushed back their comeback by months, what was he going to tell his manager?
“Why do you always do this shit! You always have to go and make everything harder!” He yelled
“I-i…Chris don’t be like that.” You pleaded, biting your lip.
“You know what! I don’t need these distractions!” He shot back
“baby? What do you mean by that.. I’m sorry.” You pleaded, he sighed turning to you.
“this relationship I need a break! It’s only adding more onto my already loaded plate!”
you paused for a moment, you couldn’t find words to form.
“Baby? You can’t be serious” you said tears falling down your cheeks, he turned away. “You’re breaking up with me? Because of a flash drive?” Your voice wavered.
“that’s was months of my work.. and god knows what the company is going to do! Get out!” He rolled over his chair and muttered under his breath.
You picked up your purse and ran at the door, you stumbled down the hallways of the building until a familiar face appeared, Felix. He saw you first and his mouth dropped.
“Y/n-nnie what happened?” He asked, the worry was apparent on his face.
“Lix, I’m sorry I can’t right now I have to go.” You pushed past him and ran out the building.
At home you sat crying on your bed for hours the pregnancy test you had planned to take laying by your feet, like an invitation to make your day worse.
“Fuck it.” You muttered, “everything already sucks right now.” You got out of the bed and picked up the pregnancy test.
After an hour of you being too scared to go to the bathroom and see the results, you finally brought yourself to do it. You closed your eyes holding the stick in your hands, then slowly you opened them.
pregnant
seeing the results you felt dizzy, gripping onto your bathroom sink. You were pregnant with Christopher bahng’s baby and he had just broken up with you.
You felt nauseated and miserable, you dropped the test down with trembling hands as you stumbled over to your bed. Your chest heaved tears pouring out of your eyes, a cry so intense that the sound caught in your throat. You curled into a ball, head inside your hands, tears pooling inside.
__________________________
5 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧
5 days later, and no word from him. Your knees were touching the cold tiled ground, your hands gripping the smooth porcelain, knuckles white. All morning you felt like you were about to throw up your guts but nothing happened. Then out of nowhere… let’s say you were grateful that the toilet was nearby, because it didn’t stop. Every 10 minutes for almost an hour your body decided it was a good time to drain its stomach.
You lay on your bed, it seemed every waking moment you were sleeping, barfing, or crying. Right now it was the third option. You felt so lonely so far you hadn’t told anyone. Your boss thought you were sick, and your friends thought you were being a post- breakup couch potato. Your best friend— felix, had been asking if you were okay, Chan had probably told him what happened. If anyone would be the first to know (besides Chan who you refused to tell for now) it would be Felix. You and Felix had been friends before you and Chan had started dating, you three had been a trio before.
You went through contacts a drew a breath, pressing his name.
𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚕𝚒𝚡𝚒𝚎☀️
“oh, y/n-ah what’s up?” Felix asked, for some weird reason a wave of relief washed over you from the sound of his voice. Tears uncontrollably spilled down your face.
“hey what’s wrong?” He asked, “c-can you come over…? Please.” You asked. “O-okay I’ll be there.” He replied worriedly. He hung up the phone, you wiped your face feeling silly for just bursting out crying.
20 minutes later Felix arrived at the door with a box of cupcakes. You opened the door wide and let him inside, closing the door softly behind him. He melted into your couch as he had so many times, and sat one of pillows in his lap. You sat beside him silent.
“y/n what was that about on the phone?” He shuffled closer to you, “why were you crying?” He asked. You coughed, as your eyes filled.
“woah woah. Hey hey look at me you’re fine.” He reassured as he wrapped you into a hug.
“Felix… I-i-i’m-I-I’m….. I’m gonna be a…..mom” you told him, voice ,breaking. You cried into his shoulder, his mouth dropped. He pulled gripping your shoulder.
“You’re telling me.. Chan, as in my best friend Chan, got you…” he trailed off, raising his eyebrows. You nodded, if you added some chlorine you would have a pool in your lap.
“oh my god.” His hands shook, and he pulled you in again, “on that idiots behalf, I’m so so sorry.” You laughed, but it was more a choked cry than a laugh.
“I promise you won’t have to do this alone, I’ll be there. Plus I’ve been your best friend since you were a baby, I know you better then the dumba-” he looked at you, “that idiot.” He reassured.
From that day on he was like a stand in boyfriend, of course he never stepped over that line of friend, he knew you still loved Chan and you were more like a sister than a lover to him.
“Are you planning on… telling him?” He asked, you thought, “of course, I mean technically it’s his baby. I don’t want to use a baby as a bait to bring him back to the relationship if he isn’t happy.” You thought
“Y/N you are 4 months pregnant and haven’t told the love of your life!” You paused, getting ready to talk, but he cut you off. “Look y/n, he loves you more than anything else in this world. You would be the most prideful person in the world if you heard some of the things he says about you! He looks at you like you hung the sun, moon, and stars in the sky!”
“Give me time lix! I’ll tell him just, please I need time to process this myself before I even think about his reaction! I have this thing growing inside me and it’s not stopping, it changes me every way I feel, mentally physically! I’ve been alone!” you cried. He pulled you into probably the hundredth hug it was warm like the sun.
“fine but if he, the father of the child doesn’t know by the 5th month I’m going to him. Lets be honest, you’re in the second trimester. Your body is changing, if he sees you… he’ll notice. In my opinion it would be best to tell him. Before he notices.” He advised
———————————————————————
For the next week or so Felix would come over to cook or bake, he disguised them as silly visits but he knew you needed comfort. Somehow slowly each member caught on,(Felix was horrible at hiding things, he could keep a secret but staying under the radar was hard)
Hyunjin found out after seeing Felix’s search history, slowly he came over with or without Felix. He would talk about how he wished it was a girl so he could style her. Minho caught on when Felix asked if
“cats help with pregnancy stress?” Minhos cold stare broke him down. By the end every member except Chan knew about the baby, somehow in a week.
————————
You were with Felix and Hyunjin the first time the baby moved. It felt like butterflies in your stomach and gas passing at the same time. When they saw the look on your face they both questioned you, and they both literally jumped as high as kangaroo when they heard they were there for the babies first move.
———-
“holy shit.” Was the first thing that left your mouth when at the doctors office a high resolution photo showed not one baby but two, a girl and a boy. When Felix (your main support) heard he was overjoyed.
“y/n i think now is a good time tell Chan Hyung. You know the gender, and the amount, I think this is an important time to let him know. you opened your mouth to argue, then closed it. You knew Felix was right, it was time to tell Chan. You were so scared though what if he didn’t want it? Or he had moved on?
That day you wore a soft maternity sweater and sweat pants. You had chans favorite food and drink in hand as you walked to his dorm, Jeongin had agreed to be mysteriously out of the house at the time. You knocked at the door, as soon as Chan opened it to you he attacked you with a hug.
“Baby I missed you. So so much.” It slipped off your tongue, but he didn’t mind, “i missed you too.” He whispered into your neck, one hand around your waist the other caressing your back softly. You didn’t know the right time so you just blurted it.
“Chan I’m four and a half months pregnant with twins and they’re yours.”you blurted, he stiffened pausing every movement.
“what?” he said pulling away, his eyes examined you for a moment and he stopped realizing you were serious.
“Jesus! Why didn’t you- you know you could’ve” he stuttered, you could’ve sworn his eyes glistened.
“Are you mad?” You asked quietly, he turned to you. “No baby, no” a wide smile spread over his face as he picked you up and spun you around then hugged you.
“that’s the best thing ever! You and me starting a… family together..” he looked at your face, “good god I love you y/n” he wrapped his hand around your waist kissing you. It was deep her soft, it was like he was hungry he hadn’t done this in so long. Your cheeks tingled as you pulled away brushing your hands through his hair.
“I love you, so much.” He repeated carrying you to the couch, plopping you down,
“I love you too channie.” You replied
TYSM for readingggg! Tell me below if you want a part 2 of the delivery and them getting used to two mini thems. I was going to post this yesterday but that was my birthday sooo.
Please check Intro about me ;) , my masterlist :) , Requests (& Rules) ^^
I'm currently in my writer's era, so I wanted to publish this Fanfic I've been writing for the past few weeks. I've always had POVs and ideas for stories in my head but I stored them away in my notes app or my diary. But this one, I wanted to share. (I publish on Wattpad as well but my reach over there SUCKS.)
Consider giving this story a read and tell me what you think of it. Leave your comments and feedback, I always appreciate it. I'm still a beginner, so there might be some errors here and there. If you spot any please tell me and I'll correct them.
I'll try to upload weekly or whenever I finish writing a new chapter.
WARNING ⚠️ This story is for matured readers since there's smut, mention of alcohol and strong language.
He knew that this marriage was under his agreement that it's only valid for a year. But once their contract ends and Aria tells him she is carrying his child, his protectiveness, possessiveness over her increased a ton more. He didn't want this marriage to last more than he wanted but now he can't live without her.
Bang Chan x fem/OC - Arranged marriage. Mature content. Cold Husband. Billionaire. DUAL POVS
TW ❗❗: Pregnancy (I know not everyone enjoys this trope but I can assure that once you read it you will understand the plot. Do consider giving it a chance)
This story contains mature content such as mentions of alcohol, sex and strong language. 🔞
Note: Underlined chapters are already published and non underlined ones are upcoming. Ones marked in red contains smut. At the end of each chapter, the next one is linked.
If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3. New tags will be included in the upcoming chapters, but please note that I won't be updating the taglists in previous chapters.
Context: You decided to ask your boyfriend if 4 years where do he see you guys in ten years you his answer melted your heart.
