Frustrated Stray Kids trying and struggling to take your bra off during a heavy make out session.
❛ ━━━━━━･❪skz❫･━━━━━━ ❜
: ̗̀➛ chan
You’re straddling Chan on the couch, the kiss deep and messy. His hands slide under your shirt, tugging it off in one smooth motion.
Then his fingers reach your bra clasp.
He tries once…
twice…
a third time while still kissing you like he can’t bear to pull away.
“Stupid fucking thing—” he mutters against your lips, clearly annoyed.
You can’t help but giggle into the kiss.
Your giggles make him narrow his eyes playfully. Instead of forcing it, he grabs the front of your bra with both hands and simply yanks the cups apart, stretching the fabric until the clasp gives up with a loud snap.
He immediately lowers his head and sucks one nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking teasingly.
You moan and reach back anyway, letting the broken bra fall completely.
He pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, lips shiny, and smirks up at you.
“Finally,” he breathes, voice low and cocky. “Cute that you were laughing at me… but look who’s moaning now, baby.”
: ̗̀➛ minho
Minho’s hands are impatient the second your shirt hits the floor.
He keeps kissing you, slow and teasing, while his fingers fumble with the clasp like it personally offended him.
After the fourth failed attempt, he growls softly against your mouth.
“Why won’t you just open, you annoying piece of shit—”
You giggle.
Minho lets out a frustrated little whine, then just pushes the cups of your bra down instead of fighting the clasp anymore. His mouth immediately latches onto one of your tits, sucking hard, tongue swirling.
The smugness is instant when he feels you moan and arch into him.
You reach back, easily unclasping the bra and letting it fall.
Minho lifts his head just enough to look at you, lips glistening, expression dripping with smug satisfaction.
“Finally,” he drawls, voice husky. “Took you long enough, kitten. Thought I was gonna have to rip it off.”
: ̗̀➛ changbin
Changbin is already breathing hard when he tugs your shirt off. The kiss is hungry.
His fingers attack the bra clasp with pure determination… and fail miserably.
He whines into your mouth, frustrated. “Come on, just— why is this so damn hard—”
Your giggle makes him pause.
Frustrated, he sits up straighter, lifts you slightly, and flips you onto your back on the couch in one smooth motion. He hovers over you, finally getting the right angle to unhook the bra with both hands.
The moment it’s loose, he tugs it off completely and dives down to your breasts.
Changbin pulls back just enough to smirk, eyes dark.
“Finally,” he says, voice rough. “Moan for me again, baby. Louder.”
: ̗̀➛ hyunjin
Hyunjin’s kisses are always dramatic and passionate.
When he can’t get your bra off after several tries, he lets out the most dramatic frustrated whine against your lips.
“Ugh— this stupid bra hates me tonight—”
You burst into giggles.
Instead of fighting it more, he leans back, grabs the straps, and slowly slides them down your arms while still kissing you, then reaches behind with both hands and finally unhooks it with exaggerated care. He pulls the bra away like it’s a dramatic reveal.
His mouth finds your chest instantly, sucking softly.
Hyunjin looks up at you, lips swollen and shiny, a smug little smile playing on his face.
“Finally,” he murmurs, voice velvet-soft but teasing. “My pretty girl laughing at me… how rude. But I like the sounds you make when I do this much better.”
: ̗̀➛ jisung
Jisung is kissing you like he’s trying to win a competition, hands eager. The bra clasp defeats him completely.
He keeps trying while refusing to stop kissing you, getting more and more whiny.
“Argh— why won’t you cooperate, you evil little—!”
When you start giggling, he whines louder.
“Babyyy—”
Jisung lets out a low frustrated sound, pulls back just enough to look at what he’s doing, then spins you around so your back is against his chest. He finally manages to unhook it from behind with better leverage.
The bra falls away.
You moan as his hands cup your bare breasts from behind. He kisses your neck, voice smug and deep.
“Finally,” he says, voice breathy and cocky. “It’s cute how you were laughing at me earlier. But now you’re making my most favorite sound.”
: ̗̀➛ felix
Felix’s kisses are sweet and deep until the bra becomes a problem.
He struggles adorably, still kissing you, little frustrated noises escaping him.
“Why is it being so stubborn tonight— c’mon—”
Your giggles make him whine cutely.
“It’s not funnyyy—”
Then he just pushes the straps down until your bra reaches to your waist, mouth immediately finding your nipple, sucking gently at first, then harder when you moan. His deep voice vibrates against your skin.
You reach back and unclasp it easily.
Felix looks up at you, freckles flushed, lips glossy, a smug little smirk on his face.
“Finally,” he says, voice low and husky. “You laughed at me… but I still win. Listen to those pretty moans.”
: ̗̀➛ seungmin
Seungmin tries to play it cool, but after the third failed attempt at the clasp he lets out an annoyed little huff against your lips.
“This stupid bra is testing my patience—”
When you giggle, he narrows his eyes.
He doesn’t push or yank.
Instead, he calmly reaches for the front, slides his fingers under the band, and simply pulls the entire bra up and over your head like a shirt, bypassing the clasp completely.
The second your tits are free, his mouth is on you, sucking with precise, teasing pressure.
You moan and shiver.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, one eyebrow raised, voice low and smug.
“Problem solved. You can stop laughing now, puppy.”
: ̗̀➛ jeongin
Jeongin is kissing you shyly at first, but it turns eager fast. When he can’t get the bra off, his cheeks flush with frustration. He whines softly into the kiss.
“Come on… why won’t you just— ugh—”
Your soft giggles make him even more determined (and a little embarrassed).
He takes a breath, lifts you higher on his lap for better access, then reaches around with both arms and finally manages to unhook it after concentrating hard.
The bra falls away.
He wastes no time burying his face in your chest, sucking gently but hungrily.
You moan, holding onto his shoulders
Jeongin looks up at you, lips wet, a smug little smile breaking through his flushed face.
“Finally,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “Laughing at me earlier… but now you’re the one making all those sounds. Cute.”
genre: smut!! minors will be hunted for sport
contains: drabbles – you and each member desperately need each other but are so so tired :(
wc: 4k (~ 500 each)
♡ note: a reupload. i'll say it until the end of time, but i'm incredibly, freakishly grateful for the love the original series received <3
divider by @lariesographic / my masterlist
CHAN
Any reasonable person would be sleeping at this hour. You were asleep before Chan woke you, visibility exhausted and desperate for relief. He climbs into bed and presses himself into your back, large hands reaching around to your inner thighs. “Please, pretty girl, just let me do something, anything,” he whispers against your skin.
He rarely says what he needs so plainly, even rarer that he’s willing to beg. You can’t deny him, especially not when he grazes his fingers over your clit just to hear you gasp.
The room is dark, the only light flickering in from the moonlight and a bedside lamp he switched on. In his eyes, you’re glowing, always so perfect for him. Shadows dance across his chest as you move.
He lets out a content sigh as you sink down onto him. “Fuck, baby,” he whispers almost inaudibly. He clenches his jaw, like he’s trying so hard to keep still. You pause once he’s fully inside, taking your time to adjust to his size.
He props himself up on his elbows, unable to stop himself from staring at where he disappears inside of you. Slowly, experimentally, you roll your hips. His mouth falls open at the movement. A small amount of sweat already causes his biceps to glisten in the low light. You moan, and his eyes snap up to admire your blissed expression.
You keep grinding, feeling him hit the perfect spot inside you, clit brushing against him with every motion. Fuck, he’s so good for you. You chase your high by speeding up ever so slightly. He grips your waist and sets a slower pace himself. “ - Gonna kill me,” he whimpers, “Not gonna last.”.
He can’t help himself - he thrusts once up into you, still moving your hips. You let out a choked moan, eyes squeezing shut. He can see how weak you are - sleepiness and pleasure finally overtaking you. He takes the opportunity to sit up and hold you against his chest. You never stop your motions.
The new angle has his cock reaching deeper inside. He feels you squeeze tighter, and his head falls to your shoulder. He’s done for when you breathe his name like it’s the only thing you remember. He needs you to come with him, needs you to feel just as good as he is.
He reaches between your thighs and rubs small circles on your clit. A few more delicious motions, and both of your highs hit you together. He lets out a final moan, lightly biting your skin in an attempt to be quiet, and you feel the familiar warmth inside you. You try to ride out your own pleasure, but falter, his name falling from your lips as his fingers stay on your clit.
He keeps holding you against him, giving you both time to catch your breath. Eventually, he chuckles quietly and softly kisses your neck. “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs. He falls back with you into the mattress, whispering his praises until you fall asleep again.
MINHO
The entire world has faded to just you two in his hotel room. Minho’s sighs and flustered groans ring in sync with your heavenly grinds. His upper back is pressed against the headboard. It must be uncomfortable, but he doesn't seem to even know where he is right now. Usually he’s a lot more composed than this. Usually, he wouldn’t just let you climb on his lap, tease your tongue down his neck, whisper how good he’s being in his ear. However, his muscles are heavy after performing, and you looked so sweet asking, of course he gave in to you.
The view of you is enough to draw out an unhurried smile that reveals his bunny teeth. His gleaming eyes search yours – intent on mentally cataloguing everything about this moment. That focus doesn’t last long. All it takes is one more small bounce, one more of your barely-contained gasps, and his head lolls backwards. His eyelids shutter halfway closed, but he never stops watching you. You’re squeezing around him perfectly, and you’re so warm in his arms, fuck, he can’t remember why you don’t do this more often.
You’re beautiful like this. Moaning for him. Full of him. Giving everything to him, just as he gives everything to you. “C’mere,” he murmurs before pulling you further into his embrace. He kisses you, slow and sensual, absorbing your sounds as you keep rocking on him. His cock drags along your fluttering walls with every movement. Still working his lips against yours, he brings his hand down between your bodies to circle your clit in time with your grinds. As if reading the other’s mind, both of you speed up at once, chasing both your highs.
Eventually, you have to pull away to breathe. “Minho,” you pant, gripping your nails into his shoulders, “Minho, feelsogood.”
His cock twitches in you. His name, lovely and melodic, falling from your lips alone is almost enough to send him over the edge. Combined with your warm cunt pulling him in and the slight pain digging into his shoulders, he’s so close. He can tell you are too; your motions are starting to falter as heat builds inside you. His free hand holds your waist steady, helping guide you through the motions.
Another roll of your hips. Another gorgeous moan. “Baby, fuck,” is all the warning he can give. He groans your name, his grip tightens around you, and you feel the familiar warmth inside you. His orgasm triggers your own. Overwhelming pleasure washes over your body with Minho still circling your clit in an attempt to help work you through it.
After a few seconds, the stimulation gets too much. He chuckles as you gently swat his hand away from your core. Still his lap, he straightens his positioning to get even closer to you. “Come back,” he whispers, connecting your lips again, holding you as you melt into him.
CHANGBIN
How could he ever resist his princess, laying in his bed like she knows she belongs there?
You knew what he wanted the moment he crawled back beside you. He didn’t bother putting clothes back on after his post-gym shower. The scent of his body wash surrounds you, cozily tucked into the blankets. His damp hair is still slightly clinging to his skin. He leans in and gently kisses your shoulder. “G’morning,” he whispers against your skin.
You kiss him in response. His groan is stifled in your mouth, but his arms wrap around your waist and easily shift you on top of him. You giggle at the sudden show of strength, matching his own smile at finally being able to feel you. He missed you so badly.
He adjusts your hips slowly, giving you time to stop him if you want. You don’t. He moans as you sink down onto him, whispering “Fuck, princess,” into the cool air. “You don’t know what you do to me”. His head falls backwards onto the pillow. You take him so well. You pause, adjusting to his size, and his hands tighten on your hips, like he’s trying to contain himself.
You sit up to straddle him and finally move, dragging your hips once back and forth. He bites back a gasp. God. He’s deep inside you now. You’re gorgeous on top of him. Even when you’re still sleepy, chasing your pleasure, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
Underneath you, his muscles glow in the morning light. He’s heartbreakingly gentle with his touches, like he’s conscious of his own strength even like this. He almost loses it when you meet his eyes and smile back, so so perfect for him.
Another roll of your hips. His cock slowly drags against your walls at your relaxed pace, and he’s no longer trying to hide his sounds. You speed up ever so slightly, chasing your own high. His eyes squeeze shut. Curses and pretty moans fall from his lips the more you keep going, the more you keep perfectly squeezing around him.
You’re lost in him. Every motion brings you closer. He’s filling you perfectly, and your clit grazes him at every movement. You lean forward, anchoring your arms on his chest for support “Baby, fuck,” you breathe out, and his eyes snap open again to check on you.
He groans at the sight - he can’t help it. You look wrecked for him. He’s not going to last. He needs you to come with him, fuck, he’s already holding back.
You feel him start rubbing lazy circles on your clit in rhythm with your pace. Your choked cry is music to his ears. His other hand catches you when you slump forward, not able to support yourself anymore. “I know, princess,” he groans, voice as wrecked as you feel. “I know, I’ve got you.”
Pressed against his chest, your release washes over you. He tries to keep rubbing your clit, his fingers faltering from the feeling of being squeezed tighter as yours continues. His own high hits him, and he moves his hand up to hold you as you feel the familiar warmth inside you.
He doesn’t let go afterwards. You’re laying on him, wrapped in his arms, and he swears he’s in heaven. “Let’s just stay here,” he whispers, “for a little bit longer.” You nod against him. He has no intention of moving anytime soon.
HYUNJIN
The only sounds in the room are your intertwined moans and the creak of the bedframe, matching the steady rhythm of your grinds against him. Sleepiness still lingers in the air, but right now, you each want to make the other feel good. “That’s my girl - fuck,” he moans from below you. Tiny amounts of sweat clings his hair to his skin. His hands grip your waist, not bruising, just guiding. “You feel so good - always s’good for me.”
He fills you up so well. The angle has him hitting the perfect spot, and your clit brushes against him with every grind. Every movement brings you closer to your release.
You roll your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him deep inside you. He sucks in a sharp breath. His grip on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly. A whine escapes his lips, eyes quickly darting to yours to check if you heard it.
Of course you did. You smile back down at him and repeat the motion, enjoying the view of his head falling back as he stifles another whine. One hand drops from your waist to cling to the rumpled bedsheets, like he’s holding himself back.
Another roll of your hips. His cock pushes further in, causing your knees to weaken from pleasure. You whimper, “Hyunjin, baby -”
“I know, I’ve got you,” he breathes, and brings his hands up to support your weight. You let your body slump forward, leaning your arms against his chest as you try to keep your rhythm. His gaze lingers on your breasts, swaying as you move.
Your pace falters more with each delicious grind, your high quickly approaching. He feels your walls clench around him and he knows you won’t last much longer. Neither will he. He needs you to come with him, but fuck, he’s already almost there.
His eyes clench tight, one of his signs that he’s close. “Baby, please,” he begs, for nothing specifically and everything at once. He grabs your hand and guides it to your clit, choking on a sob as he watches you rub small circles in rhythm with your pace.
Your orgasms overtake you at once. His name falls from your lips over and over, like a prayer, as waves of pleasure wash over you. He groans as he spills familiar warmth deep inside you.
Afterwards, you lean forwards, laying on his chest. He runs a hand through your hair, pausing every so often to kiss the top of your forehead. He whispers, “I love you,” against your forehead. Eventually, the two of you drift off to sleep, still tangled in each other.
HAN
Everyone else is asleep. He should be quiet. He should stop moaning. However, he’s buried deep inside his pretty girl, and he wouldn’t notice if the world ended right now. You’re on his lap, kissing down his neck, driving him insane. He angles his head to give you more space, and moans even louder as you take advantage of it.
You shift your weight, pushing him deeper inside you. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder. Everything about him - his scent, his touch, him - invades your senses. He’s brushing the perfect spot, and you’re not even moving yet. Like he’s reading your mind, he slightly squeezes your hips, his fingers digging into where they rest.
His eyes are big behind his glasses. His chest rises and falls with how heavily he’s breathing.
You rotate your hips, enjoying the view of his eyes rolling back into his skull. You moan in tandem - the sensation is too delicious for you to stop now. You repeat your motions. His high-pitched whine only spurs you forward, chasing the sensation of his cock hitting deep inside you again and again. His nails dig deeper into your skin. Already, the pain mixed with pleasure is almost too much.
He’s not doing much better. Each time you moan his name brings him closer to the edge. He needs you to finish before him. He moves his hand to grip your inner thigh, thumb barely brushing your clit. He looks up at you, tears shining in his eyes. “Can I, please?” he breathes out.
You nod so fast your vision slightly blurs.
