multistan-kpopwritings

[multistan-kpopwritings]

u know whats funny to me..........................ppl side eyeing dilf smut. like fuck you, im gonna fuck that dad

[multistan-kpopwritings]

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[multistan-kpopwritings]

LOWKEY — lee minho

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, angst, fluff, friends with benefits!au word count: 10k warnings: 18+ mdni. fingering (f. rec), semi-public sex, oral (m. rec), kitchen sex lol, unprotected sex, praise kink, overstimulation, this is my attempt at writing smth NOT laced w humor please bear w me ok... its a hard life trying not to be funny </3

summary: catching feelings for lee minho was inevitable from the start. falling for him is as easy as breathing, but how are you supposed to let him know how you feel when you spend more time fucking him than talking to him? OR, the only thing you're more scared of than losing minho is loving him.

"Minho—" you pant. "We're—mmph—we're going to g-get caught."

"Not if you shut up."

He tightens his grip on your hair, gathering it in a makeshift ponytail at the base of your neck.

"That's not fair," you hiss, but the tail end of your sentence breaks off in a moan as his fingers curl upwards inside you. "—Oh, right there."

"Yeah?" Minho mutters, and the rasp of his voice—calm and collected and outlined with just the tiniest bit of ego—is so hot you can't stop yourself from clenching around his fingers.

"And what's not fair, exactly?"

The answer to that question is so easy it is laughable. The words are on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill over: it's not fair that you are so weak for him. That just one look melts you into a puddle, that just one touch sets you alight.

It's not fair that you can't resist him no matter how hard you try (and oh, have you tried.)

Instead, your response is only one word.

"You."

The single syllable slips from your lips right as Minho lays an open mouthed kiss on your pulse point, tugging your hair to the side and baring your neck to him for better access.

His mouth is wet and hot and he flicks his tongue out against your neck. You bite your lip and inhale but remain silent otherwise.

A moment later, he licks a long stripe down your feverish skin in retaliation.

"Really?" Minho raises a brow, his words vibrating against the curve of your throat. "Should I stop, then?"

Inside of you, his fingers come to a painful halt. The loss of movement is visceral, but you are determined to make sure he doesn't know just how frustrated you are, and so you bite your lip hard to remain silent.

"Doesn't matter to me," you say breathlessly.

If this had been a few weeks ago, you probably would have already been begging him to fuck you however he wanted to. If this had been a few weeks ago, your mind would have been blank and your senses would have been overloaded.

But it's not. By now, you've hooked up with Minho countless times—by now, you are in so deep that you aren't willing to (can't) let him know just how much of an effect he has on you.

And so, resolutely, you remain silent.

Still...

You can just imagine how the two of you look right now. Minho, pressing you against the wall in this dark corridor, his body flush against you, his fingers inside you, his mouth against your neck.

Your hands are clinging to his shoulders, your skirt is flipped up, and your skin is so flushed from pleasure and pain both that you think you might pass out soon if he doesn't hurry up.

It's lewd, the way that the image only makes the whole thing hotter. Especially when you weren't supposed to end up like this in the first place.

Downstairs, you can hear the muffled thump of some awful EDM music from the party below. You are supposed to be down there. Today was supposed to be the day when you—finally—were able to think with your head instead of your pussy and actually, truly, be strong enough to resist Lee Minho.

But then he walked into the party with his mischievous smirk and those sinfully tight vinyl pants that he knows you love, and, well... You were a goner.

You didn't even try to resist when, a few hours later, he grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you up the stairs. Not when he pushed you up against the wall and pressed his lips against yours, and definitely not when he hiked your skirt up and slid two fingers inside of you.

It was pathetic, how easily Minho could get you to fold. His hold over you was rapturous, and frankly, rather worrying, considering that the two of you were nothing more than friends that fucked sometimes.

"Doesn't matter?" Minho asks. The look on his face is a familiar one, and the competitive gleam sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

The two fingers inside of you remain frozen, but then he lifts his thumb and without warning, presses hard on your clit.

"Oh."

You are unable to stop the breathy moan that slips past your lips, and the satisfied curve of his mouth lets you know that he definitely heard it.

"Hmmm," he muses, and then his fingers are moving once again. His thumb remains on your clit, rubbing tight and precise circles until you see you stars.

Despite your best efforts, your breathing stutters, coming out faster and deeper as pleasure branches outwards through your body.

"I think it does," Minho breathes in your ear.

"No-oh," you shake your head.

His smirk widens as your eyes begin to droop. You don't even have to know what you look like to know you look absolutely fucked out right now—but the longer he continues his skillful ministrations, the less you find yourself caring about standing your ground.

He is just so good with his hands. He smells perfect and feels perfect and is perfect, and the closer he brings you to your orgasm, the less it seems to matter that you have feelings for the man knuckles deep inside of you.

"Are you gonna cum for me, baby?" He asks, and the goading curve of his voice makes the words sound like a taunt, like a challenge.

Stubbornly, you refuse to submit.

"M-maybe," you breathe out.

By now, you are gripping his forearms for support, and his hand in your hair drops to your waist, pulling you even closer to you while simultaneously supporting some of your weight. Underneath you, his fingers continue to work you open with precision that has your thighs quavering.

"And what if I don't want you to cum?" Minho meets your unwavering gaze with his own, moving his thumb quicker against your clit still.

The words are a cruel suggestion, and yet accompanied with the heated look in his eyes, they send a shot of arousal straight to your core. You clench around his fingers once more, and he inhales sharply.

"I-I'll find someone else t-to help, then," you say, but the words hold no real threat. You and Minho both know that you would never, and yet his gaze still narrows at the thought.

"I don't think so," he coos, his dark eyes an unmistakable juxtaposition to his sweet tone.

And then his lips are on yours, devouring you in a messy kiss that is mostly tongue, but some teeth too. The passion in the kiss takes your breath away, and your brain short circuits as his fingers speed up, hooking upwards just right to brush against your spongy g-spot.

Simultaneously, his mouth trails down from the corner of your lips to the column of your neck, and the sensation overload is too much for you. This time, despite your best efforts, you can't stop the moan that slips past your lips.

"Who else can make you feel this good, hmm?" Minho asks, punctuating his words with a particularly vicious thrust of his fingers.

You can tell your high is cresting closer and closer, and the sheer pleasure makes it hard for you to find your words.

His teeth nip at your neck, sucking a deep purple bruise into your skin as the pad of his thumb continues to rub hard and fast against your clit.

"Answer me," Minho says lowly.

You shake your head instead, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as a whine builds in the back of your throat.

"I asked you a question, Y/N." His voice is dangerous, the threat clear when he digs his thumb unforgivingly against you.

"N-No one," you choke out, clenching around his fingers once more. "Only... O-only you."

"That's what I thought."

He is satisfied by your answer, if the movement of his fingers are anything to go off of.

"M-Minho," you pant, your eyelids sliding fully shut. "I-I—"

"Fuck," he groans under his breath, the wet sound of his fingers getting louder and louder.

"I'm s-so close," you whimper.

"I know, baby." His voice sounds strangled, and the thought of how hot he must look right now is the only thing that gives you the strength to open your eyes.

Minho's brow is furrowed in concentration, his face drawn taut as he continues to work his fingers in and out of you. The determination inscribed on his face is even hotter than you imagined it would be. Even outside of the bedroom, it is one of your favorite things about him.

The reminder of it now, however, makes this—a simple quickie at some random party—somehow feel that much more intimate, and it sends a weird pang through your chest.

"Come for me," he whispers then, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he looks up at you with his wide, blown-out brown eyes.

And that—that is what finally sends you over the edge.

"Mmph!" With a muffled whimper, your orgasm hits you, and Minho groans unabashedly at the clenching of your walls around him.

His fingers fuck you through your high, and the entire time, his eyes remain firmly on yours. The desire in his gaze is evident even through the haze of bliss, but there is an undercurrent of something more there, too—something that you don't quite pick up until the after effects of the orgasm have worn off and he is sliding his fingers out of you.

There is something tender about the way he sets you down gently, smoothing your skirt down and patting your hair until it looks less like he finger-fucked you in a dark hallway and more like he was trying to show you where the bathroom is.

But when you look up at him, his face is blank, and you are reminded once again that this isn't special, that he has probably done this countless times before. After all, Minho could have anyone he wanted—in fact, he probably has at some point.

The arrangement between the two of you is just convenient, and there isn't anything more to it. Not for him, anyways. In this equation, you are the sole outlier, the only actual problem.

"Can I..." Your voice trails off, hoarse and slightly awkward in the muffled silence of the hallway.

Your eyes are glued to Minho, watching as he adjusts himself in his pants.

"Can I help you with that?"

You already know the answer before he says it.

"Nah, 'm good," he says easily, a loose smirk on his lips as he runs a hand through his hair. If it wasn't for his blown-out pupils, you would have thought that you didn't affect him at all.

Still, your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach anyways.

His words echo inside your head, and you're sure that he must have figured out the way you feel about him. When you first started sleeping together, Minho had been obsessed with your mouth. Nothing quite got him off the way that you, on your knees in front of him did.

But recently, he has been staunchly rejecting your advances, and you can't think of an answer for why, except one: that he must know that you are in love with him, and he doesn't quite know how to let you down easy.

And, despite how much the thought hurts, you can't quite blame him for it. After all, when you both started this whole thing months ago—on a night with a few too many shots and a scandalously tight dress—the terms had been clear: that this was just sex, nothing more.

You and Minho had never been particularly close; in fact, before you started fucking, you were barely friends. You just happened to run in the same circles, and your best friends somehow ended up also being his best friends.

That is exactly why, after the first time you slept together, the first thing you agreed on was that things would end the moment feelings got involved. Anything that compromised your mutual friendships wasn't worth it, you both concluded.

