⟢ ┆ stray kids x reader. ot8. established relationship.
⟢ author’s note: helloo! this was requested twice lol so i guess it’s a popular trend going around and i finally brought myself to write it after the odyssey my life went through last month. i had lots of fun with it and i hope you all enjoy it<3
korean is still extremely hard for you, even after one year being stray kids' staff, and minho is determined to help you
⤷ a/n : one more request for my list >////< i have to admit this one was kinda tricky because i had to test so many apps to translate my thoughts ;□; it was meant to be a headcanon but i got carried away and turned out to be a lil one shot ;) anyway i might have to revise this again later
⤷ contains : + 18 alcohol dirty talking in korean p in v sex cunningulus safe sex (yay use condoms!!) ⋮ ⌗ ┆ wc [ 3.8k ] — tags : @jisungml + @smiileflower
⤷ now playing : stateside by pink pantheress + zara larsson
The studio speakers finally went dead, leaving nothing but the sound of heavy breathing fogging the mirrors on the dance room. Minho didn't drop to the floor like the others, he still stood in the center of the room, pulling the collar of his soaked shirt away from his chest and staring intensely at his own reflection. In the background, Changbin and I.N were already talking about getting food, but his eyes continued fixed on the mirror, tracking the exact second his foot slipped during the bridge.
“민호씨 (Minho-ssi)!” The choreographer called out, waving a tablet.
Before he could take a step, the studio door clicked open. You slipped in, face mostly hidden under a beige cap, keeping your back almost pressed to the wall as you moved toward one of the senior trainers. You bent into a quick, tense bow and whispered something that wasn't korean, the vowels were too soft and the rhythm was completely different.
The trainer didn't look up from her clipboard. She just let out a sharp sigh, rolled her eyes, and barked a dry “그래 (Sure).”
You bit your lip, your fingers twitching against the strap of your hoodie. Without another word, you turned and practically bolted out the door. Minho watched the door click shut, his brows knitting together.
By midnight, the building was mostly dark as Minho finally gathered his gym bag, sneakers squeaking loudly in the desert hallway. Near the exit, one last group of female staff members passed him, their tired faces lighting up while they offered quick bows.
“수고하셨습니다, 민호씨 (Good work, Minho-ssi).”
“조심히 들어가세요. 수고하셨습니다. (Please be careful on your way out. Thank you for your hard work.),” he replied, giving them a small nod.
As their giggles faded down the street, probably towards the nearest bar, the lobby went quiet again. When he noticed a silent shadow tucked near the vending machines.
It was the same beige cap from earlier, but this time you were sitting on a low stool, face buried behind a black mask, staring so hard at your phone that you didn't hear him approach. Minho stopped a step away, tilting his head to look over your shoulder. On the screen, a picture of a blue coastline flashed next to a text cursor of some korean-learning app, where your thumb hovered over the keyboard a bit hesitant.
“해안 (coastline),” Minho said into the quiet space.
You jumped on your seat, the phone nearly slipping through your fingers before you caught it against your chest.
“The word,” Minho pointed a nonchalant finger at the screen, completely unbothered by startling you. “You are new here? Never saw you.”
“Ah…” You pulled your mask down slightly, your voice a little shaky. “I am... stylist assistant. One year. Just small gigs.”
“Stylist assistant?” Minho tilted his head, absorbing the foreign language he also didn’t feel quite used to after all those years. “Cool. One year is... a long time.”
“네 (Yes),” you muttered, looking down at your hands. “하지만 한국어는 (But korean)… still very hard for me.”
“Oh, Felix too,” Minho shrugged, his sharp features softening into a casual smirk and a light chuckle. “He makes mistakes every day. It's okay.”
Headlights cut through the glass doors of the lobby, painting the walls white. A black cab pulled up to the curb outside, you glanced at your phone, hastily grabbing your clothes’ bag from the floor.
“I need to go. 수고하셨습니다 (Thank you for your hard work),” you said in a rush with a shy smile, throwing a clumsy bow before jogging out into the night.
Minho stood in the empty lobby for a moment, the heavy glass doors swinging shut as he let out a quiet breath, an amused smile spreading over his face at the sound of your adorable accent that still lingered inside his head.
—
With the release of a new comeback, over the next few weeks, Stray Kids operated in a clocked schedule of photo shoots, dance practices, and clothing fittings. But even through the hectic pace that took over the days ahead, he could always find you on the sidelines, working hard but lingering your eyes a bit too long on him before another staff called you out.
Whenever the last member wrapped up the day or the staff organized the few remaining equipment, you’d be there, untangling wardrobe racks or waiting on late-night shipments, and Minho would still be waiting for you under the fluorescent lights every night.
He didn't really like doing small talk, but he couldn’t deny how much he felt delighted by your cute reactions towards his presence, when he'd just walk up, tap something with his foot or finger, and wait for your response.
“목걸이 (Necklace),” he said one night, flicking the silver chain dangling from his neck.
“Moggeoli,” you tried a bit hesitant, your tongue tripping over the double consonant.
For a moment Minho stared at the shape of your mouth, licking his own lips to the thought of it against his. “목. 걸. 이. Again.”
“Mok... geol... i?”
“그치 (That’s it),” he would mutter as his eyes crinkled at the corners with a proud smile.
When your korean hit a wall, you'd shove your translator app in his face and Minho would read the overly formal text, make a disgusted face, then say some short english words and explain to you how people actually talked in Korea. He could be a bit blunt, not care much about grammar rules, but he never ran out of patience with you.
By the end of the month, the entire JYP building felt like a rush to finish up the last adjustments for the showcase that was less than twenty four hours away. It was past midnight again when you dropped onto a metal bench in the hallway, completely spent after packing away dozens of heavy boot boxes. Your brain felt completely fried from a solid twelve hours of trying to decode so many korean styling directions and tasks.
“Ah!” You flinched as a freezing water bottle pressed against your cheek.
Minho was standing over you, swallowed up by a black hoodie a few sizes bigger than him, his hair still slightly damp from the last practice. He looked completely wired, his eyes bright with that restless energy as he slid onto the bench next to you, keeping a bit of space between you, but close enough that you could feel his intoxicating scent wrapping around you.
“Today... very hard work,” Minho said with his voice a bit husky from fatigue, tilting his head toward you. “괜찮아 (All right)?”
“괜찮아요 (All right),” you sighed, letting your shoulders drop as you offered a tired smile. “Just... my brain is…” you mimicked a small explosion with your hands.
Minho let out a breathless laugh. “Me too. Choreo today... crazy.” He leaned his head back against the concrete wall, staring blankly at the hallway ceiling. Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, the silence didn't feel awkward anymore, it was just the quiet of two people who had survived the same long day.
When his stomach suddenly let out a loud growl, getting you to turn and look at him with a worried expression. But Minho didn't even look embarrassed, he just tilted his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Ah, I’m so hungry,” he muttered, shifting his weight and turning his body fully toward you and resting his elbow on the back of the bench. “You free tonight?” He spoke slowly, using his hand to emphasize the words. “Members at home, so…” He pointed a finger at you, then at himself. “Me. You. Ramyeon.”
You blinked. “Are you asking me out for dinner?”
“Yes. Dinner.” He nodded firmly, sensing the language barrier might need a bridge, he pulled his phone out, thumbs typing quickly across the screen before turning it toward you where the translator read: I know a really good place near here where the staff won't bother us. I can teach you the food vocabulary.
Your heart gave a sudden and unexpected flutter when you looked up from the screen, his usual playful smirk was gone, replaced by a surprisingly soft and genuine expression.
—
The restaurant was mostly empty, tucked away on a dark corner where you didn't have to worry about anyone recognizing him. Minho picked a table in the furthest booth, away from the small crowd near the counter. Over steaming bowls of ramyeon and a few drinks, the constant pull to check your phone translator faded, somehow with enough patience and fragmented phrases, the words just made sense.
Outside, the heavy and humid air from the past few days started to shift, low thunders rumbled across the sky and the imminence of a storm settled in Seoul. Rain started lashing against the restaurant’s glass windows, but inside, under the low yellow lights of the booth, the only thing keeping your attention was the relaxed smile on Minho’s face.
After each shared giggle, the heat of the burning soup and the kick of the alcohol began to catch up with you, loosening your tongue when his piercing eyes landed on you.
“You know… your voice is so cute in korean,” you smirked, twirling some noodles on your chopsticks. “It feels almost easy when you speak.”
“그래 (Really)?” Minho murmured, his voice dropped into a velvety, playful tone. He didn't reach for his phone this time, letting the foreign, melodic syllables just hang in the warm space between you.
“네 (Yes).” You bit your lower lip, trying to press down the growing smile curling on your mouth as your pulse started to hammer harder against your ribs.
“너 한국어 할 때 진짜 귀여워. 가끔 연습할 때 너 보느라 집중 안 돼 (You're also really cute when you speak korean. Sometimes when I'm practicing, I can't concentrate because I'm watching you).” He leaned closer, his dark eyes locking onto your lips before rising to meet your gaze. He reached across the small table, his long fingers gently playing with the sensitive skin just below your ear to tuck a strand of hair behind it.
“That’s not fair,” you blinked confused at the shift you couldn’t decode. “You're cheating. Translate it.”
Minho let out a low chuckle that vibrated deep in his chest. Instead of reaching for his phone, he slid along the booth, closing the distance between you until his lips slightly brushed the shell of your ear. His hot breath sent a dizzy spike of heat straight down your spine.
“우리 집으로 가자. 내가 너한테 뭘 하고 싶은지 직접 보여줄게 (Let's go to my place. I'll show you exactly what I want to do to you).”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with a possessive heat that left absolutely no doubt about his intentions, even without the translation.
“What did you say?” Your voice came out in a quiet, uneven breath. “Translate. Now.”
Minho’s boyish, teasing smirk returned, he leaned in and pressed a faint kiss right to the corner of your mouth.
“I said,” Minho murmured in english, his voice returning to that polite cadence, though the fire in his eyes didn't waver for a second, “that the weather is weird and we should go to my house.”
—
The front door had barely clicked shut behind you before the skies were torn open outside, the sound of torrential rain hammering the windows in Minho’s apartment. You were both utterly drenched, water dripping from your hair and pooling around your sneakers. Without a word, he disappeared for a second, returning to drape a plush towel over your head and pointing down the short hallway.
“Bathroom. Warm shower. Go.”
He left a neat pile of clothes on the counter for you. When you finally stepped out of the fogged bathroom, his already oversized black t-shirt draped all the way down to your thighs, while the sweatpants hung far too low onto your hips, the drawstring pulled as tight as it could go.
The living room was quiet, save for the low murmur of the TV broadcasting a weather warning about the storm. You sat on the floor, waiting for your damp hair to dry, awkwardly feeling the heavy buzz of the alcohol wash away as you drank a large glass of water, that left you intensely aware of the kiss at the restaurant and the fact you were currently wearing his clothes in his apartment.
The soft padding of bare feet broke the quiet. Minho walked into the room, his own hair damp and messy, and slid down onto the floor beside you, resting his back against the base of the couch.
You stared down at your fingers, suddenly unsure of what to say. “Thanks,” you mumbled under your breath, keeping your eyes on your lap. “For the clothes... and the dinner... and everything you did for me.”
Minho offered a quick glance, sitting with his legs slightly spread, one knee pulled up closer to his chest, the other leg extended as his thigh almost brushed against yours. Scratching the back of his neck, a rare, genuinely shy smile touched his mouth.
“It's okay,” he said softly.
Silence stretched through the apartment, making the space feel entirely isolated from the storm outside, he shifted again and his body heat pressed closer as he leaned closer to you.
“I can... teach other things too,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave, “나 지금 너 진짜 필요해 (I really need you right now).” His warm breath fanned directly over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a sharp shiver down your spine. “Try it.”