Writers corner ݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆
· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·
Hey friends how are you guys doing I hope you enjoyed this lil romantic thing tell me how I did I can’t believe I’m turning 19 next week omddddd and I’m still craving sushi ok baiiiii💋
— SUMMARY. In which Y/N wasn’t expecting to hook-up with her bias, and Hyunjin wasn’t expecting to fall in love with her
— GENRE. idol!hyunjin, strangers-to-lovers au
— PAIRING. hwang hyunjin x fem!reader
— WC. 8.6k+
— WARNINGS/OTHER. cursing ; some korean dialogue ; mentions of depression & anxiety ; mentions of toxicity of idol life ; possessive!hyunjin ; sexual tension ; smut consisting of: dry humping, fingering, f!masturbation, oral (m!receiving), deep-throating, sexual acts in a public area, lots of dirty talk
NOTE. my reactions while writing this chapter 🥰😅😏😩🥵🤭😮💨💦🫣
EIGHT | SERIES M.LIST
Hanaemi 花笑み (Japanese) — “the flowering smile” or “the smile of flowers” in old Japanese. It is a smile that is as beautiful as blooming flowers
Hyunjin thinks he could spend the rest of his life chasing days like this. That thought arrives unexpectedly.
It’s not dramatic, necessarily, but more so of the kind of thought that sneaks up on you when you’re sitting on a private beach somewhere along the Italian coast watching sunlight dance across the water while the woman you’ve spent four years trying to forget laughs beside you.
The beach itself is hidden away from the main coastline. One of his friends owns property nearby and arranged access to a section that’s practically impossible for tourists to reach. There’s no public entrance, no paparazzi, no strangers—it’s just them.
And it feels so good.
Hyunjin has come to know exactly when Y/N starts getting nervous, because he’s spent most of the past twenty-four hours paying attention to her. He noticed it when him and his driver picked her up earlier this morning in a completely blacked out SUV, glancing around in slight paranoia as she all but rushed to climb into the backseat. He noticed it when she sat down beside him, her eyes flickering everywhere but at him at first. And he noticed it when they got out of the car, together, as she pulled her sun hat down to cover her face, making sure to keep her distance as they headed towards the sand.
He would be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel like shit, but he gets it. He had spent most of his idol life doing the same thing, and still finds himself doing that now, especially when he’s back home in Seoul. Being seen with him causes for a recipe of disaster, and it’s a lot, so he gets it.
She shouldn’t have to think about things like that. Nobody should, but especially not her.
But just like he can tell when she’s nervous, he can also tell when she’s comfortable. And really, he’s just relieved that he can make her feel that way.
They talked the entire ride here. The entire two hours. There was no awkward pauses, no uncomfortable silences, no painfully searching for topics of conversation. It was easy, it was effortless, and it was natural in a way that almost surprises him.
They talked about New York, about her work, about Italy, about how Chan and Kat somehow remain incapable of minding their own business. She told him about horror stories in the ER, (her words, not his), and he told her about the time Felix almost burned the dorm down a week after they debuted.
Stories turned into memories, which then turned into little details about the last four years. And sometime during the drive, Hyunjin realized something that caught him completely off guard.
He didn’t feel any kind of pressure around her, not the pressure that constantly seems to weigh heavy on his chest he ends up carrying everywhere else. Here, with her, there’s no performance, no expectation, no version of himself he has to maintain.
The realization is so rare it almost hurts.
They’ve been lying on the beach for about two hours now, stretched out on towels in the warm sand. The early afternoon sun is warming everything around them, the ocean stretching endlessly ahead. He glances over towards where Y/N is lying, peering at her through his sunglasses, and Hyunjin realizes very quickly that he has a slight problem, because she won’t stop being so beautiful.
As soon as she walked out the front doors of her hotel this morning, he knew he was a goner. She was wearing a flowy white dress that hug her body so perfectly and fell off her shoulders so elegantly that it instantly had him questioning his existence. He could see the straps from the bikini on her shoulders and could make out the outline of her body underneath it, and once she sat down beside him in the backseat, he had to say a quick prayer that he wouldn’t get a hard-on just from her presence alone.
The image has been haunting him for what felt like hours. The way the fabric moved in the breeze once they stepped back out of the car, the sunlight catching in her hair, the easy smile she’d gave him when she kicked her sandals off in the sand and slipped her dress over her head—it all was making him feel crazy. At one point, he’d genuinely forgotten how to speak, which she found hilarious, unfortunately.
Now, she’s lying beside him in a bikini that hides little to the imagination and his situation has become worse. Significantly worse.
She’s talking about something, he thinks. Her mouth is moving, her hands lightly tracing circles on her bare stomach, her gaze focused on the sky in the front of them, and Hyunjin is drawn into every single movement she’s currently making. Except everything she’s saying right now is currently going through one ear and right out the other, along with his sanity.
Honestly, he’s trying. He really is. But the problem is that her bikini is barely hiding anything on her body. It’s tight and revealing in all the right places and Hyunjin can’t seem to focus on anything else but how slick and plush her skin looks from her sweat and the tanning oil she rubbed on herself earlier and how he really wants to lean over and bite at the belly button ring that’s shining in the sun. She didn’t have that before, and he thinks it might be one of the hottest things he’s seen on a woman yet. Or maybe it’s because it’s on her.
Really, he should be ashamed of himself. He’s a twenty-six year old man, yet he’s acting like he’s a teenager.
He closes his eyes briefly, willing himself to get it the fuck together. Really, it’s all fine. As long as she doesn’t turn to lay on her stomach or stand up and stick her ass in his face, he’ll be good. He can deal with this.
It’s almost like she just knows what he’s thinking, as she ends up shifting her body on the towel beneath her, slowly turning her body around so she can lay on her stomach.
A strangled noise escapes his mouth before he can help it, and she’s turning her head to glance over at him, a slightly confused expression on her face, “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” He strains out, eyes zeroed in on how plump her ass looks. The bikini bottoms she’s wearing barely cover it, and he’s thankful his sunglasses are hiding his eyes, “Sorry.”
Her lips quirk as she pulls her own sunglasses down on the bridge of her nose, tilting her head down to stare at him, “Are you sure? You look uncomfortable.”
She’s teasing him, he knows it. And it’s not making things better.
He huffs out a short laugh, turning to lay on his stomach so he can attempt to hide his growing erection, “I’m not uncomfortable. I’m perfectly fine.”
Her smile grows, and lets out a little hum before pushing her sunglasses back up, “Whatever you say.”
Her words have his face heating up, and he shifts a little on the towel, discreetly trying to adjust himself in his swim trunks. God, this is embarrassing. Why is he so fucking embarrassing?
“You stopped listening to me earlier, you know?”
Hyunjin blinks, trying to reset his brain. She’s still staring at him, amused, knowing, and he knows theres no way he can deny it.
“Damn it.”
Her grin widens, “I knew it. Knew you weren’t listening to me for the past ten minutes.”
“For the record, I was listening. Somewhat.”
“You absolutely were not.”
“I got most of it.”
“You got none of it.”
Hyunjin sighs dramatically, accepting his defeat, and she laughs loudly, head tilting back. The sound carries across the empty stretch of the beach, bright and warm and dangerous, because he loves hearing it, more than he probably should.
“You were staring. It’s okay to admit it.”
Hyunjin drops his head back onto the towel, “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
She shakes her head in amusement, “You’re impossible, you know that?”
The breeze lifts her hair, the sunlight catches her smile, and unfortunately, he’s distracted again. She notices immediately.
“See? There you go again.”
“What?” He replies, acting like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.
“That.”
She’s smiling differently now, and his stomach flips. It’s the same smile she gave him in his hotel room, the same one that suggested she knew exactly what effect she was having on him.
Dangerous woman.
“So what were you looking at? I feel like I have a right to know.” She rests her face on the palm of her hands, propping up on her elbows as she stares at him.
“I’m not answering that.”
Her eyebrows raise, “You absolutely have to answer that.”
“I really don’t.” He faintly smirks, responding to her in the same teasing tone she was using with him.
“But you do,” She shifts closer slightly, and it’s enough to have his breath hitching in his throat. He watches her carefully, one of her hands reaching out to lightly graze her fingertips against his arm, and he feels the spark instantly, “Hyunjin.”
He shifts again on the towel beneath him, clearing his throat lightly, discreetly moving his arm closer to her so that she’d touch him more, “What?”
“What were you looking at?”
He stares at her for a second, trying to decide if he should tell the truth or not. But unfortunately, he’s never been particularly good at lying to her.
“I was looking at you,” He admits lowly, tilting his head to look at her better. Her fingers are still grazing against his arm, a small hum falling from her lips as she starts to rub small circles on his skin.
“That’s not very specific,” She grins.
Hyunjin lets out a laugh and runs a hand through his hair before propping his face back up, turning to face her. The sunlight is warm against his skin, the ocean rolling quietly behind them, and he realizes he’s exhausted from trying to pretend like he wasn’t staring at her all day.
He shifts his body to lay on his side, propping his head up on his arm, “You really want me to be specific, Y/N?”
She mirrors his position, and he’s eagerly dropping his gaze down, watching at her breasts bounce ever so slightly from the movement. He has to force himself to not lean over, rip that flimsy fabric off, and take her nipples into his mouth.
“I really wanna know, Hyunjin.”
He bites his lip softly, eyes still drawn towards her perky breasts, before he lifts his gaze back to her face. And then everything he’s been trying not to say all day starts coming out.
“I’ve been staring at you because every time I look over here, you somehow look prettier than you did five minutes ago.”
Her grin softens, and he suddenly becomes overwhelmed with her. Everything about her.
“The sunlight keeps hitting your hair, making it look lighter than normal. Now that I think about it, I can make out a few blonde streaks, and I think it makes you look so pretty,” A small smile tugs at his mouth, and he fights the urge to reach out and rub his fingers through her hair, “The wind keeps messing it up. There’s a bunch of curls just flying in the wind, and it looks messy, and you keep trying to fix it, but I like it this way. I like seeing you like this in front of me.”
Y/N’s still watching him, still listening, and his pulse picks up. Because now that’s he’s started talking, it’s becoming impossible for him to stop.
“You look at me like you’re trying not to smile, like you know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
The breeze shifts around them, carrying saltwater through the air. Y/N’s hair falls against her face, messy and tangled, but she doesn’t move it away. Hyunjin smiles when he notices that. He’d sketch her right now if he could.
Beautiful. She’s so beautiful.