“thankyouthankyouthankyou”
Then he’s pressing slightly harder, rubbing lazy circles while staring intently at where he’s connected to you. His glasses fall slightly down his nose. He doesn’t care.
Fuck. Your movements get sloppier as the pleasure builds. His bedframe scrapes against the wall as you speed up. He’s incapable of forming words, just babbling half-sentences of praise. “Fuck, baby - so good for me - please - fucking please,” spills out.
He can feel how close you are with how you clench around him. He just needs to hold on for a bit longer. He keeps rubbing your clit, and lifts himself up to kiss you. His lips work against yours, hoping he can convey his passion through it.
Your orgasm hits you like a train. Your moans grow in volume as you try to ride it out. He never stops rubbing your clit. His own follows closely behind yours, spilling deep inside you. He breaks the kiss to repeat your name like a prayer.
You fall against his chest, both of you panting as you come down. His arms engulf you and squeeze you tighter against him. “Thank you,” he whispers against your cheek. Reluctantly, he moves you off his lap and ensures you’re comfortable laying against him. You two stay like that, holding each other, until you both drift off to sleep.
FELIX
His deep moans amplify the lust residing in the air. The only light comes from his long-forgotten PC, the abandoned login screen illuminating you two on his bed. Felix forgot the game exists. Right now, he’s just focused on trying to control himself as you roll your hips on top of him.
You’re in his arms, making out with him, running your fingers through his long hair. You’re always so perfect for him. Always his ethereal angel. He’s already lost in you, and you’ve barely started. As you continue your slow movements, he breaks your kiss to brush a loose strand of hair out of your eyes, whispering, “so, so beautiful,” almost to himself. His cock twitches just from your resulting sweet smile.
You take your time, enjoying every inch of him. Your clit brushes against him with every movement. Your quiet moans are the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. He would stay here listening to you forever, if you let him.
He’s vaguely aware he has a roommate on the other side of the wall, but that awareness is waning by the second. It’s gone completely when you speed up, chasing the feeling of him hitting deep inside you. He lets out a choked groan. His abs flex with restraint, like he’s holding himself back.
Curses mixed with your name spill from his lips. One hand gently lands on your inner thigh, then travels over to your clit, rubbing small circles in rhythm with your motions. Your eyes squeeze shut, entirely focused on your building pleasure.
“Look at me, angel,” his low voice breathes out. “Please.” Of course you do, and fuck, he looks divine. His freckled cheeks twinge pink. His long hair falls messily over his shoulders. He holds your gaze and sighs, “That’s my girl.”
You clench around him at the praise, and he swears he sees heaven for a moment. His head falls back into the pillow behind him as he keeps babbling, “Feels so good - always s’good - angel, fuck.” A few more motions, and you weaken from the sensations, leaning forward to steady yourself on his chest. Your combined moans fill the room.
God, he’s so close, but he needs you to come with him. His fingers speed up on your clit, rubbing faster circles as he revels in your noises. Your highs hit together. He moans even deeper as you feel the familiar warmth inside you. Your hips falter on him as you try to ride out your waves of pleasure. He works you through it, still babbling out his love for you.
Afterwards, he wraps his arms around you once more, pressing you into his bare chest. “Thank you, angel,” he whispers into your hair. He holds you against him, wrapped up in his sheets and each other, until you both drift off to sleep.
SEUNGMIN
Seungmin could not care less about the rest of his members going about their nightly routines outside his door. Why would he, when you’re in his arms, making out with him, slowly rolling your hips like you have all the time in the world. You do, as far as he’s concerned. He never rushes with you if he can help it.
Your hands are laced in his hair, absentmindedly twirling some longer strands between your fingers. He moans at the sensation every so often. Right now, he would do anything if it meant you would stay in his bed, making him feel so good he’s about to start seeing stars. Your lips are so soft against his, and he’s fitting wonderfully inside you - squeezing like you are perfectly made for him.
You pause your movements for a moment, and he actually whines. He pulls away from the kiss to steady his breathing. His efforts are futile - his breaths quickening again when you sit up, him still inside you, and graze your fingers over his chest. The new angle is pushing him in deeper than he was before. He moans your name and leans his head back into the pillows beneath him.
You resume your motions, feeling every inch of his cock hitting deep inside you. He genuinely might lose it from the sight alone. His hands rub up and down on your thighs, trying to feel as much of you as possible. He can’t help himself - moaned snippets of praise spill out of his mouth faster than he can register his own words. “Fuck, baby - so good - oh my god - you’re beautiful,” is just part of what you’re able to catch.
Your clit brushes against him with every grind. The sensation is delicious, paired with Seungmin’s whimpering voice and him staring up at you like you’re a goddess, you’re not going to last. He’s not either - he’s babbling more with each passing second. From below you, he stares up, suddenly looking more desperate. “Tell me you’re mine,” he whispers, and thrusts lightly up into you.
You weaken from it, leaning forward onto him. He takes advantage of the position to kiss you again. “I’m yours,” you whisper against his lips.
That does it. His head falls forward into your shoulder, whining softly again, as you feel the familiar warmth inside you. Your own orgasm follows quickly afterwards, pleasure washing over you, your pace faltering as you try to ride it out.
For a few moments, neither of you move. He rubs small circles on your back as he attempts to recover from the slight overstimulation. Eventually, you begin to get off him, only to be met with him lightly grabbing you, keeping you in place. “Don’t,” he murmurs, “please.”
JEONGIN
He’s most beautiful in the quiet moments. He’s ethereal always, but there’s something about the unguarded version of Jeongin, with messy hair, easy smiles, and holding you close like he can’t fathom ever letting you slip away, that always gets you needing more. Outside, the low hum of others in the same space filters through the bottom of his door, but they might as well be lightyears away for all the attention Jeongin pays them. It’s easy to forget that anyone else exists. It’s easy to revel in each other, barriers shed, until every stress, every thought vanishes.
You pull away from the kiss first, Jeongin’s eyes still closed and moving to follow after you, a line of spit that should be much more obscene than it actually is connecting the two of you. “Can’t wait anymore,” he murmurs, eyes still closed. “Please,” he adds, “just want you.” Underneath you, his flannel pajama bottoms tent seemingly painfully. You’re not doing much better.
“Anything for you,” you breathe, intended as teasing, but it comes out more like an admission. Regardless, it has the desired effect, a strangled groan leaving him as he shimmies out of his clothes with record-breaking speed.
Your moans intertwine as you sink down onto him. You’ve done this countless times, and will be in this position countless more, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the delicious pressure in the first few seconds. He knows this, too, if his barely-contained smug expression is anything to go by. It vanishes when you roll your hips, feeling his cock deep inside you. His forehead falls forward onto your shoulder, his hair tickles your collarbone. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose.
“Fuck,” he groans into your skin, “you’re so good at that.” As if to accentuate his point, he can’t contain a sharp inhale as your movements speed up.
Like mirror images of each other, the cockiness on your face is wiped away as his fingers find your clit to rub small circles in sync with your grinds. Raising his head again, his gleaming eyes search yours, soaking in your pleasure as much as he can. He can’t help himself; he thrusts up once, smiling again at your gasp. He pulls you in to kiss you again, lips working against yours, only broken by the moans escaping both of you.
Your movements falter the more your pleasure builds. Jeongin notices. Of course he does – he notices everything about you. His fingernails dig into where they rest on your hip, surely leaving crescents to discover in the morning, and without breaking rhythm, he takes over setting the pace himself.
It doesn’t take long with Jeongin fitting perfectly inside you, his fingers circling your clit, his lips heated against yours. Your release washes over you with a cry of his name. He keeps moving you, keeps touching you, to help you ride it out. A few more motions, and he follows, your name falling from his lips.
A few moments pass. He holds you pressed against his chest as you both catch your breath, Eventually, you move to get off him, but his grip only tightens, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Stay here with me,” he whispers.
skz taglist: @emilyywhyy @velvetmoonlght @opiumfidgetspinner @bahngarang @pixie-felix @certainstarfishmiracle @luvvvivi @strhwa @ayedomino008 @breakmeoff @foppishitudinality @ilovedallywinston @cookiewookie9t @astrayapple @teffyx @geni-627 @kpopgirliez @flwrkissed @imnotsupposedtobedoingthis
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ɞ . abstract. they’re used to sharing their lives with the world, but they aren't interested in sharing you. eight times the members reminded a stranger exactly where the line was drawn.
ɞ . warnings / tags. fluff. suggestive. jealous!skz. established relationship. possessive & territorial behavior. intimidation of others. unwanted attention/harassment. encroachment on personal space. mentions of alcohol/drinking.
BANG CHAN
the studio was crowded, way more crowded than it usually was during a late-night tracking session. you were perched on the edge of the leather sofa, tucked into the corner with a drink in your hand, while the rest of the guys milled around. it was supposed to be a low-key wrap party for the new album, but some of the producers had brought friends, and the room felt small.
chan was across the room, leaning over the console with changbin and a couple of senior engineers. he looked good—focused, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a pencil tucked behind his ear—but you could tell he was keeping one eye on the door and one eye on you. he always did that. he called it being a good host, but you knew it was just his nature to keep track of his people.
"so, how long have you known the group?"
you blinked, pulling your gaze away from chan to look at the guy who had just sat down next to you. he was one of the guest track-makers, someone you’d seen a few times but never really spoken to. he was leaning in close, his arm draped over the back of the sofa, effectively carving out a little bubble for the two of you.
"oh, a long time," you said, offering a polite smile. "i’ve been friends with chan since before the debut."
"lucky guy," he chuckled, his eyes scanning your face in a way that felt a little too lingering. "i can see why he keeps you around. you’ve got a really great energy." he introduces himself, giving you some name that you can't recall. can't bother to.
he didn't pull back. if anything, he shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours. you tried to shift subtly, but the sofa was deep, and there wasn't much room to move. "thanks," you murmured, taking a sip of your drink to avoid further conversation.
"you know," he continued, lowering his voice to a tone that was definitely meant to be intimate. "we’re headed to an after-party at a club nearby in about twenty minutes. chan’s probably going to stay here and obsess over the master tracks for another five hours. you should come with us. i'd love to actually get to know you without all this noise."
he reached out then, his fingers grazing your forearm as if to emphasize the invitation.
before you could even open your mouth to decline, the atmosphere in the room shifted. you didn't even have to look up to know chan had noticed. you could feel the weight of his stare from across the room.
a second later, the heavy footsteps approached. chan didn't walk over; he converged.
"everything okay here?"
chan’s voice was low, smooth as silk but with a jagged edge underneath that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. he didn't wait for an answer. he stepped right into the narrow space between the coffee table and the couch, placing a firm, heavy hand on your shoulder. his thumb rubbed against the base of your neck in a slow, possessive rhythm.
the man pulled his hand back quickly, clearing his throat. "oh, yeah. just inviting your friend here to the after-party. you’re probably too busy to go, right?"
chan tilted his head, a small, tight smile playing on his lips that didn't reach his eyes. he looked incredibly calm, but the grip on your shoulder tightened just enough for you to feel the tension vibrating through him.
"actually," chan said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding like that deep tone he got when he was serious. "we have our own plans. and i’m never too busy for her."
he looked down at you then, his expression softening for a split second before he cut his eyes back to the other man. the look was icy—a clear, unspoken warning that said you're overstepping.
"is that right?" he stammered, looking between the two of you. "i didn't realize... i mean, i thought you guys were just..."
"we're a lot of things," chan interrupted, his voice steady. "but available isn't one of them. you should probably go find your group, man. i think they're leaving."
it wasn't a suggestion. he got the message, mulling out a quick "right, see ya" before making a beeline for the door.
the moment he was gone, the room seemed to regain its oxygen. chan didn't move his hand. he let out a long, ragged exhale, his shoulders finally dropping from their defensive hunch. he turned toward you, his eyes dark and swirling with a mix of leftover adrenaline and something that looked a lot like guilt.
"sorry," he muttered, though he didn't sound particularly sorry. "he was being... a lot."
"channie," you said softly, reaching up to cover his hand with yours. "were you jealous?" you don't bother to hide the teasing lilt in your voice.
he let out a dry, sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. he looked away for a moment, watching the door where the guy had disappeared. "was it that obvious?"
"you looked like you were about to growl," you giggle.
chan stepped closer, moving until he was standing between your knees, his presence completely enveloping you. he leaned down, his face inches from yours, his eyes searching your face with an intensity that made your heart hammer against your ribs.
"i don't like the way he was looking at you," he confessed, his voice a rough whisper. "and i definitely didn't like him touching you. i know i shouldn't be so... yeah. i know you can handle yourself."
he paused, his fingers sliding up to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing your lower lip.
"but the thought of someone else taking you away from here—even for an hour? i can't handle it. you're the only thing in this room that keeps me sane, okay? i'm selfish. i want you right where i can see you."
you smiled, pulling him down by his collar until your foreheads rested together. "i wasn't going anywhere, channie. i like it right here."
he hummed, a deep sound in his chest, and finally let out a real smile—the one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. "good. because i’m done with work for the night. let’s get out of here before someone else tries to talk to you."
he pulled you up from the sofa, his fingers interlacing tightly with yours, refusing to let go even as he grabbed his jacket. he led you out of the studio, his body positioned slightly in front of yours, a silent shield against the rest of the world.
LEE KNOW
the dance studio was freezing, the air conditioning humming a low, mechanical tune that usually helped minho focus. but today, his focus was completely shot. he was leaning against the mirrored wall, a towel draped over his shoulders, watching you talk to one of the new backup dancers near the sound system.
minho didn't do loud jealousy. he didn't storm over or start a scene. he was more surgical than that. he just watched, his eyes narrowed, tracking every movement.
the guy—some kid who was way too confident for his first week—was laughing, leaning a little too close to you. he reached out to adjust the strap of your bag that was slipping off your shoulder, his fingers lingering on your skin a second too long.
you were just being friendly, smiling at his jokes, but minho’s jaw tightened. he felt that familiar, sharp prickle of irritation. he hated when people didn't know their boundaries, especially when those boundaries involved you.
"so, you're here every tuesday?" the dancer asked, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "maybe i could take you to that cafe downstairs after we wrap? i heard their lattes are actually decent. or, you know, we could always go anywhere else, too."
minho didn't wait for you to answer. he pushed off the wall, his sneakers squeaking sharply against the wood floor. the sound was intentional.
he didn't say a word as he walked over. he simply stepped into your space, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. it wasn't a gentle hug; it was a firm, grounding weight that made it very clear where you belonged.
the dancer jumped slightly, his eyes widening as he looked up—and up—at minho.
"she’s busy," minho said. his voice was flat, devoid of any emotion, which was always when he was the most dangerous. he didn't look at the guy; he just stared at your reflection in the mirror across the room, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder.
"oh, i—we were just talking about coffee," the guy stammered, his confidence evaporating under minho’s cold gaze.
"get your own coffee," minho replied, his tone clipped. "and get back to the floor. chan wants to run the bridge again in five minutes. don't be late."
it was a dismissal, plain and simple. the guy scrambled away, practically tripping over his own feet to get to the other side of the room.
the second he was gone, minho’s grip relaxed slightly, but he didn't let go. he turned you around in his arms, his expression still unreadable, though his ears were tinged with a faint, stubborn pink.
"you're scary when you do that," you whispered, reaching up to smooth the stray hairs on his forehead.
"i wasn't doing anything," he mumbled, looking away. "he was just annoying. talking too much."
"he was just asking for coffee, minnie."
minho’s eyes flicked back to yours, sharp and intense. "i don't care what he was asking for. he was touching you. i don't like it."
he let out a small, frustrated huff, his fingers digging into the fabric of your hoodie. minho wasn't big on emotional confessions, but in the quiet of the studio, with the rest of the members occupied at the far end, he let the mask slip just a fraction.
"i know i’m difficult," he said, his voice dropping so low you had to lean in to hear him. "i know i don't say the right things all the time. but you're mine. and i’m not good at sharing."
it was the closest you’d get to an 'i love you' in a moment like this—a raw, possessive honesty that felt more real than any flowery speech.
"i'm not going anywhere," you promised, leaning your head against his chest. "you know that."
"i do," he whispered, finally letting a small, smug smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. he pressed a quick, firm kiss to the top of your head before pulling away, his usual cool exterior snapping back into place. "now go sit down. you’re distracting me, and if i mess up this choreo, i’m blaming you."
he swatted your shoulder playfully, ushering you back to the bench, but as he walked back to the center of the floor, he caught the eye of the new dancer.
minho didn't say anything, but the look he gave him—cold, steady, and utterly territorial—made sure the kid didn't look your way for the rest of the afternoon.