You swallowed hard, your heart instantly pounding against your ribs even faster than before. “What does it mean, Minho?”
“Say it,” he countered, his dark eyes locking onto yours with unblinking focus. “And I will tell.”
“Na jigeum neo jinjja… pilyohae,” you repeated. The syllables felt stiff on your tongue, completely unattached to any meaning in your brain, but you forced them out anyway.
“It means,” Minho’s large hand reached up, his fingers cradling the back of your head and tilting it slightly to the side. “I really need you right now.”
Before the translation could fully register, he leaned across the small gap between you. His lips planted a soft, lingering kiss just under your ear, tracing a slow line down your jawline until he reached your parted lips. The kiss started slow and hesitant, almost as if he were trying to find a way to translate how good it felt to touch you without using words at all.
But the hesitation didn't last, it deepened rapidly, turning into a breathless rhythm as your tongues tangled in a wet embrace of pure need. Your hands went up to his broad shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie as you pulled him closer, sinking entirely into him. At that moment, you didn't want to pull apart and risk hearing any more of the foreign language that had isolated you for the past year, not when it finally made perfect sense.
Minho was the one to break the kiss, his chest heaving as he pulled back just an inch. He was panting, lips already twitching to press back against yours, but he stopped himself, holding your face firmly between his palms.
“계속 키스해줘 (Keep kissing me),” he breathed out raggedly against your swollen lips, his thumb wiping away a trace of moist from your chin. “Say it.”
“Gyesog kiseuhaejwo,” you whispered instantly.
“Keep kissing me.”
His palms slid to the sides of your face, angling your head as he bruised your lips again. The pace was urgent, sucking and biting at your lower lip, drawing a needy moan from the back of your throat. He pulled back again just far enough to look down at you, his pupils completely dilated and dark with heat.
“Want more?”
“Uhm,” you breathed, unable to form any coherent word or thought.
“Say 더 해줘 (Do more).”
“Deo haejwo,” you promptly repeated, your hands tugging him back down to you.
Minho let out a rough chuckle, hands sliding down to your waist as he pulled you directly onto his lap. The hard line of his growing manhood pressed firmly against you through the soft fabric of his sweatpants as he dragged his lips across your flushed cheek, his voice a soft murmur against your skin.
“더 해줄까 (Should I do more)?” He chuckled.
You didn't understand a single syllable, but the friction felt so good you didn't even care. You just leaned into his touch, your mouth seeking his as he captured your lips in another bruising kiss.
“느낌 너무 좋아 (This feels too good),” he muttered against your mouth. The casual and cute tone he used with the other staff members was entirely gone, replaced by a low rumble that vibrated deep in his chest and sent a wave of shivers down your spine as he ground his hips up against yours.
With a swift movement, his large hands wrapped under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly into his arms before laying your back down onto the soft cushions of the sofa. He let out a ragged exhale, his gaze completely focused on you as he gave a light tap to the inside of your bent knees.
“다리 벌려봐. 힘 빼고 (Spread your legs. Relax).”
You instinctively followed his order, spreading your legs open for him. A satisfied smile touched his lips, his fingers hooked into the waistband of the oversized sweatpants, slowly pulling them down over your hips along with your underwear, leaving you exposed to the cool air of the room. With a gentle but unyielding tug, he slid the hem of the shirt up your torso, exposing your perked up nipples underneath the fabric.
A sudden wave of shyness hit you and you started to close your legs again, Minho paused, a single eyebrow arching as he looked down at you. He brushed the tip of his finger against your jaw, silently commanding you to look into his eyes, before trailing that single finger down the center of your breasts, past your stomach, and directly over your damp core.
“잘하네, 착하지 (You’re doing well, good girl),” he mumbled against your skin, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth.
You could see the heavy distortion of his bulge in his gray sweatpants, but he took his time, sliding his fingers over your slick skin before easily pushing two digits deep inside you. A few pumps later and a breathy moan escaped your throat, your hips instinctively arching into his touch.
But Minho pulled his hand back, the sudden loss of friction making you whimper wanting more. He reached up, pulling his own hoodie over his head in one fluid motion to reveal the toned lines of his chest and shoulders. With an impatient push, he stripped out of his pants, finally freeing his hard length that now hung stiffly in front of him. Completely uncovered, he loomed over you, his member giving a slight throb as his eyes tracked the way your thighs clutched at the air.
He reached into the pocket of his jacket, which lay discarded on the floor beside the couch, and tore open a condom wrapper, rolling it on quickly over his veiny shaft. Leaning back over your chest, he settled his weight between your thighs, aligning his round tip right at your entrance.
A small, anxious whimper left your lips, desperate to feel him inside you as he dragged his length with a stretch through your folds, your brain scrambled through the few korean phrases you actually knew, trying to patch together something from your previous lessons.
“Ah... 느낌 좋아요 (it feels good),” you whispered, voice trembling at the overwhelming sensations under your skin.
He let out a soft chuckle, the heavy tension in his shoulders melting as he pulled you flush against his bare chest, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, slowly sinking all the way inside you.
“Why so polite?” he murmured, his breath hot against your collarbone as your warm, gummy walls opened to accommodate him. “Just say 좋아 (It's good).”
“좋아,” you gasped out, a breathless moan tearing from your throat as he began to move, his full girth making you fully aware of just how strong and manly he actually was beneath his usual baggy clothes. “더 해줘 (Do it more).”
“귀엽다 (so cute)... you learn so fast,” he murmured against your skin, a praise that felt like a caress, before blocking out the rest of the world by pressing another wet kiss over your parted lips.
“너 정말 꽉 조이네 (You’re so tight),” Minho groaned, his voice dropping into a ragged, low groan.
You had absolutely no idea what he’d been mumbling for the past few minutes, but the way his hips stuttered told you everything you needed to know. Your walls were clamping down impossibly tight around his length, catching every heavy friction of his thrusts.
“정말 미치게 하네 (You’re seriously driving me crazy).”
Another helpless moan broke from your lips when he suddenly lifted his torso, his large hands anchoring firmly onto your hips to angle himself deeper. He bit his lower lip hard, his eyelids fluttering shut as a violent shudder rolled through his entire body, sending the heat straight into yours.
“나 더는 못 참겠어. 너 진짜... 너무 좋아. (I can't take it anymore. You really... so good).”
With a dominant grip on your waist, he delivered a few more perfectly angled thrusts, his length throbbing maddeningly against your most sensitive spots until a sudden, burning tension struck both of your bodies at once. You cried out, a high-pitched yelp escaping your throat as your core tightly convulsed around him.
With one final, deep thrust, Minho buried his face into the crook of your neck. His breath was burning against your skin, panting more unintelligible groans until his entire body went rigid, a wave of intense pleasure taking over as he shot all of his warm load inside the latex.
The frantic pace slowly ground to a halt, leaving only the sound of your uneven breathing as Minho wrapped his arms around your waist and shifted his weight, pulling you along with him as he rolled onto his back on the couch. You collapsed directly onto his chest, your skin slick with a thin coat of shared sweat, his heartbeat was a wild, erratic thumping against your cheek.
Slowly, his fingers began to thread through your damp hair, the gentle, constant motion letting you drift toward a heavy slumber after such an exhausting day. But just as your eyes started to flutter shut, he hooked two fingers under your chin and tilted your face up to force you to look at him again.
A wide and teasing smirk spread across his face, his eyes crinkling with that familiar, playful malice. Before you could even blink, he reached down and gave your bare ass a light pinch on the soft flesh.
“Ah!” You flinched, instantly awake.
“아직 안 끝났어, 바보야 (It's not over yet, dummy),” Minho chuckled, his voice still husky but dripping with mischief. He tapped your chin playfully, switching back to his accented english. “Tutoring only finishes when the teacher says finish.”
SHARING IS CARING... OR WHATEVER : featuring lee minho & christopher chahn bahng
— idol bf!lee minho x fem!reader x idol!bangchan in which you found yourself in between the hands of two men you admired the most. a simple fleeting conversation with your boyfriend about how concerned you are for their leader turns into something both you and chan wouldn't be able to forget for the rest of your lives.
content warnings: this fic includes detailed nsfw scenes that may be too much for some readers. includes penetrative sex, three-some, voyeurism, use of vibrator, praising, size kink, dom!bangchan, dom!leeknow & submissive!reader, scratching, size difference, intense make out session, and other scenes that might be uncomfortable for some readers. please consume what you can, and separate fiction from reality. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
word count: 3k words
The air in the room hung thick and heavy, like a weight pressing down harder than any noise could. You curled up on Minho's lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist like a familiar trap. But his mind was far away, lost somewhere else.
A deep frown line cut across his forehead, a clear sign his thoughts were stuck on one person: Bang Chan. The leader of Stray Kids, the guy who carried the whole group's world on his back, was breaking under their endless schedule. And Minho felt every bit of that weight too.
You ran your fingers along the tight line of his shoulder, feeling the hard muscles knotted up under your touch. "He's not sleeping," you said softly, cutting through the quiet. "I saw him yesterday. His hands were shaking, Min. He looked so worn out, like he was falling apart."
Your words hit him like a spark.
Minho's whole body went stiff. His hands, which had been resting lightly on your hips, suddenly gripped hard, fingers digging into your soft skin as he pulled you even closer. The warm spark in his eyes vanished, replaced by a dark, sharp stare that held you right where you were.
"And when did you start talking to him?" he asked in a low growl.
You rolled your eyes, a mix of annoyance and fondness for his over-the-top reaction. “Well, no one else seems willing to cook for him,” you replied casually, tracing small circles on Minho's chest with your finger. “So I invite him over sometimes. I just… tried talking to him more.”
A low, warning rumble shook in his chest. "So you like him?" The question floated there, like a trap with no safe way out.
"Of course I like him," you sighed, shaking your head. "He's kind, and he always watches out for everyone. Why wouldn't I?" You tilted your head, giving him a look. “And don’t act like you didn’t practically force him to talk to me. It was painfully obvious.”
"At first, I thought he hated me, though. Every time I tried to chat, he'd get this tight look on his face, like it pained him."
You scrunched your nose, mimicking the expression.
A deep, knowing laugh rolled through Minho's chest. He leaned in close, his lips brushing the sensitive curve of your ear. "God, I love how clueless you are," he whispered, his hot breath sending chills racing down your spine.
Before you could snap back, his mouth crashed onto yours.
It wasn't a soft kiss. It was a takeover. His tongue pushed in, claiming every inch, tasting you deeply until you felt lightheaded and out of breath. Kissing Minho was like sinking into an ocean of heat. He poured everything into it until you were lost, gasping for air.
Your fingers tangled in his thick, soft black hair, holding tight as his hands explored your body with slow, bold moves. They slid down your back, over the round curve of your ass, and stopped at the edge of your shorts. His fingers slipped under the fabric, and a soft, winning chuckle escaped him when he felt nothing but smooth, bare skin.
"No panties, baby?" he murmured against your puffy, kissed-raw lips, his voice thick with hunger.
In one quick, strong lift, he hoisted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, thighs squeezing his sides. The room spun in a haze, and then your back hit the cool, fresh sheets of the bed.
He peeled off your clothes with quick, skilled hands. Thrilling and a little scary in how easy he made it seem. Soft leather straps circled your wrists, tying them tight to the headboard slats above your head. More straps bound your ankles, spreading your legs wide open, leaving you totally exposed and at his mercy. Your slick folds bare, your body trembling with need.
You were so caught up in the dizzy rush of his kisses, the overwhelming force of him, that you hardly noticed how helpless he'd made you.
A sharp gasp ripped from your throat as something cold, hard, and perfectly smooth pressed against your wet, aching pussy. A low buzz started vibrating through you, a steady pulse that shot waves of hot pleasure right to your core, making your clit throb and your inner walls clench.
Your knees trembled. Your back bowed off the bed as the toy pushed in slowly, inch by inch. A thick, unyielding shaft that stretched you wide, filling you up until you could barely breathe.
