leeknowsnot - Tumblr blog

leeknowsnot · 5 months

Text

the artist (serial killer!hyunjin drabble)

genre: murder

warnings: mentions of blood & violence

just a short one

The coruscating gleams of the afternoon glow slowly basked down beneath the window frame. Darkness slowly embraced the four-cornered room, the air turning into a clammy atmosphere that bit through the skin. The smell of metal and dry steel mixed like bread and wine as the orange sun slowly painted the room a sunset red.

For the excruciating minutes that followed, silence deafend the walls and only the metal rustles from buckles echoed. A bearish whimper, and a manic hum. Hunter and prey, the horrifying calmness and limit of exchange of words escalated the dilation of the laggardly approaching evening climax.

The man struggled with all that his strength could muster, despite half of his will and energy spilled on the ground. Blood. The muffled and hapless screaming tore through his gargled throat and was only but a useless cry for help.

He continued to stare, eyes with an austere glint. Like a hyena towards its prey, waiting to pounce and tear off at the skin. To dig in through the flesh and feast on such a pure creature. The edge of his lips tugged upward a few inches. He observed his work. It was beauty. It was art.

But it was not enough.

As soon as darkness met the crevices of each corner, he was finally ready to create his next masterpiece. There he stalked, slowly and quietly towards his victim. A careful, yet menacing approach so as to leave the mind wondering in fear.

ㅤㅤㅤWhere is he? What is he doing? Is he going to kill me?

It was his favorite part. The introduction to a beautiful climax of murder and slaughter. An interlude to such a beautiful chorus of agonizing screams. He was going to write a symphony. An art. He was not going to destroy, no.

The coldness of his blade finally touched the man's cheek. It was as cold as ice but his presence was as cold as death and he spoke as cold as the metal.

"Do you know why I do this?" A pause followed by a low hum. "Humans are meant to make things more beautiful for this world."

"Such as how I will turn you into a piece of art. Don't worry. I'll make sure not a single drop is wasted," he leaned forward and whispered.

"Your blood with paint the walls. Your cries will add such a pretty melody. Your screams will harmonize with the silent winds," Hyunjin smiled. "Isn't it such a beautiful way to die? God will let you perish from petty accidents, illnesses. But I..."

He closed his eyes, breathing in air. "I'm letting you die in such a most honorable way."

Another muffled cry filled the air. He looked and raised an eyebrow. "Is there something that our precious star of the evening wishes to say?" and removed the cloth wrapped around his mouth.

A weak voice resonated. "Please stop."

His eyes squinted of a bit, lip twitching for a mere second and another smile appeared with an amused sigh. "You don't have to feel afraid."

Hyunjin took a small block of soft wood and placed it inside the other male's mouth. "We don't want to break our teeth now, do we?"

And within the blink of an eye, he placed one of the man's finger between his pliers and slowly gripped the handle. The sound of crackling bones ruptured through the walls, a blood curdling scream pierced his eardrums. The piece of flesh and bones fell with a silent thud. He then proceeded to the second one, this time a louder snap than the one before it.

Two down and there were eight more but Hyunjin didn't want his patient fainting or dying on him from blood loss. It was time for doctor play. "Tell me mister, have you been cut up before?"

The man was in too much pain to even answer. The pain rung all the way through his brain, his nerves twitching from the sudden amputation, and body shaking from the immediate trauma from his hand.

"No? Too bad." Hyunjin placed the pliers on the small, wooden table and took a pair of latex gloves. "Let's proceed with making the art now, shall we?"

The man looked at him in horror between his pain and strongly shook his head. He chuckled and inched himself closer to his victim. "You worry too much."

He gently stroked and patted the man's head. "I'm good at my work but it'll hurt a lot since you're not under anesthesia so I'll make it quickly as possible as long as you don't struggle much. You can do that at least, yes?"

Cold steel slowly sliced through the man's skin, blood welcoming the open air and flesh tearing away from each other as his nerves snapped away. The amount of silent scream that the man muffled through the soft wood turned into hapless whimpers and endless streams of tears ran through his face.

"Let's see," Hyunjin mumbled. "I only cut a small opening since our objective for tonight is your kidney. We don't want such art to be rushed now, do we? Now be a good canvas for me, alright?"

He dug through the fat and blood, carefully tinkering with the innards and snipped off a blood vessel, earning another shriek. "Shh, alright. Alright. It'll be over soon. You will be beautiful soon."