CHANGBIN
the gym was mostly empty, the rhythmic thud of weights hitting the rubber mats the only thing breaking the silence. changbin loved this time of night—the overhead lights were dimmed, and he could actually breathe without people hovering.
he was currently finishing a set on the bench press, his muscles strained and glistening under the low light, while you sat nearby on a weight bench, scrolling through your phone and occasionally cheering him on.
everything was fine until a guy from the late-shift training staff wandered over. he was big, almost as big as changbin, and he had that swagger of someone who knew exactly how much he could lift.
"hey, mind if i hop in for a set?" the guy asked, but he wasn't looking at changbin. he was looking at you.
changbin sat up, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. he didn't miss the way the trainer’s eyes dragged over you, or the way he puffed out his chest a little more as he stepped into your peripheral vision.
"just finished," changbin said, his voice coming out a bit rougher than usual. he didn't stand up yet; he just sat there, arms resting on his knees, watching.
"cool, cool," the guy said, turning fully toward you. "i haven't seen you around here before. you a member or just lucky enough to watch the show?" he flashed a grin that was clearly meant to be charming, leaning one hand against the rack right next to your head.
you looked up, giving him a small, polite nod. "i'm just waiting for him to finish."
"well, if you ever get bored of waiting, i'm usually here around this time. i could show you a few things. you look like you've got good potential for some real strength training." he chuckled, his voice dropping into a lower register.
he didn't move his hand. he stayed leaning over you, his shadow completely covering where you sat.
changbin didn't say anything at first. he just stood up. slow. deliberate.
when changbin stood, he looked massive. the pump from his workout made him look twice his usual size, and the intensity in his dark eyes was enough to make the air in the room feel heavy. he walked over, not stopping until he was standing directly behind you, his presence looming like a mountain.
he didn't shove the guy. he didn't have to. he just reached out and placed a heavy, solid hand on the back of your neck, his fingers tangling slightly in your hair. it was a grounding, heavy touch—one that claimed every inch of the space around you.
"she’s good," changbin said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that seemed to vibrate in the floorboards. "she’s got the best trainer in the city. she doesn't need another one."
mark’s smile faltered. he looked at changbin, then at the way changbin’s hand was draped over you, his thick arm practically acting as a barrier. the power dynamic in the room shifted instantly.
"oh, yeah, no doubt," he stammered, taking a half-step back. "just being friendly, man. no harm meant."
"right. friendly," changbin repeated, his voice dry. he didn't blink. he just stared until the guy started to look physically uncomfortable. "we're done here anyway. go ahead and take the bench. it’s all yours."
mark didn't stay to chat. he muttered something about a good workout and practically scrambled to the other side of the gym.
changbin let out a sharp, hot breath. the tension in his jaw didn't fade immediately. he looked down at you, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, his expression a mix of irritation and something softer that he tried to hide behind a scowl.
"you're all red," you teased gently, reaching up to touch his arm. "was he that bothering?"
changbin grunted, finally sitting back down next to you, though he kept his arm draped over your shoulders, pulling you firmly against his side. "i don't like it. i don't like the way he was hovering. like he was waiting for me to look away for one second."
"binnie, i wasn't going to go anywhere with him."
he looked at his lap, his fingers subconsciously flexing. "i know that. i do. but..." he trailed off, his voice losing its aggressive edge and turning into something much more vulnerable. "it’s just... i work so hard to be strong, to be someone you can rely on. and then some guy walks up and acts like he can just talk to you like that? it pisses me off."
he turned his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck for a second, his breath hot against your skin. changbin was all bravado and muscle on the outside, but with you, he was always just a guy who was terrified of losing the one thing that made him feel soft.
"i know, i know. i'm selfish," he mumbles against your skin. "i want everyone to know that you're with me. i want them to see me and realize they don't even have a chance. is that bad?"
"it's not bad," you whispered, leaning your head against his. "it's just you. it's also, like... really hot."
he pulled back, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through the scowl. he leaned in, pressing a hard, lingering kiss to your temple before standing up and pulling you with him.
"come on," he said, his voice back to its usual confident tone, though he didn't let go of your hand. "let’s go get food. if i stay here any longer, i'm going to end up staring that guy down until he quits his job."
he led you out of the gym, his chest puffed out just a little bit more than usual, his grip on your hand tight and unshakable. he walked you to the car, and even as he opened the door for you, he shot one last look back at the gym windows—just to make sure the message had been received.
HYUNJIN
the gallery was hushed, the kind of quiet that made you feel like you had to whisper even if you weren't saying anything important. the walls were covered in abstract pieces that looked like explosions of color, and you were currently squinting at one particularly confusing canvas. you couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a sunset over the ocean or just a very vibrant bowl of fruit.
hyunjin had wandered off a moment ago to look at a charcoal sketch in the far corner, leaving you to your own devices. usually, he walked right beside you, his hand resting in the small of your back, murmuring his own interpretations into your ear. those were your favorite moments—hearing him talk about brushstrokes and color theory in that soft, passionate way of his. it was the best way to spend a date.
"it’s the duality of existence, don't you think?"
you blinked, snapping out of your thoughts as a random guy stepped into your space. he was dressed in a turtleneck that looked way too tight and was holding a brochure like it was a holy text. he didn't wait for you to respond before he kept going, leaning in closer than necessary.
"the artist is clearly grappling with the fleeting nature of light," he said, gesturing vaguely at the red splotch you thought might be a cherry. "most people just see the surface, but i bet you have an eye for this sort of depth. i can tell by the way you’re looking at it. you have that... artistic soul."
you bit the inside of your cheek, trying desperately not to laugh. you didn't have an artistic soul; you were just wondering if the painter had been hungry when they made this. "oh, i'm not sure," you murmured, stepping back an inch. "i was just—"
"no, don't be modest," he interrupted, flashing a practiced, flirty grin. "i could spend the whole afternoon explaining the subtext of this wing to you. a girl like you shouldn't be wandering around such complex work without a guide."
he reached out, his hand hovering near your waist as if he were going to guide you toward the next painting.
"she already has a guide."
the voice was cool, smooth, and laced with a sharp underlying tension. you didn't even have to turn around to know hyunjin was back.
hyunjin didn't look at the guy at first. he kept his eyes on the painting, but his hand found yours instantly, his long fingers sliding between yours and squeezing tight. he didn't just hold your hand; he anchored you to him.
"actually," hyunjin said, finally turning his head to look at the man. his gaze was icy, his dark eyes narrowed in a way that made him look incredibly intimidating despite his beautiful features. "it’s not about the duality of existence. it’s a study on chaos. and she doesn't need you to explain depth to her."
the guy blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in atmosphere. "i was just offering some insight—"
"your insight is unsolicited," hyunjin cut him off, his voice dropping to that low, velvety tone he used when he was genuinely annoyed. he stepped closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours, effectively erasing any gap the other man could have filled. "and your subtext is wrong. maybe read the artist's statement before you try to impress someone else’s girlfriend."
it was a total shut-down. the guy’s face turned a mottled red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before he muttered something about "just being nice" and scurried off toward the sculpture garden.
hyunjin didn't watch him go. he turned to you immediately, his expression shifting from cold to pouting in a split second. he let out a dramatic sigh, dropping his forehead against your shoulder.
"i leave you alone for two minutes," he complained, his voice muffled. "two minutes, and someone is already trying to guide you."
"he was just being annoying, jinnie," you laughed, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "i was fine."
"he was touching your space," hyunjin muttered, pulling back to look at you. his eyes were still a little stormy, his jaw set in a stubborn line. he reached out, adjusting your scarf even though it was perfectly fine, just so he could have an excuse to touch you. "i don't like it. i don't like the way he was looking at you like you were part of the exhibit.”
he wrapped both arms around your waist then, pulling you flush against him right there in the middle of the gallery. hyunjin was always a bit dramatic, a bit more sensitive to the energy around him, and when he felt someone overstepping with you, he became incredibly territorial.
"you’re mine to explain paintings to," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. "i’m the only one who gets to see your 'artistic soul,' okay?"
you smiled, leaning back into his embrace. "okay. so, what is this one actually about then, mr. expert?"
hyunjin looked at the painting again—the one you thought was fruit. he went quiet for a second, his head tilting as he studied it. "honestly?" he whispered. "i think it’s a bowl of fruit. but i’m going to keep pretending it’s deep so we look more sophisticated than that guy."
you burst out laughing, and he joined you, his jealous mood finally melting away into that bright, beautiful smile you loved. he didn't let go of your hand for the rest of the day, leading you through the halls with his fingers locked firmly in yours, making sure everyone knew exactly who you were with.
HAN
the arcade was a chaotic mess of neon lights and overlapping synth music, exactly the kind of place jisung loved. you were currently focused on a racing game, your hands tight on the plastic steering wheel as you tried to beat the high score. jisung had gone to the counter to trade in a stack of tickets for some candy, leaving you alone at the machines for just a few minutes.
you were doing pretty well until a guy leaned against the side of your console. he was wearing a leather jacket and had a smirk that suggested he thought he was the best thing in the room.
"you’re taking that turn all wrong," he said, loud enough to be heard over the game’s sound effects. "you gotta drift earlier if you want the boost."
you didn't look up, eyes glued to the screen. "i'm doing fine, thanks."
"i'm just saying. i've got the top score on this cabinet," he continued, completely ignoring your brush-off. he shifted closer, his arm brushing against yours as he pointed at the screen. "here, let me show you. move over a bit and i'll handle the pedals for you."
the suggestion was weird and way too personal. you felt a surge of annoyance, but before you could tell him to get lost, a familiar presence appeared on your other side.
jisung didn't say anything at first. he just leaned in, dropping a heavy bag of sour candy onto the dash of the machine, right between you and the stranger. he didn't look like his usual hyper, joking self. his shoulders were tense, and his eyes were fixed on the guy with a look that was uncharacteristically sharp.
"she doesn't need help," jisung said. his voice wasn't loud, but it had a sudden, firm authority to it.
the guy blinked, looking jisung up and down. "just giving some tips, man. don't get worked up."
jisung stepped into the gap, effectively pushing the guy back by a few inches just by claiming the space. he draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side so tightly that you had to let go of the wheel.
"she's winning," jisung noted, his voice dropping into that lower, slightly raspier tone he got when he was feeling protective. "and she’s winning without you hovering over her. so unless you’re planning on playing the machine next door, find somewhere else to hang out."
the guy looked like he wanted to argue, but the sheer, focused energy coming off jisung was enough to make him think twice. jisung wasn't the biggest guy in the room, but when he was set on protecting something, he had a way of making the air around him feel electric.
"whatever," the guy muttered, pushing off the machine and disappearing into the crowd near the air hockey tables.
the second he was out of sight, jisung’s posture deflated. he let out a long, shaky breath, burying his face in your shoulder for a second. he was still holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him upright.
"hanji? you okay?" you asked, leaning your head against his.
"i hate idiots like him," he whispered, his voice muffled by your jacket. "idiots that act like they can just walk up and touch you. my heart started doing that weird thing where it feels like it’s vibrating."
you turned in his arms, seeing the faint flush on his cheeks. jisung dealt with a lot of anxiety, but when it came to you, his protective instincts usually managed to override his nerves—even if he felt the crash immediately afterward.
"you handled it perfectly," you said, reaching up to cup his face. "you were very cool."
jisung let out a small, embarrassed laugh, his eyes finally meeting yours. "i didn't feel cool. i felt like i was going to vibrate out of my skin. but then i saw him leaning on you and i just... i couldn't stay over at the counter. i don't like people in your bubble. that’s my bubble."
he pouted slightly, his thumb tracing the hem of your shirt. "i'm not good at the whole tough guy thing, but i really don't want anyone else thinking they can take my spot. is that too much?"
"no," you smiled, pulling him into a hug. "it's not too much."
jisung squeezed you back, his chin resting on your head. he stayed like that for a long moment, letting the noise of the arcade ground him again.
"okay," he said, pulling back with a sudden, forced burst of his usual energy, though he didn't let go of your hand. "now, move over. i'm going to beat your score and then i'm going to buy you a stuffed quokka with the rest of these tickets so everyone knows you’re taken by the best gamer in this building."
"i don't know if they'll have quokkas," you giggle.
"a squirrel, then!"
he spent the rest of the night glued to your side, his hand either in yours or resting on the small of your back, making sure that anyone who even looked in your direction knew exactly who you were with.
FELIX
the beach was beautiful, the salt air thick and warm as the sun began its slow dip toward the horizon. you were lounging on a wide striped towel, the sand still warm beneath you, while the sound of the waves provided a steady, rhythmic soundtrack. felix had been sitting with you for hours, his laughter ringing out every time a seagull got too close to your snacks, but he’d headed up to the boardwalk restrooms a few minutes ago.
you were closing your eyes, soaking in the last bit of the afternoon heat, when you felt the sand shift beside you.
"hey there. you look a little lonely for such a nice day."
you didn't notice the guy walking toward you until the sun was blocked out, casting a long shadow over your face. you squinted up, expecting to see felix, but it was someone else—a guy in board shorts with a surfboard tucked under his arm. he sat right down on the edge of your towel, kicking a bit of sand onto your book in the process.
"i'm fine, thanks," you said, sitting up and pulling your knees to your chest to create some distance. "my boyfriend just went to grab something."
the guy laughed, a slow, easy sound that felt entirely too confident. "boyfriend, huh? well, he's a lucky guy to leave someone like you alone on my beach. i’m a local—lived here my whole life. i know all the hidden spots, the ones the tourists don't know about. if you ever want a real tour of the coast, i could show you around."
he leaned back on his elbows, encroaching further into your space. his name rolls off his tongue, smooth and confident. too confident. "and... you are?"
"not interested," you replied, your voice firm, but he didn't seem to take the hint. he just grinned, looking you up and down in a way that made you feel exposed.
"come on, don't be like that. just a friendly offer from a local."
"she said she isn't interested."
the voice didn't sound like the felix most people knew. it wasn't the bright, bubbly tone you normally heard from him. it was deep—unnervingly deep—and it carried the weight of the ocean behind it.
felix was standing a few feet away, his silhouette sharp against the setting sun. he was wearing an open linen shirt and shorts, his blonde hair tousled by the wind, but his expression was anything but breezy. he looked down at the surfer with a cold, steady gaze that made the guy’s smile falter instantly.
felix didn't wait for a response. he walked over and stepped directly between you and the stranger, effectively shielding you with his body. he sat down right in the middle of the towel, his back to the guy, and pulled you into his lap. his arms wrapped around you, his chin hooking over your shoulder as he locked eyes with the surfer.
"you’re sitting on our towel," felix said. his voice was a low vibration against your back, the kind of sub-bass that you felt in your bones. "and you’re bothering her."
the surfer cleared his throat, suddenly looking much smaller than he had a moment ago. "man, i was just talking. no need to get aggressive."
"i'm not being aggressive," felix countered, his tone clipped and icy. "i’m telling you to leave. now. take your board and get out of here."
the guy scrambled up, grabbing his board and muttering something about "crazy tourists" before jogging off toward the water.
the second he was gone, the tension in felix’s frame snapped. he let out a jagged breath, his grip on you tightening. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his nose cold against your skin. he didn't move for a long time, just held you there while the waves crashed in the distance.
"lixie? you okay?" you whispered, reaching back to stroke his hair.
"no," he murmured, his voice muffled. "i wasn't even gone for that long. what a dipshit. can't even take no for an answer."
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. the usual spark was replaced by a raw, protective vulnerability. felix was usually the sweetest person you knew, but he had a territorial streak that came out whenever he felt like your safety or comfort was being threatened.
"i don't like being that guy," he admitted, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "the one who gets all possessive and weird. but when i see someone looking at you like that... like you're just something for them to win... it makes me feel like i’m losing my mind."
he sighed, his forehead dropping against yours. "i want to be the sunshine for you, always. but i’ll be the storm too, if i have to. i just want you to be safe."
you smiled, pulling his face closer to yours. "i’m always safe with you, baby. you don't have to worry. besides, it's very sexy."
his expression finally softened, a tiny, shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your nose before leaning back, though he kept you tucked firmly under his arm.
"good," he whispered. "because i’m not leaving your side for the rest of the night. we’re staying right here until the sun is completely gone."
he spent the rest of the evening exactly like that—glued to you, his hand never leaving yours, watching the horizon with a quiet, steady gaze that made it very clear to anyone passing by exactly who you belonged to.
SEUNGMIN
the bookstore was quiet, smelling of old paper and vanilla coffee. it was the kind of place where seungmin could spend hours, his eyes scanning spines with a focused intensity that you always found endearing. he’d spotted a specific edition of a poetry book he’d been hunting for and had disappeared into the back corner of the store, leaving you in the "new releases" section.
you were standing there, tilting your head at a row of thrillers, not exactly sure what you were looking for. you picked one up, reading the jacket blurb, when a guy stepped up beside you.