“Every time I catch you staring at me back, you get embarrassed for about three seconds before pretending you weren’t staring.”
Y/N groans, “I do not!”
“Yes, you do.”
“I don’t!”
“Y/N.”
The use of her name makes her immediately look away, which proves his point completely. A smug grins spreads across his face, “See what I mean?”
She covers part of her face with one hand, looking completely mortified and dangerously cute. So dangerously cute that it has him wanting to hold her face in his own hands as he devours her on this hot sand.
“I’ve been trying very hard not to think about how beautiful you look lying beside me all day.” He says lowly, carefully.
Y/N’s hand slowly drops from her face, and she turns to look at him. Her sunglasses are still on, and he wishes she’d take them off so he could see her pretty eyes shining for him. Not even a second passes before he’s reaching over, slowly taking them off before placing them in the sand beside them. He’s hears her breath hitch in her throat, and he’s lightly tracing the side of her face before he can think anything of it.
“Much better,” He mumbles out, tucking a stray piece of her hair behind her ear. Her eyes are wide, a little glazed over, but at least she’s looking at him now, “I want to see you looking at me. Always want you looking at me.”
The confession causes her lips to part, her chest rapidly rising and falling with each breath. His eyes flicker over to her lips before he can stop himself, and slowly, he begins to move his hand across her cheek before stopping at her mouth. She parts her lips even more, giving room for his thumb to lightly slip inside. He traces her bottom teeth with his thumb before slipping it inside her mouth fully. A low groan vibrates from his chest once she sucks on it eagerly, twirling and sucking her tongue all around his thumb, just like she’d do with his cock. His cock that is now painfully straining against his swim trunks.
“I’ve been thinking about this mouth, too,” He breathes out lowly, pushing his thumb in deeper. She takes it with a low moan, and the sound goes straight to his dick, “Been thinking about how it would look wrapped around my cock. Think you could take me in your mouth, jagiya?”
She nods her head, eager, eyes watering slightly once she softly gags as he pushes his thumb further into the back of her throat. He hums lowly, tilting his head to the side, “If you’re choking on my thumb now, I can’t even imagine how you’d take my cock in the back of your throat. But if that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you. You know I’ll give you anything you want from me.”
She moans again just as he pulls his thumb back to stick in two of his fingers. She takes them with no hesitation and stars in her eyes, and the sight has him leaking into his shorts.
“Yeah,” He grins once she gags around his fingers, spit dripping down her chin, eyes still wide open and on the brink of tears, “You’d take it so well. You’d be a good girl for me, wouldn’t you? Such a good girl for me.”
He pulls his fingers out, and she lets out a choked gasp, spit dripping all down her face. She’s looking at him differently now, in a way that has him wanting to drop every last ounce of self restraint and take her right here right now without caring who saw them. The place was deserted right now, anyway, and he doubts anyone would even see him, but just the thought of claiming her in front of other people has him feeling fucking feral.
It wasn’t until she called his name, her voice a little breathless and raspy, that he had seemed to knock out of the trance he was in. He shakes his head, turning to lay on his back, desperately trying to recover. If he keeps talking, he’s going to end up doing something he shouldn’t.
And judging by the way she’s looking at him right now, she might just let him, which is somehow worse.
“That’s why I wasn’t listening,” He speaks lowly, casually, trying to act like the boner he’s sporting in his shorts isn’t phasing him one bit, “Hopefully that answers your question. Now, let’s talk about something else.”
A laugh escapes her, breathless and beautiful, and it does nothing to lessen the tent in his shorts, “What… why?”
“Because I enjoy having self-control, and you’re making that extremely difficult for me right now.”
She doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t turn to look at her. He doesn’t need to look at her to know what she’s probably thinking, no, definitely thinking. And he’s thinking it, too.
He clears his throat lightly, running a hand through his hair. The same hand that’s still covered in her spit. He can still feel her on his fingers. “Do you like the ER?”
Hyunjin can tell Y/N’s a little taken aback with the sudden conversation change, but after another second, she seems to fully compose herself, blinking a few times as she processes his words, “Yeah. I do. Most of the time, anyway.”
He smiles, closing his eyes, still facing the sun, “That’s an honest answer.”
“Yeah, well, I think people expect me to say I love every second of it. But some days are just awful,” He feels her shift beside him, “I lose people. I think it was worse when I worked mainly in the trauma bay, and it has gotten better now that I’m floating in the unit, but I still lose people. And no matter how many times it happens, how much I try to save them, it never gets easier.”
He turns to look at her, her fingers fiddling with the strings on her bikini bottoms mindlessly as she gazes towards the water in front of them. Something pulls tight at his chest as he listens to her, watches her. He wants to know every piece of her, every part of her life, every version of herself he missed over the last four years. Even the darker ones.
“I think that’s a good thing,” He speaks after a few moments.
She looks over at him, “What is?”
“That it doesn’t get easier,” He places his hand beside him, aimlessly drawing patterns in the sand there, “I think the day it stops affecting you is probably the day you should quit.”
A smile breaks out onto her face, slowly, softly. And suddenly, he understands why people spend entire lives chasing them.
“Yeah. That’s exactly what Kat says.”
The conversation eventually shifts towards him, as he knew it would. She never directly mentions the hiatus, but he hears it, anyway. He hears it in every question, in every moment of concern.
Are you happier now? Do you still enjoy performing? Do you ever get tired?
The answers come easier than expected. Maybe because it’s her and she’s actually listening to him, trying to understand him. It makes him feel vulnerable in a way that he doesn’t entirely hate, especially when she closes the small gap between them to grab ahold of his of hand.
So, he tells her things.
He tells her about the multiple panic attacks he’s had over the years and the crippling anxiety he’s carried with him for what felt like ages before it finally started to get taken seriously. He tells her about how the members had fought and begged for their manager to get him some help and allow him to talk to a professional. He tells her about his recent diagnosis of Major Depressive Disorder and the medication he has to take and the shit-ton of therapy sessions he has to attend regularly. He tells her about periods where getting out of bed felt impossible and learning how success doesn’t magically fix loneliness.
The words settle heavy between them, in a way that’s almost unsettling. He can feel the shift in the air, the tension between them, and he suddenly feels embarrassed. Embarrassed, because he’s never admitted this out loud to anyone that wasn’t the members or a healthcare provider. Embarrassed, because with a life as picture perfect as his is, he shouldn’t even be feeling this way. Embarrassed, because it isn’t fair to throw his emotional trauma onto someone who didn’t ask for it to begin with.
“Sorry,” He lets out a short laugh, rubbing his free hand against the side of his face, “I didn’t mean to spring all that onto you.”
“Hyunjin,” She calls his name softly, turning on her side to face him better. She lifts their intertwined hands up towards the side of her face, cuddling it close to her skin as she lays her head down, the other coming up to lightly brush against his hair, “Don’t ever apologize for that. Don’t apologize for talking about your feelings. I want to hear it. I want to hear all of it.”
Her actions and words have his stomach churning in the best way, and he leans into her touch, pulse pounding in his wrist as she smiles at him, “You have such a beautiful soul, Hyunjin. I’m sorry you had to deal with all of that. You don’t deserve any of it. I’m happy you got the help you needed.”
“Yeah,” He whispers, eyes flickering down towards her lips once before focusing back on her eyes. Her eyes that were shining looking at him.
He wishes she’d always look at him this way.
She watches him for a moment, rubbing small circles on his hand. The wind was shifting sand all over them, but neither of them cared. He’d stay here and get buried deep into the sand as long as she still held him this way.
“Did you…” She trails off, eyes flickering all over his face as she struggles with her words, “Did you get in trouble after that night?”
Hyunjin immediately knows what night she’s talking about. One of the best nights of his entire life, where it was just him and her, a messy bed, and lots of things that should’ve been said that couldn’t.
“Yeah,” He turns away from her, glancing up at the sky, swallowing thickly, “I did.”
“Was it bad?” The concern in her voice was evident, and Hyunjin hated that he was making her feel this way.
“He basically told me that if my pretty face wasn’t making the company money, they would’ve gotten rid of me.”
The waves roll softly against the shore, a seagull cries somewhere overhead, and Hyunjin starts to feel himself slipping into a place he doesn’t visit often anymore. Or at least a place he tries not to.
Because the truth is, that conversation never fully left him. Years had passed, his manager had changed his attitude once they became more global, the company had loosened up on them religiously, but sometimes, usually late at night when his anxiety was at its worst, he still heard those words.
Replaceable. Pretty face. Money.
“You know what’s funny?” He laughs softly, but there’s no humor to it, “I had spent years pretending that didn’t bother me. But I think a part of me believed it, anyway.”
His eyes stay fixated on the ocean, “Sometimes I wonder if people would’ve cared about me if I looked different.”
“Hyunjin—“
“No, seriously,” He shakes his head, loosening his grip on her hand without even realizing it. She holds it tighter, “It’s so stupid, but it’s true. I wonder that all the time. More than I should, probably.”
“It’s not stupid, Hyunjin,” She replies quickly, the genuineness in her words causing his heart to clench in his chest, “You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t think that.”
He glances towards her, careful, vulnerable in a way he doesn’t usually allow himself to be, “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course. You can ask me anything.”
He hesitates, for a second. The question feels ridiculous the second it enters his head, but suddenly, he wants to know. Not from fans, not from interviews, not from comments, but from her.
“You told me in the bathroom that I was your bias. Why did you choose me?”
He regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth, but his insecurities have started to consume him, clawing through his skin, itching for a release. Asking somehow feels more vulnerable than talking about depression, and he wishes he could take it back.
He’s about to apologize, push everything back down like he always does, when her voice stops him.
“You want the honest answer?”
She’s smiling, not at all offended by his sudden question, and he nods hesitantly, not trusting himself to speak.
She shifts on the towel, scooting her body closer to his. She’s completely off the towel now, the warm sand digging into her side. If it was bothering her, she didn’t seem to care, moving their intertwined hands to rest near her chest. He sucks in a breath, and she notices, her smile only growing as she watches him.