But the evening was far from over. It was his first kill. The start of everything. The introduction to his opera. And the prologue to his anecdote.

And such as he had wanted, red painted the walls. The melody of cries, written. The harmonization of screams, composed. Such was his art. He was not a murderer, but an artist.

And he was going to make not just one, but many a masterpiece.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

#hyunjin #skz #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyujin imagines #serial killer au

12 notes · View notes

leeknowsnot · 5 months

Text

to the boy who sought freedom — aot

genre: angst

this was an existing work i've done about 2(?) years ago and thought of posting it here as well

ㅤㅤㅤㅤThis world did not deserve such past, such destiny

yet this world did not deserve this kind of salvation.

The winds which had so long been from the north-west began to blow from the west itself and every morning when the sun peeked out from the distant mountains, it painted the whole city a different shade of orange. In the early days of apocalypse, only the high-standing church within Mitras could be touched by the rays at sunrise for Wall Sina had blocked every corner and provided hours of unwanted shade until the afternoon when the sun was at its highest peak which lasted only for a few hours before it turned back into a cave after the sun went past the church, its high stature blocking everything. What used to smell like fresh morning dew smelled like untilled soil. The buildings had become more barren, drier, and silent. Nothing was the same as before anymore.

Yet this was supposed to be peace.

People who used to bustle around the town square only rubbed shoulders with each other when there was a public marshal of peace or when the bakery from the fifth block had gone on sale for medium-quality bread—in which it wasn’t much of a big event compared to the occasional soup kitchens ran by local restaurants that had the worst sale for the week considering that they had been willing to give out free food. The grocery stores never ran out of stock for there was already unlimited access to the fields, thus an easily accessible source of income.

Because of this peace, no one passed by the regiment bulletins anymore. It was a long-forgotten landmark, rotting in mold and buried in vines. Anything that had to do with the perilous past of Paradis had been erased completely, giving a whole different age within the people of Eldia that lived within the comforts of the island. It was as if its own people had chosen to pretend yesterday’s nightmare hadn’t existed. A Paradis, completely free of its own yesteryears. It was the Paradis that Eren Jaeger had wanted. The Paradis that was independent from the shackles of oppression; a freestanding country.

Yet who was Eren Jaeger to the minds of today’s people? To the minds of those children who had grown within the interiors of the walls, far from the hell, clueless to the legacy that each veteran had carried. Some looked up to him as a hero; a saint. But they could only be counted by a mere hundred, maybe even less. To most, he was a judas. A sociopath who had only used freedom as an excuse to do extremely questionable things. A mass murderer. Genocidal. That was what Eren Jaeger was to humanity.

But not for those who had fought alongside him, fought for him, and fought against him. His friends. Had they been the reason why this so-called genocidal man had countless days where he excruciatingly had second thoughts before committing the unthinkable? Yes, they were. It had pained him, killed him slowly deep inside. It crushed him. He had shouldered everything yet this was what the world had seen him. Although during Eren Jaeger’s wake, it was a lot worse.

It was dark times for both him and the rest of the Survey Corps. Each day mattered and each breath counted as their last. Everyone had thought their problem was as simple as swinging blades and slaying titans whom neither had known more than what the textbooks had told them. It was just a simple kill or be killed situation. Yet as time went by, truths have been revealed, secrets were dug out from the deepest depths of Eren’s family basement and everyone knew there was something more and worse out there. It was only after the medal ceremony when he had started corrupting.

The past, Ymir’s memoirs and the unwanted visions of King Fritz and his lies upon the people. The present, the death of countless soldiers, all for the sake of expecting to find relief from the answers in his house in Shiganshina only for it to be the opposite. The future, an untold nightmare that he was unsure of. He feared for everything, for everyone. No one could expect a 15-year-old to handle everything in such a frail, small vessel yet he kept everything for himself.

Everything happened in a whiff; Marleyans swooping in the shores of the island, identifying themselves as Eldians who also wish to free themselves from the clutches of the opposing nation, speaking through experiences and willing to educate them on a lot of things that they had been left out on. They went back to being babies that needed to be taught potty lessons despite all the knowledge they already had. There was always still more, it was never enough.

Wagons were replaced with modified pulleys. Fields were tilled and dug to make way for train tracks. Simple rifles were replaced with more efficient ones. The sand was cleared to accommodate a dock. Along with these, personalities and childishness were replaced with maturity. Everyone argued less, and strategized more. During these times, he was being stabbed more slowly with new memories as years went by. Within the crevices of his mind, it pained him. It pained his young self.