"B-baby... wait, no—" Your plea came out as a weak whimper, swallowed by the thick air. You tugged at the straps on your wrists, but it was useless. He just watched, eyes dark with raw satisfaction, as he gently stroked your cheek. His soft touch a wild contrast to the invading buzz overwhelming your body, making your hips buck uncontrollably.
The doorbell rang suddenly, sharp and loud, making you jolt. Your eyes snapped open in panic, heart pounding. Someone at the door? Right now?
But Minho just grinned, a wicked twist of his lips that promised trouble. He left the toy buried deep inside your pulsing heat, its buzz a nonstop tease driving you wild, as he got up from the bed. The pleasure built so fast and fierce that you couldn't hold back the loud, broken moans spilling from your lips. Raw sounds of desperation echoing in the room.
It felt like forever in that sweet agony before the bedroom door creaked open again. Minho wasn't alone.
The second you saw Chan's face—eyes wide with shock, mouth hanging open as he stared at you—you wanted to disappear. You tried to hide your face, to squeeze your thighs shut, to sink into the bed. But the straps kept you pinned, legs spread wide, body shaking. Your naked skin glistening with sweat, your swollen pussy on full display with the toy's base humming between your slick lips.
"Min, I think I should—" Chan started, his voice rough and shaky as he tried to look away, to give you some privacy. But he couldn't tear his eyes off you. Off the way your body twisted and arched. Off the shiny wetness coating your thighs. Off the vibrator buried in your tight, dripping hole.
"Go? Don't be silly, Chan-ah. Come in," Minho said smoothly, pointing to the armchair he'd set up right at the foot of the bed for the best view. He leaned down, lips grazing your ear, his voice a low, owning whisper. "Be a good girl now, darling. If you keep making those sweet little noises, what will our guest think?"
Chan moved like he was in a dream, dropping into the chair. From there, he had a clear, filthy view of your spread-open pussy. Lips puffy and slick, the toy buzzing inside you, your clit swollen and begging for touch. You saw the worry and shock fade from his face, replaced by something dark, hungry, and full of want. He craved to be the one breaking you, pulling those needy cries from your throat.
"So..." Minho started, his tone way too casual, like you weren't whimpering and close to tears right there. "About the new track layouts?"
They dove into their meeting, voices droning on about schedules and duties. Words you couldn't even grasp. Your world narrowed to the endless buzz throbbing in your core, the ache in your shoulders from the tight straps, the hot burn of shame from being watched like this, your body on display like a toy.
Time blurred into waves of aching bliss. At some point, a desperate, humiliated part of you just wanted relief. Someone to move the damn thing, to give you more, to fill you with something real and warm.
"Oh? Looks like our girl just came from cock-warming a toy," Minho said with a smirk, his eyes gleaming.
How could you not? The idea of Chan's intense gaze on you, watching you squirm and beg, had tipped you over. A fresh rush of shame mixed with thrilling want washed over you as your body clenched and released, juices soaking the sheets.
While you still twitched and pulsed from the orgasm, Minho reached down casually. His fingers gripped the toy's base, twisting it, shoving it deeper, then pulling it out just a bit in a teasing rhythm that made your over-sensitive walls scream with too-much pleasure.
A choked sob burst from you as the overstimulation turned sharp and burning. "You have such a pretty voice, darling. That was so fucking hot," he praised, pride dripping from his words.
Chan looked ready to snap. His knuckles turned white gripping the chair arms, jaw locked tight, a muscle jumping in his cheek. Minho eyed him with a smug, winning spark. He knew he'd gotten what he wanted.
"You know, Channie," Minho said, voice dropping to a sly whisper. "Y/N said she likes you."
Chan's head jerked up. He shook it in silent denial. No way you'd want him, not with Minho around.
"Ask her yourself. If you don't believe me." Minho teased, like poison wrapped in silk.
Chan's throat bobbed, but no words came. He looked wrecked, his cool front in pieces.
"Chan!"
Your scream of his name, desperate and sweet, froze him. "I... I want you." The words tumbled out as a broken whisper, pushed by Minho's hot breath in your ear, his good girl whispers urging you on.
In a flash, Chan was at your side. He cupped your face, grip firm but careful, tilting your tear-streaked, puffy eyes to meet his fiery stare.
"Say it again," he demanded, voice rough and needy. He had to hear it, to know this wasn't just his imagination. "Tell me exactly what you want."
As if to speak for you, Minho thrust the toy hard and deep. The jolt of pleasure-pain tore a final, clear cry from your lips.
"Yes! I want you to fuck me, please!"
A slow, pleased smirk spread over Minho's face. That was all Chan needed. His long fingers moved fast, undoing the leather straps from your wrists and ankles. The cool material sliding off your hot, flushed skin. He lifted you with surprising power, like you were weightless, positioning you until you straddled his lap, your dripping pussy hovering just above his hard, straining cock.
You winced as the toy finally slid out, leaving a sudden, empty ache that made your head spin from all the overwhelming buzz. The next thing you knew, Chan's hands were all over you. They roamed across your chest, grabbing and squeezing your full breasts, his mouth chasing after to leave sharp bites that stung and wet sucks that soothed the red marks on your soft skin. You glanced down at the man under you, his light blue hair standing out against his dark eyes, burning with raw lust.
Minho didn't stay back. He slid in close behind you, his body pressing against your back as his hands joined the mix. He cupped your ass, squeezing the soft flesh hard while his lips found your neck, sucking and biting to leave his own hot marks that made you shiver. His fingers dipped between your thighs from behind, teasing your slick entrance alongside Chan's touches, spreading your wetness and making you gasp from the double attention.
"That's it, jagi," Minho murmured in your ear, his voice low and teasing. "Show him how good you feel."
"Oh, Chan!"
Hearing his name spill from your lips made his whole body go tense. You were both so wrapped up in the heat of it all, lost in the close, sweaty closeness, with Minho adding to the fire by grinding against you from behind. He was happy about it. This wasn't just about sharing his pretty girl; it was about helping the man he admired most, like a brother. After years fighting side by side in the same tough world, Chan was family. Minho's loyalty ran deep. He'd follow him anywhere, just like you'd follow Minho. Without a question.
Chan's arms wrapped around your waist, yanking you down as the thick, swollen head of his cock nudged against your wet, sensitive entrance. Your pussy still slick and pulsing from before. With one hard thrust, he drove himself deep inside you. A rough groan ripped from both your throats at the intense feel of it. He was so thick and long, stretching your tight walls wide, like he was tearing you open in the best way, filling every inch with hot pressure.
Minho stayed right there, his hands roaming your body as Chan thrust. He reached around to pinch and roll your nipples between his fingers, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through you that made your back arch. His other hand slid down to rub slow circles on your clit, matching Bang Chan's rhythm and doubling the overwhelming sensations. You moaned louder, caught between them, their bodies pressing you tight in a haze of heat and need.
"Fuck, you're so tight," Chan growled through gritted teeth, his voice rough and strained. Your body squeezed around him on its own, clenching hard at the deep invasion. You tried to speak, to beg for what you craved, but you were totally under their control, drowning in a fog of heat and need. The slick slide of his cock, the teasing pressure from Minho's fingers, the burn in your core.
You reached up, your hand shaking as you cupped Chan's face. Your touch was soft and caring, almost too gentle, and it nearly shattered him.
"Fuck," he choked out. "Baby, you're driving me insane."
He started moving, pulling almost all the way out, his cock dragging against your inner walls, before slamming back in balls-deep. The sharp smack of skin on skin echoed through the room, mixing with your desperate cries and the wet sounds of your bodies connecting. He built a brutal rhythm, hips snapping up into you hard and fast, and you felt the deep rumble of his groans vibrating in his chest while your whimpers filled his ears. The air thick with the salty scent of sweat and sex.
Minho kept pace, his fingers working your clit faster now, slick with your arousal, while he leaned in to capture your mouth in a deep, claiming kiss. His tongue tangled with yours, swallowing your moans as Chan's thrusts rocked you between them. The combined touches pushed you higher, your body trembling from the overload of pleasure from both men.
Your body turned against you, twisting and grinding back against him as pain and wild pleasure twisted tight in your belly. He noticed your struggle and thought you were hurting, so he eased up, slowing to gentler, careful strokes that teased more than satisfied.
"No!" you cried out, heart pounding. "Faster, please!" You begged, even though your muscles burned and screamed. You needed it rough, needed him to take you apart.
You clawed your nails down his back, leaving red scratches that made him hiss from the sharp sting. Taking that as his green light, he let go of all control. He ramped up the pounding pace, no longer handling you like fragile glass. You could feel his cock throbbing deep inside, his muscles tensing. A clear sign he was right on the edge. In that haze, he seemed to forget you weren't really his to own.
Minho grinned at the sight, his hand sliding up to grip your throat lightly, adding a possessive edge that made your pulse race. He whispered praises in your ear, "Good girl, taking us both so well," while his fingers kept circling your clit, building the fire even hotter as Bang Chan's thrusts grew wilder.
His climax crashed over him like a wave. His cock twitched and pulsed, flooding your pussy with hot spurts of cum as he kept thrusting, his hips jerking wildly. He wasn't quiet about it; a deep, owning growl of mine vibrated in his chest, followed by your name whispered like a desperate wish.
But Chan wasn't done. Not even close. He stayed buried inside you, his eyes dropping to where your bodies met. Watching his cum leak out around his softening cock, mixing with your juices in a sticky mess. He wanted to see you totally wrecked, falling apart for him.
In one quick move, his hand shot down, his fingers replacing Minho's. You let out a high-pitched, teary sob as his thumb pressed right on your swollen clit, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nub. He worked it with purpose, eyes locked on your face as it twisted in bliss, watching every make face you do with how his fingers worked on your swollen clit. The pressure building fast, your hips bucking against his touch.
Minho leaned in again, his mouth latching onto your breast, sucking hard on your nipple while his hand teased the other, pinching just enough to send sparks of pain-pleasure through you. The extra stimulation from him made everything more intense, your body caught in their shared rhythm.
"Say my name," Chan ordered, voice low and commanding.
You did, his name a shaky whisper on your lips, breath hot and ragged.
That sound pushed him further. He used the slippery mix of cum and your wetness to stroke your clit harder, faster. Fingers slick and relentless. Driving you straight to the brink. This was it. Your peak hit like a storm. Your vision blurred to white, body shaking hard, legs locking around his arm as waves of pleasure ripped through you, your pussy clenching and soaking his hand.
As you floated down from the high, body still jerking with little aftershocks, something clicked for Chan. He finally got why you had such a hold on Minho. You weren't just a pretty face or a warm body to fuck. You were a true lover. You gave everything, and the pure joy on your face in those moments was addictive. A sharp stab of jealousy hit him. Minho saw this every day. The flushed cheeks, the satisfied glow, the way you melted into bliss.
How long had that been going on?
Chan wanted it too. He craved being the one to see that look in your eyes every single day.
"Hey, now. Don't look so down," Minho's voice broke the quiet, like he could read his thoughts. "One day with her isn't enough to satisfy anyone."
A slow smile spread across Chan's face as it sank in. This wasn't the end. It was just the start.
a/n: so if you guys remember, i did a poll about this not too long ago. i actually have finished this up for quite some time now, but i just can't find the timing to post it because of the amount of series i have to update. HAHAHAHAHA crazy right? but anyway! here it is. this is not the usual length of fic i write, but! i hope you like this one! < 3
summary: the rumours about you and minho have been around for a while, you never confirmed them and he never denied them. all it takes is one livestream together for everyone watching to realise the rumours were true and to leave them wanting more
live: unfiltered series
this fic is the second part of this one however it could be read as a standalone (this is the only exception of the event)
“okay, you ready?”
a few weeks and dates and livestreams and some more dates had led to this - your first livestream together. you’re sitting on minho’s lap, your back pressed against his chest and his cock pressing against your ass, both of you completely naked and ready to start.
you nod your head, trying to appear calm, but you can feel your pulse hammering inside your chest. minho kisses the curve of your shoulder and then leans to tap the button on the screen, finally starting the livestream. the camera only catches your bodies from your necks down, filling the frame with your breasts, your stomach and the sight of your thighs on top of his thick ones.
as soon as you’re on, the chat explodes.
user69: holy shit it’s them
aussielord: fuck this is gonna be insane
cumslut: i knew those rumours of them being together were true
the donations start rolling in before either of you even moves and the number of viewers climbs fast.