“The first thing was your dancing. Obviously,” She admits lightly, her free hand still tracing through his hair, fingertips brushing against the side of his sunglasses, “I remember seeing one of your performances and thinking nobody else moved like you. Then I started paying attention to the group more. And then I heard you rap.”
Hyunjin groans immediately, “Oh no.”
“Nah uh, don’t do that,” She says quickly, narrowing her eyes at him.
“Do what?” His lips quirk.
“That thing where you act surprised that you’re talented.”
Hyunjin laughs at that, and that only seems to make her look even more grumpy than before. “I’m serious! You dance,” She takes her hand away from his face, counting on her fingers, “You rap,” Another finger, “You sing,” Another one.
She holds her fingers up to his face, “See? You’re good at all three.”
Hyunjin opens his mouth to respond, but she cuts him off quickly, “Nope. Don’t even try to deny it. Shove those words right back up your ass, Hyunjin.”
His mouth closes instantly, and she grins triumphantly. She’s so fucking endearing that it has him smiling harder than he ever has on this entire trip so far.
She places her hand back on his face, slowly combing through his hair with her fingers, pushing the loose stands back. The way she was doing it was so careful, so loving, that it made him tremble a little. He melted into her touch, craving more of it, craving more of her, reaching his hands out to softly grab at her waist, pulling her closer to him.
“The thing about you was that you weren’t just good at one thing,” She says once she settles into him, resting her head on his chest, their fingers still intertwined, “You brought something unique, Hyunjin. You made the group better. You’re just as important as everyone else. You matter just as much as everyone else.”
Hyunjin keeps quiet, not really knowing how to respond to that. She says the words with such passion, with such genuineness, that he finds himself actually believing her. It warms his heart in a way that should scare him, but it doesn’t. This, him, her—it just doesn’t.
It feels so right. Everything about this feels so right.
“It wasn’t just talent either, though,” She continues, snuggling deeper into his chest, “You always just seemed so kind.”
“Kind?”
“Yeah,” She giggles softly into his chest, the sound causing his entire body to heat up, “Kind. I watched a lot of interviews, you know? You were always so nice to people. You treated the staff well, always seemed so respectful and elegant with how you carried yourself. And you just cared about people. That’s really what drew me in the most, I’d say.”
Hyunjin blinks, trying to fully process her words. Really, he’s fucking shocked that someone even noticed that much about him, that cared enough to pick up on his character.
She says it so effortlessly, like it should be obvious, but it’s not. Nobody ever says that. People usually talk about his performances, or his sex appeal, or his art, not about how kind he is. She makes it seem like his value was never tied to his face at all, and that realization heals something he didn’t realize was still bruised.
“Do you still keep up with us?” He asks suddenly, “Do you… am I still your bias?”
He feels her body tense up ever so slightly, and the reaction alone gives him his answer. Suddenly, his mouth feels dry, and he feels like an idiot for even asking that to begin with. What is he even looking for, anyway? Validation? Something to make him feel better about himself?
“No,” She says honestly, speaking again before he can back track on his question, “I mean, you guys were a big part in my life once and Stray Kids will always hold a piece of my heart. And of course, you’d always hold a piece of my heart, and I still get all mushy inside and internally freak out a little just being like this with you again. But I haven’t watched a music video or interview or anything in years. Only seen things scrolling on social media every now and then.”
“Oh,” He says lamely, feeling the slightest bit of disappointment at that fact. Okay, not the slightest bit, but very disappointed at that fact, “Can I ask why?”
She didn’t reply right away, choosing instead to roll off of his chest. She wasn’t that far away, and he could still feel her body heat radiating off of her and onto his side, but it was enough to where he could feel the slight breeze from the wind now, and he didn’t like it. He turned to look at her, hands tightening around her waist to prevent her from moving too far away, when her voice made him freeze.
“I guess it hurt too much.”
She wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was focused on the ocean in front of them, her hands fiddling with the strings on her bikini bottoms, and she looked deep in thought.
“It sounds dramatic, but it’s true,” She laughs softly, looking mildly embarrassed, and Hyunjin hates how quickly the air shifted between them, “I mean, I tried. After that night, I tried to watch music videos and fall back into my fangirl rhythm, but I just couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”
Her face turns towards him, the stars in her eyes beginning to fade, “It’s just… every time I saw you…”
Her sentence falls off. She doesn’t finish it. She doesn’t have to, because he understands, anyway. He understands it perfectly, painfully so.
“I support you guys from a distance, and I’m really happy when good things happen, but I just couldn’t do it anymore.”
“Yeah,” He whispers out, “I get that.”
And he does get it. For four years, he’d assumed he was the only one carrying that night around, not fully being able to let it go. And now, he’s discovering that he was wrong, very wrong.
She smiles, grabbing ahold of his hand to squeeze it, “Come swim with me.”
Hyunjin blinks, “What?”
“Come swim with me,” She stands up, brushing her hands against her skin to knock some of the sand off of her, and Hyunjin feels mesmerized for a second, “I want to swim with you. You wouldn’t let me go alone, would you?”
When he doesn’t reply right away, she reaches her hand out towards him, wiggling her fingers as she grins down at him so prettily. He huffs out a laugh, slowly leaning up to grab her hand to help him stand up beside her. He tries to let go of her hand once he’s on his feet, thinking she might be uncomfortable touching him like that in public, but she only grips it tighter.
“You can hold my hand if you want to,” She says shyly, eyes focused on their intertwined hands.
“I want to,” He replies back quickly, not even caring if it makes him seem desperate. Truth is, he was. He’d let her touch him all day, every day, in whatever way she wants and not even feel ashamed about it.
Not even five minutes later they’re standing waist deep in the water, laughing at how he nearly tripped over a wave and almost face planted into the water. “Yeah, yeah. Hilarious.” He rolls his eyes fondly, unable to stop the smile from leaving his face as he listens to her laughing. She’s so beautiful like this. So fucking beautiful. He’s honestly surprised he isn’t shitting his pants right now from how nervous he is.
“I feel like you’re really clumsy,” She leads them a little further in the water, still holding onto his hand.
“Yeah, that’s what the members like to tell me,” He follows her, a small wave lifting their bodies up quickly before they come back down, “Aish, it’s cold.”
“It’s not that bad—“
Another wave rolls against them, knocking them both underneath the water for a couple seconds. Hyunjin shoots back up, gasping for air, his eyes instantly drawn to where Y/N is currently coughing and choking, pushing her now wet hair out of her eyes.
“Oh my god,” She shivers, “I was not expecting that.”
“Thought you said it wasn’t that bad,” Hyunjin smirks, pushing his wet hair back with his fingers.
She glares at him, “Shut up.”
She lets out a short shriek, the water coming up to the back of their necks, and he tugs her closer towards him, breath hitching in his throat once she wraps her legs around his waist.
“Is this okay?” She asks softly, her eyes trailing all over his face, like she’s trying to gauge his reaction.
“More than okay.” He tightens his grip around her body, pulling her flush against his skin. Even in the slight coolness of the water, he can feel how warm she is, and it’s so fucking addicting.
She trails her hands up from his shoulders to his face, slowly pushing his sunglasses on his head. He squints his eyes, adjusting to the bright light from the sun, his heart thumping loudly against his chest once he realizes how close their faces are to each other.
“There,” She smiles, resting her hands on the back of his neck, “I can see you looking at me now.”
“I really want to kiss you right now.”
The words come out quickly, randomly, and he’s a little embarrassed once he says it. But that feeling is quickly erased once the next words leave her mouth.
“Then kiss me.”
Fuck, he wants to, but he doesn’t know if it’s a good idea. Not right now, at least. He knows himself too well, unfortunately, and fears he might not be able to stop at just one kiss.
Take it slow, He tells himself over and over again. He should take it slow, and stop thinking with his dick. He should be a gentleman, let her take control, go with what she’s comfortable with.
He opens his mouth to voice just that, when her hands suddenly come up to the top of his head, roughly tugging his hair back, exposing his neck to her.
“Hyunjin,” She says his name so sensually that it has his dick instantly thickening in his shorts, unable to stop the low groan from falling out of his mouth. She tightens her legs around his waist, moving her body forward, lightly brushing her lips against his, “Kiss me.”
He’s lunging forward without a second thought, moans falling from both of their mouths as he crashes his lips against hers. Her hands tug harder at his hair, his sunglasses falling into the ocean beside him, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything other than this, other than her.
“Fuck, you’re a little tease, you know that? Been driving me crazy all day,” He murmurs through sloppy kisses, groaning loudly into her mouth once she rolls her hips against his dick. He bites at her bottom lip, tasting the saltiness there, and she whimpers softly. “But you know that, don’t you? You know you drive me crazy. Acting so innocent and sweet when I know all you want is to get down on your knees for me.”
She moans loudly, kissing him harder, moving her hips even faster against him. His hands snake around her body to harshly grab onto her ass, urging her to fuck against him as he fucks her mouth with his tongue.
He pulls away and she whines in protest, chasing his lips, tugging his face back towards her. He doesn’t let her, one hand coming up to grab at her neck, the other creeping down to lightly brush against her bikini bottoms. “Isn’t that what you want? To get on your knees and put my cock in your mouth?”
“Mhm, yes,” She mumbles against him, rutting against his dick like she was in fucking heat, “Wanna suck your cock so bad, Hyunnie. Want you to fuck my mouth like you’d fuck my pussy.”
Oh, fuck.
Her words and the fucking nickname have him feeling feral, and he’s slipping his hand underneath her bottoms, instantly sliding his fingers inside her. They go in with ease, and she’s gasping into his mouth as he fucks two fingers inside her.
“Gonna make you cum for me first,” He breathes against her mouth, curling his fingers inside her. She lets out a choked moan, her head falling back, riding his hand just like she’d ride his cock. The thought of her bouncing on his cock and begging for him to make her cum plays through his mind, and he’s increasing the pace of his fingers, leaning his face down to bite and suck on the side of her neck.
“Hyunjin,” She moans his name so loudly, the sound playing through his ears like a mantra, “S-shit, Hyunjin… feels so good… you’re gonna make me cum.”