How he wished things would be the same as they were back then. How he wished freedom was already at his fingertips without the need to sacrifice everything. How he wished he could still be with everyone else right after he carries out his plans. Each day was making it more unbearable for him.

Fight, he said right in front of the mirror. It had been years yet he had always carried the same burden, only worse. His friends looked at him in a manner where he was someone who had chosen an entirely different path from the others and he did. There had been no other way; it was inevitable. He was now the villain, and they would be the heroes, that was how he wanted it to go. That is how it should go.

He stood, face glancing out at the frosted window, waiting for his next step to walk towards him and eyed at every building. It brought him back so many memories, so many emotions but it showed neither on his face. It was stoic. His eyes filled with sadness.

How much longer shall he deal with this pain?

How much longer should he bear with the truth that he could no longer bring back the past no matter how much he wanted to?

How much longer until those who are precious to him would look him in the eye with such pain?

How much longer will it take until he encloses himself again, in the darkness for the last time, not wanting to hear the screams and pleads of people?

“Eren, they’re waiting for you inside the room,” Floch had spoken a few inches away from him. He slowly turned, returning back the emotionless look from his eyes, pretending he had no care for everything but to carry out his plans.

He detested every step. The hallway seemed darker, as if it would gobble him up whole. His heart felt as if it was being clenched. His lungs suddenly wanted to stop breathing. His fists balled tighter and shivered for what was about to come. He was alone, cold, abhorred by those who he loved.

“𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦.

𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦.

𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.

𝘐 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵.

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺,

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵,

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵,

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘐..

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘐’𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.

𝘚𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦.”

“I still want to be with everyone.”

There they sat by the table along with the child who had taken away one of the people who were precious to him. He wanted to feel angry, beat her up. But he knew she was just another victim from the harsh reality that they lived in.

The conversations went on. Lie after lie, he spun each word from every fake feeling he needed to have right now. He had made scenarios in his head that they were nothing more but obstacles in his path—which was impossible. He had dreaded for this moment, yet he had to speak.

“Mikasa,

Ever since were little,

𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”

Lies. All lies.

It pained him to let each word slip from his lips. He couldn’t even process what he was doing anymore and just let himself fake anger. It went on like a nightmare. He had beaten up Armin and Mikasa was left off crying. He wanted to apologize as soon as he had turned his back. It was funny how he was hurting those that he had wanted to protect the most. Everything went on like a blur. He tried not to look everyone else’s way. Just like how he planned it to be; his friends fixing the false path that he had created. He had everyone hate him for the sake of rewriting history. He didn’t expect to be the hero nor the villain in the people’s perspective after he died. All he wanted was for everyone to be free. And he gave up his own freedom for that dream.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩.

That was the Eren Jaeger that his friends knew.

#aot #attack on titan #angst #aot angst #eren jaeger #eren aot #eren angst #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk spoilers #snk angst #shingeki no kyoujin eren #the rumbling

14 notes · View notes

leeknowsnot · 5 months

Text

tempted to make a purple!lk smut or anything bc of this...

leeknow ; beauty+

. . . ♡ / ↺ if use !

254 notes · View notes

leeknowsnot · 5 months

Text

PUT THAT TONGUE AWAY LEE MINHO

Leeknow from Stray Kids

HOLLY SHIT LEEKNOW LEEKNOW

122 notes · View notes

leeknowsnot · 6 months

Text

hi kittens! it's me (again). i'm am so so sorry for being away for too long. hopefully i'd be able to return to writing again and finish kinktober (ik it's november already, but i said i'd still continue and finish kinktober regardless of what month it is)

but yeahh, pretty much i'm back on tumblr and trying to finish and write stuff again! sorry for the wait! 💛💛💛

1 note · View note

leeknowsnot · 6 months

Text

we got new god of love pics!!! so hmmm a part 2 for this maybe????? since a lot of people were asking for it too 👀👀👀

kinktober — the god of love (minho)

genre: smut (minors dni), fluff

content: minho x reader, god of love minho au, reader is a hopeless romantic because i am too, greek god themes, he is eros the god of love, modernized greek gods, body worship, vanilla, just pure love, mature themes, mention of p-rn

oh my god, this is my first smut on this page. i hope i did okay though, it's been a long while since i wrote smut. anyway, i'll try starting on the others soon! read at your own risk

kinktober masterlist

Piles of paperwork laid before him. His eyes scrutinized every paper, dreading the sight of the amount of work he'd have to do. What was he doing here anyway? Right. He was called in for some extra work because the amount of stuff that the employees under him had to do was overwhelming.