“looks like everyone’s been waiting for this, huh?”, minho says, “well, the good news is that we’re about to give you exactly what you want”
his hand starts moving then, his fingers going from the base of your throat down between your breasts, pausing there to brush each nipple until they are so hard it almost hurts you. he continues moving his hand lower before it settles at your waist, his touch possessive but guiding at the same time.
he moves his hand between your thighs and then spreads his legs a bit beneath you, forcing yours apart with the help of his hand, until each of your knees hooks over his thighs. your cunt opens completely to the camera, your slick folds glistening and your clit already swollen and begging to be touched.
dirtypup: fuck look how wet she is already
maknaeontop: spread her legs more
edgequeen: i wanna be her pls
“see how they’re watching you? how they can tell you’re dripping for me?”, minho says as he brushes his lips against the shell of your ear, his fingers moving to trace your lower lips without pushing inside yet, “they’ve been dying to see your pussy up close again. and now it’s here, spread open on my lap”
you move instinctively, your hips rolling to chase his touch, your ass grinding back against his cock and he groans softly.
“i- i-”, you say as a moan escapes your lips.
“shhh, no, no. easy there”, he says, his voice dropping into that commanding tone he uses during his livestreams, “i decide when you get more, kitten”
he moves two of his fingers and finally parts your folds, circling your entrance before he sinks both of his fingers inside you. he starts curling them inside you as his thumb focuses on your clit, circling it with his thrusts.
“that’s it”, he says against your ear but loud enough for the stream, “take my fingers like the good girl you are. let everyone see how tight you are, how you’re soaking my hand”
your head falls back against his shoulders and your hips start moving again, rocking down onto his fingers. the camera shows everything - the way your cunt stretches around his fingers, how your juices coat his skin, how you’re dripping down onto his thighs, how your clit is throbbing visibly under his thumb.
“i- m-more… i need more”, you manage to say, your voice breaking with another moan.
quokkjone: the princess wants more, add another finger
minho hums and then obliges without hesitation, adding another finger inside you, the stretch burning you but your cunt clenching so hard around it you’re sure you’re gonna come any minute now.
“o-oh, god, i-i need more”, you say, your hips never stopping, chasing the friction, anything he would give you.
“fuck, listen to that”, he says, his voice rough with desire, “so wet for me. i’m sure you can all hear the sounds her pussy is making while i fuck her with my fingers”, he says to the people watching you, and you’re so lost in your own pleasure you almost don’t hear him.
your thighs tremble over his and your orgasm starts growing faster and faster. your hands move to his thighs for leverage as you try to ride his fingers more. his free hand comes up to cup one of your breasts, his thumb flicking over your nipple while his other hand continues working between your legs.
“you’re close already, aren’t you, kitten?”, he asks you now, his voice low and knowing, “i can feel you squeezing my fingers. you’re gonna soak my hand, aren’t you?”
you nod frantically, too lost in everything he’s doing to form words. your walls keep clenching around his fingers, your orgasm building, about to break, but then, he stops. his fingers still completely inside you, buried to the knuckles but not moving anymore. your desperate whines fill your room, your hips bucking uselessly in a helpless attempt against his frozen hand.
“no, p-please, no. why? what did-”, you say, turning your head towards him but he kisses you quickly, making you stop, his tongue sliding past your lips to swallow every broken sound you make.
“shh, no, not yet, kitten”, he murmurs against your mouth, his voice low and firm against your lips, “you don’t come until i say so”
he pulls his fingers out of you slowly, dragging them out of you. your thighs tremble over his as he shifts beneath you, his hands gripping your waist and turning you around on his lap until your back faces the camera, your ass and the mess between your legs fully exposed to the people watching you now.
you press your breasts against his chest and now his cock is between your bodies, its tip glistening with precum and fully on display for the viewers. minho’s hands slide down to cup your ass, squeezing firmly as he leans in to speak against your ear again.
“didn’t you say you wanted to ride and soak my thighs? come on, kitten, do it now”
his words send another rush of heat through you, and you feel yourself dripping again. you shift forward obediently, you’re sure you would do anything he told you to do at this point. you straddle one of his thick and muscled thighs and then lower yourself until your dripping cunt meets his skin.
“f-fuck”, you gasp, throbbing your head back at the contact.
your folds part around the muscle there and your clit drags along his leg as you begin to rock your hips. each grind leaves a shiny trail of your arousal smeared across his thigh, the wet sounds growing louder with every pass. your breasts press against his chest, your nipples brushing against his skin with every movement.
minho’s cock stands rigid between you, twitching visibly on camera as you ride his thigh. your hand reaches down to wrap around it, your fingers curling around the tip, but his hand catches your wrist before you can do anything else.
“no”, he says, “i’ll do that. you focus on making a mess on my leg”
he lets your wrist go and wraps his own hand around his cock, beginning to stroke from base to tip, matching the rhythm of your grinding and every time his fist slides upwards, his precum wells at the tip and drips down over his knuckles.
midnightwolf: fuck look at her grinding on him
maknaeontop: his thigh is soaked already
princessonline: stroke it slower, let her watch
artprince69: she’s dripping everywhere, i’m gonna come from watching this
minho’s free hand moves to your ass, encouraging you to press down harder. your clit drags over the firm muscle again and again, each pass sending sparks racing up your spine. you moan louder now, the sound mixing with the wet slide of your cunt against his skin and the sound of his hand working his cock.
“listen how wet you are”, he says, his lips brushing your temple, “they can see every drop you’re leaving on me. keep going, just like that, kitten. show them how needy that pretty pussy is”
you answer with another moan, your hips moving faster, grinding down and making your clit throb. your hands move to his shoulders as you ride his thigh with desperation now. minho’s strokes on his cock grow firmer now and every few strokes he pauses at the tip, his thumb swiping over to spread the precum before sliding back down.
“this feels s-so good”, you say and then you lean to kiss him, your mouths meeting as your hips never stop moving.
strongspear: fuck they’re so hot together
edgequeen: she’s about to come on his thigh
minho breaks the kiss only to press his forehead to yours, his breathing hard just like yours.
“i can feel you getting close”, he says.
you nod your head frantically, your hips stuttering as you chase the edge, your orgasm building fast again but then, his hand leaves his cock to grip your hip, stopping your movements completely.
“but not yet”, he says again, “i told you you don’t get to come until i say so”
another broken whine slips from your throat, your walls clenching and fluttering around nothing. your clit throbs from your denied release and fresh arousal drips down his thighs. his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you off his lap with ease. he moves your bodies sideways on the bed so the camera can catch everything from your necks down to your feet, your naked bodies fully visible, every curve and movement on display.
you’re on your back, the sheets cool against your heated skin, and then minho climbs over you, settling between your spread legs. he leans down to kiss you, but the moment your lips part for him, he pulls back just enough to tease you, hovering so close you can feel his breath. you chase his mouth, lifting your head, but he pushes you back down with one hand on your shoulder, a smirk playing at his lips.
“stay there”, he says, his voice firmer now.
his hands move to your knees, gripping and spreading you wider until your thighs are stretched open, your dripping pussy completely soaking the sheets under you. he leans in again, this time letting the kiss land. his lips move against yours, hard and deep, while his hips shift forward. his cock nudges against your entrance, pressing slowly inside as his tongue slides against yours until he’s buried to the hilt inside you.
cumslut: the’re actually fucking on cam
user69: holy fuck look at that it’s so hot
minho groans into your mouth, his hips drawing back before thrusting forward again, setting a steady and deep rhythm. each stroke drags his cock along your sensitive walls, already overstimulated from your previous denials. your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper as your moans spill out between kisses.
“fuck, y-you’re so tight”, he breathes against your lips, “taking me so well, kitten”
you moan louder, your hips lifting to meet each thrust, “i-it feels so good… don’t stop, p-please”
his pace quickens, your hips snapping harder against each other as the camera captures every single detail - the way his cock disappears inside you, how your cunt clings to him, how your breasts bounce with each thrush, his hand sliding between your bodies and finding your clit, making your back arch.
“listen how wet you are, soaking my cock while everyone watches us”, he growls, thrusting deeper even though you didn’t know that was possible, “you love this, don’t you, kitten?”
“y-yes, fuck, yes-”, you gasp, your walls clenching around him as your orgasm grows again.
aussielord: this is the hottest thing i’ve ever seen
maknaeontop: look how she’s taking him fuck
minho’s thrusts grow rougher, his thumb moving faster on your clit now.
“come for me, kitten”, he says, his voice strained, “come on my cock while they watch us”
his words send you over and your orgasm crashes through you hard as you squeeze his cock, your whole body shaking. minho groans loudly and then he breaks too, his hips stuttering as he fills you with his cum, his cock throbbing deep inside you.
you both collapse together, both of you breathing hard, your bodies slick with sweat. minho stays buried inside you for a bit before he pulls out, a mix of your releases dripping from your pussy onto the sheets.
“it was our pleasure. we’ll see you very soon, you freaks”, minho says as he reaches over and ends the livestream, the screen going dark.
he turns back to you, his mouth capturing yours again, his lips hungry and needy against yours. you moan against them, your hands moving to his hair, pulling him closer to you, as you bite his lower lip, making him groan against your mouth.
“and you…”, he says, pulling away just enough to whisper against your lips, “don’t think i’m done with you”, he says before he kisses you again, “you’re going to do that again on my other thigh…”, he says and you feel yourself getting wet again, the idea making you moan against his lips once more, “like the good kitten you are for me”
and with that you know that even though the livestream is done, the night is far from over.
a/n: the live: unfiltered series is finally here!! i'm so excited for you all to read them and what a way to start!! you all loved our cam!minho so he had to come back to kick this off hip hip 🥳 next up we have (in the words of han jisung) our very own big boy changbin so you better get ready for that 🙂↕️
the library
likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated 🌟
synopsis : You and Minho pretend to be dating just to get a special discount for couples at a cafe, and from that day forward he decides it’d be a funny idea to treat you as his girlfriend. Just for funsies, yes, ofc.
📝 writing lino is so fun he’s so tsundere-like. Also I almost named this as ‘case 143’ but I thought it wouldn’t really convey the fic vibe idk 🤷♀️ anyways i hope u enjoy it !! <3
tags : Lee Know x fem!reader, fluff, friends to lovers, fake dating as a starting point, ‘what are we’ kinda vibe, sarcasm, mixed signals (not on purpose tho, you’re both just confusing with your emotions lol), lino is referred as Minho
reminder: this is all a made-up fan-fiction just for fun!
It was hard to describe your relationship with Minho. Well, you’re friends. At least that’s what you’re supposed to be.
It was known he wasn’t that open with his emotions and always had a sarcastic comment to make instead. It was hard to tell what’s on his mind, but maybe that’s why you both clicked so well. You were more reserved yourself after all. Just like that, what began as jokes and sillyness evolved into a strong friendship like no other. Over time he became the most trustworthy person you knew. And funniest. And very, very good looking. You might also have this tiny little crush on him. But that’s only a detail, of course.
At this point, you were used to hiding what you felt. However things started getting complicated after that stupid idea. And now you couldn’t tell if he might feel the same or not.
evidence i.