"that one’s a bit overhyped, honestly."
you looked over to see a guy who looked like he spent a lot of time in libraries—thick glasses, a slightly pretentious hoodie, and an air of confidence that felt a bit forced. he was leaning against the bookshelf, blocking your view of the next row.
"the pacing is all off in the second act," he continued, not waiting for you to ask. "if you want something with actual literary merit, you should be looking at the historical fiction section. i could walk you over there and give you some recommendations. a lot of people struggle with picking the right novel."
you gave a small, awkward laugh. "oh, i’m sure it’s fine. i just liked the cover."
"style over substance," he sighed, shaking his head with a condescending smile. "typical. look, i’ve got a pretty curated list of must-reads. if you give me your number, i can send you a few titles that are actually worth your time."
he leaned in a little closer, his hand reaching out as if to take the book from your hand to put it back on the shelf.
"she’s keeping that one."
seungmin’s voice was like a cold splash of water. it was sharp, precise, and completely devoid of his usual playful teasing. he appeared at your side, not with a flourish, but with a steady, quiet presence that immediately shifted the air in the aisle.
he didn't look at the guy at first. instead, he tucked the poetry book he’d found under his arm and reached out, taking the thriller from your hand and looking at the cover.
"it has a 4.2 rating on most platforms, and the prose is noted for being accessible yet punchy," seungmin said, his tone incredibly dry as he looked at the stranger. "but i’m sure your... curated list is much more impressive."
the guy blinked, his face flushing. "i was just offering some help. she seemed a bit lost."
"she isn't lost," seungmin replied. he didn't raise his voice, but there was a biting edge to it—the seungmin that the members were always wary of. he stepped into the space between you and the guy, his shoulder subtly pushing the stranger back an inch. "and if she wants a recommendation, she’ll ask someone who actually knows her taste. which isn't you."
the guy opened his mouth to say something, but seungmin just raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady and unimpressed. he looked like he was ready to dismantle the guy’s entire personality with a single sentence. the stranger clearly decided it wasn't worth the effort, turning and disappearing into the biography section.
the second he was gone, seungmin let out a quiet scoff. he didn't move away, though. he stayed right in your space, his hand sliding down to grip your wrist gently, his thumb rubbing against your pulse point.
"you were going to let him talk for ten more minutes, weren't you?" he asked, looking down at you. his ears were red, a tell-tale sign that he was much more bothered than he was letting on.
"i was just trying to be polite, min."
"you're too polite," he mumbled, his grip on your wrist tightening just a fraction before he pulled you closer to his side. "he was being a condescending prick. and he was trying to get your number right in front of me. well, almost in front of me."
seungmin let out a frustrated sigh, looking back at the shelf. he wasn't usually the type to make a scene, but when it came to you, his patience for other people was non-existent. he was territorial in a very intellectual, sharp way—he didn't like anyone acting like they knew you better than he did.
"i'm the only one who gets to recommend books to you," he said, his voice dropping to a softer, more private murmur. "because i’m the only one who knows you hate sad endings and that you always skip the middle of long descriptions. i don't need some guy in a scarf trying to fuckin' curate your life."
you smiled, leaning your head against his arm. "are you jealous, kim seungmin?"
"i'm observant," he corrected, though he couldn't hide the small, smug smile that touched his lips when you didn't pull away. "and i don't like people hovering. especially when they’re wrong about the pacing of that thriller. it’s actually very well-regarded."
he led you toward the checkout counter, his hand sliding down to lock fingers with yours. he didn't let go, even when he had to pay, making sure he was positioned between you and the rest of the store. as you walked out, he tucked the bag under his arm and pulled you closer.
"next time," he said, "just tell them you’re with a very mean singer who has no problem being rude in a quiet shop."
"i think they got the message," you teased.
"good," he whispered, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your temple. "they were supposed to."
I.N.
the night market was a blur of neon signs, the smell of spicy rice cakes, and the constant roar of a thousand different conversations. it was loud, crowded, and exactly the kind of place where you could lose someone in seconds.
jeongin had been holding your hand tightly the whole time, but he’d let go for just a moment to elbow his way through a crowd at a street food stall to grab the skewers you’d been eyeing.
you were waiting by a brightly lit claw machine, watching the mechanical arm fail to grab a plush bread roll, when a guy drifted over. he looked like he’d had a few drinks—not enough to be stumbling, but enough to be loud and way too confident.
"man, these things are a scam," he said, leaning his shoulder against the glass of the machine, effectively blocking your view. "you’re never gonna catch that. but hey, if you want something to take home, i’m right here."
you didn't even look at him, keeping your eyes on the joystick. "i'm just waiting for someone."
"he must be a slow guy to leave a girl like you standing in the middle of a crowd," he laughed, reaching out to tap the glass right in front of your face. he was hovering in your personal space, his shadow cutting off the light from the machine. "come on, let me buy you a drink instead of wasting your money on a toy. i know a spot just around the corner that’s way better than this mess."
you started to step away, but the crowd was thick behind you, trapping you between the machine and the stranger. "i said i'm waiting for someone. please move."
"don't be like that," he said, his hand moving as if to reach for your shoulder. "i'm just being—"
"she asked you to move."
jeongin appeared out of the crowd like he’d been launched from a cannon. he didn't look like the baby bread the fans joked about; he looked sharp, his feline eyes narrowed and his jaw set in a hard, uncompromising line. he stepped directly between you and the man, his shoulder knocking the guy back a couple of inches.
he didn't say it loudly, and he didn't make a scene, but the sheer coldness in jeongin’s voice was enough to make the air around you feel brittle. he stood his ground, his height and the sudden, intense presence he carried making him look much older than he was.
"hey, man, back off. we were just talking," the guy snapped, trying to regain his footing.
jeongin didn't flinch. he didn't even blink. he just reached back and grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours with a grip that was borderline bruising. "you were bothering her. she told you to move, and you didn't. so i'm telling you now. get lost before this becomes a bigger problem for you."
the man looked at jeongin—really looked at him—and saw the silent, icy resolve in his gaze. jeongin had a way of looking through people when he was angry, a sharp, piercing stare that made it clear he wasn't playing. the guy muttered a curse under his breath and disappeared back into the sea of people.
the second he was gone, jeongin turned to you. the "scary" version of him evaporated instantly, replaced by a look of pure, frantic worry. he dropped the skewers onto the ledge of the machine and took your face in both of his hands, his thumbs frantically brushing over your cheeks.
"are you okay? did he touch you? i was only gone for a minute, i shouldn't have let go of your hand," he rambled, his voice high and breathless. the adrenaline was still surging through him, making his hands shake just a little.
"innie, i'm all good. you got here before he could even do anything," you said, trying to calm him down.
jeongin let out a long, shaky exhale, leaning his forehead against yours. he closed his eyes, his hands sliding down to rest heavily on your shoulders. "this is crazy," he whispered. "some drunk bastard thinks that he can... that's crazy."
he pulled you into a crushing hug, burying his face in your neck. jeongin was usually the one being pampered by the older members, but when it came to you, he had this fierce, almost desperate need to be the protector. he hated being seen as "young" or "harmless" when it mattered most.
his grip tightening, he mutters against your skin; "i don't want anyone to look at us and think they can just take you away because i’m not enough to keep them back. you’re mine. i need them to know that."
he pulled back, his ears bright red but his eyes steady. he reached down, grabbed the food, and then locked his fingers with yours again—this time, he didn't just hold your hand; he held it like his life depended on it.
"we’re going home," he said firmly, though a shy, dimpled smile finally managed to peek through his serious expression. "and next time, if you want skewers, we’re going together. i’m not letting go of you for the rest of the night."
he led you out of the market, navigating the crowd with a new, confident stride, his shoulder always positioned to block you from anyone else’s view.
synopsis: while minho was gone for holiday promotions he entrusted you with both his cats and his apartments. when he comes back from his trip to find you snuggled up on his couch with both his cats and his hoodie? well, let’s just say he has a hard time pretending you’re just a friend.
pairing: friend!minho x f!reader
genre: smut
contains: reader and min bickering a lil bit, kissing, biting, unprotected sex (don’t.), pet names (jagi, kitten), fucking on a kitchen counter :D, possessive min, there’s probably more that i’m not remembering sooo read with caution :P
word count: 2.9k
now playing: meat - bibi
event taglist is open!!
[a/n]: let me be the very first to tell you that i am a whore for this man :D !!
the apartment is quiet when minho pushes open the door, the kind of quiet that settles into spaces when they've been empty for too long.
except his apartment hasn't been empty, not really.
he knows you've been here, taking care of his cats while he's been away for the holiday promotions. what he doesn't expect is to find you still here though, all curled up and cozy on his couch like you own the place.
and what’s the cherry on top of this whole little surprise? it’s not the fact that you were supposed to leave this morning, nor the way you’re laying sprawled on the couch asleep. no, it’s that way your doing it all in his hoodie.
minho pauses in the doorway, bag still slung over one shoulder. the sight alone is enough to stop him in his tracks—you, small and soft against his cushions, the oversized black fabric swallowing your frame. one of his cats, soonie, is curled up near your feet. the scene is domestic in a way that knocks the air out of his lungs.
he sets his bag down as carefully as possible, not wanting to disturb the perfect picture you make. even then, the soft thud of the bag against the floor is enough.
your eyes flutter open, unfocused at first before they find him standing there. "minho?" your voice is rough with sleep, confused.
that confusion is quick to shift to something not far off from panic as you realize that he’s not just showing up unannounced, but it’s you that shouldn’t be here. especially not asleep and wrapped in his clothes.
you bolt up so quickly that you’re hit with a pang of whiplash. with a groan you raise a hand to the back of your neck to ease out the tightness, blissfully unaware of how the hoodie—his hoodie—shifts and slides over your shoulder. "you're back early."
minho simply shrugs and says "wrapped up sooner than expected," before stepping further into the apartment. his eyes never leave you, tracking the way you're trying to smooth down your hair, the flush creeping into your cheeks. "didn't know you'd made yourself so comfortable." his hand lifts lazily to gesture at you in your entirety.
it’s then that you actually look down at yourself, and your blush deepens when the full gravity of what you’re wearing really hits you. "i—it was cold. and it was just... there."
"just there?" he repeats, and there's something in his voice, something dry and amused that makes you squirm.
minho offers you a raised brow before turning to move towards the kitchen, unhurried as he gets a glass from the cabinet and goes about filling it with water. "so you just help yourself to my closet when i'm gone?"
"i was house sitting," is the defense you feed him as you push yourself up from the safe warmth of the couch cushions. you pull the sleeves over your hands before crossing your arms. "and it's comfortable. sue me."
minho takes a sip of his water, watching you over the rim of the glass. his gaze is steady, knowing, the kind of look that makes you feel like he can see right through you.
you hate it when he does that.
"comfortable," he echos your words again. you have half the mind to call him a parrot before the sound of glass clicking against marble fills the air. "or does it smell like me?"
your mouth opens, then closes.
minho gives satisfactory little click of his tongue, knowing damn well he‘s got you trapped with that one. he can see it in the way your eyes widen slightly, the way you can't quite meet his gaze anymore. "that's- i didn't—"
"didn't what?" he's leaning against the counter now, arms crossed with the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "didn't think i'd come home and find you wrapped up in my clothes like you missed me?"
"you're reading too much into it," you grumble as you too make your way to the kitchen, fingers playing idly with the hem of the hoodie like you need something to do with your hands.
"mm. sure i am.”
you ignore his little remark as you brush past him to reach for a glass from the cabinet. minho stays quiet, far too concentrated with the way his the hoodie shifts on your body as you move, how the fabric falls to brush just above your thighs.
have you been walking around his apartment like this the whole time he's been gone? the thought does something cruel to him, something that makes his dick twitch and his head feel fuzzy.
"you know," minho drawls, voice coming just a tad bit lower than than his usual tone. "you look good in my clothes."
your hand freezes on the glass. slowly—so, so slowly—you glance over at him. "…what?"
"you heard me." is his response as he pushes off the counter. within seconds you feel him behind you. he’s warm, warm and so close that his presence feels nothing short of suffocating. "you look good wearing my things."
your heart pounds so hard you in your chest that you wouldn’t be surprised if the hammering broke a rib or two. "minho-"
"say it." he cuts you off, his hands come to rest on the counter on either side of you to effectively cage you in place. he doesn’t touch directly, but he doesn’t need to. he knows that. minho knows you well enough to know that the proximity alone is enough to leave you overheating. "say you wore it because you miss me."
you turn around slowly to face him, not realizing how much closer the shift would actually bring the two of you until it’s far too late.
it’s at that moment you accept your lose.
minho’s face is inches from yours now, so close that it’s easy to see how his pupils have blown just so. he looks down at you like he's been thinking about this—about you—for far longer than when he walked in the doorway.
"and what if i did?" your voice comes out breathier than you want it, but it isn’t really something you can help. not with him this close. not with the way he's looking at you.
"then i'd say you're not as subtle as you think you are." his gaze drops to your lips, then back up to your eyes. if you were a little quicker on your comebacks, you’d make some snide remark about how he isn’t as subtle as he thinks. "i'd say i've noticed the way you look at me when you think i'm not paying attention. the way you find excuses to be near me."
"you're one to talk," you do shoot back this time, finding your voice. "you think i haven't noticed you watching me? the way you always seem to be wherever i am?"
something flashes in his eyes—surprise, maybe. or satisfaction. "observant," he hum, and there's something like approval in his tone. "i like that."
"what are you doing, minho?" you whisper, but you're not pulling away. if anything, you're leaning in.
"what does it look like i'm doing?" his voice is barely above a murmur now, lips so close to yours that you can feel his breath with every exhale. "i'm done watching. i'm done pretending i don't want this."
"want what?"
"you." the word is simple, direct, so utterly minho that it makes your breath catch. "i want you. been wanting you. and seeing you in my apartment? in my clothes??” he scoffs, jaw tightening. "you're not making this easy."
"maybe i don't want to make it easy." your hands come up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. "maybe i want you to work for it."
his laugh is low, dangerous. "is that right?" one of his hands leaves the counter to catch your wrist, his thumb digging into the skin right above your pulse point. "your heart's racing. you sure you wanna play games with me, kitten?"
"you know me, min. i love a good game…"
the kiss is everything you didn't know you needed—firm and demanding and achingly thorough.
minho kisses like he does everything else, with focus and intensity, like he's been thinking about this and now that he's finally getting it, his only thought is to do it right. his hand comes up to cup your face, angling you exactly where he wants you, and you melt into it, into him.
when he pulls back, you're both breathing hard. "still want to play?" he asks, voice is raw and strained.
"just shut up and kiss me again."
he does. and this time, there's no hesitation, no holding back. his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you gasp into his mouth at the contact. he takes advantage of it, sliding his tongue against yours until you’re left dizzy from the taste of him.
it doesn’t take long until the only thing grounding you is the solid warmth of his body against yours.
when your hands move to tear the hoodie from your body, minho slaps them away before they can even grab hold of the hem.
"keep it on," the order is mumbled against your lips as his hands slip beneath the heavy fabric to find bare skin. “need you to keep it on, yeah?"
"possessive," you manage, the laugh you pair it with coming out shaky.
"you have no idea." his lips trail down your jaw, your neck, finding that spot that makes you whimper. "seeing you in my clothes, in my space—do you know what that does to me?"
you can feel exactly what it does to him, pressed against you like this. "tell me," you breathe.
"makes me want to keep you here." his teeth graze your collarbone. "i’m gonna fucking eat you alive, jagi." he down hard where your neck and shoulder meet, smoothing over the patch with his tongue before promptly repeating the action again further up. “…gonna ruin you for anyone else."
"then do it, minho. follow through." the words are out before you can think better of them, but they’re not something you regret.
how could you regret something that leads minho to lifting you with maddening ease until you’re seated on the edge of the counter, the bulk of him moving to stand in between your thighs like he has every right to.
"you’re a brat." his hands are on your thighs now, thumbs dragging in circles that make it incredibly difficult to think straight.
"’m horny. there’s a difference" you breathe as you pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist.
what happens next is a blur of sensation—his mouth on yours, on your skin, his hands everywhere but never where you need them most.
the hoodie stays on, just like he wanted. he maps every inch of you with his fingers, his lips, learning what makes you gasp, what makes you moan his name in that falsetto that he loves so much.
"been thinking about this," he confesses against your skin, voice ragged. "been driving myself crazy thinking about you."