Piles and piles of paperwork. "Over what?" his colleague would ask him and he would roll his eyes.

"Some dumbass woman who can't stop falling in love and getting heartbroken over every goddamn man," he would complain.

For Minho, being the God of Love wasn't all arrows and rainbows. Oh look, a girl crushing on a guy. Let's shoot an arrow to his chest so he could fall in love with her too! No. He wasn't highschool cupid. It wasn't as easy as that, unlike what most people would actually think. If he was going to be honest, there wasn't much field work to begin with. The only field work he'd do is to sit on his chair, observing people as they fall in love with each other, only to deal with multiple paperwork as soon as couples start falling out and breaking up with each other. He hated how people treated love as if it was something so dispensable. Like a one-time thing. Well, mostly because it gave him so much work to deal with.

And you, on the other hand, was one of those types that he hated the most: a hopeless romantic. He never really believed in hoping for love despite being the God of Love himself. Stop falling in love multiple times in a year. He always wanted to drill that into your brain each time he'd come down from HQ to observe you and your stupid attempts at pursuing whoever you were onto at the moment. He would lie if he said he never cringed everytime you'd blush at the smallest things. He was annoyed at how you always fell so hard over the bare minimum.

He types away angrily at his keyboard, cursing under his breath. "12th time this fucking year. I swear, if that shithead falls in love with the wrong guy again, I'm gonna shoot myself."

His fingers stop typing, eyes staring into the screen as his eyebrows rest on a permanent scowl on his face. He stared at your image through the documents, analyzing every feature on your face. He wouldn't deny the fact that you were attractive in a way, which made him wonder for a moment why you'd always fail at your attempts on finding love.

Minho sighs, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before he stands up from his seat. "Better pay her a short visit. I need some amusement after all that headache she's been giving me," he mutters to himself.

...

Minho sat there, eyebrows raised. You weren't the type to wear revealing dresses and yet here you were, a scissor away from being practically naked. Okay, maybe he was exaggerating since you only opted to expose your shoulders but you never really showed much skin before. Each time Minho would drop by secretly to observe you during your dates to see if they'd finally succeed, you were either wearing cute floral dresses, or anything that was wholesome. But then again, he had to remind himself where he had to go just to check on you.

A nightclub.

In all honesty, some shoulderless blouse was just the tip of the iceberg compared to how the others dressed. Some were practically naked but Minho didn't pay much attention to them. His eyes were focused on eyeing you at the other side of the room, through grinding bodies.

Though, his gaze on your faltered as soon as a woman sat beside him, brushing her arm on his that was rested on top of the counter. "Hey there, pretty boy," the woman winked at him.

Minho wanted to puke then and there and his expression said it all. He eyed the woman from head to toe, immediately disgusted at her mere presence. He brought his eyes back to you but as soon as he did so, he saw you swaying by the dancefloor with some guy.

Now, Minho wasn't the type to be fazed by such a sight, but the way the man roamed his hands around your torso and attempted to grind his hips towards yours slightly annoyed Minho. Especially with how your face would contort and twitch in discomfort. You were trying your best to hide it and make light of the situation but Minho knew better than to not notice.

He stood up from his seat, tossing all reasoning aside and decided to pull you out of whatever shit you had gotten yourself into just so you could get yourself a lover. "To hell with that," he thought. You were looking for love at the wrong place. The worst place, in fact.

As soon as he arrived at your spot, he grabbed your wrist, earning a surprised yelp from you. He didn't look at you but at the man who was already 5 seconds away from zipping off his pants. Minho was glaring. "Keep your hands and your dick to yourself, yeah?" he tells off the man, earning himself a drunk response but all noise had been shut out and the fucks he could give was thrown out the window the moment he turned to you. "What were you trying to get yourself into, you idiot?"

Minho forgot that he was the only one who knew you like the back of his hand at this point. He was basically a stranger to you. But as he looked into your eyes, you lost yourself in them. His voice came out as muffled due to the trance you were in from the alcohol you just had earlier. And Minho noticed this so he snapped into your face but to no avail.