“There’s a discount for couples today,” Minho commented as you both read the big letters on the cafe poster you were about to enter.
“You’re not thinking what I’m thinking,” you say already laughing, and the mischievous look on his face told you everything.
“It’s 35% off, that’s almost a free extra drink!” He chuckles. “Come on, I think we can be very convincing if we try,” he adds already taking your hand on his, intertwining your fingers and leading you inside. You can’t hold back the big smile that forms on your lips.
You both go straight to the attendant to ask for the promotional drinks, hoping for the best.
“Yes, our smoothies are on a special promotion for love birds,” the lady on the balcony explained politely. “Choose two flavors and you get the 35% off.”
“Great!” Minho cheered, his hand leaving yours to go firmly on your waist, bringing you closer, and you hope the way your eyes slightly widen isn’t obvious. He takes the menu. “I think I’ll go with strawberry banana. What about you, love?”
It took you a second to realize he was actually talking to you. Like yes, you’re ‘love’.
“Oh, I… I’d like the same as you, honey,” you say fast so you wouldn’t have to think too much, the pet name sounding strangely nice.
The woman nods as she registers your order. You’re opening your purse to get your wallet when Minho interrupts you.
“I’ll pay, don’t worry babe,” he winks, making you pause in confusion.
“Huh?” You tilt your head. You then steal a glance at the lady and remember you’re supposed to be playing along. You quickly try to disguise your surprise. “We can split, darling, I don’t mind.”
“Come on, it’s our anniversary, of course I’ll pay for us,” he improvises, already tapping his card on the payment terminal before you could protest.
“Oh, anniversary?” The lady looks up at you with curious eyes. “How long have you been together if you don’t mind me asking?”
“One year,” he replies promptly. You nod.
“Aw, that’s sweet. You two look so lovely together, I can tell just by the way you look at each other,” she compliments.
“We get that a lot,” he comments with a small laugh, his hand squeezing your shoulder. You grin to be polite, a bit too aware of his hand on you. It almost makes you miss the way his ears get redder.
“I’ll get your drinks, wait just a moment, please,” the attendant smiles as she turns her back to prepare the drinks.
“Copy cat,” Minho whispers when she’s not looking anymore. “You were supposed to choose a different flavor so I could steal from you.”
“I didn’t expect this to work, I’m nervous!” You whisper back.
“Why wouldn’t it work? You thought they’d ask us to kiss as proof or something?”
“Of course not, that’s not what I meant!” You hiss with your voice low, your cheeks getting a bit warmer.
“Here’s your order,” the friendly woman comes back with tasty smoothies, making you cease your banter immediately. “I hope you have a very special day today. You’re very lucky to have such an attentive gentleman by your side,” she says playfully glancing at you.
“Of course, thank you so much,” you shyly reply, trying to ignore the smirk that was growing on Minho’s face.
You sit on a table near the window, smoothies in hand. You can’t help but feel distracted by all that just happened.
“Wasn’t the discount the whole point of doing this?” You finally ask when you felt your cheeks weren’t on fire anymore.
“Yeah, she did discount it.” He shrugs with the straw between his teeth, already finished with almost one quarter of his drink.
“Then why did you pay for both of us? You ended up spending more anyways.”
He averted his eyes for a second before that smirk returned to his face. “Can’t I be a gentleman to my girlfriend?”
“We’re not actually dating,” you manage to say.
He pinched your cheek. “I got you a 100% discount, so stop complaining.”
evidence ii.
After that day at the cafe, for some unknown reason, Minho thought it’d be a funny idea to treat you as his girlfriend from time to time and started using pet names nonstop. Ironically, of course, as if it was an innocent inside joke. Or at least that’s what it looked like. But your heart couldn’t differentiate a joke from the real thing apparently.
That Tuesday you were at his place helping him with ideas to finish writing a sketch needed for a project which deadline was like, yesterday.
“Can you get the red pen for me, princess?” He asked you after taking some notes.
“Sure.”
“Thank you, honey,” he gave you his signature smirk before going back to writing frantically.
It all sounded like teasing, it definitely was, but it was starting to drive you crazy. Minho’s mixed signals were getting to you, and you couldn’t tell anymore if that was his way of flirting or if he was messing around as usual.
“Shoot, Chan’s already coming to get this paper,” Minho woke you up from your thoughts as soon as his phone screen lightens up with a notification. “He’s gonna nag at me the whole day if this isn’t done when he gets here…”
“You kinda deserve it,” you chuckle.
“It’s not like he didn’t finish his part on the last minute either,” he pouts, still writing.
“Ask him to buy snacks or cat food on his way,” you suggest. “That will buy you at least 15 minutes to finish it.”
“Ooh, genius,” he snapped his fingers and quickly picked up his phone to type the message to Chan, but not without teasing you first. “You’re not just a pretty face after all, huh?”
You didn’t know whether to feel complimented or insulted. He glanced at you and immediately laughed at your expression.
“Can you at least thank me properly for saving you here?” You lightly push his shoulder as retort, the tips of your ears redder.
He looks up at you, that stupid grin still plastered on his face. “Sorry, sorry. You know I’m just messing with you.” The corners of this mouth relax into a more genuine smile. “I’m aware you’re very smart and you’re really, really helping me a lot today. Even if you didn’t have to, you are,” he emphasizes in a sincere tone, carefully tucking a hair strand behind your ear, fond eyes looking straight into yours.
“Of course,” you play it off, trying not to sound as shy as you were getting. “You’ve helped me a lot before too so… It’s only natural.”
“Hm-hum. We’re partners in crime,” he nods, and pauses as if he realizes what he just said. He then gives you a look, his smirk making a return. “Who else would I call in this situation if not my beautiful lover?”
Oh, this again.
“Yeah, sure. Now finish this quickly before Chan gets here,” you chuckle, trying to disguise the way your heart skipped a beat.
evidence iii.
“Horror movie? I’m not sure…” You mumble as you both stand at the movie theater entrance, Minho’s film suggestion not being exactly to your taste.
“This one is not that scary, it’s just a bunch of silly jumpscares. Come on, it will be fun! I’ll even let you embrace me if you’re that terrified, since I’m so reliable.” He bumps your shoulder trying to convince you. “Seriously, you’ll like this one, I promise!”
“You’re insufferable.”
You end up agreeing to go anyways.
He guided you to the tickets balcony with a hand securely on your shoulder. The attendant showed you the available seats on the computer screen. It wasn’t sold out, but it wasn’t empty either, so you still had a few options to choose from.
“Wanna get the seats for couples in the back?” He suddenly suggested.
You knew what he was talking about. The last seats on that movie theater were reserved for couples because you could fold up the center armrests in order to cuddle your partner closer. Now why was he offering that.
You turned to look at him, and he playfully lifted his eyebrows at you. Gosh. He was just teasing you wasn’t he. Why would you cuddle in a horror movie session anyway.
“No thanks,” you answer without thinking, but your heart was thumping on your ears. “Let’s just stick to the seats next to the stairs,” you say, avoiding his eyes this time.
“Pshh, you’re no fun,” he breathes out a small laugh, but selects the seats you picked anyways. He went a bit quieter as he bought popcorn. Meanwhile, you just stood there not sure how unserious he was with all of this.
You couldn’t really focus on the movie that day.
And he didn’t try anything the whole session besides laughing when you got scared.
evidence iv.
“I kinda missed you,” he said with a genuine smile when you bumped into each other by coincidence.
“It’s been barely a week,” you shrugged, trying to keep it together.
“Doesn’t matter,” he replied, his lips curving into a smirk. “Can’t I miss my girlfriend?”
Yeah, sure.
You sigh. How you wish this could be true. But what if you speak up your mind and make a fool out of yourself? Would it ruin your friendship? What if he laughed at your face?? One hundred different scenarios go through your head to make you give up. …but suddenly your eyes lighten up as an idea came to mind. If he was just teasing you, you could correspond jokingly as well. Just to test the waters.
“If you wanted to see me that much you could have asked me out on a date.”
He stiffens instantly, like he didn’t expect you to actually play along. You never did until now.
“Date?” He echoes just to make sure, eyes slightly widened.
“Yes, honey. That’s what lovers usually do.”
“Really?” He tilts his head, trying to get the teasing tone back to his voice without much success. “So you won’t run off if I ask you out?”
“Run off? You’re ridiculous,” you can’t help but chuckle at his reaction, but you try to stay in character. “Why would I? We’ve been on dates before, haven’t we? The movies and that cafe.”
“…I see.” He finally nod, a tint of red coloring his cheeks. He clears his throat, and you could swear you’ve never seen him act so shy, his behavior changing so suddenly. “In that case, would you like to go out with me? I could… pick you up tomorrow afternoon.”
You felt like your heart was going to burst.
evidence v.
That day, there weren’t pet names. There weren’t couple jokes either. Actually, you were both a bit tense about the date.
“You know, I chose the cat cafe in hopes it wouldn’t be so awkward but I guess it didn’t work,” he says eventually with an embarassed laugh.
“No, it did work, the cats are cute,” you say quickly while caressing the feline sitting next to you. “I’m just a little distracted today.” A beat. “You’re also quieter.”
“Maybe,” he murmured, eyeing the kitten sleeping close to his leg.
“Yet you’re the one who was entertaining the whole lovers thing the most,” you comment. “I thought you’d be full of that today.”
“Well, yes, I was. But actually, I wanted to tell you that... How do I say it…” he bites his lip. “Today isn’t just teasing or playing pretend. I meant it when I asked you out.”
You feel your heart skip a beat. “I know,” you nodded. “I’m glad you did.”
“Yeah?” His tone softens. “I wasn’t sure if you were a fan of the idea since you were kinda pushing me away,” he admits as he fidgets with the straw of his drink.
“What? No, I wasn’t! Really,” you immediately try to explain, the cat next to you meowing in complain of your sudden move. You take a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve actually been overthinking it because I didn’t know whether it was all just a joke or if there was something more to it, so I was afraid of… you know… playing along and end up liking you even more to the point there wasn’t going back anymore,” you quietly finish.
He finally meets your eyes, taking a moment to really look at you.
“…That was the risk I was taking too.”
Your breath catches on your throat. He notices your silence and speaks again.
“I started this couple play-pretend thing because… You know.” He scratches the back of his neck, trying to find the words. “It felt like this way I could say and do all that stuff without scaring you off or sounding weird. Since we’ve been close friends for so long.”
Oh. Oh my.
“It wouldn’t sound weird. It would have worked from the beginning if you were just honest,” you say sheepishly, still trying to process his words.
“Yeah, I realize it now from that cute blush of yours,” he points out, making you redder.
“Oh, shut up,” you look down at the cat peacefully lying beside you again. There was a new feeling blooming in your chest. Giddy, fresh and safe, all at the same time.
“So…” he clears his throat. “May I take you to that cafe again this week? So we can get another couple discount and so I can do things for real this time. No play-pretends.”
And just like this, that excited, insistent smile you’ve been trying to hold back appears on your lips.
“…Will I get that 100% discount again?” You can’t help but tease.
“Sure, pretty.” He breathes out a laugh, not hiding his heart eyes either.
— ahhh this was longer than I expected but it’s kinda rushed at the same time..? anyways i think I’m happy with how it turned out ig dkdndjdj Lemme know what u guys think :))
take a look at my girlfriend — shes the only one I got!
or: times different skz members got hit on, and they proudly showed you off as their partner.
wc:4k (500 ish each)
warnings: none! ot8(separate) x reader, fluff, crack, nonidol!au
a/n: a little treat for hitting 2k hehe ૮(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)ა
chan — 'she even loves the music that my band makes'
The couch at the studio has a permanent dent in the cushions from where you always slouched. You didn’t plan on becoming a fixture there — it just happened. His late nights turned into your late nights, his takeout orders became your takeout orders, and when you fell asleep for the first time waiting for him to finish editing, the studio stopped feeling like his workplace and started feeling like yours too.