Except, somehow, feelings got involved for you anyways, and you didn't do anything to stop it.

Which is why, after all this time of shoving down how you feel about Minho, you are left with only one choice.

"Minho," you say quietly after a moment. "I think we should stop doing this."

He pauses where he is straightening out his shirt, his hands frozen in place on the hem of his top. A moment passes. Two.

Then he looks up at you, his expression painfully devoid of any emotion.

Here is the thing: Lee Minho has always been a mystery to you, impossible to read in most circumstances, and difficult to unravel in the rest. But throughout the past few months, you thought you were slowly worming your way past his hard exterior, maybe even learning the puzzle pieces that consist of the real him.

The impassive look on his face, however, tells you otherwise.

And then, finally, he opens his mouth and simply says, "okay."

It is just a single word. One straightforward, lonely word.

And yet, it feels like an arrow through your chest. Your reaction is physical, visceral, as goosebumps trail down your arms and the blood thrums viciously through your ears.

This is what you wanted. This is what you needed—to end things right here, before you could fall any deeper, and for Minho to accept it with no questions at all.

This is what you wanted... So why does it feel like your heart has been cracked in two?

Maybe the third bottle of soju wasn't the brightest idea.

Maybe letting Jisung bully you into coming out tonight, after endless days spent moping alone, wasn't the brightest idea.

Maybe, in fact, fucking Lee Minho and then promptly falling in love with him wasn't the brightest idea.

Then again, you never were one for bright ideas. That is why it is no surprise that, two weeks after you end things with Minho, you find yourself shoved between Felix and Jisung at your favorite barbecue place as you down yet another shot.

The alcohol-induced haze of the night blurs the edges of your vision and your face sports a healthy, fuzzy flush, but no amount of alcohol is enough for you to ignore the elephant in the room with you.

The elephant being, of course, Lee Minho himself.

You had been proud of how diligently you managed to avoid him over the past week. Sure, it is kind of hard to run into a person when you hardly leave your bedroom, but still, the fact stood: you hadn't seen Minho since the party. It had been wishful thinking, hoping that you would be able to avoid him forever.

And yet, you still didn't think it would happen this soon. You hoped beyond all hope that you would be able to avoid seeing him for at least however long it would take for you to sort out your stupid little feelings for him. Then, things could go back to normal. Or, at least as normal as things could be.

The scheme was perfect, too—you and Minho had never been friends anyways, so it wouldn't be suspicious if you two suddenly weren't on speaking terms anymore. And none of your friends knew about the arrangement (aka fucking each others brains out) so it wouldn't make much of a difference to them now that it was over.

Except, in your endless consideration of how to navigate the aftermath, you forgot to take into account one very important factor: Han Jisung.

And perhaps it was stupid of you to think that Minho wouldn't be here tonight. But when Jisung basically dragged you out of your apartment, telling you that the guys were already at the restaurant waiting—well, you missed actual human interaction just enough to forget that wherever Jisung goes, so does Minho.

Which is how you ended up here—sat as far away from Minho as humanly possible, absorbed in some conversation with Felix about his most recent gaming obsession.

"Okay, that's enough of that," Jisung declares drunkenly, his eyes narrowed in on you.

His cheeks sport a warm flush, and his jacket has been abandoned on the back of his chair. The exposed biceps tell you one thing: he's well on his way to full-on drunk mode. If you were a little less absorbed in your own despair, you would have been worried about where he was going to end the night; but you aren't, and so all you can do is raise an eyebrow at him.

"When are you going to tell me what's been going on with you?"

"What do you mean?" You ask, your voice sounding much more level than you feel.

"Something's been off lately," Jisung frowns, "and I was trying to be a good friend, y'know, waiting for you to come to me first and tell me what it is, but it's been weeks!"

"Off?" You laugh awkwardly.

"Off?" Jisung mocks, his face scrunching up as he glares at you. "Yes, off! What the fuck is going on with you?"

"Nothing, Ji," you roll your eyes.

And then, because you can't help it, your eyes drift over to Minho. It is only for a split second, but his attention is focused completely on his food and he doesn't notice.

Not for the first time tonight, your heart clenches.

"I don't believe you," Jisung declares.

"Work's just been a bitch," you sigh. "But seriously, I'm fine. A little tired, but that's all..."

His expression twists in distrust, but there must be something written on your face that even he recognizes, because he decides not to push it any further.

That, or he's reached the point of the night where he starts to lose object permanence and he simply can't see your face anymore.

"Lee Minho, I didn't know you still remembered us," A boisterous voice drags the attention away from you.

Hyunjin, another one of your mutual friends, stumbles over to where Minho is, a bottle in his hands and a playful pout plastered across his face.

"Sorry, who are you?" Minho grins at him, and it is both the first time you have heard him speak and the first time you have seen him smile in two weeks.

It should be criminal, the way your heart flutters at such a simple act.

"Shut up," Hyunjin flops down in the empty chair next to him. "Feels like I haven't seen you in forever."

You want to look away, but it's the first time that Minho has glanced up all night, and now that Jisung's attention has been captured by Changbin, you find that you simply cannot.

"It's been, like, a week," Minho points out.

"It's been two, actually," Hyunjin complains. "You cancelled dinner with me last Friday, so we haven't seen each other since Chan's party."

Minho is silent for a moment. You wonder if he's thinking about what happened at that party—if he's thinking about the dark hallway, his fingers inside of you. If he's thinking about you at all.

He barely even takes a breath, and you think for a moment that he might finally turn and look at you.

But then, the corner of his mouth turns upwards in a smirk.

"I didn't know you were this obsessed with me, Hwang," he teases. "If you want my attention, all you have to do is ask."

"Shut up," Hyunjin says again. "Stop it, I'm mad at you! You barely even said hi to me that night before you disappeared to God knows where. Where's the love and appreciation for your friends, huh? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"When has Minho ever apologized for ditching you for a girl?" Seungmin interrupts from a few chairs down.

A scandalized gasp escapes Hyunjin's lips and your eyes shoot down to the table immediately, embarrassment searing through you.

Nobody knows that you are the girl Seungmin is talking about, and yet you can't help but feel like he has just turned on a glaring spotlight and shined it directly onto you.

Before you can think twice, you pour yourself another shot and throw it back.

"You abandoned me for sex?" Hyunjin screeches, smacking his arm.

"I did not," Minho denies.

And, well, technically it's true. After all, it wasn't anything more than a little fingering in a dark hallway.

"Yeah," Seungmin snorts. "That's why he didn't come home until the next morning."

Or... is it true?

Just because he didn't have sex with you doesn't mean that he didn't have sex at all...

Maybe, in fact, after you left him high and dry, he decided to try his luck with someone else. It wouldn't have been hard to find someone willing—not when he's Lee fucking Minho.

The thought of him caring so little about you makes your stomach turn violently. You were never exclusive, so he was never obligated to only hook up with you, and yet you find that you can't stomach the idea that he chose someone else anyways. That he didn't even hesitate after you ended things pierces you like a bullet, and your next few breaths come out shallow.

This time, you can't stop yourself from staring at him. You're waiting for him to deny it—waiting for him to tell Seungmin to stop fucking around, for him to say something, anything.

Instead, he remains painfully silent, which is all the answer you need.

"You bitch," Hyunjin says, but his voice fades into the background as you try to process the slew of emotions this revelation brings.

And then, for the first time all night, Minho looks up at you.

It's just for a second, if even that, but it is enough to push you over the edge. His buttery gaze is just as it always is—wide and curious, and you feel like you can't breathe.

Abruptly, you push your chair back and stand up.

"What...?" Jisung slurs through his drunken haze, a confused sort of concern on his face.

"I need some air," you tell him. "Feeling a little stuffy in here."

"Want me to come with?" He offers immediately, but the way he sways in his seat makes you wonder if he's even capable of standing, let alone walking.

"I'm fine," you assure him. "I'll be back in a few."

And then, before someone can stop you, or worse, before you implode, you stride towards the exit of the restaurant.

Despite being the middle of summer, the outside air is surprisingly cool. The low buzz of the city at night normally calms you, yet you find yourself feeling only slightly less suffocated than you had only moments before.

Your mind is as it has been for the past few months: occupied by thoughts of the one person you've been trying so desperately to forget.

God, you wish someone would knock some sense into you.

What's so special about Lee Minho, anyways? It's not fair that just one look at him sends your heart racing and your mind spiraling, that just one look from him makes you wish the ground would swallow you whole...

With a sigh you slide down into a squat, gripping the strap of your purse tightly as you take a deep breath.

You didn't think that you had drank that much, but the sudden movement has your head spinning. Your brain feels squeezed tight, your skull feels stuffed with cotton balls, and when you blink slowly, the world looks a degree warmer than it had before.

"You okay there?"

And of course, you have reached the point of drunkness where the familiar timbre of his voice that has haunted your dreams for the past few weeks is now haunting your every waking moment.

Two and a half soju bottles must be just the correct amount for your brain to conjure up an image of Lee Minho for you.

"Go away," you mutter, annoyed that even your subconscious was unable to let go of him.

"No thank you."

"You're talking too much," you pout. "I don't like it."

"Sorry," fake-Minho responds with a laugh, and you pout even more thinking about how real-Minho would have laughed at you if he could see you too.

"You should be," you say.

You sway where you are squatting, caught off guard by how light you feel. Alcohol has always had a tendency to exacerbate your clumsiness, and, well—let's just say your sense of balance isn't that good to begin with.

"Woah," fake-Minho says, and then a hand is on your back, steadying you.

"Seriously, are you okay? Should I get you water or something?"

"What...?"

It takes a moment for the warmth of his skin to register. Almost belatedly, your gaze snaps upwards to the man towering over you.

Because right there, looking as perfect as he always has, the real Minho stares down at you, concern furrowed between the ridges of his brow.

"O-Oh my god," you scramble backwards.