He bites harder, licking up the drops of water off her neck, the salty taste driving him fucking insane. He slips his fingers out from inside her, rubbing hard and fast against her clit, and she’s arching into him with a loud cry of his name.
“Fuck, Hyunjin! Yes, yes, fuck.”
The waves are still rocking against them, she’s still babbling out incoherent words into the warm air around them, and he rubs against her faster, biting onto her neck harder. And then she’s coming all over his fingers, spazzing out against his body, clinging onto him like she’s about to fall underneath the water.
“Jalhaesseo,” (You did well) Hyunjin says lowly, softly kissing the large bruise he sucked and bit onto her skin before trailing his lips up towards her face. She was panting, eyes closed, and he grabbed ahold of her face, forcing her head to tilt towards his.
“Look at me, jagiya,” He squeezed her cheeks lightly, and she lets out a whine, slowly setting her gaze on him. Her eyes were glazed over and her cheeks were flushed, and she looked so fucking beautiful.
And right now, treading water along the Italian coast, she was his.
“Get out.”
She stares at him for a second, blissed the fuck out, her lips parting, “Wh-what?”
“You want my cock down your throat, don’t you?”
The look on her face has his dick leaking into his shorts. She looks confused and submissive as fuck, and the sight has his brain running with thoughts that he’d never even think of in the first place.
Hyunjin doesn’t normally act like this when it comes to sex. He’s always been attentive, careful, and very vocal in bed, but never has he acted like this. He noticed it when he fucked her for the first time four years ago, and he’s noticing it again now. She brings out a different side of him he always knew existed and tried to tame, yet never fully came out.
And fuck, he loves it. And judging by how she’s still looking at him, eyes wide and panting like a dog, he knows she loves it, too.
“Don’t you?” He’s asking again, voice dropping an octave as he brings her face closer to his. She leans in to kiss him, but he holds her face back, a loud whine falling from her lips, “Y-yes. Please, Hyunnie.”
“Please what?”
Beg. Please beg. Honestly, he wants nothing more.
“Please let me suck your big cock. I’ve wanted to for so long, I’ve thought about it for years. I want it hitting the back of my throat, want to taste you so bad. Use me, please, Hyunnie. Want you so much.”
Hyunjin growls, feeling like he’s about to cum in his shorts, because holy fuck, that was so hot. “Then stop stalling and get out of the fucking water, yeah?” He lightly shoves her away from him. She stumbles a little, and Hyunjin feels bad for about half a second before she basically sprints back onto the sand, her ass jiggling with each hurried step forward. She’s eager, just like he is, and he fucking loves it.
By the time he gets out of the water, she’s already down on her knees in the sand, toying with the loose string of her bottoms, waiting so patiently for him. He suppresses a groan just looking at her, his dick pathetically straining against his shorts, slowly sinking down to sit on the towel that was still laid out on the sand. He leans back on his elbows, manspreading, beckoning her forward with a jerk of his head, “Come here.”
She starts to get up, sitting a few feet away from him, and he stops her with a click of his tongue, “Nah uh. Crawl to me.”
Before he can fully blink, she’s already digging her knees back into the sand, on all fours, crawling over towards him with a look so sensual it has him reaching down with his right hand to rub at his dick to attempt to relieve some pressure.
“Ssibal, jonna hathane,” (Fuck, that’s hot), He whispers more to himself than anything, groaning loudly once she reaches him, placing her hands on his legs, eyes focusing on where he’s currently still rubbing at his cock like a fucking teenager.
“Take my cock out,” He says lowly once he forces himself to stop. She wastes no time in doing just that, hands sliding up towards the waistband of his swim shorts, instantly jerking them down just enough to get his cock out.
He groans lowly once it finally springs free, one of her hands coming up to wrap around the base of his cock, the other sliding up his abdomen. “Wanna make me feel good, jagiya?” He reaches out to push her hair away from her face before gripping it tightly in his hands, jerking her head towards his cock.
She moans softly, grip tightening on his cock, her breath fanning against the tip of it. She licks her lips, and he groans loudly at the warm feeling of her tongue brushing against him at the action. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about this before. Okay, maybe more than once, when he’s alone in a hotel bed and feeling extra horny. But now that she’s actually here, knees dug into the sand, ass perched high in the air, looking at him like he’s her fucking world, he can’t go back.
Not that he’d ever want to, anyway.
“Answer me,” He jerks her head back, a bit of drool sitting in the corner of her pretty mouth, “Do you want to make me feel good? Want to gag around my cock until I cum all down your throat? Want me to claim you as mine?”
“Yes,” She pants, on the verge of tears, “Want your cock so bad, Hyunnie. I’ll make you feel so good, let you use my mouth however you want. Please let me have it. Please, please, please.”
He jerks her head back down, her lips brushing against him, “Open your mouth, and make me cum.”
She takes him with a loud moan, her tongue gliding against him so perfectly. She’s bobbing her head up and down, hand jerking him where her mouth doesn’t reach, drooling and slobbering all over him like he’s her last meal.
Hyunjin’s had his fair share of blow jobs. They were always messy, quick, and usually resulted in him still feeling unsatisfied afterwards. Maybe half of that was because he didn’t ever feel a romantic connection with those women, but whatever the reason, here—this, with Y/N going at it like they’re filming a porn tape, is everything.
She is everything. And right now, she’s still his.
“Yeah, jagiya. Just like that,” He breathes out, using his hand to guide her on his dick, leaned back on one elbow as he watches her swallow him like a pro, “Mhm, fuck. Your mouth feels so good wrapped around me. Fuck, how many dicks have you sucked?”
Hyunjin doesn’t know why he asks that. But with the way she’s sucking him, shaking her ass in the air, moaning and watching him with that same look as she takes his dick down her throat so effortlessly, there’s no way this is her first time.
The thought of other men sticking their cocks down her throat has him seeing red, and he’s leaning back, using both hands to grip at the back of her head, his abs tightening as he leans up, “Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter, anyway, because my cock is gonna be the only one you remember after today.”
And then he’s slamming her head down onto him, her nose brushing against his pelvis with each push down. She’s choking, sputtering, moaning with every hard jerk down, and the sound is like heaven in his ears.
“Fucking hell,” He whines out, feeling his balls drawing up tight with each gag around his cock, “Mhm, yeah. Your mouth is perfect, jagiya. So perfect. You look so beautiful choking around my cock. You choke like this on anyone else’s? Hm? Were they big enough to make you cry and gag like I do?”
She’s moaning again, the sound shooting straight up his dick. He closes his eyes briefly, willing himself to get it the fuck together, because he does not want to cum yet. He wants to engrave this image into his mind forever, wants to have her like this every single day for the rest of his life, wants to claim her, mark her, show the world that she’s his and only his.
He opens his eyes again, choking out a moan once he sees her other hand moving fast in between her legs. Another closer look, and he’s realizing that she’s rubbing herself through her bikini bottoms, her fingers working quick and hard against the flimsy fabric.
“Holy fuck,” He groans out, his eyes now completely focused on how she’s fucking herself in front of him, getting herself off from getting him off, “F-fuck. Are you actually touching yourself right now?”
She moans around his dick, moving her hand even faster against her pussy, and Hyunjin feels dizzy, “God, that’s so hot. Fuck. Does sucking me off get you all hot and bothered, jagiya? One orgasm wasn’t enough for you?”
She’s rutting against her hand now, tears streaming down her face as he works her mouth on his cock. “Such a greedy little slut for me, jagiya. You just had to get yourself off right now. Couldn’t even wait until I came down your throat, huh?”
She cries against him, hips moving desperately, her fingers working even faster, swallowing him even harder, and he lets out a growl, feeling his vision start to blur as that warm feeling starts to shoot down his spine. “Fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, cum with me, fuck.”
She spazzes out, gaging around his cock with a loud cry, and his vision is turning white as he throws his head back, holding her head in place as he thrusts into her mouth, shooting his load all down her throat.
“Mhm, yeah, fuck,” He babbles out curses and moans and praises as he slowly thrusts his hips into her, working out his orgasm. His body feels like jelly, his heart feels full, and his dick is spent.
Ho-ly shit.
The sound of her choking out another sob brings him out of his post-orgasmic haze, and he’s jerking her head off his now softening dick, a trail of spit dripping down her chin and onto his thighs. She gasps once her mouth is finally free, and he’s instantly grabbing her arms to pull her up towards him.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” He breathes out, wiping at her mouth with the back of his hand. She looks absolutely wrecked, and he feels a sense of pride swelling in his chest that he was the one who made her look this way, “Are you okay?”
She coughs once, wiping at the tears semi-dried on her cheeks, “I’ve never been better.”
She smiles at him, the stars twinkling brighter in her eyes, and he pulls her to lay on top of him, kissing the top of her head. She snuggles into him, her skin warm, and he feels complete.
Was this a bad idea? Probably. Did he think about the potential consequences of whipping his dick out in public? Nope. But Hyunjin realizes quickly that right here, with her lying on his chest and sand bunched up his ass, he doesn’t care. Not at all.
“Me too,” He whispers softly before capturing her lips in his.
cws: smut, unprotected sex (I planned this to be protected, I SWEAR), fingering, riding, dry humping, handjobs, oral sex (f! and m! receiving), squirting, cum eating, throatfucking, love confessions, a bit of fluff, virgin!Reader, virginity loss, virginity kink, corruption kink but with a twist, dom!Lee Know, service top!Lee Know
word count: 6686
summary: minho was the perfect boyfriend - sweet, caring but with a deep dark desire inside of him. When he finds out you’re so inexperienced, he can’t hold it back anymore
a/n: I actually had this idea for so long now and it was sitting in my drafts halfway done for literal months! I’m so glad I can finally present it to you
Your relationship with Minho had been effortless, almost perfect even.
He was considerate, a sweetie behind his sometimes stoic nature. He was a true gentleman, kind, caring and got along well with your family.
And well, you would probably describe his whole being as endearing.
He hugged you while he was asleep, pulling you against his chest, but would deny doing that the next morning.