At first, it was just weekend visits. dropping off lunch, then lingering a while till he finished up. Then the weeknights where you’d wait past midnight, because going home alone felt lonely and wrong when he was still working.
2racha—changbin and jisung— stopped asking why you were there (han occasionally slept on the other side of the couch anyway). Even the security guard waved you through without checking your badge.
Tonight was no different. You were curled under his hoodie, half watching some reality show on your laptop while Chan tweaked a vocal track for the third hour straight.
an intern had arrived an hour ago, all bright laughter and eager questions. You didn’t mind at first, Chan was patient with newbies, always explaining things twice if needed. But then her chair inched closer to his. Then she started getting touchy when it wasn't necessary.
Chan didn’t even look her way, just leaned back in his chair, occasionally putting space between them. You watched from the couch, the laptop screen long forgotten.
Then she asked the question, voice pitched too high, “So, are you single, or…?”
You held your breath without meaning to. chan’s fingers stilled on the keyboard. Then he turned his head, just enough to catch your eye over his shoulder, and the corner of his mouth twitched, jerking his thumb to your direction, “I’m married, actually,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
The intern’s face froze. Her gaze darted to you, then back to Chan, like she was trying to reconcile the idea of him belonging to someone with the fact that you were just… there. Quiet, half buried in his hoodie.
Chan didn’t wait for her to recover. He tapped his wedding band against the edge of his laptop and nodded toward the door. “that's a wrap for today, you should head out. It’s late.”
minho — 'you got me trippin' in finesse'
you've learned to read Minho's body like a second language, he's a dancer after all. You know his tells before he even speaks.
the way his shoulders relax when he’s finally nailed a routine, the quick tap of his fingers against his thigh when he’s impatient, the slight tilt of his head when he’s watching someone else move. It’s all punctuation in a conversation you’ve been having for months without saying a word.
You met at a studio mixer last summer, back when you were still just the barback for the afterparty, refilling drinks and dodging sweaty elbows. He’d been the one to notice you first, initiating a conversation with you over the counter.
Later, when the music switched to something slow and sultry, he’d pulled you onto the dance floor without asking, and you hadn’t protested.
Minho isn’t the type to flaunt things, though. He keeps his private life private, and you respect that, just a quiet understanding that some things don’t need an audience.
right now, you’re leaning against the doorway of studio 3, watching him run through a new routine with the team. Sweat glinting at his temples as he mirrors the others. You’ve seen this drill a hundred times, but it never gets old.
The music cuts abruptly mid step, and Minho’s gaze snaps toward the sound system — only to land on you instead. his expression turns into a soft smile, and you grin right back at him, raising your water bottle in a silent greeting.
One of the newer dancers, a woman with her hair tied in a tight topknot, follows his line of sight and raises an eyebrow.
Topknot leans into his space as he adjusts the music, her elbow brushing his arm. “You always this serious during practice?” she asks, he doesn’t look up from the playlist, just shrugs one shoulder.
Undeterred, she adds, “Bet you’re fun outside the studio, though. You ever take anyone out after hours?”
Minho’s fingers pause over the soundboard for half a second before he taps the play button again, letting the music swell back to life. He doesn’t answer her, just steps away to reset his position in the center of the room.
But topknot doesn't get a hint, it seems. She sidles closer, her voice dropping. “Come on, do you have a girlfriend or something?” She flicks her eyes toward you, still leaning in the doorway, and adds, “Or are you playing hard to get?”
You take a slow sip of your water. He’s never been one to entertain this kind of thing — not because he’s rude, but because he doesn’t see the point in feeding into games.
Still, you can tell the moment he decides to shut it down. He turns his head just enough to catch your eye, and the corner of his mouth twitches.
“nah,” he says, loud enough for the room to hear. “I already have someone.”
Topknot blinks, then laughs, like she thinks he’s joking. “Yeah? Where are they, then?”
Minho doesn’t hesitate. He lifts his chin toward you, and the smirk he’s been holding back finally breaks through. “Right there.”
changbin — 'guy.exe: 6 5'6 feet tall and super strong'
a matte black dumbbell rolled from Changbin’s grip and thudded against the rubber gym floor. He’d been at it for two hours— shoulders, back, arms, a relentless workout that left his top sticking to his skin in abstract patches of sweat. You watched from the bench near the water cooler, half hidden behind your phone, pretending to scroll while stealing glances at the way his muscles flexed under the lights.
Three years together, and the sight of him still made your pulse skip.
The gym was mostly empty, mid afternoon lull, just a few die hards and the staff wiping down machines. You’d come straight from work, still in your office slacks, your hair barely holding onto its ponytail. Changbin had texted earlier with a come keep me company and a winking emoji. who were you to turn down an excuse to watch your boyfriend work out?
A woman, early twenties, in one of those matching pink gym sets, hovered near Changbin’s bench while he adjusted the weight rack. You caught the tail end of her question, something about his deadlift form, but then she made her move. "Damn tho, you’re built like a god. Single?"
Changbin snorted, wiping his forearm across his forehead.. "Do I look single?" he said, shaking his head like the idea was ridiculous. Then, without hesitation, he tilted his chin toward you standing a few feet away, there, and grinned. "That’s my girl."
The woman followed his gaze, blinking at you like she’d only just noticed the water cooler, the benches, the entire half of the gym you occupied. You raised your hand in a half wave. "Sorry," he added, not sounding sorry at all.
You expected her to leave, but she just smirked, propping a hand on her waist. "Lucky girl," she said, loud enough for you to hear. then, to Changbin "You ever wanna trade up, you know where to find me." yikes.
Changbin’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyebrows did a little jump, He shot you a look—girl you seein' this?—before shrugging. "Nah," he said, casual as anything. "I’m good." He moved towards you and planted a kiss on your cheek, "Better than good."
hyunjin — 'hopelessly devoted to you'
You and Hyunjin had been neighbors in that crumbling apartment complex where the pipes groaned louder than the tenants, and your first real conversation happened because he'd left his studio door ajar.
The scent of paint had pulled you in like a lure, and there he was, sleeves rolled up, forearms smeared with charcoal, halfway through painting something that looked like a storm given human form. and you were mesmerized.
By the time you started dating, you'd learned to love the mess of him — the way his hair stuck up in every direction after hours of working, the paint streaks on his jeans, the fact that he'd forget to eat unless you nudged a takeout container into his line of sight. He balanced his chaotic creativity with a quiet steadiness that surprised you.
his art thrived on bold strokes and screaming colors, his love language was more subtle, warming your cold fingers between his palms, humming off key to your favorite songs while he cooked food for you, tracing the curve of your shoulder blade when he thought you were asleep.
The gallery showing was his first major one. You'd watched him prepare for weeks. frames piling up near the door, muttered debates about lighting choices at 3 am. When the invitations finally arrived, he'd handed yours over, "You don't have to come," he'd said, but you knew he wanted you to be there.
You'd kissed the worry from his forehead and tucked the invitation into your wallet, where it stayed until the corners softened from handling.
Now, standing near a table with a champagne flute you hadn't touched, you watched him work the room. Hyunjin moved through the crowd like water, slipping effortlessly between conversations without ever seeming anchored to any one group.
His laugh carried over the murmur of guests, and you felt that familiar warmth curl behind your ribs. This was his element, even if he'd never admit it. The way people leaned in when he spoke, how their eyes flicked toward his hands when he gestured — he commanded attention without trying, and you loved him most like this, alive with his passion.
The girl approaching him now had been circling for a while. You'd noticed her earlier, lingering near his largest piece, her head tilted in a way that suggested admiration.
When she touched Hyunjin's elbow, you saw him startle slightly before turning with that polite smile he reserved for strangers.
You couldn't hear them over the gallery's din, but her body language was clear. fingers tucking hair behind her ear, the slight lean forward. Hyunjin nodded along, hands stuffed in his pockets, already scanning the room for an exit.
You didn’t move, not yet anyway, because part of you wanted to see how he’d handle it.
That’s when he saw you. His eyes flicked over her shoulder, and something in his face shifted, relief.
You stood from the table, weaving through the crowd, the girl hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy tilting her chin up at him, one hand now resting on her collarbone.
“...really think we should discuss your technique, over some coffee?” she was saying as you slid into place beside him, close enough that your hip brushed his.
Hyunjin exhaled, barely audible, as you laced your fingers through his. His palm was warm, slightly damp from nerves, and you squeezed once, “Oh, he’d love that,” you said, sweetly. The girl blinked, her smile freezing as you added, “I’ll come too, I’m his girlfriend.”
“Yeah,” he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice before you even looked towards him. “she's my muse.”
jisung — 'everywhere I go I keep her picture in my wallet'
"Jisung." You poked his shoulder with your socked foot from where you were sprawled across the couch. "I will perish."
He didn’t look up from his phone, thumb scrolling lazily. "Dramatic."
"No, listen—" You rolled onto your stomach, pressing your cheek against the cushions. "My stomach is eating itself."
This time, he glanced over, one eyebrow raised. "You just ate two hours ago."
"Snacks aren’t food," you said gravely.
Jisung sighed, tossing his phone onto the coffee table with a soft clatter. "Fine," he said, dragging the word out like it physically pained him. "But if I'm going out in the middle of the night, you're eating the weird gummy worms I pick out."
You grinned, kicking your legs against the couch cushions. "Deal."
The convenience store felt both too bright and eerily empty at 1 AM. Jisung grabbed a basket, tossing in the usual suspects, chips, chocolate, those inexplicably neon gummy worms, and went over to the counter to pay when the cashier leaned over the counter. "You again," she said, grinning. "Third time this week."
Jisung blinked, setting the basket on the counter "Uh, yeah."
she picked up the contents, scanning each one as she went on. "I mean, you could be here for the snacks or whatever ," she said, waving a hand, "or you could admit you keep showing up for the ambiance." Her grin widened. "And by ambiance, I mean me."
jisungs mouth gaped, "Oh no, no, I'm—Married. Very, extremely married." then he pulled out his wallet, flipping it to the clear plastic sleeve where a polaroid of both of you rested. one where you were kissing his cheek and he had a big, wide grin on his face, then pulled out his card to pay.
she blinked, her grin faltering for half a second before she leaned back, shrugging with exaggerated nonchalances as she took the card from his hand "Damn," she said, clicking her tongue. "Figures the cute ones are always taken."
The apartment was dark when he got back, you were still in your spot on the couch, waiting impatiently for him. "Finally"
Jisung let the door slam shut behind him, you barely had time to process the dramatic thud before he was crossing the room in three long strides, arms outstretched, the plastic bag dangling from one hand.
He crashed into you with the force of a man who’d just survived a warzone, his face buried in the crook of your neck before you could even ask what was wrong. “I got hit on,” he mumbled into your skin, voice muffled.
You blinked, arms frozen mid-air around him, the crinkling snack bag pressed awkwardly between your ribs. “...By who?”
“The cashier,” he hissed, His cheeks were still flushed, the tips of his ears pink like he’d sprinted home instead of walked. “you’re coming with me next time. No. More. Solo. Snack. Runs.”
felix — 'the perfect pair'
the first time Felix walked into the community kitchen, he nearly dropped an entire tray of freshly chopped carrots.
You'd been there six months already — long enough to know that the dented metal tray was older than both of you combined, and that the carrots were destined for a stew that would feed sixty. You lunged without thinking, catching the edge just as it tipped, fingertips brushing against his.
"Thanks," he said, his sleeves were already rolled up past his elbows, "I swear I'm usually better at carrying things."
Felix still drops things sometimes, never the carrots again, but last month it was a spoonful of cinnamon that poofed into a cloud across the counter. You laughed so hard your ribs ached, and he grinned like he'd meant to do it, like every little accident was just an excuse to hear you laugh.