Embarrassment colors your cheeks even as Minho bends down to your level. He reaches for you, as if to offer assistance, but at the last moment pulls away.

"Y/N," hesitancy drips from his voice, and it kills you just how delicious your name sounds falling from his lips.

"I-I'm fine!" You insist, suddenly feeling more sober than you had only moments ago.

Somehow, in your rush to get away from him, you manage to push yourself up from the ground without his help. Your back feels exceptionally cold and you try to ignore the absence of his touch as you stand up straight.

"Okay," Minho says, his voice level as he pushes himself up too.

A moment of silence passes as you try to calm your racing heart. What, exactly, is the correct way to act when interacting with a former fuck buddy who you just so happen to be hopelessly in love with? You would love to know the answer to that.

"S-So," your voice comes out shrill and you wince. "How have you been?"

"Good," Minho nods. "What about you?"

"Yeah, me too."

A crisp breeze ripples through the night air and your grip on your purse tightens.

You can't look at Minho—even the thought of it is overwhelming, and so your gaze focuses on the street as cars pass by. Inside the restaurant, a round of laughter trickles out to you. You wish you were there with them.

"I—" You begin, your brain desperately scheming for ways to get as far away from Minho as quickly as possible.

"That night," he clears his throat, interrupting you. "After you—left. I didn't... I didn't hook up with anyone else."

Far away, the angry sound of a car horn reaches your ears.

"Right," you nod, not really understanding the words coming out of his mouth. "Um. You don't need to, like, justify yourself."

It's a herculean effort to keep your tone steady, to try and sound uninterested even as your stomach turns violently.

"I just wanted you to know that," Minho says, his dark eyes focused on you.

"Okay."

Why is he telling you this? You want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. You want to yell at him until he leaves you alone. You want to pull him close and beg him to kiss you.

Instead, you roll your shoulders back and purse your lips.

"Well," you try to make yourself sound more cheery than you feel. "It was nice seeing you. I think I'm going to go home now—woah!"

Your efforts to seem cool and collected are ruined when you take a step forward on wobbly knees that decide now is the perfect time to give out. And of course, in a horrible stroke of luck, Minho somehow manages to anticipate your stumble before it happens.

In only a split second, he's right in front of you, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.

"Are you okay?" He asks, concern shining in his eyes.

You waste no time in shoving him off of you, brushing his question off.

"Well, let me take you home at least," Minho says finally.

"No!" You exclaim sharply. "I'll be fine on my own!"

He raises a brow. "Really?"

"Yes," you insist. "Jisung can take me home. You don't have to worry."

"Don't be silly," Minho rolls his eyes. "Jisung is so drunk he can't even stand."

One glance into the restaurant is all the confirmation you need to know he is telling the truth. At the table, Jisung is slumped over and can barely lift his head, even as Changbin continues to badger him.

"Just let me walk you home. Please? If not for your sake, then for mine," Minho implores.

His earnestness is clear, and it is like he knows that you have never been able to say no to him—that, likely, you never will.

"...Fine," you say finally.

Minho's shoulders sag in relief, and the tentative half smile that forms on his face is enough to take your breath away.

You turn quickly, determined not to let yourself spiral any deeper.

The only saving grace of the night is that Jisung, in all his glorious idiocy, actually chose a restaurant close to your apartment. Minho remains quiet the entire seven minute walk back, maintaining a precise pace exactly half a step behind you.

Every time you stumble (more than you care to admit), his hand hovers over your back, ready to catch you, but other than that, it is like he isn't even there.

The alcohol running through your veins makes the journey simultaneously quick and also horribly, painfully long. You can't tell if you have been walking for ten minutes or for ten hours by the time you finally arrive in the lobby of your apartment building.

"Well," you say awkwardly. "Thanks... for walking me home."

"Of course," Minho nods. "Text me when you get up?"

"Right."

That's not going to happen because the first thing you did after you ended things with him was block his number, but you don't tell him that.

The walk towards the elevator is excruciating because of the way his eyes bore holes into your back. All you want to do is turn around, just for one last look at him.

A deep breath leaves you when you remain resolute, and you press the button for the elevator. Except, where it would usually light up, it remains dark.

You press again, and then one more time. Dread rises in your stomach, and when you look up, a big red-lettered "out of service" sign greets you.

"Fuck."

"What's wrong?" Minho asks.

"Elevator's broken," you squeeze out, pinching the bridge of your nose.

A sense of panic swells inside of you—how are you supposed to get home now? You could barely walk here. Climbing the four flights of stairs to your apartment seems the wrong side of possible.

Minho reaches the same conclusion at the same time. His gaze lingers on the elevator and then to you as you chew on your lip, contemplating how long it would take you to sober up like this.

Then he crouches down next to you.

"What—?" You begin, noticing the way he hunches over.

"Get on."

Your jaw drops.

"N-No—"

"Are you going to be difficult again," he sighs, craning his neck to look at you. "Or are you going to listen to me and get on?"

If you were a little less drunk, or if his gaze had been a little less piercing, maybe you would have been able to refuse.

Instead, you purse your lips tightly and you do as he says, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Good," he says, his tone soft and satisfied.

Even in your drunk haze, the single word sends electricity through your entire being. Trying to ignore it, you rest your cheek against his back and relish the feeling of his warmth.

Minho adjusts his grip on your legs, pulling them closer so they wrap around his hips, and the reminder of just how strong he is doesn't do anything to help your situation.

While keeping your distance from him, you were able to deny the visceral effect Lee Minho has on you. In your lowest moments, you were even able to fool yourself into thinking you never cared about him in the first place.

But with him this close, with the scent of him in your knows and the heat of him underneath you, it's undeniable. The soju in your brain and the man carrying you up the stairs to your apartment are confusing enough to cross the wires in your brain.

The only thing you know clearly enough is that you want to hold on tightly and never let go. Your eyelids slide shut, and you decide to savor this moment—no matter how short it is.

"Y/N," Minho murmurs, coming to a stop. "Where are your keys?"

"Purse..." You mumble, not making any move to grab them.

You feel the sensation of him reaching behind, rummaging through your bag, and then the click of a lock echoes.

Beneath your cheek, the soft sound of his breath is like a lullaby. In, out, in, out.

A door opens and then closes, and the familiar scent of your apartment invades your senses. You burrow further into Minho's neck, clinging onto the fading scent of him.

His breath stutters, but you hardly notice as a hum of contentment bubbles up in your chest.

Another door opens and the sound of bare feet padding across carpet fills the room. Then the soft cushion of your mattress appears beneath your legs as he lowers you onto your bed.

"You've got to let go of me," Minho whispers when you cling onto him.

You shake your head, squinting into the darkness of the room. Only a small lamp illuminates the space, casting a warm glow across his face as he looks down at you.

"C'mon," he coaxes, gently prying your fingers apart.

Too hypnotized by the tenderness of his expression, you let him unwrap your arms from around him and lay you down. Your eyes remain on him as he fluffs your pillow and pushes it under your head, before pulling your blanket over you.

Your hand wraps around the edge of the duvet as he trails out of your room. The sound of him rummaging around in the kitchen echoes, then the sound of the tap, and finally Minho appears again.

Your heartbeat kickstarts again at the sight of him, and you want to kick yourself. You feel light and floaty as exhaustion sets in and your eyelids grow heavier. Still, you keep them open, if only to stare at him for a little bit longer.

"I'm going to leave some water here for you," Minho says. "Make sure to drink it."

"Uh huh."

He looks like an angel as he speaks to you, his voice soft.

"Text me or call me if you need anything."

"Yup." The words go in one ear and out the other as you find yourself enraptured by the curve of his jaw, the swoop of his hair, the swell of his lips.

He lifts his hand, as if reaching towards you, but freezes. The cogs in his brain whir almost loud enough for you to hear, even as he slowly lowers his hand again.

"Well..." Minho says, taking half a step back. "Good night."

He turns around and your heart stops. You hardly think as you reach out, your hand wrapping around his wrist.

"Don't go."

He seizes, as if your word have struck every crevice of his body.

"What?"

"Can't you..." you mumble as a strange ache hollows out your chest. "Can you stay with me?"

"Y/N..."

"I know I'm the one who said we should stop..." You whisper. "But... Just this once."

"You're drunk," he says softly, his back still towards you.

"Please?"

He inhales a deep, shuddering breath that wracks his entire frame.

"I'm not going to fuck you while you're drunk," he says tightly.

The words pierce your heart, send a cold chill through your veins as you process them.

"I—no," your voice cracks. "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?"

"I'm cold," you whisper instead.

"I'll bring you a blanket."

"Minho..." His name falls from your lips like a plea.

The room freezes for a moment and you can hear his breaths as clearly as if your cheek was still pressed against his back.

Blood thrums through your ears—you shouldn't have asked him that. You shouldn't have said anything, really, but the alcohol...

Well, now you aren't even sure you can blame your actions on that.

The silence swells, a tidal wave just waiting to break, and right as you are about to take your words back, Minho turns around to face you. His face is a watercolor mural of uncertainty and something else you can't quite place.

Still, he takes a deep breath and slowly walks towards the other side of the bed. When he sits down and stretches his legs out, his movements are almost robotic. His body remains stiff and on top of the duvet.

Your breath hitches a moment later when he lays his arm hesitantly over your waist. It barely touches you, as if he is making a conscious effort to hold it up.

"Better?"

You nod.

The duvet is thick enough that if you try hard, you can pretend like this isn't as intimate as it seems. You can pretend that you can't feel his body heat radiating onto your skin, you can pretend that you don't notice the irregular staccato of his breathing, you can pretend that you didn't just ask him to stay with you. You can pretend that he didn't listen.

But as you hear to the light hum of your heater in the corner, you know that you can't pretend that this isn't the most alive you have felt in weeks.

"I missed you," you breathe out.