He dragged you out of the club and you could swear the door that was supposed to lead outside the streets led to somewhere else when Minho opened it but you decided that it was your mind and the alcohol playing its tricks on you. Minho brought you to his office through the club's door—an ability that always proved to be handy. He made you sit on his couch, giving you a glass of water.

"Drink that. It'll help with the hangover," he says. He never had hangover before since human liquor never really had much of an effect for him and the other Gods but he saw how bad humans had it each time they'd have hangovers. "How many glasses did you have anyway," he mumbles under his breath, not particularly expecting you to hear or respond.

His hand bring itself up to your face as he holds a towel, wiping off your sweat. "You suck at taking care of yourself. You always put those idiots first before yourself, that's why you're always getting rejected," he mumbles again, an annoyed expression now on his face. However, his expression turns into confusion as soon as he sees you squint your eyes at him.

"You... look familiar," you say, a hiccup following your sentence as you try your best to dig your memories through your drunken stupor.

Minho shakes his head. "Don't be ridiculous. No one looks like me," he says but you suck air between your teeth.

"No, I swear I've seen you somewhere," you dazingly tapped on your temple before your eyes widen in realization and you point at him. "Oh, I remember now! I see you a lot of times whenever I..." you trail off your sentence. You gasp. "You're always around whenever I meet guys for dates! Are you perhaps, my stalker?"

This earned you a light slap on the forehead from Minho.

"You didn't have to hit my head!" you pouted at him.

"Stop pouting, you look ugly," he says as he removes your shoes. "I wasn't stalking you."

You squint your eyes again at him. Both at his answer and as to why he was removing your shoes. "Then what were you doing? And what are you doing?"

Minho glances up at you with a look of disbelief. "Removing your shoes, if that's not obvious enough," he turns back to removing your other shoe. "I thought you were dumb only with love. You're dumb with telling actions too."

You frown, "Why are you even removing my shoes?! Put them back on??"

"For the record, you are not Cinderella. And you'd rather I let you get blisters? Why did you even wear heels? You never wore heels," he whispers the last part. You blink.

"You are my stalker," you gasp, earning another glare from Minho.

As he finished removing your shoes, he plops himself back down beside you. "I was observing you," he says, answering your question.

"Yeah, you were stalking me," you butt in.

"Stalking is different from observing. Get your facts right," he argues back.

'This man,' you thought to yourself as you look at him in disbelief. Though despite his sarcastic remarks, you could feel as if you knew him for a long time already. Or maybe because you'd see him a lot everywhere. You always thought it was coincidence.

"Why were you observing me?" you ask him.

Minho sighs, rubbing his face with a hand as he looks at you, probably being annoyed at how much you were asking him. "Entertainment. Your idiocy amuses me," he sarcastically replies.

You were speechless.

First, this man ruins your date. Your chances of getting laid tonight. You didn't mind if it was drunk sex, as long as it was sex, that was how hopeless you were. Second, he denies being your stalker. Third, he was mocking your poor taste in men and bad luck in love. And lastly, he was telling you that you were basically a no go because you were an idiot.

"I can't believe this," you scoff under your breath. "You ruined my chances for... this."

Minho raises an eyebrow at you. "Chances at what."

You roll your eyes at him. "Getting laid."

Minho stares at you for a while before sighing. You were such a piece of work. On second thought, he'd rather deal with paperwork than your attitude. He shakes his head in hopelessness, eyes still at you.

"You were going to settle with drunk sex?" he asked with a tone of as-a-matter-of-fact. When you nodded, he chuckled in disbelief.

"Well, what do you want me to do then?" you snapped your head at him. "I always fail at romance. I try to establish wholesome relationships but they... They just fail. And this..." you pause. "It may not be the best option, but it's my only chance of actually getting a guy."

Minho was amused at how emotional you were getting. He could see the tears forming in your eyes as you explain. Sure, Minho was getting frustrated over this ordeal, but you were too and he just realized that. If he was getting annoyed over paperwork, then it meant people were hurting too. You were hurting too.

For some reason, Minho disliked that idea. For the longest time, he'd see the brightest smiles on your face each time you fell in love or experienced something akin to love. He thought it was only for work that he'd come down to observe you each time you go on dates. But in truth, he liked seeing you smile. He didn't know how or when it started. He just... liked to see your face brighten up.