Now, twelve months deep into this rhythm — Saturday mornings at the kitchen, Sunday afternoons tangled in his double bed, it's your little routine now.
This morning, he's leaning against the fridge, peeling labels off donated jam jars while humming off key. "Mrs. eom asked if we're doing the pumpkin soup again," he says, glancing at you. "Told her we'd have to check with the boss." He winks. You're not the boss. There is no boss. But this is Felix's favorite joke, his way of stitching you into the center of his stories, even when you're just scrubbing pans in the corner.
this new volunteer has been hovering around him all morning. You recognize the tilt of her head, she keeps finding reasons to step into his space, keeps finding reasons to strike up conversations, and he's too kind to turn her down on the get go.
she might've mistaked his kindness for something else though.
He's handing her a knife to chop chilis when she "accidentally" grazes his wrist. "You're always so patient with everyone," she says, he replies with a simple "thank you", polite as ever, but you could tell he was uncomfortable.
You don't move. Because Felix is already walking over to your station, he bumps his forehead lightly against your temple "Rescue me," he murmurs into your hair, and you can feel her stare burning holes in your back.
"Tell her yourself," you whisper, amused. you're already reaching for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. Felix exhales, relieved, before turning back to her with that easy smile.
"Oh! Almost forgot," he says brightly "This is my favorite person. The reason I never miss a Saturday."
And just like that, the room tilts back into place, Felix glowing like always, you beside him, and the quiet understanding that some things, like this kitchen, like his hand in yours, aren't up for grabs.
seungmin — 'I'd risk it all for you '
stadium lights blazed down, bright enough as if the sun was still up, turning the sweat on Seungmin’s skin into glitter. He wiped his forearm across his brow, smearing a streak of infield dirt in the process, and grinned at the roar of the crowd still thrumming through the stands. The mic in his hand was warm from being passed around, and the interviewer, was standing just a little too close. Her perfume was floral, aggressive.
"Kim Seungmin," she said, "Another incredible performance tonight. That last play — were you trying to give your fans a heart attack?"
Seungmin laughed, easy and practiced, the sound swallowed up by the noise around them. "Nah, just wanted to keep things interesting." He shrugged, adjusting the cap perched on his damp hair. The fabric of his jersey clung to his shoulders, heavy with sweat and adrenaline.
"Interesting is one word for it." She tilted her head, leaning in enough that the mic brushed his chest. "You’ve been on a hot streak this season. What’s driving you?"
Seungmin exhaled through his nose, a quick, amused breath. "Same thing as always," he said, gaze drifting past the interviewer's shoulder toward the stands. "Love of the game."
"That’s it? Just pure passion? No special someone in the stands tonight?"
Seungmin let the silence stretch just long enough for the tension to coil — then, he spoke again, "Actually," he said slowly, "yeah. My girlfriend’s here."
The interviewer blinked. The mic slipped a fraction in her grip.
The crowd erupted, a collective 'ohhh' rippling through the stands. Somewhere in the noise, someone wolf whistled. Seungmin didn’t react, just kept that easy, knowing smile, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
"we've been together since college," he continued, voice carrying effortlessly over the din. The interviewer recovered quickly, professionalism snapping back into place, but her grip on the mic was tighter now.
“That’s sweet,” she said, and it wasn’t insincere, “Care to share more? The fans would love to hear.”
Seungmin’s gaze flicked back to where you were sitting — third baseline, five rows up, right where you always were, and his expression softened. “She hates when I talk about her in interviews,” he admitted, laughing under his breath. “But she’s the reason I don’t overthink pitches. And the reason I do stretch before games.”
The interviewer opened her mouth, probably to pivot back to safer baseball territory, but the cameraman beat her to it, swinging the lens abruptly toward the stands. The stadium screen flickered, then locked onto your face, blown up fifty feet tall for thirty thousand people to see.
Your lips parted in surprise, the nacho you’d been mid bite hovering forgotten in your hand. Seungmin’s chuckle echoed through the speakers, "There she is,"
A nearby fan elbowed you, grinning. "Girl, you’re famous now!" she stage whispered. Your cheeks burned, but you managed a small wave at the camera, awkward, The crowd ate it up, cooed like it was the cutest thing they’d ever seen.
On screen, Seungmin’s smile went crooked, like he was trying not to laugh at you. "See?" he told the interviewer, nodding toward the screen. "Told you she hates this." The mic caught the rasp in his voice, the one that only showed up when he was tired or fond. Tonight, it was both.
Jeongin — 'love struck girl, I'd tease her.'
"You would pick the one night we’re out of ice cream to confess you like me," Jeongin had said that night two years ago, his voice cracking halfway through the sentence. He’d been holding a half melted pint of strawberry between you like a peace offering, or maybe a shield.
The confession had been an accident, words slipping out during one of those aimless midnight drives where the radio played nothing but old love songs and static.
You’d blamed the music, blamed the summer heat, blamed the way he’d drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat.
But Jeongin, ever meticulous, had pulled into the nearest convenience store parking lot, then returned with the ice cream as if that solved anything. but it only got that confession out of you that was begging to crawl out of your throat days prior.
Now, standing in the crowded glow of your friends apartment, you watch Jeongin from across the room. He’s holding a drink he hasn’t sipped yet, nodding as some woman you don’t recognize — a friend of a friend, probably — talks animatedly about something.
The way she gestures tells you it’s a story, not small talk. Jeongin’s always been a good listener, the kind who leans in just enough to make people feel heard, but tonight there’s a stiffness in his shoulders you recognize.
Hyunjin bumps your elbow with a fresh beer. "You’re staring," he sing songs under his breath.
You take the bottle without looking. "I’m observing."
"Same thing." He follows your gaze, then snorts. "Oh, her. She’s new. Felix invited her. Something about crypto startups? I tuned out after 'blockchain.'"
The woman— crypto girl —leans closer to Jeongin, her hand brushing his sleeve as she laughs. You don’t move. Jeongin’s fingers twitch against his glass, then still.
Then, clear across the room "So… are you single?"
Hyunjin chokes on his drink.
Jeongin blinks, caught off guard. For a second, he looks like he might laugh it off, might deflect like he used to when strangers flirted with him at bars back when you were just friends. But then his gaze flicks to you and his posture shifts.
"No," he says, quieter than usual. "I’m engaged."
Crypto girl’s eyebrows shoot up. "Really? I wouldn’t have guessed."
Before she can say more, you’re crossing the room, setting your beer down on the table beside Jeongin with a clink. "What wouldn’t you have guessed?" you ask, voice light.
Jeongin exhales, something close to relief. His fingers find yours without hesitation "That I’m taken," he says, squeezing your hand.
Crypto girl’s smile falters. "Ah. My bad." She retreats with a half hearted salute, already scanning the room for someone else to talk to.
Jeongin watches her go, then turns to you, sheepish. "Sorry."
"You’re apologizing for existing attractively now?" you tease, bumping his shoulder.
He rolls his eyes, but his thumb traces circles over your knuckles. "Shut up."
a/n: I hope at least one person gets all the lyrical references I made in this or I might just cry
Synopsis: han jisung as the third wheel who is not really a third wheel at all
A/n: ahh this had made me want to write for these two even more if anyone has any requests i would love to write them!
Wc: 3,267
Dating Minho came with rules.
Not official ones, of course. Minho wasn’t the type to sit you down with a serious face and a bullet-pointed list of relationship terms. He was more the type to silently place the last piece of meat in your bowl, glare at you until you ate it, and then call you dramatic when you got emotional about it.
Still, the rules existed.
One: Soonie, Doongie, and Dori were to be spoken to with respect at all times.
Two: if Minho cooked, you were expected to praise him properly. Not too much, because then he’d accuse you of being fake. Not too little, because then he’d sulk in silence for exactly twelve minutes.
Three: if you were dating Minho, you were also dating the fact that Han Jisung came attached.
That third rule was the one no one warned you about.
You had discovered it slowly.
At first, Jisung appeared on casual outings. A café trip here, a convenience store run there. Minho would text you, I’m outside, and when you opened the car door, Jisung would already be sitting in the back seat with a packet of crisps, waving at you like he had been invited.
“Hi,” he’d say cheerfully. “Don’t mind me.”
You would glance at Minho.
Minho would stare straight ahead, one hand on the wheel. “He was hungry.”
That was always the excuse.
He was hungry. He was bored. He looked lonely. He said he wanted coffee. He was whining. He followed me out. He has separation anxiety.
Jisung never denied any of it. In fact, he seemed rather proud.
Over time, he stopped sitting in the back seat.
Now, he sat in the passenger seat when Minho drove, because he claimed he got carsick in the back, even though everyone knew that was a lie. You sat behind Minho, reaching forward occasionally to poke his cheek or fix the collar of his jacket. Jisung would watch in the mirror, lips pursed.
“You never fix my collar,” he complained one afternoon.
“You’re wearing a hoodie,” Minho said.
“So?”
“So there’s no collar.”
Jisung turned around to look at you with wounded eyes. “Do you see how he speaks to me?”
You leaned forward and gently adjusted the drawstrings of his hoodie instead. “There. Better?”
Jisung immediately melted back into his seat, smiling smugly. “Much better.”
Minho clicked his tongue, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
That was how it always went.
Jisung complained. You fussed. Minho pretended to be annoyed. Then, when Jisung wasn’t looking, Minho would do something stupidly tender, like pass him the first bite of food or tug his hood up because the wind was cold.
It was impossible not to love them together.
It was also impossible to go on a normal date.
You had tried.
Not because Jisung was rude about it or anything. He wasn’t. That was the thing people didn’t always get about him.
For all his dramatic whining and his tragic little sighs whenever Minho said he was busy, Jisung knew when to step back. He knew when a date was a date. A proper one. The kind where you dressed up, Minho booked a table somewhere nice, and Jisung sent exactly one text saying, Have fun, bring me dessert if you love me.
Which, obviously, Minho pretended to ignore.
And then brought him dessert anyway.
That was how it usually went.
Tonight had been one of those proper dates.
You had spent too long getting ready, changing your outfit twice before settling on something you knew Minho liked. Not because he was hard to impress — he really wasn’t, no matter how much he acted like he was — but because the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention still made your stomach do stupid little flips.
When he knocked on your door, you opened it before he could text you something annoying like hurry up, I’m ageing outside.
Minho stood there in a black coat, hair soft over his forehead, one hand tucked into his pocket.
For once, he didn’t immediately say something sarcastic.
His eyes moved over you, slow and obvious, and his mouth parted just slightly before he caught himself.
You leaned against the doorframe. “What?”
He blinked, then looked you right in the eye.
“You look gorgeous.”
There it was.
No mumbling. No pretending. No weird
dodge.
Just Minho, looking at you like you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen and deciding, apparently, that you deserved to hear it.
Your face warmed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His gaze dipped again, softer this time. “Really pretty.”
You tried to play it cool. You failed immediately.
“Careful,” you said, stepping out and locking the door behind you. “Compliment me too much and I might start thinking you like me.”
Minho took your hand before you could overthink it, lacing his fingers through yours. “Shit. That would be embarrassing.”
The date itself was perfect in that quiet, sort of way.
He complained about the lighting in the restaurant and then still took a picture of you because he said you looked too good not to. He told you not to order something spicy because you’d regret it, then swapped plates with you halfway through when you did, in fact, regret it. He reached across the table to wipe sauce from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, called you messy, and smiled when you kicked him lightly under the table.
It was romantic.
It was just yours.
No interruptions. No Jisung dramatically appearing.
Because Jisung wasn’t a dick.
He might be clingy. He might text Minho twenty-seven times in a row because he saw a cat that “looked similar” to him. He might act like being left alone for three hours was the same as being abandoned in the wilderness.
But he respected you.
He respected Minho.
He respected the relationship.
And maybe that was why you liked letting him into it so much.