"You can't say things like that," Minho says, voice barely there.

"I—"

"You're going to get my hopes up," he murmurs. "And that's mean."

"What?"

He sighs.

"Go to sleep."

"Minho..."

He doesn't respond. You wait, your heart stuck in your throat, to see if he will say anything else. But as the minutes pass and his breathing evens out, the room remains quiet. And even though you don't want to listen to him, even though his words play over and over in your head, eventually you can't deny the pull of sleep that drags you under, too.

A pounding headache snatches you from the deep throes of sleep. When you open your eyes, bright rays of sunlight burn the back of your eyelids and you can't quite remember what you did last night to put you in such an abysmal state.

A glance down at your clothes confirms that when you arrived home, you must have been too drunk to change. Which, now that you think about it... How exactly did you get home last night?

Your head swims when you push yourself up, eyes barely open as you shuck off your current attire in favor of your comfy clothes—aka an oversized shirt that you might have stolen from Minho a few weeks ago and your favorite fuzzy socks.

All you can think about is the Tylenol calling your name from the medicine cabinet as you walk out of your room. The only plus side to your current state is that your roommate isn't here to see how horrible you look.

The pounding in your ears is loud enough to drown out the sizzling coming from the kitchen, strong enough for you to not notice the smell of eggs wafting from the stove.

Unfortunately, it is not potent enough to erase the man standing with your favorite apron wrapped around his waist as he points a spatula at you.

"Good morning."

A surprised yelp leaves your lips as you make eye contact with Minho.

“W-What?”

“I made breakfast.” He says it like its the most normal thing for him to be standing in your apartment, cooking for you.

“…Why are you here?”

He stares at you. “Do you not remember last night?”

Your brow furrows as you think back on the night before. The last thing you remember was taking a step outside of the restaurant to get a breath of fresh air, and then—

Your mouth falls open as the memories flood back—of Minho walking you home, putting you to bed, and…

“You stayed?”

The words come out small and he shrugs.

“You asked me to.”

Your mouth gapes and your stomach turns as you struggle (and fail) to process his words. “But…”

“Sit.” 

Minho takes you by the shoulders and steers you towards the barstool, pushing you down into a seat. You are just disoriented enough to not protest, taking the food of plate he puts in front of you without words.

Your heart flutters when you look down to see he has cooked your eggs just the way you liked them, without even having to ask you. 

“What is this?” You ask faintly.

“Breakfast,” Minho says. “Obviously.”

“No, I mean—” you stutter, but he shushes you.

“Eat first,” he tells you firmly. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m not the one who told you drink so much last night,” he tuts. 

Your lips press together. The reason you were drinking was because of him, but you aren’t sure that’s the best thing to say right now. 

“Eat,” he stresses again. “We’ll talk after.”

“Fine.”

You pick up the fork, torn between threatening him with it or digging into the food he made. In the end, your stomach makes the decision for you when it rumbles loudly. It is slightly uncomfortable the way that he watches you as you eat, but you are so hungry and hungover that the attention eventually fades to the periphery of your awareness as you scarf down the food faster than you probably should.

“Happy?” You ask, setting the fork down.

He nods, taking your plate and putting it in the sink.

“Great. So, about that talk?”

Minho shrugs his shoulder noncommittally, his back facing you as he turns the faucet on and reaches for the dish sponge. He looks so domestic washing your dishes that your stomach clenches.

“Minho,” you push yourself up, walking around the counter to close the distance between you and him.

“Yes?”

“Why are you still here?”

“Is that how you thank someone who just made you breakfast?”

“Stop deflecting,” you say.

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“I already told you.”

You are barely a few feet away from him and he still won’t look at you.

“We aren’t…” you hesitate. “We’re not anything.”

“Believe me, I know,” he mutters.

“Stop acting like this,” you sigh. “Can you answer my question?”

Minho turns off the tap and places the plate on your drying rack.

“What do you want me to say?” He asks finally. 

“The truth, maybe?” You let out, annoyed.

“Really?”

“Yes, really!”

“You want me to tell you that even though it’s only been two weeks since I last saw you, it feels like it’s been forever?”

His words hit you like a punch in the stomach.

“W-What?”

Minho turns around, running a hand through his hair. He still refuses to look at you, but now that you can see his face, you can see the way his expression pinches as he continues on.

“Or that waking up next to you this morning was like a breath of fresh air? That I want to cook you breakfast every day and take you on dates all the time, and tell all our friends about us, and even do cringey things like take those stupid overpriced photobooth pictures because I know how much you like them? That I want to be embarrassing and irritating and overly affectionate with you because I really like you and it kills me that you don’t feel the same way?”

Your jaw drops. Blood thrums through your ears, your head pounds for a reason entirely different than your hangover from last night, and you think your heart might jump out of your throat.

Over the course of the past few months, you have seen Minho in countless compromising positions, but never has he looked more vulnerable than he does now. The rawness of his expression floors you.

And then he takes a deep breath, and the look is gone, his face oddly blank.

“Sorry,” he says, his voice level and controlled. “I didn’t mean to…”

He purses his lips, and you notice his fingers turning white as his digs his nails into his palms. When he notices you looking, he quickly hides his hands behind his back.

“I’m sorry,” Minho repeats. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I meant to keep that to myself—”

“Do you mean it?” You interrupt.

“—What?”

Your words catch him off guard, and for the first time, he turns to look at you. His eyes are wide and confused as they snag on your face.

“Do you mean all that?” You whisper.

He looks at you—really looks at you—and then, candidly, he says, “yes.”

A moment of silence lapses, and then you burst into laughter.

“Oh my god,” you huff. “We’re both so fucking stupid.”

And then, you take a step towards him, wrap your arms around his neck, and pull his lips down to yours.

He doesn’t move, frozen as you press your mouth against him, his hands frozen at his side. And then, a small noise escapes him and he melts into the kiss, his lips working deliciously against yours. His hands press into your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“W-Wait,” he pants, breaking the kiss.

“I—I can’t do this,” Minho says, taking a step away from you. “You said you wanted to end it, I-I don’t want to feel pressured—”

“Minho,” you sigh. “The only reason I ended things is because I liked you too much. I was literally on the verge of confessing any time you even looked at me.”

This time, it’s his turn to look at you with surprise on his face.

“Seriously?”

“Why do you think I was drinking so much last night?” You ask sarcastically.

“…We really are stupid,” he sighs, and then his mouth is on you again. 

This time, he kisses you gently, tenderly. His hands lift to cup your jaw and his lips move slowly against you, sensual in the way they suck and lick against your mouth. Underneath you, your legs turn to jelly and a small moan slips through as his tongue works its way into your mouth. 

“M-Minho—” you gasp when he nips at your tongue, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that sends arousal flooding your core.

“I missed you,” his words come out muffled against your mouth. 

“Mmm,” you hum in agreement against his lips. He presses further into you, crowding you back until the countertop presses against your spine.

The two of you are chest to chest, bodies flush against each other as he devours you, the kiss going from sensual to downright carnal as Minho kisses you as if he needs it to breathe. A moan worms its way out of you when you feel the way his dick, hard through his pants, rubs against your stomach.

“Y-You’re so—” you gasp, pulling back from his mouth. “Already worked up, just from a kiss?”

“I’ve been hard since you walked out here in nothing but my shirt,” he says as you catch your breath.

“Well,” you bat your eyelashes, your fingers playing with the zipper of his pants. “Why don’t you let me help with that?”

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth as you slide down to your knees.

His pupils dilate at the visual of you below him, and a positively delicious groan escapes his lips when you nuzzle your face against his bulge.

“Yes, please,” he breathes. 

You unzip his pants dangerously slowly, relishing the way that he watches you with such intensity. Your mouth waters at the thought of his cock, and you swear just the visual of it when you pull him out of his pants is enough to soak your panties.

A finger runs against his slit, light touches collecting his precum on your finger, and he hisses at the feeling. Your eyes stay glued to his when you push the finger into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. The taste of him is familiar and has you moaning against your finger.

“Don’t be such a tease,” he grits out. “Your mouth…”

“You’re the one who has spent the last month rejecting my mouth,” you pout. “And now you want it?”

“God,” he groans. “Because I knew if I had my cock in your mouth, I would have told you in three seconds flat how I feel about you.”

“Hmm…” You feign disinterest, even as your thighs clench together.

His jaw tenses, the muscle tightening, and you decide to put him out of his misery. 

You lean forward, placing a kittenish kiss on the head of his cock, and then you suckle him in your mouth, taking inch by torturous inch down your throat until you have him firmly to the hilt. The press of him against the back of your throat is painful and pleasurable in one, and you moan around him just to tease him.

“Fuck.”

His hand laces through your hair, tugging lightly at your scalp.

When you look up at him through hooded eyes, his tight expression has you pulling back off, your tongue running on the underside of his cock as you go.

“So good,” Minho tells you, and you push yourself further down his length.

He gathers your hair in a ponytail, holding it out of your face for you as you build a slow pace, sucking on the head of his cock every time you pull yourself off. Your eyes remain trained on his face, and you take delight in every minute change of his expression—the furrow of his brow, the bite of his lip, the parting of his mouth.

Curiously, you graze your teeth against him lightly. He groans at the feeling, his hips unintentionally jerking forward, and you smile around his cock.

Your hands rise to grip his thighs, and then you speed up, bobbing your head up and down fast and hard, ignoring the burn in your throat when the head of his cock hits the back.

“Fuck, oh my god,” he moans, his hand tightening in your hair. 

And then, he pulls you off completely, panting as you wipe the spit from the side of your mouth.

“Why’d you do that?” You ask, your voice hoarse.

“You were having a little too much fun,” he says, the words coming out more breathy than he probably intends them to.

“I was,” you agree.

“Well, it’s my turn,” Minho says, and then he pulls you up from the ground, lifting you to place you on the countertop behind you.