He made you a cup of coffee first thing after getting up, even before he got the first sip himself, he would bring it to you when you refused to get up early.
He kissed you goodbye before heading to practice, lingering breaths left on your skin, his scent still burnt into your memory.
He texted you in every break, sending you a quick pic because he knew you were interested in his work.
He brought your favorite snacks with him when he came back home, telling you he thought you probably craved it all day.
But what you didn’t know about him were his desires deep down. When you smiled at him, eyes literally lighting up as soon as he did one of these things, there were these thoughts that almost plagued him.
When he held you close at night, his thoughts drifted off to a space where he imagined him pinning you down underneath him and fuck you into the mattress until you couldn’t speak, think or walk properly anymore.
When he made you breakfast in bed, there was this weird itch he had and it could only be properly smothered if he would fuck your face first thing in the morning instead.
When he kissed you before heading off to work, he always fantasized about pushing you against the wall and making you watch him ruin you all over in the broad mirror in the hallway.
When he sent you a selfie of him when he had a few minutes for himself, he had to fight the urge to facetime you and order you to show yourself to him in your entirety while he talked you through an orgasm.
When he stepped into your apartment in the evening, he wanted to jump at you so badly, his whole body screaming for him to bend you over the nearest surface.
But he did none of these things because he was kinda afraid to scare you off with it. Not all of his thoughts were that dark but all of them were full of filth. The two of you hadn’t been intimate yet, although your relationship was so fulfilling. It just hadn’t been the right time yet.
But in this very moment, your snuggle session on the couch while watching a movie had turned to him leaning over to you, kissing you slowly.
Your hands were so cutely braced against his chest, not shoving him away but feeling him. God, he really wanted to eat you whole - or eat you out, whatever happened first.
He moved his lips against yours, hand at the back of your neck to hold you in place like this. It wasn’t possessive, but firm and wanting. You let him, your heart fluttering and your stomach flipping out of excitement.
Minhos other hand ran up your thigh, squeezing your leg there before he cupped your core. Just for a second though, because your surprised gasp seemed to wake him out of his trance and he ended the kiss abruptly.
With his hands leaving you and him scooting away an inch, you felt your whole body tense up because of the loss of touch. This has been new but you wanted more, goosebumps formed on your skin.
“Sorry, I- uhhmm.. got a bit carried away”.
He looked at you so apologetically, shifting in his position as if it suddenly was uncomfortable to sit on the couch. You tilted your head in confusion, while in reality, he had to internally admit that the little sound you made just went straight to his cock.
“I liked it”, you finally said, voice trembling more than you had anticipated.
His face turned back to you.
“You did?”, he asked.
You fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, his gaze made your body heat up. You felt weird, but in a good way.
“So- you want me to continue?”.
There was a pause, dead silence hung thick in the air between you. Your heart was so loud in your chest, it was the only thing you were hearing right now. You were nervous, but you knew this was right. Maybe you should have told him your secret sooner, though. You weren’t just inexperienced, you had no experience at all.
With your next nod, Minho immediately pulled you towards him, guiding you to sit on his lap and straddle him. You couldn’t describe the sensation, everything was so new and scary, but so good. Minho on the other hand felt like he was hitting the jackpot, he knew he possibly couldn’t indulge in all of his desires, but finally having the person he loved - yes, he indeed loved you - on top of him, was better than he had dreamed.
His hands were wrapped around your waist now, fingers digging into your flesh as he applied pressure to your form, urging you to move on top of him. But well, you were clueless, clumsy. You didn’t know what to do.
“Move, Jagi. Please”, his voice was broken, he wanted to pull your face down to kiss you, but your breathing hitched - he stopped.
“I don’t know how”.
At first, he didn’t really know how to react to that, he just looked up to you.
“I’ve never done something like that before”, you quietly admitted, avoiding eye contact, “I’m- uhmm”.
You felt tears already forming in your eyes so you squeezed them shut. It was embarrassing, you thought, and it probably weirded him out.
But poor Minho just tried so hard to sort his thoughts because oh my god, he could be your first. It was scaring him, to be honest. He wanted your first time to be something you would happily look back to. But deep inside, something told him to taint you. To ruin you for everyone else. To make you his own forever.
His silence was making you anxious and the tears started rolling. The sting in your chest was humbling, you felt incredibly dumb that you let this get so close to you. You couldn’t stop it even if you tried, but when you tried to get off of him, his grip just got stronger.
“No no no no. Don’t cry, Jagi”, his arms wrapped around you to pull you closer, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pressured you”.
You froze, your heart beating against your ribcage relentlessly.
“You’re not.. appalled by the fact I’m a virgin?”.
Oh god, you said it. He wanted to hiss, to moan, to press you down onto his cock, to rip off all of your clothes at this instant.
He needed to take a breath, all of these thoughts were not helping in his wish to make you feel as best as possible.
“No, of course not”, he said, voice as calm as he could muster, “Just under pressure”.
Although your body was still shivering and you couldn’t yet stop your sobs, his gentle and soft expression was soothing, so you leaned against him in need of the comfort he was trying to provide.
“What do you mean?”.
His hand moved to the back of your head, slowly stroking your hair.
“Well, the first time can be- a bit much? I wouldn’t want you to get overwhelmed by me accidentally hurting you”.
He still was just being a sweetheart, face nuzzling into your neck, placing a careless kiss there. It sent a little spark down your spine, letting something bloom inside you. You started thinking. You liked how he had touched you, even with clothes on. He was so considerate, immediately stopping when you felt uncomfortable.
You were sure he would be the right one, you were sure that he would take care of you.
“I want it”, you whispered, “With you”.
He flinched, physically jolted and made a noise you couldn’t quite understand the meaning of, but when you sat up, you saw his pupils dilate. He trembled, whole body vibrating, his lips were parted.
Minho looked incredibly hot like this, more than he usually did. You smiled through the anxiety, raising a hand to stroke the hair out of his face.
“But you’ll have to guide me”.
It seemed like he wanted to say something, but no word came out, his fingers scrunched up the fabric of your hoodie.
“Are you sure?”, he asked softly.
You nodded, cupping his face gently, there was no hesitation. Sure, you were a bit afraid, nervous, curious, but you didn’t hesitate a second.
“You need to tell me what you like, okay? And give me a sign when anything feels off”, he said, hands gliding back down and resting on your hips, “And we’re only going as far as you feel like”.
It was so endearing, how nervous he seemed to be as well. He was lucky you couldn’t read his mind, because he was so fucking scared he couldn’t resist. He was scared he couldn’t fight the urge to choke you, to pull your hair, to throatfuck you, to humiliate you, to use words he would later regret. Scaring you away was the last thing he wanted but god, the idea of being your first and sculpting you the way he liked was so tempting. And he hated how toxic that sounded.
“I trust you”.
“I trust you, too”, he sighed.
It felt like a love confession, something that also didn’t happen out loud in your relationship. But it made your heart flutter either way.
“You want me to show you how to move- on.. top of me?”, his gaze was strong, you felt something inside you tighten involuntarily at it.
You nodded, his grip on you getting a bit tighter. Minho took a deep breath.
“Okay, with clothes on it’s- it’s about the friction”, he explained and pushed you away a bit, but pulled you back in quickly after that, “How does that feel?”.
The fabric of your jeans rubbed over your clit like this, your breath got stuck in your throat at the feeling. It was unfamiliar, but it pulled a little mewl out of you.
“Good”, you managed to get out.
“You can also like- move like this”, his hands guided you to gyrate your hips.
Oh, that was even better. The sensation was making you dizzy, you let your head fall back, hands on his shoulders gripping the fabric of his shirt harshly until your knuckles turned white.
You could feel him getting harder underneath you and it empowered you, it encouraged you to try and move a bit on your own.
“Yeah, just like that-“, he gasped through gritted teeth, clasping you desperately, “Kiss me”.
You leaned forward, connecting your lips and sighing in relief. The kiss was cautious at first, the both of you holding back before he sat up a bit, his erection bumping into your clit like this. You moaned at the same time and he used the opportunity to let his tongue swipe in between your lips.
It was oddly addicting, his taste so sweet that you immediately wanted more as soon as your tongues touched.
His hands bunched up your hoodie to touch your bare skin on your waist. The contact made you arch your back and break the kiss involuntarily. Minho hummed, shoving the fabric up some more, looking at you in a pleading way and silently asking you to take it off.
You did in a hurry, his hands frantically helping you to pull it over your head. It was discarded somewhere on the floor, completely forgotten. Minho had seen you just in a bra before, but he still looked at you in awe, taking you in and growling quietly. This made you feel confident enough to reach back and unclasp it. Minho died on the inside.
“Can you like- touch me? Like you did before?”, you felt your ears flush at this, newly gained confidence gone in an instant as soon as you had said these words.
He smirked, something mischievous glinting in those pretty eyes. His hands were roaming over your body, enjoying the feeling of your skin. Your breath hitched when his fingers danced over the curve right under your boobs.
“You did like that, huh, kitten?”.
He froze in his movements. Did he really just call you that? That was a momentarily slip of his deeper desires, he didn’t mean to do that. But the way you were still looking at him, so innocent, so precious, it just made sense in his distracted mind. The distraction being you, asking him this while you are sitting on his hardened dick like that. He threatened to fuck up.
But when he saw you nod, something inside him stirred. He stood up, lifting you with him to spread you out on the couch underneath him. There was a bit of hesitation before opening your pants and pulling them off completely. It was exciting, actually a bit scary, to be completely bare in front of him.
“I’ll start nice and slow, yeah?”, Minho cooed, “Or- tell me how you like it”.
“I-“, you hesitated.
And he stopped, before even reaching your thighs properly he had stopped mid movement.
“Have you never touched yourself?”, he asked then, voice dropping.
Once more, you felt humiliated. Not by him, but by yourself. You were an adult, yet, you knew nothing about stuff like this. A slow shake of your head made him move again, still leaning over you, but getting more distance between you to look down at you.
“I’m gonna teach you, yeah? I’ll show you how to make you feel good”.