Maybe he wasn't annoyed at you because you always fell in love and get broken and give him more paperwork. Maybe he was annoyed at the fact that people kept on hurting you. He was annoyed at the fact that guys always took advantage of your love. He was annoyed at the fact that you always gave it your all to guys who didn't deserve any of your love. He was annoyed at himself for seeing it otherwise.

Minho chuckles, more at himself than at you. "That's such a sad excuse to find love, it's pathetic."

You turned your head towards him, about to retort but you shut yourself up as soon as he brought his face close to yours. Your eyes widened. "What—"

"You're pathetic," he mumbles. "I can't believe you're going to settle with just that." Then, he closes the gap between you two. His lips touched yours momentarily, brushing like a feather before diving deep. For a second, it was as if your world stopped. You may have had failed attempts at love but that doesn't mean you never had kisses. Though, most of them were empty. In fact, you've had too many kisses to the point that you had to think to yourself if you'll only get kisses for the rest of your life.

But this. This was... You couldn't put the right words. No, that was the perfect word for it. Right. It felt so... right.

The kiss felt too short as soon as he pulled away, eyes staring into yours. You could swear you could see the whole universe in them. You barely talked to this man for more than an hour and yet you feel like you've known him forever.

Minho's eyes trail from your eyes to your lips. He has always seen you. How you look. How you dressed. How you spoke. But he has never seen you this close. And now that he has, it was as if he was looking at Zeus' finest piece of art. Your beauty held more charm than Aphrodite herself. Hell, you'd start more wars than Helen of Troy ever did with that pretty little face of yours.

He parts his lips, his warm breath adding fuel to the warmth that had now spread on your blushing face. "In all of my decades, observing your kind and mine," he pauses. "I have never met anyone as beautiful as you."

"I wonder which God sculpted you," he mutters under his breath, eyes bearing themselves into yours. "Those eyes. They're like Narcissus. I could get lost just by staring at them."

He placed another kiss on your lips, this time much softer than the last.

"Those men are fools," he says. "They could never see true beauty. Beauty that has so willingly presented itself before them."

It was as if he had fallen right then and there. The irony of being the God of Love was that he barely fell in love himself. But when he does, he falls deep. Turns into such poet. Just as how he was letting himself become vulnerable before you.

He takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together, intertwining them like perfect pieces of a puzzle. You were entranced. You didn't know how or why. But the way his hand would graze on your skin felt like electricity. The good kind where the hair on your back would stand each time you'd feel warm air breeze through while you are cold. Like goosebumps.

You wondered if there was something in that water that he had given you earlier. Aphrodisiac? No. There was nothing in there. And yet you felt so entranced. So pulled in. So dazed. You had never felt this feeling before from your past lovers. Then again, were those even love? Or just infatuation? Was it the true definition of love, or was this the true definition of love? Maybe it was just the effect of having the God of Love himself being so close to you. But you were none the wiser of his identity as a God. And yet he pulled you in like gravity.

His lips placed a chaste kiss on your lips once more, gradually travelling towards your cheek, your jawline, and your neck. They were slow yet passionate. His hands ran up your arms, holding your shoulder as he carefully lays you on the couch so you'd feel comfortable.

Minho looks at you once more. "Will you let me show you what love is?" he asks with a quiet tone. You stare at him for a short while, with him still placing soft kisses on your neck as he waits for your response. Eventually, you nod.

He hums quietly in satisfaction. "Just follow my lead," he says.

You don't know what happened after that. You only remember his occasional glances. His chaste kisses on your skin. His hands caressing everywhere they could land on, memorizing your every curve. You only remember laying there, naked.

His gaze on you never faltered. His eyes memorized every feature, taking in every imperfection that you had. As a God, he was but used to seeing only the perfect complexions. But with your body, the imperfections were what made you more beautiful in his eyes.

Minho leans down towards you, brushing the back of his fingers on your cheek softly. He held you as if you were porcelain. No rough movements. No raspy caresses. "Stop looking for love," he muses. "Because love himself is presenting itself to you." He takes your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckles. "Love itself is yours to take."

You part your lips with a soft gasp. No one, not even one man has ever told you such words. No one, not even one man has ever seen you this naked. No one, not even one man has ever held you as much as this man did. And he was worshipping you with both his words, his kisses, and his touches.

His hand pulled you closer for another kiss before caressing down your body, eventually resting itself on your thigh. His thumb brushes on your skin before travelling towards your inner thigh. His finger lingers too close to your core. Not touching, but you could feel it. Minho smiles at your reaction, chuckling as he finally runs a digit through your folds.