“Gotta take care of you too, baby, hmm?” 

Your legs part so that he has enough room to stand in between them, and you nod slowly.

“Yeah…”

“Are you gonna let me?” He asks. “Or are you going to stubborn, like last time?”

Your mind flashes back to the party, to the hallway, to his fingers, to the way that you were trying so hard not to slip up and let him know how obsessed you are with him.

“Take care of me,” you mumble, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

“Of course, baby,” he smiles sweetly at you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

It is a stark juxtaposition to the way that he hooks both of your legs onto his elbows, spreading you further so that your covered cunt is visible to him.

“Hmmm, so wet already?” He teases, running a finger over your soaked panties. You whimper at the feeling of his feather-like touch, leaning back on your elbows to support your weight. 

“I missed you,” you whisper as he continues to feel you over your underwear. 

“I couldn’t tell,” Minho smirks, his thumb rubbing your clothed clit in a way that has you squirming underneath him. 

Your hips lift off of the counter in an attempt to get closer to him, and Minho takes the opportunity to pull your panties off completely. The air against your exposed cunt is cool and sets you on edge, making you starkly aware of how turned on you are.

His thumb comes down on your clit once again, and the feeling is ten times more intense than before. Your hips cant towards him and you moan as he rubs slowly, leisurely, drinking up your reactions.

“I love when you make those noises for me,” Minho says. “Knew you could do it, hmm? Why’d you hide them from me before?”

“C-Couldn’t,” you pant. “Couldn’t let y-you know how much I like you.”

He clicks his tongue.

“You better not hold back right now, baby,” he says, and then his fingers leave you, wrapping around the base of his cock.

You whine when he rubs it against you, his length hot and hard against your wet folds. 

“Ready?”

You nod quickly, a content sigh leaving your lips at the familiar stretch when he pushes into you.

His pace is torturously slow and has you gasping before he even bottoms out. When his length is fully sheathed inside of you, he remains there, staring at your face with wide eyes that have cheeks warming.

“What?” You ask, self-conscious.

“You look so pretty like this,” Minho murmurs, a hand lifting up to smooth down your hair before trailing down to cup your jaw.

The praise has you clenching down on his cock, which in turn has him inhaling sharply.

“You like it when I say nice things to you?” He asks.

You bite your lip and look up at him but don’t answer.

“You’re always so pretty, baby,” he coos, pulling out slightly only to push back in.

Your mouth falls open at the feeling of him inside of you, every line and ridge so easily identifiable because of how slow he moves.

“I like everything about you, hmm,” Minho says, his breathing getting heavier as he repeats the motion until he is rocking into you, his dick brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you. “Your voice, your personality, your pussy, you…”

You whine as he presses closer to you so that his face is only inches away from yours. His eyes bore into you as he reaches down and crooks your right leg over his shoulder, spreading you wider. The angle has him hitting deeper than before, and your insides burn with arousal. The slick sound of him inside of you in combination with your whines and his heavy breathing only make it all the more erotic.

“After this,” he pants, his breath fanning out against your face, “will you let me take you out?”

You nod quickly. “Yes, yes, oh.”

His hips snap against you, moving faster in a way that has your eyes rolling back in your head.

“You feel so hot, so good, yeah?” Minho grunts. “Silly girl, thinking that I don’t like you.”

You whimper at his words, rolling your hip upwards to meet his precise thrusts.

“I’m obsessed with you,” he says, kissing your neck. “It’s kind of a problem, actually, fuck.”

You clench down again, a string of breathy moans accompanying the visceral reaction his words have on you.

“You really like that, huh?” He groans, his hips stuttering at the feeling.

“Mhm, I-I really like you,” you whimper. 

“Look at me like that,” he grits out, “and you’re going to make me come.”

“Please,” your eyes glaze over at the idea of the feeling of his cum, warm and wet inside of you, and you roll your hips against him again.

“Fuck, forgot what a cumslut my baby is,” Minho gasps. 

“Min, please,” you whine. 

“Only been a few weeks and you’re still so desperate,” he taunts. “Is this not enough for you?”

“A-Almost—” you moan. “Almost there.”

“Yeah?” He asks. “Gonna come for me?”

You nod. 

“You’re so pretty when you come, god, I love when you come on my cock,” he groans.

Your orgasm is so close you can taste it, and the way that Minho continues to thrust into you hard and deep only eggs it further along. Your toes are tingling, you can barely keep your eyes open, and your core is clenching down so hard on him that you can see stars.

“Come for me baby, hmm?” He coos. “Show me how much you like me.”

All it takes is him leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss to push you over the edge. His mouth muffles the drawn out whine that you let out as your walls spasm around him. You aren’t sure how long your orgasm lasts—it feels like it could be minutes or hours, but he continues to fuck you through it, his mouth moving to your ear to mumble praises of how good you’re doing and how amazing you feel until you all but collapse on the counter beneath you, feeling boneless.

“You did so well, baby,” Minho murmurs, his hands gripping your hips as he continues to rock in and out of you slowly.

He is still hard, painfully so, and you can feel him throbbing in your oversensitive cunt.

“M-Min—” you cringe away from him, but his hold on you is firm.

“Think you can take a little bit more, hmm?” He pants.

You whine at the feeling of him inside of you.

“Thought you wanted my cum, baby,” Minho says. You nod your head deliriously, still basking in the afterglow of your orgasm.

“You can give me one more,” he tells you, “it’ll feel good, hm? Being good for me?”

His thumb drifts down to your swollen clit, and your back arches at the pain and pleasure of the direct contact.

“Minho,” you moan, “Oh, please—”

You aren’t sure if you are begging for him to stop or for him to keep going, and the smirk on his face tells you that he knows that. His thumb rubs tight circles on your clit, and you clench down hard on him, feeling another orgasm cresting dangerously close.

“So good,” he sighs, his hips stuttering. “Doing so good for me, baby.”

“Come, please,” you gasp. “Please, please, please.”

Minho’s thrust become sloppier the harder you clench down on him, his breaths coming out in rough pants—yet his thumb remains firmly where it is, rubbing and rubbing until he, dangerously quickly, brings you to your second orgasm.

You cry out as you come again, your hands gripping his wrists tightly as you writhe underneath him.

“Fuck,” he groans, thrusting jerkily into you twice more before pulling out, warm ropes of cum landing on your thighs. 

You watch in blissful satisfaction as he jerks himself off through his orgasm, the veins in his forearm very visible. 

He slumps against you, his forehead pressing against yours, and you smirk at him.

“You missed me that much, huh?”

“Yes,” he sighs. 

“Well, lucky for you, I also missed you a lot.” You press a kiss against his cheek, giggling at the feeling of his hair tickling your face.

“So about that date…” Minho begins. “How long do you think it will take you to get ready?”

You jaw drops. “You wanted to go now?”

He grins. “No time like the present, right?”

if you enjoyed, please don't forget to reblog and leave your feedback/opinions <3 tysm for reading!!!

#lee know smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee minho smut #lee know x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee minho x reader

[multistan-kpopwritings]

Miss Me

➟ pairing(s): San & gn reader

➟ genre(s): One Shot

➟ word count: 412

➟ warnings: drinking

San liked coming to this bar.  It’s one of the few places he could not be bothered.  Sitting at the end of the bar he swirled the amber liquid in this cup.  He never noticed the man who took the stool next to him.

“Man, look at that one over there,” the stranger said.  “I can’t believe they're here alone.”  

He looked up from his glass to the stranger, and then to the woman she talked about.  His breath caught and his heart dropped.  It was you.  He hadn’t seen you in three months, not since you broke up with him.

“I think I’ll buy them a drink.  What do you think, something sweet or strong?” the stranger asked.

Pointing to the bottle of whiskey he smiled to himself,” No man, someone like that drinks whiskey.”  The stranger called the bartender over and ordered a drink to bring to you.  ‘Poor guy’ San thought, it was over before he walked up to your table.

Deep down he knew it was wrong, but the thought of another man with you made him sick.  There was no way the stranger knew what whiskey did… simply put, it made you miss him.  Every sip, every shot was just serving as a reminder that you couldn’t leave the memory of his love.

The man walked back to the bar and ordered another round of drinks.  It was no doubt someone like you would catch a man’s eye, and you weren’t new to the game.  You would entertain them, but with each drink, it was a guarantee you would be going home alone.

He just sat back and watched you.  He knew it was something he did, or didn’t do, that caused you to be there.  It was easy to see you were drowning in your pain.  It drove him crazy thinking about how he hurt you.  Downing the rest of his drink he tossed money on the bar, grabbed his jacket, and slipped out of the bar, careful to not be seen. He was halfway home when his phone rang.  Glancing at the screen his heart sped up.

“Babe?” he asked with a shaky voice.  His question was answered with silence.  Panic began to set in, “Baby, are you ok?”

“No,” you sniffled.  His heart stopped.  You had been drinking late at night with some man ogling you.  “Talk to me baby,” he begged,” what’s wrong?  Where are you?”

“I miss you,” you cried. “Come home.”

“I’m on my way,” he said hailing a taxi.

#reminder: reblog > likes #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fic #san fanfic #san x reader #san angst #ateez angst #Spotify #choi san #san x y/n #ateez reader insert #ateez fanfic

[multistan-kpopwritings]

Wish You the Best

➟ pairing(s): Yunho x gn reader

➟ genre(s): Angst

➟ word count: 379

➟ warnings: sad baby Yunho. Sometimes it hurts to realize that the best for someone isn't you.

A walk was all he needed to clear his head. Most days were easier now that you were gone but days like today were somehow worse. Everything about his apartment reminded him of you and after recording and deleting the fifth message he just needed a break.