Minho reached for your hand instead, placing it low on your stomach and gently shoved it down some more, your fingertips slightly gracing your folds like this.
“Starting easy, slow”, he muttered under his breath, dark eyes searching for your gaze and holding it.
He guided you to part them, going deeper so torturously slow. You reached your entrance, feeling the wetness and flushing heavily when you realized.
“Gather it, you can push the tip in if you want to”, he instructed you and you did as you were told, “Good- good girl, use it. Will feel better when it’s wet”.
You moved your hand up again, touching your clit and jolting immediately. It felt insanely good, little electric shocks and sparks rushing through your body whenever you rubbed your finger over it just slightly.
Minho watched you with an open mouth. You tried setting up a show for him, empowered by the lustful stare he had. He gripped the cushion of the couch, nails digging in. He was holding on for dear life, this was the most sinful scene he had ever witnessed. He wasn’t even touching you anymore, you were doing it all by yourself, but you still had him panting heavily.
“How does it feel, kitten? Tell me”, his voice was raspy, hoarse.
“It’s- so good”, you got out, your body reacting on its own and your hips bucking into your hand.
One of his hands touched you, pinning your hips down onto the couch to keep you in place.
“Push your finger in, slowly”.
You did, blindly following his instructions and shoving your middle finger in. You gasped at the intrusion - the sound turning into a whimper as soon as you heard his groan.
“Curl your finger- like this“, he showed you and you tried to mimic it, “Search for the spot. Go in deeper”.
You were so clumsy, not really knowing what he meant. You tried to, you really did, but failed miserably.
“Min-“.
“You want me to find it?”, he asked gently.
And you nodded. God, why did you nod? Minho was shivering, he was about to combust just by watching you eagerly trying to find your g-spot and now he had to do the same? Fuck.
But he couldn’t deny it to you now. Not with those pleading eyes. He sighed, his hand moving once you removed your own, your legs instinctively spreading wider for him. Minho had to bite his lip to keep his mouth shut - fearing he would drool if he didn’t.
He let his fingers slide through your juices, coating his fingers thoroughly before pushing one of them in. Your back arched off almost immediately. This felt so much better than your own attempt, your lack of experience once more humiliating you.
Minho was knuckles deep in, turning his wrist and- you moaned so loud, he thought he would cum into his pants if you did that again. He obviously had found it, your legs shaking at the intense feeling.
“Oh god-“, you choked.
You tried to memorize his movements, tried to picture what he was doing inside of you - but your brain stopped working for good.
“Feels good, yeah?”, he had the audacity to stroke the spot with the tip of his finger, pushing into it and bully your nerves with it.
“Min-“, all you could say was his name and damn, he loved it.
His mind drifted off. This wasn’t enough. He needed more. And when you even begged for more without him needing to say something, he felt like he was on cloud nine.
“What do you want, kitten? Another finger? Or my tongue? You’d let me taste you?”.
He hadn’t planned on suggesting things by himself. He wanted you to have the reins so nothing out of your comfort zone happened, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. This was everything he had ever dreamed of.
“Taste me? How?”, your voice was so shaky, so innocent.
Minho hummed, his thumb gently pressing onto your clit. Your hands shot forward, gripping his arm, but he didn’t budge. He rubbed quick little circles onto your clit with utmost care - the strong pull in your stomach made you moan again.
“I can eat you out, if you want me to”.
“Huh?”, you asked, mind still empty.
He grinned, he couldn’t stop anymore. He was addicted to the power he had over you.
“You want me to do this with my tongue?”, he tried again.
“Huh?”.
God, he had you this dumb with just his fingers? He was in heaven.
“I need you to say yes or no”, he mused, he wasn’t even able to fight off the next sentence, “Or I’ll stop”.
“Yes-“, you thrashed, squirming because of the sensation, “Do it, please”.
Minho had to hold his breath for a second, composing himself. He just froze before he removed his hands from you completely. And for a moment, you thought you had said something wrong. But he sank down on his stomach, hands gripping the outside of your thighs to press you closer.
Minho took his sweet time with it, leaning in and letting his nose slide through your wetness, eyes not leaving you for a second. Honestly, he never had looked better than in this moment - between your legs, pupils so heavily dilated and vibrating from sheer lust overwhelming him.
You noticed how embarrassingly fast you were breathing, your bare chest heaving quickly and glistening in a thin layer of sweat.
He kissed the spot right above your clit, going deeper, caressing your folds very gently before darting his tongue out. He was easing you into the sensation, letting his tongue ghost over your skin before he gave your entrance a soft and short lick.
“Relax, kitten”, his voice was a low rumble that vibrated through your whole body.
Minho was fighting for his life right now, but he tried to keep himself grounded. He tried to be slow, to be gentle. But all he wanted was to devour you, fuck your pussy with his tongue and drive you into overstimulation. This was torture for him.
And it got harder the more sounds fell out of your mouth - he got bold enough to rub his nose along the sensitive bundle of nerves before latching his mouth onto it.
You jolted, hard. He definitely knew what he was doing, alternating between licking flat stripes over it and sucking your clit into his mouth and making you wail heavily.
There was a strong pressure in your pelvis, an unfamiliar tug that let your legs shake uncontrollably around his head. He relished in your reactions, your sounds, being completely lost in it. One of his hands left your thighs, his middle finger finding your entrance in no time to push in gently.
“Min- hahh- Minho, wait-“, your fingers entangled in his hair and you didn’t know if you wanted to pull him off or urge him closer in between your legs, “I- feels weird”.
“Ohh-“, Minho groaned, only momentarily being able to detach his mouth from your dripping pussy, “You’re close already? Fuck- this gonna be your first orgasm?”.
You nodded weakly. You were still thankful he wasn’t weirded out by the fact you were so inexperienced. It only spurred him on to make you feel even better, to give you the best release you’ll ever have and love to think back to it.
He inserted another finger, pulling them out and fucking them back in gently but quickly. The pull in your lower stomach made you gasp out in shock and you wanted to close your legs instinctively, but he held them open, a strong hand even pushing one of them up a bit.
“Don’t worry, kitten. I got you. Just relax and let go for me, yeah?”, he muttered, licking up from your entrance to your most sensitive spot, “Cum all over my face, jagi”.
You couldn’t stop the explosion of built up anticipation, the knot in your stomach ripped apart with a blinding force and you lost control over your body completely. You seized up, eyes rolling back into your skull and god no, you weren’t moaning anymore. You were screaming his name so loudly, it echoed off the walls, pulling at his hair so harshly, you could hear him grunt and hiss both in pleasure and pain whenever you needed to gasp for air.
His fingers continued to fuck into you, pulling the orgasm into an excruciating length. You gushed around them, soaking the sheets beneath you and Minho was more than happy to lap it all up as if it was the best meal he ever had.
“Fuck”, he grunted, still not done, still too fixed onto your used pussy, “That’s it, kitten. Good fucking girl for me”.
It was too much, you were so sensitive. You weakly pushed at his shoulders, trying to signal him to give you a break. It worked, he slowly snapped out of his daze, but it was so hard to do so. Minho really had to remind himself to keep it easy, to not overwhelm you too much, but he needed more than that.
His heart and cock ached all the same for you, he wished he could manhandle you onto your knees and-
God, he had to stop thinking about it.
He retracted his fingers, shivering. Your ears probably turned beet red when you saw his glistening face, some of your mess still dripping from his chin. There was a smug grin on his wet lips when he noticed, he leaned back over you, face hovering over yours.
“You want a taste, huh? Admiring your work?”.
He kissed you, his tongue swiping over your lower lip and prying your mouth open with it. You gasped heavily, your hands cupping his cheeks and pulling him in deeper.
Minho groaned, he couldn’t help it. He needed relief so badly and you were there, fully naked right there underneath him. Your soft body so close, full on display.
He rocked his hips forward once, just once. And he was gone. Another groan from him, muffled by your own mouth. It just felt so good, he pressed his twitching cock against your core over and over again, thinking about how it would possibly feel like to sink into your tight heat. How it would feel like when he pinned you down. How it would feel to fold you in half just to hear you scream his name like that again.
“Min-“.
“Huh?”, he made.
He forced himself to still, but his whole body was vibrating. He really hoped you wanted to tell him that you needed a break. Or wanted to stop right there. He wouldn’t be able to control himself if you kept this pace up.
“Can I touch you now?”, you asked reluctantly.
Minhos brain short circuited.
“You- why?”.
“I don’t know- I want to make you feel good”, you said, your hands settling in his shoulders, “But you’ll have to show me how”.
Minho was about to burst. You were so innocent, adorable. He sighed deeply, sitting back against the backrest.
You crawled over to him, but instead decided to get up and kneel on the floor in between his spread legs to have better access. This would be Minhos downfall, he knew it. The way you looked up at him so patiently, waiting for him to guide you.
The bulge of his cock pressing against his pants was impressive, you thought. You reached for it, cautiously wrapping your fingers around the curve.
“Ohh- fuck-“, he gasped.
You weren’t even properly touching him, no skin on skin. But it was enough to make him lean back, slump against the cushions and let his mouth hang open.
Your eyes were watching him attentively, searching for any kind of discomfort you would make him feel with your lack of experience. But you could clearly see he found that endearing. His gaze was so fondly yet so lustful, every little hesitating twitch of your fingers made him gasp.
For the first time this evening, you noticed that Minho was turned on by it. And that changed everything for you.
“Can I pull it out?”, you asked, tilting your head.
He nodded, his fingers digging into the couch on each side of him.
Just like he did, your actions were slow. You remembered how exciting the anticipation had felt and you wanted him to experience the same. And Minho loved how bold you were with it, how much courage you seemed to muster, but also how you seemed to get behind the things he liked.
You unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper. You were still nervous, you had to bite your tongue slightly before you reached into his boxer briefs while pulling the waistband down a bit. Minho lifted his hips to help you, gasping softly when you finally touched him.
It was a bit intimidating to see his cock up close. He was hard, in a deep red color and a drop of liquid was already daring to drip down.
“You can- wrap your hand around it. Gentle”, Minho said, taking your hand into his to guide your fingers around it.