You lightly gasp, biting your lower lip to immediately stop yourself from letting out a sound. He looks up at you, amused by your sensitivity. You couldn't blame him. After all, you were a virgin. Both by touch and by intercourse. He could immediately tell as he continued running his finger through your heat, dragging through every slick as a string of your love juice connects your nub and the tip of his finger with every slow stroke. He traces small circles around your clit, earning a shivery hum from you as you cover your mouth with the back of your hand.

You hated how slow he was teasing you. Minho, however, was loving every second of it. How red your cheeks were right now. How half-lidded your eyes were. How wet you already were with just a few kisses and a few strokes.

He leans towards your chest, taking out his tongue to gently brush on one of your nipples, making you twitch. "You're quite easy to please," he mutters as he flicks his tongue and sucks lightly on your nipple. "But then again... You are a virgin."

This made your eyes widen. You tilted your head to the side, covering your face with embarrassment. You hear Minho chuckle before he takes your wrists, removing your hands from your face. "Shhh, it's okay." he whispers in your ear. He places a quiet kiss on your ear lobe. He faces you again. "At least you didn't get to experience how horrible and selfish those men are when it comes to making love."

His smile falters. "No. They don't call it making love, do they?" his eyes trail down to your stomach, bringing himself down so he could place kisses and kitten licks on your skin. "I believe most of them like calling it casual sex."

"Bastards," he curses under his breath before lowering himself again, this time being face-to-face with your heat. You embarrassingly closed your legs, momentarily making him react as your thighs envelope his head. He looks up at you with an amused smirk. "Guess you're into that, huh?" he mumbles with a husky tone before finally leaning in.

You could swear you momentarily saw stars as soon as his warm, wet tongue ran through your folds. His breath would always exhale each time he would swirl his tongue around your clit, slurping occasionally from his makeshift chalice.

You were sweeter than ambrosia and nectar, and he couldn't have enough. You were a walking cardinal sin, ready to prey on a God, to tempt him to indulge in such temptation. And that God was him. Except that you weren't tempting him, but it was him who willingly walked into your trap without any provocation.

The God of Love, enchanted by a human being. By you.

As his sucks and licks increased their pace, so did your stiffled moans. "Don't keep your moans to yourself," he says. "I'd love some good music." He stuck his tongue inside of you, exploring every crevice of your walls as much as he could while his teeth would occasionally scrape lightly through your clit. When you finally moan out loud unintentionally, he smiles. "That's it. Let me hear your pretty voice."

Every second that he spent worshipping you with his tongue brought you closer to something. You were already way past from what you used to consider as climax from your self-ministrations but this was something else. Something higher. Something more pleasurable.

You subconsciously grabbed his head, pulling his head closer. Minho's eyes widen a bit, surprised at your action but complies anyway. He smirks, tongue lapping you up faster as his mouth starts making the most sinful sounds as he sucks you in his mouth. He holds both your legs, determined to make you see a taste of heaven just as much as how he was tasting his own version of heaven through you.

As he gives you a long, dragging suck with the swirling of his tongue on your clit, it finally brings you to the edge. Your eyes shut tight, mouth hung open, and back arched as you cry out in pleasure. Your legs shake as they attempt to wiggle out from his grasps but his hold was strong, keeping you in place as he continues to suck on you, giving you overstimulation as you ride your first high.

He eventually lets you recover as you pant, now hovering above you as he licks away the remaining juices off his lips as if it was syrup. His eyes observe you, loving how helpless you looked as you tried to catch your breath from just a single climax, and just with a simple oral too. Minho brushes off a stray hair off your face, tucking it behind your ear as he places a kiss on your forehead.

"Well?" he asks. "It's good, isn't it?" You were too out of it to even answer. No one could blame you, the first orgasm—whether it was oral or not—was always the most mind-blowing. Too mind-blowing it turned you speechless in a matter of minutes. "That guy you were dancing with wouldn't even give a single fuck whether you'd cum or not," he says. "He'd only want to put his sad excuse of a dick inside that pretty little mouth and call it a day."

Minho places a soft kiss on your lips. "Human men won't care for you as much as Love himself would," he pauses. "Because they do not know love. They only know Lust."

He gently opens your legs, zipping down his own pants in the process. "Let me make love to you," Minho says, caressing your thighs as he raises them. He places kisses on your legs. When you finally recover from your trance, you glance at him. He was now as naked as you were but you could swear you were laying your eyes upon a God. And you really were.