It had been months since you moved out and even longer that you both knew your relationship was over yet he still found himself picking up the phone to call and ask about your day. It was just a habit he would never break. After his last call, Yunho figured it was best to stop calling. What if you did actually answer? What would he do? Ask about your day and beg you to leave about the parts about him?

Stopping at a bench along the edge of the park, he looked at his phone again but this time scrolling through social media. He smiled and watched your photos tell a story of a trip to the beach, making him wish he was there with you. He always promised you would go but work somehow work always got in the way.

His phone nearly dropped to the cobbled stone when your name flashed an incoming call. He knew he shouldn't answer but he needed to hear from you again.

"Hello?" he tried to stay collected, not wanting to seem desperate.

"Yunho, are you ok? I have at least seven missed calls from you," you asked with genuine concern. Even if you weren't together anymore, you would always love him.

I miss the way the sun reflected in your eyes

Without you I'm nothing

I wish you never left

"No, don't worry. I'm fine," he lied. You seemed so happy he didn't want to upset you. All he ever was for you to be happy. "I guess I just kept bumping the contact." Another Lie. "I'm sorry." Truth.

You laughed on the other end of the phone and made a joke about him being clumsy. You wanted to ask more about his day but your boyfriend called your name and was looking for you.

"I should go," Yunho said quickly, cutting you off before you could say goodbye. "Take care, ok? I really wish you the best things in life. See you around."

#reminder: reblog > likes #ateez fanfic #yunho fanfic #yunho angst #ateez x reader #ateez angst #yunho scenarios #yunho x reader #Spotify

[multistan-kpopwritings]

Mr. Tough Guy (part 1)

➟ pairing(s): Mafia! Changbin x Reader

➟ genre(s): Angst; Fluff

➟ word count: 1885

➟ warnings: Physical Violence, Language?

Mr. Tough Guy: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Thinking about making this a little series... Thoughts?

You sat at the bar and tried to drown this night away, alone. Sadly, the man next to you was trying to change your mind. For the third time you removed his hand from your thigh, each time it found itself higher on your person.

"It seems that your hand keeps getting lost on my thigh," you sneer at the stranger, "I suggest you remedy that." He snickered and ordered another drink from the bartender. Politely, you waved the bartender away, declining the drink. There was no way in hell you would be in debt to the creep.

You looked around the bar for a quick exit, no need to make a scene. Your friend was long gone with some stranger, leaving you to figure it out. Locking eyes with a man sitting at a table across the bar, you smiled. He was very handsome, his dark hair covered his forehead, but you could see his thin V-shaped face. He returned the smile and nodded his head in your direction.

Swirling the amber liquid in your glass, you let the ice clink the sides. Maybe if you did this enough it would drown out the sound of the man next to you. He was rambling about his job, maybe his car, hell, he could have been his cat and you wouldn't have cared less. Despite the look of disinterest, the stranger would not take the hint. You were physically repulsed when he touched you again.

"Ok," you said firmly, "That's enough." You took your drink and found a new seat at the opposite end of the bar. "Wow, you don't know how to take a hint."

"You can stop playing hard to get," the stranger said close to your ear. Having followed you, he leaned on the bar next to you.

"Please stop," you begged. Holding your hands up to make a point. The man at the table now eyed you with furrowed brows, and a scowl replacing his smile. Narrowing his eyes on you.

"How about I buy you another drink," the creep proposed.

"How about you back to fuck off," you said raising your voice, fists clenched at your side. This time you had enough. Suddenly, two men appeared at your side. One stepped between you and the stranger at the bar, the other bowed to you.

"Mr. Seo is requesting that you join him for a drink," the one closest to you said. Looking in the direction the man pointed, the man at the table lifted his glass to you. Nodding, you stood and reached for your purse and jacket, only to see one of the men already held it.

"Thank you," you said softly to the two men that escorted you to the table. Glancing back only once to see the seething man left alone at the bar.

"Sit, please," Mr. Seo said to you, as one of his partners pulled a chair out for you. "What's your name, beautiful?" You were taken aback by his warm and rich voice. You could feel the chills run down your spine.

"Y/N," you said softly. Mr. Seo leaned forward on the table and grinned.

"You'll need to speak up, beautiful," he said, "It's loud in here."

"Y/N. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, Mr. Seo," you said a little louder, meeting his eyes. His smile grew wider as he leaned back into his seat.

"ChangBin," he said. Your mouth formed a silent 'O', and you blinked a few times at him. Where had you heard that name before? "You can call me ChangBin, you don't need to be so formal with me." You dipped your head to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. He tutted you and lifted your head with a finger under your chin. "Don't hide that beautiful face."

You looked around the table and noticed 4, no 5 men surrounding the table and another two on either side of ChangBin. In all-black suits and ties, they stood guard. Vigilant of their surrounding.

"Felix," ChangBin said. The man to the left of him with blonde hair and freckles leaned in and nodded his head, leaving the table. Shortly after, he returned to the table with a drink, sliding it in front of you.

"Thank you," you said sweetly to Felix, earning a quick smile. Bowing your head to ChangBin, you thanked him as well. ChangBin smiled at you and leaned towards you again, placing his hand on your free one.

"Tell me about yourself, Miss Y/L/N," he asked. It sounded like a question but felt like a demand. His deep brown eyes searched your face. Under his scrutiny, you blushed again. "So cute." He brushed his thumb across your cheek.

"Look here you ungrateful cock tease," the strange man from the bar yelled at you, attempting to grab you. Before you could react, two of ChangBin's men had this man bent over the table with his arms restrained behind his back and head pressed to the table.

Before you, the handsome man disappeared. Lowering himself to eye level, ChangBin pressed his hand against the man's head, applying excessive pressure. "I think you owe this woman an apology," he said through gritted teeth. "Don't you?" The man was only able to nod his head slightly. Lifting his head by the hair, ChangBin lifted it and slammed it back in your direction. "Go on."

"Sorry," the man choked out. Another loud slam sounded as his head hit the table again. ChangBin was in the man's ear demanding a proper apology be given. "I'm sorry for the way I acted towards you. I should not have treated you with such disrespect. I hope you can forgive me." Tears flowed from his eyes as he sought your face for any response.

"Is that ok, beautiful? Do you accept that apology?" ChangBin asked you. You looked from the man on the table, to the men around you and then finally to ChangBin.

"Yes, thank you," you said to him. He lifted the man's head from the table and made him face you.

"Now, thank the beautiful woman for letting you live," ChangBin ordered. "Next time you decide to speak to a woman, remember to have care." The man thanked you hurriedly and bowed the best he could with the grip on his scalp. ChangBin pushed him towards his men and told them to make sure he got home ok. Your eyes never left ChangBin's face. Once again, the handsome man sat and smiled at you.

"I'm a finance major, at the local school. My dad is in... finance," you told him. ChangBin met your eyes with curiosity. "I'm focusing on photography in my spare time. Architectural photography to be more specific." He pursed his lips and looked at you, questions in his eyes still. "What? You asked about me. Did something change?" He chuckled and crossed his arms.

"You tell me," he said nodding in the direction the man was carried off in. "You're not scared of me? Of what you saw?" He patiently waited for your response. After giving it some thought, you shook your head. "Really? Even if I had bashed his head in?"

"Would you? Have bashed it in?" you asked, genuinely curious. He took a deep breath.

"Yes. If you asked me to," he confessed.

"Well Mr. Seo," you cleared your throat, "That man there was not an honorable person. You, sir, I feel are cut from a different cloth. My father has always told me you can judge a man by the way he treats his family, friends, and most importantly, a stranger. You've been kind to me when you didn't need to. So no, I'm not afraid of you." He smiled at the way you spoke to him.

"Finance, huh?" he mused. You smiled and moved to the empty chair at his side. His men looked at each other and exchanged glances. The man with curly, bright red hair nodded at the rest slowly. "Smart and pretty."

"After this semester, I plan on traveling. I want to see the world before settling into life," you said dreamily. ChangBin leaned in closer to you, his cologne surrounding you. "I need to see all of the wonders this world has to offer." He reached up and cupped your cheek. Despite having a man's head pinned to a table a few moments ago, his interactions with you were gentle. It was like he was scared to break something delicate.

"Can I take you home?" he asked. "To make sure you're safe." He clarified, not wanting you to get the wrong idea.

"Yes, thank you," you said softly, turning your head and kissing his palm. His breath hitched at the simple gesture.

You were escorted to a black SUV with black windows and rims. The man with the red hair opened the door and ChangBin assisted you into the back seat, sliding in next to you. "Thank you, Chan," ChangBin said to him. With Felix driving, Chan took the free seat in the front of the SUV. Giving them your address, you relaxed next to ChangBin.

Once in front of your apartment, Chan opened the door for you and ChangBin to exit. Placing his hand on your lower back, ChangBin guided you towards the entrance of your building. Inside you reached for his hand, interlacing your fingers. Opening your apartment door, you stepped inside, still holding his hand. You smiled and stepped closer to him.

"Thank you for tonight," you said stepping closer still. Smiling down at you, he brushed your hair back from your face.

"No need to thank me. I'm happy I was there," he told you. "Give me your phone," he instructed. You did as he told you. Quickly, he typed in something and a chime sounded from his pocket. With a quick wink, he handed you the phone back. He kissed your forehead and backed away. Grabbing his arms you pulled him closer again.

"Wait," you begged, "Don't leave. Kiss me, please." You pouted your lips at him. He looked at you softly, almost as if you hurt his feelings. Gently grabbing your face with his hands, he pressed his forehead to yours.

"Don't make that face, beautiful," he scolded you. "You never have to beg me for anything. I can give you the world." He brushed his lips against yours and closed his eyes as you leaned into the kiss. He nipped your bottom lip before pulling away. After another quick kiss, he made sure you were locked inside before leaving you for the night.

You turned on your television just to have some noise to distract you. Whatever the newswoman was reporting caught your attention when you heard a familiar name.