"could've said something sooner," you manage. minho response consists of doing something with his hips that makes your head fall back, all hopes of coherent thought quickly being rendered impossible.
the kitchen counter is cold against your thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat between you. minho is methodical even now, even like this, paying attention to every reaction, every sound you make, and using it against you to drive you higher.
it's overwhelming, the intensity of it, of him, and when you finally break, it's with his name on your lips and his hands holding you together.
minho’s hands slide up your thighs, pushing the hoodie higher, bunching the fabric at your waist. "keep it on," he says again to really drive it into your fuzzy little head. all you can do is nod. it isn’t really like you can form words right now, not with the way you can feel him everywhere.
his fingers hook into your shorts and underwear with ease, dragging them down and off in one smooth motion. the air is cool against your skin but it doesn't last because in the next moment he's there filling the space.
his body crowds against yours in the best way. one hand braces against the counter beside your hip while the other grips at your thigh, using the the placement there to drag you forward until your pussy is dragging over the bulge of his jeans.
"you have no idea," he breathes, his eyes dark and focused entirely on where your bodies touch. mesmerized. "how long i've been thinking about this. about you like this."
you can't help yourself—your hips roll against him, seeking friction, seeking more.
the movement is instinctive, desperate, and the groan it pulls from him is obscene. his grip on your thigh tightens, guiding you in encouragement you to do it again. so you do. you grind down harder this time, feeling the rigid length of him through the denim, and the cold metal of his zipper catches your clit it sends a sharp cry tumbling from your lips.
"fuck," he hisses, his head dropping to your shoulder. "you're gonna kill me, kitten." but he doesn't stop you. if anything, his hands urge you on, helping you find the rhythm that has you both panting, the friction building into something unbearable and necessary all at once.
when the grind starts leaving you more desperate than satisfied, you reach for him, fingers fumbling with his belt and zipper. minho lets you, watching you with that intense gaze that makes you feel like you're the only thing in the world that matters.
when you finally free him, he groans low in his throat, the sound sending heat pooling low in your belly.
"minho," you whisper, and it comes out needy, desperate.
"i know, jagi" he says, and then he's there, the blunt pressure of him against you making your breath catch. "i've got you."
the push in is slow, devastatingly so. he’s gracious enough to give you time to adjust to the stretch, time you absolutely need because fuck.
your head falls back as a gasp rips from your throat, the sound tapering off into a high whine. minho’s hand comes up to cradle the back of your head in an attempt to keep you from hurting yourself on the cabinet.
when he finally starts the rock of his hips that you’ve craved for so long, it’s everything you ever imagined it to be and more. minho is all control, all purpose, each thrust calculated to hit exactly where you need him.
the counter digs into your thighs but you don't care, can't care, not when he's filling you so perfectly.
"so good…" he mutters, almost to himself. "so fucking good for me."
his hand slides under your hoodie again, this time to palm at your breast. his thumb brushes over your nipple once before he twists it between his thumb and forefinger. it sends you arching into the touch with a whimper.
the kitchen is filled with the sound of skin on skin, your gasps and his low groans. your hands scramble for purchase as he starts hitting harder, one gripping his shoulder, nails digging in, while the other braces against the counter behind you.
"need you to touch yourself, kitten" he purrs, deep and breathless. "need to feel you come around me."
you do as told, hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit, and the added stimulation makes you cry out. minho watches with blown pupils as you work yourself closer to the edge.
"that's it," he encourages, his movements becoming less controlled and far more desperate. "let go. come for me."
it builds fast, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter until it snaps. you come with a broken sob of his name and he follows moments later with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as he buries himself deep.
for a moment, neither of you move. his forehead rests against yours, his hand still cradling your head, the other gripping your hip hard enough that you can already feel the bruises before they’re even visible.
minho is the first to break the silence with a breathy "fuck,", and you can't help but laugh, breathless and giddy.
"yeah," you agree, because what else is there to say?
a beat of silence, and then"i meant what i said. i want this. want you. not just tonight."
his words send what little sobriety you’d started to collect right back out the window. "you're sure? minho, this—"
"i'm sure." he cups your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. "i don't do things in halves. you should know that by now."
"i do," you whisper, covering his hands with yours. "i want this too. want you."
the smile he gives you is small but genuine, reaching his eyes in a way that makes him look younger, softer. "good," he says simply, pulling you into his arms. you go easily, and it’s the easiest decision you’ve ever made in your life.
[a/n 2]: some of you may be asking yourselves ‘ghosty, why isn’t hyunjin on the poll anymore??’ and i have arrived to provide you that answer 🙂↕️ on the night of friday 19th your girl is working until ELEVEN PM, and i fear i simply do not want to stress myself out more than necessary. soooo on that night you guys will be gettin hyunjin’s story!! it’s already finished and queued and lovely, and i hope you all enjoy it!! now, with that psa outta the way, you may continue on to voting <3<3
your best friend, minho, takes you on a weekend trip in the mountains after you get dumped a week before valentine's day
pairing: bff!soft dom!minho x fem!reader
genre: fluff, hurt/comfort (mentally + physically), smut
content: bffs to lovers, one bed trope, kissing, minho gets pants-ed (lovingly), dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex (p in v)
word count: 6.5k
a/n: blonde lee know has a chokehold on me. i know he’s so bad at sports but for some reason i feel like he’d be good at snowboarding. idk let me have this. everyone writes mean dom lee know but i love the idea that he’s soft with the people he loves. minimally proofread. this is a (late) valentine's day present, i hope you enjoy ♡
♡ m.list
The snowy mountains come into focus as you’re riding in the passenger seat of Minho’s car. The car radio is playing some old indie rock band you like, and the windows are cracked slightly to let a cool breeze in. You look over at Minho, his blonde strands of hair swaying underneath his beanie, and everything feels much better than it did a week ago.
Because a week ago, you found out your boyfriend was cheating on you. A week before Valentine’s Day. You’d been with him for a couple of years, and even considered moving in together, until you found out. It shattered you, of course it did, but one phone call later your best friend was at your doorstep with pudding and tissues to console you.
Minho was always there for you. From grade school to college to now, there was never a doubt in your mind that if you needed him, he’d come. Even when the two of you were in relationships, you took the space you needed out of respect for your partners but always made an effort to hang out every once in a while. Your ex didn’t like him, said he was cold and made bad jokes. But that’s just Minho.
He looks over at you and turns the radio down. Your temple is pressed to the glass and you’re staring blankly at the passing trees.
“You okay?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Yeah,” you let out with a sigh, looking over to him and cracking a shy smile. “I’m just excited for this weekend.” He reaches over to grab your hand and give it a light squeeze.
His presence alone has been your sole source of comfort the past week, coming over after work almost daily with takeout in hand and a box of tissues. Most of the time you don’t really talk, you just sit together on the couch and watch movies until you’re ready to go to sleep.
“Try not to think about it too much, yeah?” he says, grabbing your coffee from the cup holder and handing it to you. You smile at him, his kindness always catching you off guard but never taken for granted by you. The little things matter, you think to yourself.
The car pulls down a dirt road and you drive a couple of miles before reaching the cabin. It’s a quaint log cabin, with a good size deck and a cozy fireplace. It’s older, but charming and cozy. Plus, the owners just installed a hot tub on the back deck with a beautiful view of the snowy mountains. You told Minho the hot tub was non-negotiable, and he complied.
You step into the cozy atmosphere, the lights flickering on as you take in the space. It’s really small. Which is what you get when you book a trip during Valentine’s Day weekend with only a couple days notice. Your eyes flick from the kitchen to the small sofa, up to the loft overhead where you see the bed taking up most of the space up there.
“Minho, where am I sleeping?” You ask him as you realize there’s no way there’s another bedroom in this cabin.
“You can sleep upstairs, I’ll take the couch,” he says smiling as he lugs your duffel bag over his head to put in the loft.
“Minho, you’re taking me on this trip, at least take the bed,” you complain to him. That sofa fits maybe two people, and you know it’ll kill his neck if he’s on it all weekend. “I’m small enough to fit on that tiny ass couch anyway.”
“We can switch off, just take it tonight and I’ll take it tomorrow.” He squeezes your shoulders and smiles, as he continues to lug his bag and some groceries in. You offer to help, but of course, he declines and tells you to lay out on the couch. You pull out your phone for some doom scrolling, but sure enough the tiny letters at the top say “No Signal”. He knew if you had internet access you’d spend all weekend obsessing over what your ex was doing, who he was doing it with.
Minho finishes unpacking his things into the kitchen and storage chest in the living area and settles down with you on the couch. You lean your head on his shoulder and he lets out a sigh. “Thank you for doing this for me,” you say quietly once the silence started getting comfortable.
“That’s what friends are for,” he says back, planting a kiss on the top of your head. This kind of physical affection was nothing new to the two of you, often getting mistaken for being a couple in public. You never corrected anyone, but it made you giggle a little bit. You showed it much less if either of you were in relationships, but became a lot touchier if you were sad. It always made you feel better knowing he’d never shy away from you when you really needed it.
As the sky started to darken, and you both had comfortably showered and settled into pjs, Minho got started on dinner. Bulgogi and rice with a side of cucumber salad, one of your comfort meals. He was an incredible cook, he knew how to make everything taste perfect and timed everything so it all came out the perfect temperature when it was time to eat.
You followed him like a puppy, hovering over him and resting your chin on his shoulder. He moved around you with ease, sometimes moving you out of the way so he didn’t hit you as he turned. You tried to sneak a few bites in, but he always smacked your hand out of the way.
“Ay, not yet!” he said as he playfully shooed you away. You whined a bit, but moved to the other side of the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and pour into glasses for each of you.
The air shifts when you sit down to eat. He knows what’s on your mind, and he tries to talk about your plans for the weekend to distract you. It helps some, until you stop talking and it feels even more awkward.
“You deserve much, much better than whatever that guy had to offer,” he mentions, like he already knows your mind has slipped back into thinking of your ex. You realize how little time you’ve spent with Minho the past few years, and you feel a tinge of guilt.
“I’m sorry I haven’t really tried to see you,” you say apologetically. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m just using you because I’m lonely or something.”
“Don’t apologize, I know how it is. Plus, that guy hated me,” he lets out a laugh. “I’m surprised I got to see you at all. I’m just glad we’re here now.” You admire the way he’s able to say things so matter-of-factly, like nothing ever bothers him. You intend to adopt his mindset for the weekend, and maybe even the foreseeable future.
You help Minho clean up dinner and when you start to settle again, he leans close to you and whispers, “Last one in the hot tub has to make breakfast.” You let out a gasp and run up to the loft to change into a bathing suit, and he sprints to the bathroom. He always has a trick up his sleeve.
You meet at the glass door that leads to the deck and you both stop to look outside. It’s freezing, and the hot tub is at least 20 feet across the deck. You turn to him and you both smile, lunging for the door handle at the same time. You were not losing this.
You’re both shoving each other as your bare feet patter on the wood deck. He reaches the steps before you do, and you tug his swim shorts down and slip past him before he can make it in.
“Ya! That’s so unfair,” he laughs, splashing water at you as he pulls his shorts back up and sits down.
“C’mon, you know you don’t want my burnt ass eggs in the morning,” you sputter out, laughing with him.
He relaxes in the seat next to you, your thighs brushing his. You slouch a bit to get as much of your body in the warm, bubbly water as possible. It’s incredibly relaxing, your shoulders feeling looser already as you look up at all the stars in the sky and just exist alongside him.
Minho lets out a long sigh next to you. “You know, I think I really needed this too,” he says. You tilt your head to face him and study his expression. He looks relaxed, but like there’s something he’s not telling you.
“Trouble in paradise?” you ask him, referring to his own relationship. He and his girlfriend have been on again off again for what feels like a decade at this point.
“Uh…I’ve been single for about six months now,” he says. You jerk your head up, and your jaw drops. Six months? Has it really been that long since you last spoke?
“Minho! Why didn’t you tell me?” you exclaim, giving him a playful slap to the shoulder. “I would’ve been there for you!”
“It’s fine, I’m over it now. I had a lot of things to think through on my own.” He’s holding eye contact with you, and you scan his face for any sign he might be lying. He’s so damn hard to read, always making it seem like he’s okay even when he isn’t.
“Still, I’m sorry to hear about it. I…liked her.”
“Liar.”
“No, seriously, she was…nice.”
“You groaned the last time we got back together.”
“I just didn’t like how you kept going back to her.” Your voice is softer now, like you didn’t want him to fully hear you. “Like she’d dump you, and then come running back and apologize like it made up for all the hurt she caused. She didn’t deserve you.”
He doesn’t say anything for a few moments. He rests his elbow on the edge of the tub to fully face you, and his hand comes up to trace circles on your shoulder. He takes a deep breath like he’s nervous for what he’s about to say next.
“She tried calling me a few weeks ago. I didn’t answer. I think I’ve been done for a long time now, I just needed some clarity.” He’s smiling now, and you can tell a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
“As long as you’re happy, that’s all I care about,” you smile back at him. He scoots closer to pull you into a hug, and you feel yourself relax even further into him. His shoulders feel firmer than the last time you saw each other. He even dyed his hair blonde. You wonder if anything else has changed about him, too.
“I’m happy when I’m with you,” he whispers to you, and for the first time all week, you feel like everything will be okay.
You wake up to the smell of eggs, not burning, and fresh coffee being made below you. The loft setup was neat, you could look straight through the massive windows and see the mountains towering over the cabin, or lean against the railing and watch Minho cooking. This morning you chose the latter.
He was humming to himself and dancing a bit, swaying his hips and moving his shoulders to whatever rhythm was in his head. You liked watching him being his goofy self, not a care in the world, despite the heavier conversations you’ve had recently.
“Don’t burn the eggs,” you call down, still groggy from sleep. He looks up at you, his startled expression turning into a smile.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he chirps, ears turning red at the fact that you probably caught him dancing. “Breakfast is ready.”
You gather yourself, brush your teeth, and throw on warmer clothes before going downstairs. The food is warm and delicious, and you’re silently glad to be taken care of. Minho is always so attentive, and it’s nice being the one taken care of for a change.
“What’s the plan for today?” you ask him, stuffing your mouth with eggs.
He responds with a shrug. “Whatever you want to do!” For being such a good planner, he was still willing to let loose and go with the flow. You appreciated him for not coming up with any kind of strict schedule for the two of you.
You both settled on going for a morning walk in town before skiing at the local resort. The town was a quaint ski town, with lots of tourists during the winter months. The shops were older, Tudor-style buildings nestled in the low valley between the mountains. A light layer of snow coated the buildings, and the atmosphere was calm despite there being more people than usual.
The two of you just strolled around, making your way through some of the shops. It started getting crowded in the late morning, so Minho suggested taking a stroll through the park. It being the middle of winter, the paths were clear of people and only a light layer of snow on the ground.
“This is nice,” you say quietly, referring to the quiet environment and the surrounding park. In the springtime, the gardens bloomed and the sun shone brightly on the area. But it was still nice, even without the flowers' pretty colors.
Minho stopped at a rose bush on the side of the path. The roses had a dusting of snow on them, and you were curious how they had survived so long. He reached his hand out and plucked one of the stems with a red rose attached to it. He twirled it between his fingers, and gently handed it to you.
“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, careful to avoid the thorns as you took the rose from him.
“Delicate yet strong. Like you,” he said nonchalantly, flashing you a smile. You stopped in your tracks for a moment while he kept walking forward. It was such a small gesture, but it meant so much. He still saw you as someone with a lot of strength, despite how broken you’ve felt lately. Minho was good at that.
He kept walking forward as you trailed a few paces behind him. Towards the end of the path he stopped suddenly, turning toward you with wide eyes.
“Do you hear that?” he asked. You shook your head.
He crept closer to the bushes and crouched down. You crouched down with him, unsure of what you were supposed to be looking at. A few moments later a grey tabby cat emerged, and slowly walked towards you two. Minho dipped into his pocket and pulled out a Churu packet, opening it and beckoning the cat closer.
“You just…have those with you?” you asked, puzzled.
“I like making friends with them,” he said, as the cat brushed up against his leg and started eating the treat. Minho the cat whisperer, you thought to yourself. It was endearing seeing him care for such an innocent creature. He scratched the cat's head, cooing at it lovingly. You just looked at him, a wide grin on his face, completely in his element.
And suddenly, you realize this is all you ever wanted. A calm, quiet kind of love. Not one that sneaks up on you, but one that was always there.
You’re standing at the top of the snowy hill, dressed in snow gear from head to toe, skis strapped to your feet and poles in hand. You look over at Minho while he’s strapping his snowboard to his boots.
“Ready?” He asks, fastening his helmet to his head. You were not ready. You’ve gone skiing a couple of times in your life, but you always forgot how to do anything the second you found yourself back on the hill.