He was perfect regardless wherever you would lay your eyes upon. Especially his arms. God, his arms were like nothing you have ever seen and yet they held you with such care. He could flail you around like a ragdoll, just like what most men would do in those porn videos you'd watch each time you felt a little lonely. But no, he held you as if you were a priceless vase. He'd trace your body as if it was some rare artwork to revel on at a museum. He'd draw you in his head like you were one of his French girls. Except that he didn't have any of those. You were the only girl that made a significance within his eyes.

You finally gave in, tossing all reason aside. If this was going to be your final chance at love, you prayed. Then you might as well let it happen.

Your tongues danced within a kiss, intertwining with each other both emotionally and physically. He clung unto you and you clung unto him, bodies pressing into each other as your sweat would momentarily stick each time Minho would close the proximity between you two. His thrusts started as slow yet passionate strokes, your velvety walls hugging around him as you moan in between gaps of your sloppy kisses. His hand caresses your waist, resting by your hips as he grips them only to pull you back towards him so you'd meet his thrusts.

He wasn't ruthless. He wasn't in a rush. He wasn't destroying you. And just like he said, he wasn't just giving you sex. He was making love with you. His slow thrust eventually increase its pace, the tip of his cock now kissing your cervix at each thrust. The sinful sound of skins slapping fill the walls of his office, mixed in by both your moans. He would always place wet, open-mouthed kisses on your neck and latch his lips on your nipple, never having enough of you as he drives deeper and deeper into you.

If he could, he would bury himself into you. Get lost in pleasure with you. Stay inside you. If it meant showing you what love really was, he would do it. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure through your body and his as your moans encouraged him to go even deeper. He couldn't get enough of the way you looked at him. How your lips would mouth incoherent words as he continues to savor the feeling of being inside you.

Soon enough, the room was filled with nothing but heavy breathing and ragged gasps. You wrap your arms around Minho's neck, pulling him closer as you yourself get closer to your own climax once more. He could feel you slowly tightening around him, a smirk finding its way on his lips.

"Cumming again?" he whispers, quiet groans lacing his question in between as he starts to thrust into you at a faster pace. You nod absentmindedly, eyes shut tight as you arch your back once more. He raises your legs, gaining more access to thrust deeper. "Deeper," he mumbles. "A little more."

With each thrust, his cock reached deeper depths that you didn't know were reachable. It sent you on edge. With his one final thrust, he finally hits that button needed for you to snap, making you moan out loud. The way you suddenly clenched around him as he was buried deep inside you made him reach his own climax as well, painting your walls with his own release. "Cumming cumming cumming!" you mutter, hands gripping on his arms as his groans muffle themselves in your neck.

You both laid there, gasping for air in each other's arms, savoring each other's warmth before Minho finally raises his head from your neck and looks at you. His face held the most loving and softest expression. He was smiling at your dazed state.

He places a kiss on your forehead. On your nose. And on your lips before looking into your half-lidded eyes. "I'll be back soon," he says. He said something else after that but you were too exhausted to even remember as your eyes finally closed, sending you into a state of rest.

...

You awoke with a jolt as you shot up from your bed, eyes open wide as you pant. You glanced around, immediately recognizing your surroundings as your bedroom. You frown to yourself, glancing down beneath the blanket.

What the hell happened? you asked yourself. You weren't exactly sure. You remembered being in a bar to meet up with that tinder date you have been crushing on since last week but after that, you passed out—probably from alcohol and now here you were, confused.

You wondered how you got home in the first place.

And that dream, you sighed to yourself, feeling your core wet from whatever dream you had. You shook your head, a palm running through your face as you groan in frustration.

"I can't believe I was so desperate to the point I'd dream of making love with someone," you roll your eyes at yourself as you throw yourself back on the bed again. This time, hugging your pillow and your curiosity piqued at your dream. "Whoever that guy was in my dream was really attractive though," you mutter to yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Minho observed you through the window of your room from far a way, chuckling. He observes your pretty features first before finally turning around.

He'll remain in your dreams for now. After all, that was how Greek Gods would visit their human love affairs—through dreams. Though this time, he'd visit your dreams frequently.

Maybe because he wants less paperwork from you. Maybe because he wants you to pine for him more than the men you'd meet.

Eitherway, he can't wait until he visits you the next time you close your eyes again.

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!!

895 notes · View notes