"Last month we reported the death of gang leader Seo BonHwa. Now weeks later we have heard from a reliable source that there are talks of his son, Seo ChangBin taking over."

You quickly looked at the television to see a candid photo of ChangBin speaking to Chan and Felix being flashed on the screen. You mentally kicked yourself. His name had sounded so familiar.

"Well that explains a lot," you said to yourself with a dry chuckle. Your phone chimed, signaling a text message.

It's my turn to beg...

Have dinner with me tomorrow

please?

-SCB

#shameless reblog

[multistan-kpopwritings]

Ateez Masterlist

Hongjoong

Nothing Yet

Seonghwa

Nothing Yet

Yunho

Wish You the Best

Yeosang

Nothing Yet

San

Miss Me

Wooyoung

Nothing Yet

Mingi

Nothing Yet

Jongho

Nothing Yet

#ateez masterlist

[multistan-kpopwritings]

22:15 – 정국 (Jungkook)

P: Jungkook x male reader | G: timestamp, smut | Inc: tattooist!Jungkook, sub!Jungkook, dom!reader, petnames, teasing, orgasm denial, Jk's hands being restricted, implied multiple orgasms, filth tbh, I took 'every second, every minute, every hour' and ran with it lmao | Wc: 223 | W: slight D/s dynamic, restriction, orgasm denial,, desc. of pleasure almost being painful (consensually ofc) | R: 18+

Min’s notes: I blame a mf named Jeon Jungkook singing Seven for this ^-^

Sweat drips down Jungkook’s forehead, his head thrown back as he tries to ground himself on y/n’s bed. His head is spinning – how long have the two of them been at this? How long did y/n want to keep this up? All manner of moans and whines slip out of his mouth, only encouraging y/n to keep up his loving torture on Jungkook’s cock. There’s not much Jungkook can do to make it stop; his hands restricted above his head and leaving him exposed and entirely at y/n’s mercy.

“F— fuck, y/n, baby…” The tattooist cries, unable to stop squirming the longer y/n refuses to stop. He’s so close but anymore and Jungkook might just lose his mind. He’s going to start coming dry at this rate. Y/n simply blinks, looking to his boyfriend as his hands just…stop. Jungkook panics, bucking his hips into the younger man’s now still hand, desperately seeking the pleasure that’s keeping him on the edge of pain and holding him there.

“What is it bunny? Do you want me to stop? It is too much for you?” Y/n taunts, tracing circles onto the writhing man’s tip. He huffs, “and here I thought you had stamina~. What was it you said? Every second? Every minute? Every hour?”

Perhaps Jungkook regrets riling y/n up over text.

Perhaps not.

Definitely not.

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @ultkpopnetwork, @whipped-kpop-creators, @hybenet, @bangtanarmynet, @btscreatorscorner

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!

Taglist: @teeztheflag, @jeonqquk, @mikailo666, @iiindigocheesecake, @xavi-in-kpopland, @marxenash , @tinystarstay | Taglist form

#reminder: reblog > likes #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x male reader

[multistan-kpopwritings]

Hurry Now

➟ pairing(s): Han x y/n reader; afab reader

➟ genre(s): One Shot

➟ word count: 814

➟ warnings: none

It had been a long week and this interview was circling the drain quickly. The people on the other side of the cameras were rude and unprepared. Bit by bit Bang Chan grew angrier. His stiff body and stone face should have signaled the room, but only his bandmates noticed.

Just arriving at the office, your friend let you know Stray Kids was down the hall in studio 2, probably finishing their interview. Kicking yourself for almost missing them, you jogged down the hall. Making sure you didn't look like you just ran down the hall, you slipped into the room to hear your coworker thank the guys for their time. Stepping forward you offered your hand to Bang Chan, the leader of Stray Kids. "Hi, I'm Y/N. Thank you for letting us-" Chan cut you off aggressively.

"Thanks? Seriously? This had to be the worst interview, ever." He was glaring at you while he continued to rant, and you were intimidated. What could have happened to cause this seemingly kind and interesting man to unleash this fury? "And another thing, next time, if there is a next time, try not to make the guests do half the work." Trying to blink the tears away you apologized and bowed deeply to Chan before rushing out of the room, seeing the others couldn't look you in the eyes.

Ducking into your office you tried to steady your breath. You settled behind your desk and let your mind wander. What caused that outburst? Luckily all the videos were stored on the building server, and you would find what you needed.

In the studio, 7 men turned on Chan and began to raise their voices. They scolded him for the way he spoke to you. Heck, you had just walked in and probably had no idea what happened. Chan hung his head and kicked himself.

You paused the video halfway and checked the details. Ah, you knew the names and they were luckily, or unluckily for them, in your team. "Come in," you called to the person knocking on your door. Writing down the names of the troublesome employees, you looked up at the visitor. Dread instantly filled your stomach. Han Jisung stood in your office. Had Bang Chan sent him to finish the job of humiliating you?

"Hi," he said nervously. "I came to apologize on behalf of Bang Chan Hyung. I'm sorry. We're all sorry for how he spoke to you." Offering a small smile he gestured to the door. "Normally he wouldn't have-"

"Please. Stop. I understand," you pointed to the computer at your desk, "And they will be dealt with. I appreciate the apology." Sighing deeply you reached under your desk for the half-eaten candy bar. "Want one?" you asked waving the candy at the cute man across your desk. He quickly nodded with a boyish smile.

Catching the candy from the air, he smiled bigger. "My favorite," he announced, tearing the paper open. Taking a bite he stuffed his cheeks.

"Thank you again," you said softly, "For stopping by." Nodding, he wandered around your office, taking in your photos and awards on the wall. You watched him closely and couldn't help but find his puffy cheeks and the way his smile lit up his eyes endearing.

"Thanks for the chocolate," he said turning his attention back to you. "After a day like this with Chan Hyung, I needed it." Laughing at the cheap shot he took at his friend, you agreed.

"Yeah, me too," you giggled. The phone on your desk lit up with a call. The receptionist informed you that Bang Chan was waiting for you, and would like to see you. Han smiled at you and sat on the edge of your desk.

"Ah, my fearless leader has pulled his head from his butt," he laughed, "I bet he's on the way to apologize." Chewing the inside of his mouth he shrugged a little. "Maybe you can just accept mine… and not see him…" he trailed off.

"Oh? Why is that?" you asked, intrigued by his sudden nervousness. "He just fills a room with his," he waved his arms around, "Bang Chan-yness." He rolled his eyes at the way it sounded.

"Well I have a lot of Han Jisung-yness in this office today," you mused. "I don't know if there is any room for anything else. Maybe we should make him wait." That smile lit up his eyes again, making you laugh. Standing from your desk you walked across the room and took his hand. "Come on. If we go out the back, he'll never see us."

Raising his brows in surprise, he let you pull him down the hall. As you reached the door, he stopped and pulled your arm, causing you to stumble back into his arms.

"Hurry now! Let's go as fast as we can," he whispered.

#stray kids #han jisung #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids han #skz scenarios #skz jisung #skz x reader #stray kids han x reader #stray kids han jisung #stray kids jisung #skz fluff #skz #skz han jisung #skz han x reader #skz han

[multistan-kpopwritings]

Hello anyone still here reading this. I'm trying to clean up this mess and make sure all my links work.

Please read through and drop me any ideas or just a quick hi. I love talking to new people and bouncing ideas off of someone else.

If you haven't already, please follow or even ask to be on a tag list!

Thank you all for following still and stopping by 🤟🏼

[multistan-kpopwritings]

[multistan-kpopwritings]

About Me

Hi. I'm just a fan fiction writer. I've been around for a little while but took some time off and moved my side blog to this main one. Below is some basic information but feel free to reach out and ask me any questions.

☁️Age: 21+

☁️Pronouns: She/Her

☁️Groups I Stan: BTS, Stray Kids, Ateez, GOT7, Monsta X, EXO, NCT, TXT

[multistan-kpopwritings]

☁️ About Me

☁️ Masterlist

☁️ Commissions

☁️ Latest Message from the Creator

☁️ Request to be added to the tag list HERE

Latest Release: Miss Me (ateez/San) 07/24/2023

[multistan-kpopwritings]

Give it to me Straight

Pairing: Minho x afab!reader

Genre: Best friend's forbidden older brother

Word Count: 9.1 k (yeah we got carried away once again)

Warnings: Based off of inspo (here) and (here) that is also literally porn so dont click if u dont want to see you have been warned.

Also contains: smut, worshipping, angst, mentions of alcohol and intoxication, fingering (f receiving), kissing, penetration, lots and lots of praise, semi soft smut

Notes: HEY!! this is a fic i wrote hald of last year and just forgot about it and found and decided to finish it, hope oyu enjoy !!

Summary: You had enough of your best friend brother, Minho, giving you mixed signals as you grew up, but this. This was the night that you were finally going to do something about it

The night was pretty much over, or well, it should have been. But here you were, sitting on the floor of a random person’s apartment, giggling over and over as you looked at the other 8 people also sitting down in a circle next to you. There were your friends, Sana and Hyunjin, and there were the others. Actually, quite frankly, you did not know these people until tonight. There was one person that was there, that you did know, all too well.

Minho, Lee Minho. Friend, foe? You weren’t sure what to call him, but all you knew was that you were grinding on him in the club an hour ago, hands roaming across your body, lips, teeth on your neck. It was fun, one shot after another had your mind racing, thinking about the possibilities of what could happen after you went home, with him. What wasn’t helpful was the guilt that came with such excitement. 

“Fuck okay,” the stranger yelled, clapping his hands before swinging them, taking the empty vodka bottle off the kitchen bench, “let’s play a good ole fashion game of spin the bottle. Who’s in?”

“Me me me!”