By the time dinner was over, you and Minho were walking back to the car hand in hand, your shoulder tucked against his arm, the night air cold enough to make you shiver.
Minho noticed immediately.
Without a word, he unwound his scarf and looped it around your neck.
You smiled. “You’ll be cold.”
“I’m strong.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“You’re gorgeous. Be quiet.”
You laughed, tugging the scarf closer around yourself. “You can’t just say that whenever you want me to stop arguing.”
“It worked.”
“It did, actually.”
His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and for a moment, everything was calm and warm and easy.
Then his phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Minho didn’t even check it at first.
You did.
Not the messages, just the name lighting up on his screen.
Han Jisung.
You snorted. “Your son is calling.”
“He’s older than a son.”
You snorted again. “Your other half is calling.”
The phone buzzed again.
Minho sighed like the weight of the world had personally chosen him. Then he answered, putting it on speaker before you could stop grinning.
“What?”
Jisung’s voice came through instantly. “Wow. Hello to you too, sunshine.”
“What do you want?”
“First of all, rude. Second of all, nothing. I’m just checking you’re alive.”
“You texted me nine times.”
“Because you didn’t answer.”
“I was on a date.”
“I know! That’s why I only texted nine times. I was being respectful.”
You covered your mouth, laughing silently.
Minho glanced at you, his expression flat, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “What happened?”
There was a pause.
Then Jisung said, quieter, “Nothing happened.”
Minho stopped walking.
You stopped too.
His voice changed, not by much, but enough that you heard it. Softer. More focused.
“Han.”
Jisung made a small noise. “Don’t do the scary voice.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing bad. I just…” Another pause. “I finished my schedule and everyone’s doing their own thing and I’m bored as fuck.”
You looked at Minho.
Minho looked at you.
You leaned closer to the phone. “Did you eat?”
Jisung gasped. “Oh my God, hi.”
“Hi, Sungie. Did you eat?”
“Define eat.”
Minho closed his eyes. “Han Jisung.”
“I had crisps.”
“That’s not dinner,” you said.
“It was a big bag.”
Minho was already pulling his keys from his pocket. “We’re picking you up.”
Jisung went silent.
Then, suspiciously soft, “You are?”
You glanced at Minho, raising your eyebrows.
He shrugged like this hadn’t been his decision before you even said anything.
“Our date’s finished,” you said. “And Minho owes you dessert.”
“I do not,” Minho said.
“You bought it already.”
Jisung made a delighted sound. “You bought me dessert?”
“No,” Minho said.
“He did,” you said.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You asked the waiter to pack an extra slice of cheesecake.”
“That could be for me.”
“You don’t even like cheesecake that much.”
Jisung’s voice wobbled with pure, ridiculous emotion. “You got me cheesecake?”
Minho unlocked the car. “I’m hanging up.”
“Hyung.”
“What?”
“I love you.”
Minho froze for half a second.
You watched him carefully.
His face didn’t change much, but his ears went pink again.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Stay where you are.”
He hung up before Jisung could make it worse.
You slipped into the passenger seat this time, still wrapped in Minho’s scarf, still warm from dinner and his compliments and the easy weight of his hand in yours.
As soon as he started the car, you looked over at him.
He didn’t look back. “What?”
“You’re cute.”
“I’m driving. Don’t annoy me.”
“You got him cheesecake.”
“He’s annoying when he wants something sweet.”
“You love him.”
Minho’s fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel.
For a second, you wondered if you’d pushed too far.
Then he said, very quietly, “So do you.”
You smiled.
“Yeah,” you admitted. “I do.”
He glanced at you then, quick and careful.
Not jealous. Not uncomfortable.
Just checking.
You reached over and rested your hand on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I love you too, you know.”
Minho’s face softened immediately.
“I know,” he said.
Then, after a beat, “I love you.”
You grinned. “See? Was that so hard?”
“Awful. Nearly died.”
“You’re so brave.”
He smiled then, small but real, and took one hand off the wheel just long enough to lift your hand to his mouth and kiss your knuckles.
By the time you pulled up outside the studio, Jisung was already waiting near the entrance in an oversized hoodie, bouncing slightly on his heels from the cold.
The second he saw the car, his whole face lit up.
“Oh, he is so pleased with himself,” you said.
Minho sighed. “Don’t encourage him.”
“You say that like we aren’t literally here to pick him up and give him cake.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“He’s pathetic.”
Jisung opened the back door before you could answer and immediately leaned between the front seats. “I heard that.”
“Good,” Minho said.
Jisung ignored him completely and looked at you. “Hi, pretty.”
“Hi, princess.”
His smile turned smug instantly.
Minho groaned. “Don’t call him that. He gets worse.”
“I deserve nice things,” Jisung said, climbing into the back seat and shutting the door. “I have suffered.”
“You were alone for two hours,” Minho said.
“Exactly.”
You turned around in your seat and reached back to fix the hood slipping off Jisung’s head. His hair was messy underneath, fluffy and sticking up at the sides.
“You’re freezing,” you said.
“I know, I’ve been suffering out here.”
Minho reached for the heater without being asked.
Jisung noticed.
You noticed him noticing.
Minho noticed both of you noticing and immediately looked pissed off about being perceived.
“Don’t,” he warned.
Jisung pressed his lips together.
You did the same.
The silence lasted three seconds.
Then Jisung said, “You love me so bad.”
Minho put the car into drive. “I’m taking you back.”
“No, you’re not. You have cheesecake.”
“Had cheesecake.”
Jisung gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
You reached into the bag at your feet and pulled out the takeaway box. “He wouldn’t. He was very serious about making sure they packed it properly.”
Minho muttered something under his breath.
Jisung leaned forward, eyes shining. “Can I have it now?”
“No,” Minho said.
“Yes,” you said at the same time.
Jisung looked between you both. “Mum said yes.”
Minho’s head turned slowly.
You burst out laughing.
“Do not call her that,” he said.
Jisung looked between you both. “Your gorgeous date said yes.”
Minho’s head turned slowly. “Don’t flirt with my date.”
“I’m complimenting her.”
“That’s flirting.”
Jisung smiled around his fork. “You’re jealous.”
You reached back and gently pinched Jisung’s cheek. “Eat your cheesecake before he takes it back.”
Jisung immediately clutched the box closer. “He wouldn’t. He loves me too much.”
He took one bite and immediately slumped back against the seat, eyes closing. “Fuck, that’s good.”
Minho glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. “Seatbelt.”
Jisung, still chewing, blindly reached for it.
You watched Minho watching him.
That was the thing about dating Minho. People who didn’t know him properly always acted like he was hard to read, like his love had to be dug out from underneath layers of sarcasm and blank stares.
But you had never really seen it that way.
Minho loved in a way that was almost impossible to miss if you paid attention. He held your hand without thinking. He fixed Jisung’s hood when it slipped off his head. He kept his palm warm against the small of your back when you walked through busy places, guiding you gently without making a big deal out of it. He bought the cheesecake. He turned the heating up. He told you that you looked gorgeous and said it like he meant every single letter.
He could tease, obviously. He could be dry and blunt and annoying as hell when he wanted to be.
But cold?
Never.
Not with you.
Not with Jisung.
Not when he looked at the two of you like you were something soft he had been trusted to take care of.
By the time you got back to the dorm, Jisung had already eaten three bites of the cheesecake in the car despite Minho telling him to wait until you were all inside.
He had agreed, very seriously, and then opened the box the second Minho looked back at the road.
“You have no self-control,” Minho said, unlocking the door.
Jisung walked in first, cheesecake tucked protectively against his chest. “I have joy. You should try it sometime.”
“Don’t say that while holding a plastic fork,” Minho said.
“Why?”
“It ruins the effect.”
You laughed, slipping past Minho into the dorm. “So there was an effect?”
Minho looked at you, then down at your outfit again, the same way he’d been doing all night when he thought he was being subtle.
“There is when you do it,” he said.
Your face warmed immediately.
You took your coat off, still smiling, and before you could reach for the hook, Minho stepped behind you and lifted it gently from your shoulders.
His hands lingered for half a second.
“You really did look gorgeous tonight,” he said, quieter now.
You turned your head slightly, smiling at him over your shoulder. “You’ve told me that already.”
“I know.”
“And you’re telling me again?”
His mouth curved. “Problem?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He kissed your cheek before hanging your coat up, quick and casual enough to make your heart feel stupid.
When you glanced towards the living room, Jisung was already on the sofa, cheesecake balanced on his lap, fork held loosely in his hand.
He wasn’t saying anything.
Which was, honestly, how you knew something was up.
Usually, Jisung filled every room he was in. A little hum here, a comment there, some dramatic noise just to remind everyone he existed and deserved to be looked at. But now he was just sitting there, lips pushed into the smallest pout, poking at the corner of his cheesecake without actually eating it.
You softened immediately.
Minho noticed too.
His eyes flicked over Jisung’s face, and all the teasing left him at once.
You sat down beside Jisung, still smiling, and reached over to fix the hood of his jumper where it had bunched awkwardly behind his neck. “Poor Sungie.”
Jisung’s pout deepened, but he leaned into you almost instantly, like he’d been waiting for permission.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled.
“No, you’re not.” You reached up and pushed his hair back from his forehead, gentle with it. “You’re sulking.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“You’re holding your fork sadly.”
His eyes dropped to the fork in his hand.
Then, very quietly, he said, “Maybe a little.”
Your chest went all warm and soft.
You cupped his cheek, thumb brushing lightly over his skin. “Did you want some attention too?”
Jisung didn’t answer straight away.
He just leaned heavier into your hand, cheeks going pink.
That was answer enough.
Before you could say anything else, the sofa dipped on Jisung’s other side.
Minho sat beside him, close enough that their knees touched, and reached over to take the cheesecake box from his lap before it could slide off.
Jisung looked at him.
Minho looked back, expression gentle in a way that always made your heart ache a little.
“You went quiet,” he said softly.
Jisung shrugged, suddenly very interested in the sleeve of his hoodie. “Didn’t wanna interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting.”
“You were being cute.”
Minho’s face softened even more.
Then he reached up and tucked a messy piece of hair behind Jisung’s ear, his fingers lingering there.
“You’re allowed to want attention,” he said.
Jisung blinked.
The room went quiet for a second.
Not awkward. Just soft.
Then Jisung mumbled, “That’s embarrassing.”
Minho smiled a little. “You’re embarrassing.”
“Hyung.”
“Cute, though.”
Jisung’s head snapped up.
You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt.
Minho didn’t look away from him. He didn’t roll his eyes or pretend he hadn’t said it. He just looked at Jisung like he adored him because he did. Like Jisung being needy and pouty was something precious, not annoying.
Then Minho leaned in and kissed his forehead.
Jisung’s eyes fluttered shut immediately.
The pout disappeared from his face so quickly it was almost funny.
You leaned in too, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Jisung made a tiny sound, pleased and shy all at once, before hiding half his face behind his sleeve.
“You’re both so mean,” he mumbled.
You laughed softly. “We kissed you.”
“Exactly.”
Minho’s hand slid to the back of Jisung’s neck, thumb rubbing there gently. “Spoiled.”
Jisung peeked over his sleeve. “Loved.”
Minho’s smile was small, but so warm.
“Yeah,” he said. “Loved.”
Jisung went quiet again, but this time it wasn’t sulking.
You settled closer against his side, and Minho stayed right there on the other, sandwiching Jisung between you both until his shoulders finally relaxed.
After a moment, Jisung picked up his fork again and took a tiny bite of cheesecake.
“There he is,” Minho murmured.
Jisung leaned into him, still chewing. “Don’t talk about me like I’m a cat.”
Minho brushed his thumb once more against the nape of his neck. “Then stop acting like one.”
You reached over and wiped a bit of cheesecake from the corner of Jisung’s mouth with your thumb.
He smiled, completely shameless now.
“Can’t help it,” he said. “I like being taken care of.”