You squeezed him once, earning a hiss from him. He bucked his hips up, couldn’t stop himself from tucking into your hand with leisure and shallow little thrusts.
“Fuck- sorry”, he groaned, “Move your hand, yeah? You can twist it a little”.
He moved with you, showing you how he liked it, but let his hand fall to his side when you slowly got the hang of it. Seeing him falling apart like this probably was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. Minho let his head fall back, every breath he took shaking and in uncontrolled gasps.
“Does that feel good?”, you asked.
Minho grinned, laughing a bit hoarsely.
You really knew what you were doing to him. You knew and you were teasing him. Little brat.
“Feels amazing, kitten”, he huffed, “Wanna taste it?”.
Minho hadn’t planned on asking you that - he hadn’t planned any of it. But he could see that little mischievous glint in your eyes. He wondered what made you so bold, although you had no experience. Either way, this was a dream come true for him.
“You’d let me?”, your head tilted a bit.
Minho wanted to bite his fist.
You leaned in, darting your tongue out to lap up the drop of pre cum.
God, how was he supposed to stop himself from fucking your mouth like this? You were so hesitant and unsure, but you still kissed the tip of his cock and licked over it so slowly, his eyes rolled back into his skull.
“Fuck-“, it was barely a sound, muttered under his breath.
“Tell me what feels good“, you demanded, your hand still on his base.
“Hahh- just- take it into your mouth first”.
You parted your lips obediently, sinking down and taking him inch by inch. Minho trembled, digging his fingers deep into the cushions to fight the urge to grab your head and hold it in place to fuck you into the wet heat.
“We can try that if you want to”, you said, “Why not?”.
Oh god.
Did he really just say that out loud?
“I- no”, Minho stuttered, but couldn’t contain the next groan when you licked the underside of his cock up to the head.
“I trust you, baby”, you said again.
“Don’t”, he laughed, “I don’t think I could handle this if you let me”.
There was a little whimper on his lips when you sucked on the tip for a second, that urged you to take his hand - pry it off the cushions to guide it to your cheek.
“I want you to show me how to properly do it. Show me exactly how you want it, Min”.
“Fuck- but- you gotta-”, he couldn’t control his body, his hand slipping to the back of your head before he roughly thrusted up into your mouth.
You gagged around his length, but still found a lot of appeal in the feeling of it reaching so far inside, you could feel it hitting the back of your throat. Minho groaned with a very broken sound.
“Sorry, kitten, it just feels so-“.
Should he do it again? Damn, it felt so good, but-
“Do it again”, you gasped.
Something snapped inside of Minho. He felt it. You did too. You saw it in his eyes, the way he stared down at you - he held his breath, there was silence for a second.
Then, his other hand crept towards you, fingers gripping your hair to push your head all the way down once, twice. He grunted again.
“Fuck, take it then”.
Your hands grabbed his thighs, bracing yourself. Although you were struggling, trying hard to keep your body as slack as possible so he could push you down whenever he liked it - you couldn’t deny how hot this was.
Minhos face was scrunched up in the darkest and deepest form of pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes half lidded as he moaned loudly every time you gasped. You felt your pussy dripping, ruining the carpet underneath you.
“Kitten-“, Minho cooed breathlessly, “If I had known your pretty mouth takes my cock so well- God”.
His movements were erratic, frantic, but still had some kind of rhythm in it. It helped you breathe more constantly through your nose and you couldn’t hold back your own moans as this scene in front of you was too good to look away unaffected.
He alternated between pushing your head down and pulling it back up by your hair and thrusting up in quick snaps of his hips.
You wondered how his cock would feel like when it was inside your pussy, you imagined it hitting the same spot he had shown you with his fingers - just like it was now hitting your throat every single time.
It was impossible to try and fight the urge to let one of your hands slip in between your legs. It was hard to concentrate and memorize what he had told you, how his fingers had curled inside of you. It was embarrassing how wet you were, your own arousal mixing with his saliva into a sinful liquid that you used to rub over your clit with a more intense feeling.
“You look so fucked out, kitten. So pretty. You like when I fuck your mouth like this? You like being used for my pleasure?”.
He pulled you up far enough so his cock slipped out of your mouth, a harsh grip angling your head up to look up at him.
“Tell me. You enjoy choking on that dick?”, he asked, his thumb gently removing your spit from your lower lip in a heavy contrast to his previous actions.
“Yes- I love it”.
“Are you touching yourself? Getting off to being throatfucked? Am I really turning you into such a filthy slut? Damn-“, he mocked you and your pussy acted accordingly by throbbing against your hand.
You nodded hastily, the friction against your clit felt so good, your mind was so empty.
“You’d let me cum into your mouth? Be a good girl and swallow it for me?”.
He wasn’t afraid of going overboard anymore. Not with your bright grin and enthusiastic nod.
“I’m already close, kitten. You’re doing so well. Just a little longer, yeah?”, his voice was hoarse but gentle.
You took him back into your mouth by yourself, but proceeded to let him do as he pleased again. His cock twitched heavily and relentlessly against your tongue. The circles on your clit got faster, trying to find the same rhythm he had chosen, but his thrusts were uncontrolled and messy.
The amounts of groans and moans were getting more and more with every passing second, and he was right, he was very close.
One last push on your head, combined with him burying his dick as deep as possible to force his cum down your throat. You gagged, swallowed around him and it only seemed to make his orgasm even more intense.
His grip on your hair was rough, pulling at it to smother down the intense feeling and you were almost finishing yourself when the pain mixed with the pleasure. But he let you breathe as soon as he stopped spilling inside of you, his hands leaving you completely as you came up again.
Minho was certain. You had never looked hotter than in this moment. Your eyes were almost crossing, breathing heavily as his cum was still dripping from your lips.
His cum tasted salty, it was heavy on your tongue, but also kinda addicting. The reminder that you actually managed to make him feel that good.
This has been more than Minho had expected, more than he even dreamed to ever happen. His heart soared, felt light.
“I love you”, he muttered.
You didn’t even hesitate.
“I love you too”.
You climbed into his lap without thinking, wrapping your arms around him and pulling close. He was still incredibly hard, pressing against your core and making both of you gasp.
“I love you”, he whispered again, leaning in some more to kiss you chastely, “I love you so much”.
“I’ve waited so long for you to say that”, you mused, combing his hair back and out of his face.
“I know”, his hands wrapped around your waist, gently rubbing you, feeling you, “And I’m sorry about that”.
You shook your head, signaling him he didn’t need to. You looked at each other and you could clearly see how enamored Minho was. His gaze was so soft, so gentle after what just had happened.
“I want to feel you-”, you said quietly, hands searching for his skin under his shirt, which he quickly discarded, “Inside of me”.
Minhos grin was silly.
“Kitten, I don’t know if I can last that long”, he chuckled, “We don’t have to do it right now, you know?”.
But your body and your mind were so certain. You were sure you wanted this. Maybe - it was more of a need than a want. And to be honest, you probably would reach another orgasm very quick as well, you were still all riled up.
“I don’t care”, you said, feeling bold enough to grind down on him and making him gasp in surprise.
“Damn- I really did that to you”, he shook his head, “Let me get a condom, I’ll be right back”.
You shook your head.
“I said I wanted to feel you”.
He swallowed audibly before he groaned. You felt him twitch underneath you, urging you to rock your hips forward - just like he had shown you.
“Kitten- I don’t know what to say”, he huffed.
“Don’t say anything- just- fuck me”.
Your hands came up his chest, reaching for his pecs and letting your nails graze over the skin.
“Fuck- you’re going to be the death of me”, he helped you lifting yourself up, a hand around his cock guided himself to your entrance, “Go slow, yeah? You decide the pace”.
You nodded, letting him sink in slowly. He hissed, eyes closed in a concentrated and pleasure twisted face. Your heart was loud, you could hear it ring in your ears and it drowned out every other sound - you almost missed Minhos choked out moan.
“God- you feel- so fucking tight”, a hand left you, balling into a fist so he could dug his teeth into it, “Slow down-“.
But you didn’t even think of it, your pussy sucked him in greedily. It didn’t want you to go any slower. You arched your back, the feeling of his cock reaching so deep and dragging against your walls was mind blowing.
“I said fucking slow down-“, his hands squeezed your hips to make you stop right when he bottomed out, “I’m gonna cum- stop”.
“You- Min”, you were already trembling, already on the verge of your release, “You’re filling me up so good”.
The sound he made led to you clenching down on his length. The feeling of his cock stretching you out wasn’t even hurtful, it was grounding, intense and breathtaking.
“Don’t say shit like that- makes me want to-“.
“Do whatever you want with me”, you breathed, letting your head fall back while you gripped his shoulders and held on for dear life, “Please, fuck me”.
He didn’t even answer, he grabbed you and flipped you over - just like he had done it before when you had been in this position. He held himself up on his knees, his hands holding onto the lower part of your hips for leverage. His thrusts were harsh, relentless, but already stuttering.
“Min- hahh-“.
You didn’t even know what you wanted to say, but you weren’t able to speak either way. He was fucking you into the couch, making it squeak underneath you and punching every thought out of your brain with every snap of his hips.
It sent you over the edge immediately. This orgasm was even more intense, crushing your lungs as you tried to gasp for air.
“Fuck- fuck- you wanted this, gonna fill you up, make you mine”.
His cock was probably bruising your insides, marking you in the best way possible and claiming your pussy for good when he came inside of you with a guttural moan. You felt him twitch as he reached his peak, spilling as deep inside of you as possible and fucking his cum in every crevice of your walls. You whimpered, whined loudly out of overstimulation, but you didn’t want him to stop. The waves of endorphins were paralyzing your whole body, every muscle was seizing and relaxing in sync with his thrusts and your heartbeat.
It took him some time to come down, to even realize he was still moving - as if your pussy had entranced him and made him drunk on the sensation.
God, Minho really hoped this wasn’t a dream. Because now, when he had you like this once - he would make sure to fulfill every single one of his darkest thoughts. He was certain you’d love it.