You shake your head at him, slightly terrified, but mostly excited. “Just remember, pizza!” He says, referring to the position he taught you for slowing down.
“Are you sure this is a beginner hill?” you say to him, questioning your choices.
“Define beginner,” he laughs back.
“Minho!”
“I’m kidding! Look, there's a 6-year-old who can do this hill. You’ll be fine. I’m right behind you.”
That makes you feel slightly better, but you take a deep breath and head down the hill anyway. You want this weekend to be fun for both of you.
It only takes a second for muscle memory to kick in, and then you’re moving down the slope with ease. You’re on the side of the hill, away from all the people, and you’re calling back to Minho about how much fun you’re having. You catch a glimpse of him gliding down the hill on his snowboard, snow kicking up with every graceful movement, hips moving effortlessly as he maneuvers around people. You can’t help but smile to yourself, he looks so happy.
You both go up and down the hill for a couple of hours before you begin to tire. “One more, then lunch?” Minho says to you on the ski lift. Right when you nod your head to agree, you see him wince as he stretches his neck and shoulders.
“Minho, if the couch is killing your back, let me sleep on it tonight,” you say, rubbing his shoulder. You could tell his shoulder was bothering him, and you could only imagine how his back was feeling after a day of snowboarding as well.
“I’m fine,” he says assuringly. “Truly, I want you to be comfortable. It’s only a couple of nights.” He’s so damn stubborn. You roll your eyes, but you know when his mind is set on something, it’s hard to change it.
You slide off the ski lift for the last time and start to head down the hill, Minho trailing not far behind. The day stayed mostly overcast, but the trees and mountains against the clouds were beautiful. You glide down the hill with ease, slowing to watch as people learn to ski and snowboard. Everyone seemed so happy.
You don’t notice the rock hiding at the edge of the tree line until you crash into it, losing your balance, and faceplant into the snow. You roll a couple of times, but luckily you were towards the end and there wasn’t much hill left to tumble down. The snow stings your face, and you feel a brutal pain in your shoulder as you come to realize what just happened.
Minho screams your name as he rushes over to help. “Shit, are you okay?” he asks as he frantically unstraps himself from his board and kneels beside you.
You’re able to roll over on your back, letting out a groan as the pain throughout your body starts to hit. You’re positive there will be bruises on your ribs when you wake up tomorrow. He helps you up, takes off your skis, and supports you as you step out of them. Your legs feel fine, but your upper body aches. He drapes one of your arms over his shoulder and holds your waist firmly as he walks you over to the medic tent.
“I’m okay, really, I promise,” you say to the staff member as he’s checking you out. You’re definitely in pain, and Minho is certainly not convinced.
“It’s just a precaution, to make sure you have no concussion or broken bones,” the staff member says to you as he feels around your ribs. Minho’s holding your hand, tracing small circles with his thumb, watching you intently. You have a feeling that it’s more for him than it is for you, but you still enjoy the comfort, especially with someone poking at all the places that hurt.
“Nothing’s broken or bleeding, but you’ll definitely have some nasty bruises in the morning,” the medic says to you. “A warm bath and ice for any swelling, and go to the hospital if anything gets worse.” You nod your head at him and put your jacket back on, and Minho helps you out of the tent.
“Minho, I can walk just fine,” you laugh as he’s still holding you up by your waist, walking you back to the car. He makes eye contact for a moment, and you study his face. He’s flushed, no doubt from the cold and exercise, and his hair is messy from the helmet. A look of worry is plastered on his face, but he lets you go gently.
You walk on your own back to the car, but he still helps you into your seat and buckles you in. You stop protesting so much. He likes being helpful, and he’s clearly worried about you, no matter how much you assure him that you’re fine.
The caretaking doesn’t stop back at the cabin, either. Not that you expected it to, or even wanted it to. It was nice having him fawn over you. It made you feel loved in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. He helps you inside the house and sits you down in a chair to help you take off your boots and winter gear. He walks you into the bathroom and starts a bath for you, and gently tugs on your shirt to lift it over your head. Your hand reacts before your brain can catch up, stopping him.
“Let me take a look,” he says gently, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort. He’s seen you shirtless countless times, for years now, in swimsuits where you’re wearing much less clothing. This, however, feels more intimate. You nod your head at him, letting him take your shirt off and inspect your torso.
A bright red splotch crawls up your side, already starting to turn purple around your ribs. You hiss at the contact, his hands still cold from outside.
“Sorry,” he says quickly, moving your shirt to the counter. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes, but it’s fine, your hands are just cold,” you say, laughing a bit at how apologetic he is.
“Does it hurt anywhere else?”
“My shoulder, I think I landed on it funny.”
“Yeah, the judges gave it a 6/10.” You smack him at that one.
“I’m serious, it hurts.” You whine, and he moves your hair and shifts to your right to get a closer look.
“It’s red, and it’ll probably bruise tomorrow. Good thing you’re taking the bed!” He smiles at you like he’s won the argument you’ve been having the whole weekend. You roll your eyes at him, but you can’t disagree.
“We can share, okay? No more bad shoulders for us, we only have 2/4 left,” you tell him, trying to be stern. He raises his eyebrow at you.
“If you wanted to get me into bed, you should’ve just asked—”
“Get out!” You smack him playfully, and he holds his hands up in surrender as you shoo him out of the room.
The bath is nice and the warm, bubbly water eases a lot of the pain you just endured. Your mind wanders to the events of the last few hours, how everything happened. How Minho’s face looked when you fell. How he held you up, how he held your hand, how he touched your skin, how close he got to your face. You feel your heart beating faster when you snap out of it and climb out of the tub.
Minho already has dinner made when you get out. A nice hearty soup, it’s warm and smells heavenly. You both sit at the table, your hair’s still wet from the bath and he’s still in his ski clothes.
“Thank you,” you say as you sip on the soup. Minho’s the best cook you know, and you’re thankful that he’s the one taking charge in the kitchen.
After dinner is cleaned up, he showers, changes into comfy clothes, and pours you both a glass of wine to help you wind down from the day. You’re playing cards at the coffee table by the fireplace and just chatting away.
“My mom called, says she misses you,” he says gently.
“Tell her I miss her too, and now hopefully I can come and see her now that…” you say, trying not to mention your ex. You realize it’s the first time you’ve really thought about him all day. And the first time it doesn’t make you sad.
He looks at you with sorrow in his eyes. You gently place your hand on his, and look at him to say, “I’m okay, I promise. I’ve been having so much fun I haven’t even thought about him until just now.”
“That’s good. You already know you deserve better,” he says, placing his other hand on yours.
“I know,” you nod. “You too.”
The bathroom sink lights flicker slightly while you change into your pjs. You can’t stand wearing pants to bed, no matter how cold it is outside. The big t-shirt you wear hides not much more than your butt, hitting right along your middle thigh.
Minho’s lying on the couch when you come out. “I don’t think so, mister,” you say to him sternly. He looks at you, smirk on his face, and you gesture to the loft above.
“Fine, but you’re a space heater in your sleep, stay on your side of the bed,” he says back, rolling his eyes.
You get situated on the inside of the bed closest to the railing, and Minho climbs in after you. He breathes out a sigh of relief, feeling exhausted after a long ass day. Your heart starts racing as you both lie there, inches apart.
“Goodnight,” you say, turning to him.
“Goodnight, sweet dreams,” he says back to you. An eerie quiet falls over the cabin. It’s pitch black save for the bit of moonlight that peeks through the trees, and you can hear his breathing as it steadies.
You move your hand ever so slightly until you feel his, and just hold it there. He laces his fingers between yours and you can feel your pulse quicken, and your breath getting shaky. Neither of you moves or speaks, and once the nerves die down you quickly drift off to sleep.
You jolt awake in the middle of the night, absolutely freezing despite being under several layers of blankets. You sit up to try and investigate, but your bruised torso starts aching when you try. Minho stirs beside you as you let out a low groan.
“Minho,” you whisper, trying not to startle him. It doesn’t work, and he’s still fast asleep. You resort to nudging him with your foot.
“Ay!” he lets out as he jolts awake. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He immediately comes to and leans over to look at you.
“Uh…it’s just really cold in here,” you whisper, putting your cold foot on his leg.
“Jesus, your feet are cold. Let me see what’s wrong with the heat.” He gets up and throws his hoodie on, and heads downstairs to check it out. You hear him flick the lights on, but the room stays dark.
“Well, that’s probably why,” he says, laughing in disbelief. You lean over the edge of the railing and you see what he’s talking about. The snow outside is coming down hard. The wind is knocking the tree tops together, and you can only assume the whole town is without power.
Minho lets out a deep breath and heads over to the fireplace. He put out the fire hours ago, but the cabin is small enough that he’s hoping it’ll give you both at least a bit of heat upstairs. You watch as he takes firewood from the stack and kindles the fire. He starts the fire and makes sure the screen is tight and that there’s nothing that can easily catch in front of it.
He comes back upstairs with an extra set of blankets and leans over the bed to throw one of them over you. You’re shivering, even under three layers of blankets, praying for warmth.
The bed dips as he climbs back into it, and he snakes his arm under your head to pull you close, taking care not to put weight on your bad shoulder. Your head settles into his chest and you catch a whiff of his cologne, the smell of him makes your heart flutter.
“What are you doing?” You whisper against him as he holds you tight. He rests his chin on the top of your head, letting out a deep breath. Surely he can feel your heart pounding out of your chest.
“I’m keeping you warm,” he says simply, but you catch the faintest sense of nervousness in his voice. Your hand is on his side, and you slowly move it under the hem of his shirt. His skin is warm, and he hisses at the contact of your cold hand.
You pull back slightly to look up at him, your hand drifting across his abs. You didn’t notice that he had a six pack the other night in the hot tub, but your skin grows warmer as you trace every single muscle. His breathing gets shakier with every moment that passes, and he opens his eyes to look at you.
His hand comes up from your back to move a stray strand of hair out of your face, and then rests gently cupping your jaw. You’re not sure what might happen, what it might mean, but you know that you want it. You want him.
You can’t stop staring at his lips. They’re perfectly plump, pink, and parted slightly so his front teeth peek out. He’s only inches from your face, and you bite your lip to refrain from babbling nonsense. You’re too nervous to make the first move, or to say anything really.
You don’t have to say anything. He already knows by the way you’re looking at him, eyes full of want. He looks at you the same way. You’re holding your breath now in anticipation, waiting for him. He leans in slowly, scanning your face just before you touch, just in case you want to pull back. You respond by closing your eyes and he closes the gap. Your lips meet, and you exhale into him.
The kiss is tender, gentle in a way that’s precious. You’re only slightly stiff for a moment before relaxing into his touch, your lips moving in rhythm with his. It’s better than you could have ever dreamed of, and the only thing that matters is this moment right here, right now.
He pulls back for only a moment. “Jagiya,” he whispers. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
“Don’t stop,” you reply.
The next kiss is hungrier, and his hand drifts down to your thigh, hiking it over his side. You grind into him on reflex and you can feel how hard he is beneath his sweatpants. You let out a moan into his mouth and he moves his hand to squeeze your ass, guiding you as you move against him.
You move your hand to his neck, deepening the kiss as your tongue meets his. He tastes delicious, and you move your hips harder and faster into him. He lets out a moan pulling you hard against him.
Your body feels like it’s on fire now, and you need more of him now. You feel your cunt throbbing against his length, and you tug his shirt up to take it off. He rolls you on your back gently, breaking the kiss to kneel above you to yank it off. He pulls up on the hem of your shirt next, and you sit up slightly to help him get you out of it.
The cold air hits you and your nipples harden immediately. He continues to kiss you, resting on his arm and moving his other hand to knead your breast. You moan at the contact and wrap your legs around his hips to bring him closer to the spot you’re on fire. His mouth moves down your jawline, leaving a trail of soft kisses. He gets to your neck and you lean your head to give him better access. He kisses and sucks on it gently, and your moans get louder and higher pitched. Everything is so much, and yet not enough. The friction between your legs causes a heat in your belly to pool, and you scratch at his back as his hips continue to roll into yours.
“Minho, please,” you whimper. “I need you.”
“Okay, jagiya. Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers against your skin. You nod your head frantically as you pull him back into another kiss.
He takes his hand from your chest and gently moves it down your body. You start to tremble, desperate to feel him between your legs. His fingers ghost against your core and you feel the wetness of your panties sticking to your folds. His mouth dips down to your chest as he licks across your breast, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. You gasp, and your hands fly to his hair, gripping slightly as he moves against you.
He brings his head up and moves his hand away from your heat, and you whimper at the loss. His hands come up and he takes two fingers into his mouth, wetting them gently. His hand comes back down, slips underneath your panties, and he sinks them into you.
“Fuck, Minho,” you gasp as he fucks into you slowly, lowering his head back down to your breast, sucking gently on your neglected nipple. “Oh my god, that feels so good.” He responds by humming against you, and you can’t help but buck into his touch.
“So needy,” he says as he pulls back, looking up at you. “Let me take my time with you, jagi.” You whine at him and pull him back into another kiss. He slips a third finger into you and your eyes roll back into your head, your stomach knotting as he picks up his speed.
His thumb makes contact with your clit and your muscles tighten, your whimpers louder and more erratic. “Not yet,” he whispers in your ear as he pulls his hand completely away from you. You’ve completely ruined your underwear at this point, the cool fabric sending a shock through you. He stands off the bed to tug them off of you, tossing them on the floor. He stares at you as he slowly unties his sweats, shimmying them off his hips and onto the floor. You watch as he drops his boxers next, his cock flinging out and against his stomach. He’s huge, and you whimper slightly at the thought of him stretching you out.
He climbs back on top of you, kissing you again, and you grab onto his waist impatiently. He chuckles into your mouth.
“Are you sure?” he asks again. “I didn’t exactly bring a condom on a trip with my best friend.”
“Aw, I’m touched,” you say sarcastically. “Yes, god Minho please fuck me.”
He slots himself between your legs and you wrap yours around his waist. He guides himself to your entrance and gently presses in. Only the head is inside and you’re already feeling stretched out. His forehead falls to yours, and you both moan in sync as he enters you.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans as he bottoms out. Your arms wrap around his back as he hovers above you, giving both of you time to adjust.
He starts to move and your stomach heats up again. He’s moving slowly but so deep, you can feel him hit your cervix with every thrust. You feel every drag of his length against his walls, the stretch of him feels so fucking good after all of the buildup.
He picks up the pace and kisses you again, fucking you harder into the mattress. He groans as he feels you squeeze around him. “Fuck, don’t do that, or I’m gonna come.” You do it again deliberately and he lets out a growl.
He leans back and his hand moves to your clit, rubbing circles around it, applying just enough pressure to let the heat in your belly rise. Your body starts to tingle, and you feel your peak approaching fast.
“Fuck, don’t stop, holy shit,” you gasp between his thrusts. He applies slightly more pressure, slamming his hips into you. The mattress squeaks loudly underneath you, the sound just barely audible over your moans.
“Minho—fuck, I’m gonna—“ you sputter out.
“It’s okay, come for me. I wanna feel you come around me, jagiya,” he coaxes you as he continues to drive into you, thumb moving fast over your nub.
That does it for you, and soon you're a shaking mess underneath him. Your orgasm crashes over you, and your skin feels electric, the warmth spreading throughout your body.
“Jesus, I’m coming,” he says as he’s fucking you through your orgasm, finishing inside of you. You feel his cock spasm inside of you as you’re coming down from your high, and he grunts as he falls on top of you, careful to avoid your previous injuries.
“Fuck, jagi, baby, you’re incredible,” he pants, kissing you again. You’re smiling so wide now, kissing him back as he softens inside of you.
“That’s one way to warm up,” you laugh.
He pulls out of you, and you hiss at the contact, leaking all over the mattress. He grabs a towel and cleans you up, being gentle around your sensitive area. He helps you into a (thankfully fresh) pair of panties and his shirt, and he lies back down to pull you against his chest.
The quiet settles around you, still pitch black in the cabin, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s warm, comforting, and everything you’ve been missing.
“I’m an idiot,” he says softly. You raise an eyebrow at him, confused.
“Uh…you are, but why say that now?” you question.
“I spent the better part of a decade trying to make a relationship work, thinking that it would fill the weird emptiness I was feeling,” he starts, looking back at you. “Only to realize the person I wanted, the person I needed, was right in front of me.”
Your breath catches at his confession. “And…when did you realize that?” You pry.
“About six months ago.” When he finally broke things off with his ex. “I was just waiting for her to realize it, too.”
He looks back down at you, and you can’t hide the smile on your face. He kisses you again, slowly, and suddenly you realize why it never worked out with anybody else.
“I love you, if that wasn’t obvious,” he chuckles.
“I love you too,” you smile at him, resting into his chest.
This, him, everything, is exactly what you needed.
a/n: valentine’s day present is a bit late but it’s not really themed that way anyway haha. i feel like this was boring so pleaseee tell me if you enjoyed it! thank you to everyone who's shown me so much love these past few weeks, i'm hoping my writing is getting better hahaha ♡
a/n: ngl, when i got this request i completely lost my mind over the idea. istg that racha log will go down in history because how are you gonna tell me all four of them looked that damn good sparring??? also... this is my first solo minho fic, so cheers to that!!! anyway, i hope you all enjoy this filthy little freak fic! >.<
christopher pushed the door open with his shoulder, one arm hooked under minho’s.
“i’m up on five minutes,” christopher panted, already half-turned toward the hallway. “please, patch him up. minho, don’t misbehave.”
you looked up from the supply cart, partially ignoring christopher’ words. you knew exactly who you were the second christopher said his name.
the smell hit you first. antiseptic, sweat, the copper edge of blood. you turned your head slightly to minho, scanning his face, looking for any serious injury. his eyebrow was split, blood tracking down his temple in a thin line. a bruise was already blooming along his sharp jaw.
christopher didn’t wait for an answer. he didn’t have time, not even if he wanted to keep an eye on both of you. he sighed, shoved minho forward until his back met the wall. he was still kinda dizzy after the punch he receive on the ring, even if it was a friendly round.
after giving you a quick glance and a supportive nod, christopher disappeared down the hallway.
minho stayed where he was left, weight on one leg, breathing heavy through his nose. his tank top clung to his chest, dark patches spreading under the arms. he was watching you with that look he only gave you when no one else was around. half challenge, half invitation.
like a cat deciding whether you were worth trusting or just another toy worth batting around.
you grabbed gloves and a sterile packet. when you looked over your shoulder, his sharp, sparking eyes were already on you.
“please, minho, sit down,” you said quietly, nodding toward the exam table.
but he didn’t move right away. just looked at you, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. then he snorted and dropped onto the metal table. the paper crinkled under his weight.
you stepped between his knees. the grin that pulled at his mouth was small but unmistakable. your eyes went to the small cut above his eyebrow. it was clean, but deep enough to need pressure. you tore the packet open, soaked the gauze on antiseptic, and pressed gently.
minho hissed through his teeth, face tightening. “s-shit…”
“hold still. it’s almost over,” you murmured, keeping your voice even.
his hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles whitening. his brows stayed furrowed, but a small smile still sat on his lips.
“hard to when you’re this close,” he said, teasingly. his voice was low, still rough from the round. “you’re driving me crazy.”
you didn’t answer. you tried to ignore the way his proximity was already fucking with your head, your pulse skipping every time his breath hit your neck. you knew he was just teasing. always teasing. but something inside you still wanted him to mean it.
you wiped the blood away in slow strokes, watching the cut, making sure it stayed clean. his skin burned under your fingers. your hands shook a little when the gauze brushed near his plump lips.
“chris trusts you with everything,” minho continued. “his shoulder, his hands, every little problem. but he still left like he thought i’d do something to you without asking.”
“he doesn’t think that, don’t be silly,” you said, reaching for more antiseptic. “besides, you know i can handle you perfectly fine.”
he laughed once, short. his eyes followed you as you moved, slow and deliberate. the cut on his cheekbone needed attention too.
the antiseptic stung, burning like hell. his thigh flexed against your hip when you dabbed, making you jerk, surprised. your eyes snapped to his, worried.
“fuck, that fucking hurts” he muttered, biting his lower lip, one eye squeezed shut.
“we’re almost done with this part,” you whispered, trying to calm him down.
you leaned in closer to check the edges, checking that everything was in order. his breath hit your cheek now, feeling warm but steady. the distance between you almost inexistent. he didn’t lean back anyways, enjoying every inch of it.
“been thinking about this,” he murmured, voice raw. you shuddered, feeling your knees going weak. “you touching me so careful,” he leaned closer, his nose brushing your cheek. “so close i could pin you under me right now.”
you straightened fast, face burning, heartbeat pounding in your ears. your hand landed on his chest without thinking. his muscles shifted under your palm, his breathing already heavier.
“minho, you’re talking nonsense,” you stated, examining his face with amusement. “stop fucking around. now.”
his grin widened, that cocky, irritating thing that always made your stomach flip. you wondered if it was normal to get this turned on just from the way he looked at you.
he caught your wrist before you could step away. it wasn’t hard, he didn’t want to put pressure on you. he was pressing just enough to keep you there.
“make me,” he whispered, the words slow on his tongue. the corner of his mouth lifted when he felt your pulse jump under his fingers.
you pulled your hand free but didn’t walk away. if anything, you leaned in a little more, already missing the heat of him. your head was spinning. was he just being an asshole, or did he actually want this as much as you did?
his hand found your hip, thumb pressing under the waistband of your scrubs. his eyes were half-lidded, fixed on your mouth.
“tell me to stop and i will,” he said, leaning closer. “just say it.”
but you didn’t. you couldn’t. you wanted this as badly as he seemed to.
his palm slid higher, under the hem of your top, skin on skin. you were going insane. you were touch-starved or maybe just reacting to him. you couldn’t care less which one.
“tell me,” he repeated, voice lower, hungrier.
his other hand hooked into your belt loop and pulled you in until your thigh pressed between his. your lower abdomen tightened when you felt how hard he already was, the outline obvious through the thin fabric of his shorts.
“minho-” you whimpered, eyes wide when his fingers dug into your skin before wandering on your back.
“shh. be quiet,” he tugged you forward until you were straddling one of his thighs, feet still touching the floor. “need you to reach for that bandage behind me.”
you blinked slowly, brained fogged. you don’t understand what he was planning. without thinking, you stretched over his shoulder, looking for what he asked you for. your tits brushed his face unintentionally, making you jerk embarrassed.
minho turned his head and mouthed at the skin above your collar, teeth scraping, tongue dragging. he didn’t let you pull back. instead he rolled his thigh up once, slow, the muscle flexing under you.
the seam of your scrubs dragged against your clit through your soaked panties. a high, broken moan slipped out, followed by a string of whimpers.
“there it is,” he said against your throat, smiling like he’d won something. “been waiting to hear that.”
you tried to shift off but he caught your hips with both hands and held you there. your head was getting foggy. he guided you into another slow grind, longer this time. the friction was dull and frustrating, exactly enough to make your breath catch. you could feel how wet you already were, fabric clinging, soaked.
“minho, someone could-”
“the door’s locked. chris is busy for another twenty minutes at least,” he said, almost too fast, then caught your mouth in a hard, needy kiss.
he dragged you forward again, harder. your clit caught the ridge of muscle and you jerked. your hands clenched on his shoulders. moans and whines kept spilling out.
“f-fuck,” you whimpered, lips parted. “feels so good…”
“that’s it, darling,” his voice low and rough in your ear. “ride it. please yourself with me.”
and you did. small movements at first, testing. then faster, clumsier as he encouraged you. the table creaked under the erratic movement. his hands stayed firm on your hips, thumbs digging in, controlling the angle.
every roll of your hips sent heat up your spine, your panties panties clung, soaked through, the fabric rasping over your swollen clit with every pass. minho’s breath hit the shell of your ear, low and amused.
“look at you,” he murmured, his fingers wound into your hair and tugged, just enough to tip your head back. “little nurse getting off on my thigh like she’s been thinking about it for weeks.”
a broken sound slipped out before you could bite it down. minho’s thumb caught your lower lip, pulling it free, dragging slowly across the wet skin.
“don’t hide it from me. i want every sound”
your mouth chased his again, clumsy, teeth clicking, tongues sliding. he bit your lip hard enough to sting and soothed it with a slow lick. the pressure between your legs coiled tighter, sharper.
his hand slid under your waistband, under the ruined cotton, and found you dripping. two fingers stroked through your folds without pushing in, just gliding over the mess you’d made.
“fuck,” he breathed, laughing softly. “this wet already?”
your hips jerked, rhythm faltering. he stopped immediately, palm cupping your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his.
“don’t stop because i’m touching you. keep going. be a good girl.”
and you really tried, but the combination of his thigh and his fingers made your thighs shake wild. he circled your clit over and over again. he kept the pressure steady, deliberate, watching every twitch of your face, every time your eyes rolled.
without warning he pushed two fingers inside, thick and sudden. your moan tore out loud enough to echo off the metal cabinets. your forehead dropped to his. the stretch burned sweet.
“holy shit, minho- you are- please, i need you to-” you moaned, head above the sky. your voice was shaky, numb.
“i know, i know,” his voice was soothing, calm.
he curled his fingers, found the spot that made your vision spark, and fucked you in short, brutal thrusts while you ground down on his thigh. the wet sound of it filled the room, obscene, constant. every forward roll pressed his palm against your clit again.
“ah! yes, yes- just right there, min- fuck!”
you were close too fast. minho felt the first flutter around his fingers and pulled them out. you whined, high and broken, hips chasing nothing. he snorted, pressed a quick kiss to your swollen mouth.
“not yet,” he mumbled, his voice raw. he lifted you, set you on the edge of the table between his spread knees. “keep your knees there and come here.”
you climbed up, obedient, knees already aching against cold metal. minho shoved his shorts down just far enough. his cock sprang free, flushed dark, tip glistening. he wrapped a hand around the base and gave one lazy stroke, eyes locked on yours.
“open your mouth,” he demanded, voice firm.
you pressed your thighs together, mouth watering. the second your lips parted he guided himself in, slow at first, then deeper when his hand settled at the back of your head. he didn’t force. he just held you there, thumb stroking behind your ear while you worked him with your tongue, licking from base to tip, hollowing your cheeks, taking him until your throat fluttered around the head.
“fuck, that’s good- so tight, so warm…” he muttered, his head falling back against the wall. “been thinking about your mouth for weeks.”
your cunt clenched around nothing. he pushed you deeper until you gagged, tears pricking. you bobbed faster, sloppy, spit running down his shaft. every time he felt too close he tugged you off, breathing hard, cock twitching against your tongue.
he seem to love to fuck your face, your eyes staying as long as you could on his before rolling them back.
he pulled you off completely, panting loudly. his chest was going up and down wildly, his hair sticking to his forehead. you could see his lips parted, his tongue licking them slowly.
“turn around,” he whined, trying to sound as firm as he could.
you barely started moving before he dragged you back into his lap, your back to his chest this time. one hand spread your thighs wide while the other shoved three fingers back inside you without preamble. you cried out, back arching, hands scrabbling for the table edge. he fucked you steady and deep, curling on every thrust, his other hand rubbing tight circles over your clit.
“come on”, he panted against your neck, teeth scraping. “want to feel you lose it.”
he was panting and groaning in your ear, spreading kisses on your shoulder and neck, sucking hard enough to leave some more marks there.
he really wanted everyone to know you were with someone, even if they didn’t know it was him.
“m-minho- oh fuck, you… mmmh- s’too much, i can’t take more- so close…” your voice was a mess, unable to talk coherently.
minho snorted, making his moves faster. “come for me. want to see your face while you come.”
he fucked you steady and deep. he wasn’t going to let you catch any break. he needed you long enough to let you go away just like that.
“min! m’gonna-” you shouted, too gone to think about where you were.
you came with a broken shout, thighs shaking so hard the table rattled. minho didn’t stop until you were twitching and whimpering, oversensitive. only then did he pull his fingers free. you watched through half-lidded eyes as he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, slow, deliberate. licking them as if it was a treat. your cheeks lighten up, unable to look away.
“tastes as sweet as you look”, he murmured, licking his lips. “now, be a good girl for me and let me fuck you.”
you nodded, frantic. he lifted you just enough to line up and pulled you down onto his cock in one smooth motion. the stretch was deeper than his fingers, thicker. he bottomed out and held you there, both hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. you could feel his warm breath against your neck, hearing him hiss when you took him fully.
“move, darling. wanna watch you bouncing on it,” he said, smugly. that cocky tone never leaving his voice.
but you couldn’t wait any more.
you started slow, getting used to the thickness, then faster, riding him hard enough that the table legs scraped the floor. skin slapped wetly, sweat slid down your spine. minho kept one hand between your legs, rubbing your clit even though you were still sensitive, the other gripping your tits, feeling them bounce. his eyes stayed fixed on where you took him, lips parted, breathing ragged.
his face shrink, feeling his own orgasm coming. his hands gripped your waist again, making your moves faster, erratic. your moans never stopped, getting louder and louder with each thrust. both of you were a sweaty, wet mess.
“g-gonna come,” he said against your shoulder, panting. “need to come inside you, please… fuck, you’re milking me good.”
“y-yes! do it, min. need you to cum inside me… oh, god-”
you nodded fast, taking his lips with yours in an urgent kiss. his tongue wandered on your mouth, his teeth clenched on your lower lip when he felt that hot wave hit him.
he finished hard, a bigger amount of what you expected. you could feel him throbbing inside you, his shaky hands caressing your body. his broken sounds being muffled against your bare skin. you could feel how you started leaking, his cum dripping between you.
and neither of you moved for a long moment. even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stand on your own feet right now. and minho didn’t look any better, his face hidden on your back while his breath sounded erratic, ragged.
you could hear him laugh once, quietly, before pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder. no words needed, his hands tugging you on a warm, soft hug.
the door was still locked. outside, the sound of another round starting filtered through the walls.
but here, inside, minho’s fingers traced slow circles on your skin like he had nowhere else to be.
Minho is the type of guy to pull you onto his laps the moment he gets home from practice, well used to how fast it takes for you to fold whenever he grabs your wrist and jerks you towards him.
Minho is the type of guy to start with a quick kiss. hand sliding to cradle your jaw, pushing the hair away from your face before going for another kiss. slower this time, letting it linger.
Minho is the type of guy to press his lips against the corner of your mouth, your jaw, and then your neck. teeth nipping and sucking at your sweetest spots.
Minho is the type of guy to chuckle against your skin as your breathing gets uneven, soft whines parting from your lips with every contact on your sensitive skin.
Minho is the type of guy to lay two strong palms flat on your rear, grounding you down fully on him. on his laps, pussy right above his aching cock.
Minho is the type of guy to guide you on him. moving your hips at a torturous pace, slow, almost non existent just to feel you squirm and whine in his hold.
Minho is the type of guy to grin at your desperation, but in reality, he's as pathetic for you. painfully leaking in his boxers, he needs the friction just as much as you do, if it wasn't for his pretense.
Minho is the type of guy to roll your hips on him after a given time, his grip maneuvering you exactly how he knows you both like it. his praises get shakier by the seconds, falling slump against the couch to let you do your thing at some point.
Minho is the type of guy whose lips curl the messier your grinds turn. watching you pitifully try to chase your high despite the barrier of your clothes. somehow, the rustle of clothes feel dirtier than anything else.
Minho is the type of guy to tease you when your face contorts to one of pleasure, pussy throbbing inside your panties. whispering and murmuring things like, "you gon cum like this, jagi? by humping me like some pillow?" while knowing damn well that he's close too with how his fingers tighten on your flesh.
Minho is the type of guy to roll his hips with yours from under, cock thrusting into your clothed folds shamelessly, bumping with your clit on every movement. the two of you a desperate tangle of limbs hoping for something euphoric.
Minho is the type of guy whose voice breaks further the closer he gets. turning to your mouth in an attempt at muffling his loud whines. pushing his tongue against yours, his saliva mixes with yours, escaping and dripping at the corners of your mouth.
Minho is the type of guy who frowns as he comes undone, brows pinching above his tightly shut eyes. feeling the front of his pants soak up, quickly followed by your own. the sound of ragged breathing echoing past the corners of the living room, staring at each other with a dumb smile.
Minho is the type of guy to flip your positions, laying you flat on the cushions to kiss you down your neck to your collarbone. smiling at the chuckles that leaves your chest, he climbs back up to your face, pecking your lips as he undoes his belt with a click. "let's do it properly now, hm?"
—
other member ver: bangchan lee know changbin hyunjin han felix seungmin i.n
or: you didn't think a mere pheromone perfume would have this much of an effect on him. congratulations, you've earned his attention and the hatered of your neighbors, boo you whore
warnings: MDNI! ot8 x reader (separate), they go FERAL, probably highly unrealistic portrays of what a pheromone perfume does, dom/sub dynamics, overstim edging piv begging etc etc, scent kink?, they're really really needy, overuse of italics
bang chan
"P-please please, just -"
and it's the first you've heard him beg.
his voice breaks into a ragged exhale, forehead pressed against your shoulder, inhaling like he's trying to burrow into your skin. His hips stutter, losing rhythm entirely, and the bedframe bangs against the wall with every desperate push of his hips against yours.
He'd laughed when you uncapped the perfume bottle - "Really, babe? Pheromones?" - watching as you dabbed it behind your ears, along your wrists. "Cute," he’d teased, leaning in to sniff you with exaggerated flair. "Smells like -"
His breath caught.
"it actually smells...nice"
And within minutes he was on you.
You didn’t think it’d be this bad - didn’t think the perfume would turn him into this much of a mess, wrecking you like he’s trying to brand himself inside you.
He’s close, faster than any other time - you can tell by the way his rhythm stutters, the way his fingers tremble where they grip you. But he won’t cum, won’t let himself, not until you’re shaking apart under him first. "No wait-" he twitched when you clench around him, his hips jerking wildly, like he’s losing alll semblance of control.
His forehead drops to yours, sweat and tears and god knows what dripping between you, thrusting hard, grinding deep enough to make you sob. "Gonna - fuck, gonna ruin you-"
His thighs tense violently, muscles locking up as he tries - and fails - to hold back. You can feel him twitching inside you, his cock pulsing in erratic little jerks as his breath hitches against your skin. "you're - hnn -you're g-gonna -" His words dissolve into a broken whine when you tighten around him again, dragging a punched out moan from his throat.
His hand slides between you, thumb circling your clit with a precision that shouldn’t be possible when he’s this far gone, tipping you over with a scream that he swallows with his mouth.
He fucks you through it, rough, chasing his own release like he’ll die without it.
then entire body stills , eyes rolling back as he finally, finally gives in - cuming with a choked off cry that sounds more like pain than pleasure, his hips rutting forward in tiny thrusts as he spills into you.
But even as his orgasm crashes over him, he doesn't stop - can't stop. His hands scramble to grip your thighs, dragging you impossibly closer as his hips jerk forward again, his cock still hard and twitching inside you. "it's not -fuck- s'not enough."
lee minho
the perfume must've worn off by now, 'cuz it's been hours.
You try to push back against his thigh, your arms trembling, but he groans, and in one fluid motion, he wrenches your wrists behind your back, pinning them there with one hand.
"Thought you could - hngh - get away?" His voice is a dark laugh, but it cracks halfway through, betraying the desperation beneath the bravado. His hips stutter, losing rhythm for just a second, and he groans , forehead dropping between your shoulder blades. "Fuck - you’re ruining me -"
He’d been smirking when you first sprayed the perfume, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. "Really, baby? You think that’s gonna work on me?"
but then it's like a switch flipped - One second he was teasing, the next he had you bent over the couch, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he ruined you.
Now, his free hand slides around your throat, holding , "Gonna - hnn - gonna fuck you stupid ," he rasps, but it sounds more like a plea than anything. His hips snap forward, and you feel him twitch inside you, again, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts.
The couch creaks so loud you worry it's gonna break, leather protesting under the force of his thrusts, and you try to push back against his thigh again - just to see what he’ll do.
His grip on your wrists tightens instantly, fingers digging in hard " Stay still ," he orders, and then his mouth is on your neck, sucking, marking you as his. His hips jerk forward again, erratic now, and you can feel him trembling - shaking - barely holding it together.
"M-Min, please -" Your voice cracks, barely audible over the wet smack of his hips slamming into yours,
He pulls your hair sharp, tipping your head back, and his lips brush your ear. "Please what , sweetheart?" He’s panting, voice wrecked, but there’s that smug edge to it, "Use your words."
You whimper, and he groans like the sound punched the air from his lungs. His grip tightens almost painfully, and you can feel him twitching inside you again, so close. "Wanna cum,"
"Then cum," he growls, biting down on your shoulder again.
And you do -
you shatter around him, vision going white, and he follows with a groan, his hips stuttering wildly as he spills inside you for the nth time tonight.
seo changbin
“You smell so good,” Changbin groans, and it's the first time he's been so turned on - so hard - by something like the mere scent of you, and the thinks you've unlocked something new in him.
“Yeah?” you murmur, running your tongue along the underside in one slow, filthy stroke. His breath punches out of him like he’s been hit, fingers scrambling to fist in your hair. “You like how I look too, or just the perfume?”
Changbin chokes - half laugh, half moan - before his head drops back against the mattress. “Fuck - both, obviously - ” His hips roll up, desperate, but you hold him down with a palm splayed over his stomach, relishing the way his abs jump under your touch.
“God, please-” His voice cracks, and you finally take him into your mouth, swallowing him down until your nose brushes the wiry hair at his base. His hips stutter, thighs trembling under your grip, and you hum around him just to feel the way his whole body seizes.
his thighs quiver under your palms as you hollow your cheeks, dragging your lips up his length. A string of broken curses spills from his lips, fingers tightening in your hair - not to guide, just to hold on.
The musk of his arousal mixes with the heady sweetness clinging to your skin, and when you swipe your tongue over the slit, he whimpers, hips jerking off the bed.
“F-fuck,” His voice is ragged, breath coming in shallow pants. You take him deep again, relishing the way his cock twitches against your tongue, the salt of him thick on your taste buds. His abs flex violently when you swallow around him, a choked-off moan tearing from his throat. “God, your mouth - shit, shit, shit-”
You pull off just to watch his face crumple, lips slick and swollen as you tease the tip with featherlight kisses. His chest heaves, eyes wild, and when you grin up at him, he makes a sound like he’s been gutted.
“Please,” he gasps, hips canting up uselessly. “Please, please, please-”
The desperation in his voice sends a thrill down your spine. You lick a slow stripe from base to tip, humming when his fingers spasm in your hair. “Gonna-” His warning is half swallowed by a groan as you take him all the way down again, nose pressed to his pelvis, and stay there, throat working around him until his legs shake.
He comes with a sob, hips stuttering as he spills down your throat, and you swallow every last drop, lapping at the oversensitive head until he’s whimpering.
Hwang Hyunjin
The shower spray is hot, steam curling around Hyunjin’s bare shoulders as he kneels on the tiled floor, hands clamped around your thighs to hold you still.
He'd crowded you against the tiled wall, his mouth already on your neck before the showerhead even finished warming up, frantically pulling both your clothes off as his hands slid down your waist, "Fuck," he muttered, voice rough, nose dragging along your collarbone "What the hell do you have on?"
You barely had time to answer - not that you could’ve, not with the way his tongue was suddenly all over you, his hips pressing into yours with a desperation that made your breath hitch.
The saleswoman had promised the perfume would be effective, but you hadn’t expected this. Hyunjin’s fingers dug into your thighs as he lifted you, your back hitting the slick tiles, and then his mouth was between your legs before you could even gasp.
His tongue was relentless, hot and wet and insistent, licking into you like he was trying to memorize your taste.
"Oh my god-" you choked out, fingers tangling in his dripping hair, tugging as his lips sealed around your clit, sucking hard enough to make your vision blur. He moaned against you, the sound muffled but filthy, hips jerking forward, grinding against your leg.
"Taste - fuck -" he slurred, pulling back just enough to speak before diving back in, tongue fucking into you with a broken noise.
Water cascaded over both of you, he was too busy lapping at you like he was starved.
"Fuck, you taste—" he groaned against your skin, the words muffled by your flesh as his lips sealed around you again, sucking hard enough to make your toes curl against the slick tiles. You gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, tugging as his tongue pressed deeper, fucking into you with a rhythm that had your vision spotting.
"Hyune—" you whined, back arching off the wall, water spraying across your heated skin. He didn’t let up, his hands sliding under your thighs to hike a leg higher, spreading you wider.
His nose brushed your clit as he licked a slow, filthy stripe up your slit, and you squeaked, hips bucking wildly. "God, you’re - hnn - you’re ruining me," you babbled, voice cracking as his tongue circled your clit again. your orgasm was building up, fast .
He pulled back just enough to pant against your thigh, lips slick and swollen, "Smell so good," he slurred, nuzzling into your skin like he was drunk on you, his hips rutting against your leg in frantic, aborted thrusts. "Taste even better- "
You barely had time to even breathe before his lips sealed around your clit again, and - oh god - your vision whited out. Your back arched off the wall as you came with a broken cry, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.
He didn’t stop, tongue lapping at you through it, drinking you down, rutting against your leg-
And then he broke.
His own climax hit him, hips stuttering as he came untouched, his cock twitching against your calf, stripes of white mixing with the water running down your skin.
his forehead pressed to your stomach, whole body shuddering as he rode it out. You carded your fingers through his sopping hair, watching as he trembled, his breath coming in ragged gasps before he managed,
"please tell me you bought whatever you had on"
han Jisung
"please, please don’t stop," Jisung whines, voice cracking as his hands scramble uselessly at your hips, fingers slipping against your sweat slick skin. His thighs tremble under you, muscles jumping with every roll of your hips, every tight clench of your cunt around him.
You’re both a mess - his cock twitching inside you, oversensitive and leaking, your own thighs sticky with his spend and yours, dripping down onto his stomach in a slow, obscene trickles.
The room reeks of sex, of sweat and musk and the thick, honeyed scent of that godforsaken pheromone perfume you have on that got him so putty in your hands in the first place.
"You’re so good," he babbles, hips jerking up helplessly, chasing the drag of your walls around him even though he’s shaking with it, even though his cock is red and oversensitive and dripping.
"So pretty, so perfect - fuck, fuck, fuck, your pussy’s killing me-" His words are cut off when you grind down, the swollen head of his cock catching on that sweet spot inside you that makes your vision blur.
You’re exhausted, this is - what, the third orgasm? fourth? you've lost count. your thighs burning, cunt throbbing with every movement.
but with the way he’s looking at you, lips bitten raw, eyes wet and pleading, tears clinging to his lashes, you can’t stop. Not when he sounds like this, not when he’s begging so pretty.
His fifth (?) orgasm hits him so intensely, it's got his back arching off the bed, hands clawing at your thighs like he’s trying to ground himself, to survive it.
You feel him pulse inside you, but there’s barely anything left to spill, just weak little spurts that make him sob,
"N-no more, please-" he chokes, but his hips stutter up anyway, betraying him, fucking shallowly into you like his body’s forgotten how to stop.
"You can take it," you murmur, riding him through the aftershocks of his fifth release like it’s nothing, like his cock isn’t twitching pathetically inside you, oversensitive and spent.
"C’mon, baby, one more - just one. For me." You grind down, relishing the way his breath hitches, the way his hips jerk up helplessly, betraying him even as he sobs out a weak "No, no, ‘m gonna die-"
he looks ruined right now. it only spurrs you on, rolling your hips in tight, practiced circles, milking him dry until his sixth orgasm punches out of him with a choked gasp. It’s barely anything this time, just a weak dribbles that leak out around him.
You settle above him, panting, thighs trembling with the effort of holding still. His chest heaves, sweat slick and flushed, his hands limp at his sides like he’s given up.
You lean down, pressing a kiss to his jaw, humming when he whimpers at the contact. "So good for me," you coo, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead. "Took it so well."
His breath hitches when you shift, and then you’re moving again, slow at first, then faster, his oversensitive cock stirring inside you despite his weak protests.
His hands fly to your hips, fingers digging in, his voice cracking around a "Fuck " that turns into a broken moan halfway through.
You lean down, pressing your lips to his ear, your voice dripping with sweetness. "Think you can handle another?" His
lee felix
Felix’s thighs tremble where they’re splayed open, his cock twitching pathetically in your hand - red and overstimulated, dripping precum onto his stomach in a messy trail.
His breath comes in shaky gasps, lips bitten raw, fingers clawing at the sheets, trying to anchor himself. "P-please - fuck - please," His voice breaks, high n' so desperate , tears welling in his lashes as you slow your strokes to a torturous crawl.
You remember the way he’d grinned when you first showed him the perfume bottle - how he’d rolled his eyes but bought it anyway because you’d pouted, because he always caves for you.
Who knew he'd be like this. His hips jerk off the bed, his cock leaking against your palm, his entire body wracked with shudders as you squeeze him justtt shy of release again.
"No - hnn - no more , I can’t -" He sobs , back arching, eyelashes rimmed with tears.
his stomach is drenched , a glossy mess of precum and sweat, his abs clenching with every thrust. His cock pulsing in your hand, the head flushed dark and aching.
You brush your thumb over it, slow , just to watch his entire body jerk, his mouth falling open in a soundless scream.
his arm flew up to cover his face, ashamed of the tear spilling down his cheeks. "Y-you’re killing me -"
"You bought it for me," you murmur, and his hips twitch up helplessly. "S’your fault , baby."
Felix whines, a high and broken sound, his fingers tangling in the sheets like he’s trying to rip them apart.
"D-didn’t - hngh - didn’t know -" His words are cut off when you speed up, wrist flicking up in quick strokes, his toes curling into the mattress. "F-fuck - stop , s’too much -"
But you don’t stop- you slow down instead, your strokes lazy, teasing, and Felix keens, his entire body bowing off the bed. "P- please ," he begs, "just - fuck - just let me cum -" His cock twitches, dripping, and you grin, " Ask nicely," you purr , and he chokes, his face flushing darker.
Felix’s breath hitches, his lips parted around ragged gasps, his eyes rolled back with desperation . "P-please," he whispers, voice breaking , "please let me cum, please-" His hips jerk up, pathetic , and you coo, "good boy ,"
Kim seungmin
gosh if Seungmin was in the right state of mind, he would be embarrassed right now.
his fingers settle against your hips - gentle at first, just the barest press of his thumbs into your skin as you rock back onto him at a pace so slow it’s cruel.
The headboard isn’t even knocking. The sheets aren’t even rumpled. You can feel him trembling beneath you, his thighs locked tight, his breath coming in little gasps every time you clench around him "F-fuck," he grits out, voice strained, "you’re - hnn -you’re killing me -"
and you shift backwards, just enough for your hair to brush his cheek - just enough for him to catch a whiff of you .
And then - oh - his head falls back against the pillows with a thud , his eyes rolling so far back they might stay there. "Oh," he chokes, voice gone , "oh fuck -" His hips jerk up violently, slamming into you so hard you yelp, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you upwards. "S-smell - fuck - smell so good -" His words slur together, his hips pistoning up mindlessly , his cock throbbing inside you.
"hnng- thought it 'wasn't gonna work' " you tease, grinding down, and Seungmin snaps , you don't even register him flipping you onto your back so fast the room spins .
His lips crash into yours, messy and so desperate , tongue licking into your mouth "gonna ruin you -" he gasps between kisses, his hips snapping forward with a wet slap, his cock pulsing and leaking inside you.
His hands wander, greedy, one tangling in your hair to yank your head back, the other groping at your throat , "M-mine," he murmurs, teeth scraping your jaw, "all fucking mine -"
yang jeongin
Jeongin hates you.
At least, that’s what he keeps saying into your skin between desperate bites - his hips pistoning into you from behind so hard the bed screeches across the floor.
"f-fuck" His voice cracks , stuttering , his cock twitching inside you "H-hate you - hate how you smell -"
And it’s hilarious , really, because he was the one who bought it for you.
Jeongin had shoved the little black box into your hands two days ago, muttering something about "thought you'd like it."
The box was sleek, expensive-looking, the kind of thing that made your brows raise when you peeled back the velvet lining. Pheromone Amplifier, the label read in delicate silver script. For enhanced attraction - effects may vary.
Idiot. He hadn’t even read the fine print.
Now? His teeth are sunk into your shoulder, his hips slamming into yours like he’s trying to punish you for his own mistake.
"S’your fault," he hisses, voice wrecked, his hands clawing at your waist, pulling you back onto him, "Should’ve - hngh - should’ve thrown it away -"
You laugh between a moan, grinding back just to hear him whine, and he stops , flipping you onto your back so fast the room spins. His pupils are blown , lips swollen from biting them, his cock throbbing where he quickly sheathed it back nside you.
"S’not funny ," he gasps, his hips are already stuttering , his rhythm falling apart as he chases his release.
His forehead drops to yours, his breath hot against your lips, and when you clench around him , he sobs , his entire body locking up. "N-no - stop " His voice is shattered, raw, his hips jerking forward helplessly. "gonna cum too fast-"
You wrap your legs around his waist to trap him, and Jeongin cums with a moan , his cock pulsing inside you as he spills, his body collapsing onto yours, "H-hate you," he whispers , but his arms are wrapped around you, his face buried in your neck, his lips pressing shaky kisses to your skin.
"it's your fault," he mumbles, and you laugh, running your fingers through his sweat damp hair.
"You bought it," you remind him, and Jeongin groans , his hips twitching against yours, he’s already hard again?
"shut up ," he whines, but he’s pulling you closer, his mouth sealing over yours in a messy, desperate kiss. "... Again ."