The small crowd cheered in unison, but all you could do was stare at him. More guilt, more excitement, more adrenaline. The thought of kissing him did nothing but intensify the want, the need, the desire to. Wanting to hook up with your best friend’s older brother was the worst thing that you could want at this very moment.

The relationship with Minho was always strange and never straightforward. Even from the first time the two of you met. Your best friend of almost 10 years since you had been in elementary school, he was just different towards you. When you were younger, all he did was pick on you. The short scrawny boy, only a couple of years older than you. Would always chase you around the school yard, always until you fell over, or hurt yourself in some kind of way. You hated him, and had no idea why he always picked on you specifically. 

It changed in middle school, however, after puberty, well, more for him. His face changed, grew taller, much more attractive in your 14 year old eyes. You denied it though, remembering how cruel he was to you. Not much changed personality wise, he was still mean. Picking on you, your grades, his sister, her grades. He was ruthless, and it made you hate him even more. Minho’s looks were easy to overlook when everything that came out of his mouth was rubbish.

It wasn’t until he left for college, and came back for summer after finishing his first year, did things change. He had grown even taller, started working out, and had joined his college’s dance team. Holy fuck did things became different. His smile beamed as soon as he walked in and you in his house, sitting at the kitchen bench. 

***

“Y/n?”

You turned around, jaw dropping the moment you laid your eyes on him. He dropped everything, fast walking towards you as he picked you up, spinning you around with a large chuckle erupting from his chest. He put you down, eyes doing a quick check up and down your body before biting down on his bottom lip.

“Minho?”

“Wow, you look, really, really good.”

His stance was close, almost lingering over you, that was, until your best friend walked in, causing him to step away, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked to the fridge so nonchalantly. Your friend gave you a weird look, mouthing a ‘sorry,’ solely for his presence in the room. They never were that close.

“I forgot to tell you that he got back a few days ago and is going to be here for the summer.”

“That’s okay,” you scoffed, overexaggerated manner, “why would you need to tell me that.”

“Because I know how he can be,” she whispered, “rude, mean, very obnoxious and super, super arrogant.” 

The second half of her sentence was louder, looking straight at him to make sure she knew. You just laughed, nervously, unsure how to take in the interaction.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she sighed, “please don’t bully my only friend while I’m gone.”

The man rolled his eyes, laughing as he took a large gulp from his water bottle. He walked forward, waiting for her to leave before reassessing his position. His hands leaned against the bench, body pushing forward as he leaned towards you, a smirk appearing on his lips as he looked down at you.

“I have to go, meeting a friend at the gym, but it was really, really good to see you. We should hang out sometimes if you’re free, you know, without her?”

“We should?”

“Yes,” he smirked, biting down on his bottom lip, “definitely.”

***

“Okay,” the stranger announced to himself, “I’ll go first.”

The game felt like torture. Simply watching the bottle, casting your eyes on what seemed to be an infinite amount of times, spinning on an axis. It didn’t help you at all. If anything, it intensified how dizzy you truly were feeling. Concentration was getting harder, but you refused. Refused to give up anything. You did not want to prove Minho’s point. That you would always be this little girl that is easy to pick on.

“Oh my god,” Hyunjin nudged you, “Y/n, psst, the bottle is on you.”

His knock cloaked you out of your drunken daze, bringing some sobriety back as he pointed towards the bottle, eyes opening when you saw it land on you. You looked up, seeing the stranger was already there. He was attractive, short black hair, hazel eyes, freckles. He was really cute, and your brain melted the longer he gazed at you.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you whispered, hand in front of your mouth as you giggled at his proximity. You didn’t have to look. The feeling of a pair of eyes burning into the side of your head was more than enough to know who had their eyes on you, and who didn’t. Chan did not, already ditching the game and sloppily making out with the person next to him. Hyunjin followed in pursuit, and Jisung and Sana, well, that was another story, a long time coming. The glance was brief, not long enough to focus on anybody, but well enough to know your surroundings. Enough to see the girl, who looked very familiar, but not enough to be identified by name, whisk her fingers across his inner thigh. He stayed still, not paying any mind to her as he fixated on you. The man joined in the staring contest, noticing Minho’s obviously unimpressed glare. 

He swung his head back in your direction, pushing his body weight on you in the slightest. You followed, back now adjacent to the floor as he leaned over, lips hovering over your own. You brought your index finger to his lips, curious to know more about the man before he kissed you.

“Wait.”

“Is something wrong?” His facial expression changed, unsure as to why or what made you hesitate.

“Oh, no,” you giggled, full of giddyness and intoxication, “your name. I just wanted to know your name before we, well, you know.”

The man smirked, cupping your face in adoration as he leaned closer, lips wisping across your ear as he spoke.

“Well aren’t you just the cutest?”

He pulled away, eyes back in level with your own as he spoke once more, “Felix. I’m Felix.”

That was all you needed, wrapping your arms around Felix’s neck as you pulled him in, eyes closing and mouth opening and lips attacking yours. The kiss in reality, from an outside perspective, would have looked very messy. Very sloppy as lips missed each other, teeth crashed together, and also the fact that you could feel Felix’s hips moving against your own in the slightest, already half hard member grinding against your thigh. It did feel good, you couldn’t fib to yourself. The gentle friction was delicious. It was enough to make you moan discreetly, the sound lost in Felix’s mouth as the two of you continued. 

You were enjoying yourself, but you also remembered not to lose yourself in the moment. Felix was fun, but he was just part of the plan. A simple pawn in a game of chess, of course being the queen and Minho the king. Sometimes you have to make some unnecessary moves to win in the long term. Even with your eyes closed, you could still feel his own burning into the back of your head. If sober, you most likely would have been feeling some kind of guilt. It wasn’t like you to rub things in other people’s faces. But you felt like it was only fitting. Yes, you wanted Minho, but after everything, your timeline with him, having a crush on him for the longest time regardless that he made your life hard, it only felt right to drag this out as much as possible. 

Your eyes fluttered open, empty lidded shooting daggers at him. Appraisal came to your mind when his daggers were returned, gaze still very much fixated on you, with Felix, making out with another man right in front of him. His blood was searing, reaching boiling point at a very rapid rate. He knew you were a lot of things. Sarcastic, blunt, ‘indifferent’ towards him as you got older, or so he thought. But he didn’t take you to be a tease. He was reaching the point of no return, and if you didn’t stop this act, this play scene just for him, he was going to do something he regretted.

“Hmm fuck,” Felix grumbled, pulling away from you, “has anyone ever told you that you’re a really good kisser?”

Your eyes flickered back to the man on top of you, quickly averting your gaze to avoid any deflections from Minho, Chan, or any of the others there that you knew.

“Hey man, what are you doing?”

You sat up immediately, looking up to see Minho’s friend, Jisung, standing over you. His tone was playful, but the adrenaline was kicking in. The several times you met Minho’s friends, they were decent enough to be nice to your face. Anytime you went over, you could hear them. Talking about how you look, always asking Minho about you. Just them teasing him about you. Maybe it was the reason as to why he had so much disdain for you. They were also protective, very protective of him, and probably the reason why they were standing over you right now.

“Oh hey man, you’re not her boyfriend are you?”

“Who, me?” Jisung laughed, hard, almost hysterically, bringing a hand to his chest to calm himself down, “no no, not me, but the guy over there might be a little mad that you’re making out with his girl.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing onto Felix’s arm, other hand tucking under his chin as you pressed another haste kiss to his lips. You gave Minho one more look, noticing his fists turned inwards, hard shaped as he watched your interactions with the new guy accelerating.

“Good,” He smirked, standing up, and reaching a hand out to you as an invitation, “Did you want to hang out in my room? It’s just down the hall.”

“Sure,” you replied bluntly as you took his invitation. You allowed Felix to guide you, taking one last look at Jisung. Before making your way, you were interrupted one more time. It made you scoff when Minho grabbed your wrist, finally able to do something himself, not his friends doing it for him.

“Y/n?”

“What do you want?”

“Where are you going?”

“What do you think?”

With a heavy grip, attempting to shake yourself out of his grip. There was no way you were giving up on this act yet.

“You just met the guy tonight?”

“Okay and? It’s not like that ever stopped you before. At least I’m not at home, forcing everyone else to hear you late at night.”

He looked down, knowing he had been beaten to the punch. You resisted once more, able to come out of his grip as you looked up and down at him once more, “Stop acting like you give a shit what I do.”

You watched him open his mouth, but missed out on whatever he was going to say. You laughed to yourself, the swift motion of the man from the other side, Felix, the one who was giving you the attention you needed right now. Without a word, he closed the door behind you, spare hand placed on your lower back as he lead you to what seemed to be his bed.You sat down first, Felix making quick work as he stood over you once more, index finger stuck on your shoulder as he effortlessly as he ‘pushed’ you over, torso hovering on top of yours, just like he did previously. You had to give it to him. This Felix guy was smooth. The way he looked down at you, raking your body with every single eye nerve, the gentle twitch when he noticed extra skin showing on your body for a slight moment. He definitely was contributing to your uprising arousal, but the thing that really turned you on was the mere possibility of Minho hearing this. Having his ear up to the door, curious to see what you would really do.

“Hey,” Felix whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, taking you out of your thoughts completely, “everything okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah, where were we?”

You brought a hand to his arm, rubbing up and down in a soothing motion as his own came back to your chin, pinching it forward, lips doting to reconnect with his. His lips were smooth, not a crack or dry spot in sight or in feeling. The kiss was a lot more connected, a lot more teamwork and passion. His tongue lazily slipped inside of your mouth, picking up with much brute and force as his hips charged, recreating the prior friction against your core. Felix had one hand on the side of your jaw, the one on your chin snaking around and cascading down, in between your cleavage, past your navel, brimming on the edge of your undergarment line. You gasped, immediately, not expecting things to move so quickly. A stifled whimper escaped your lips, enjoying the friction his fingers created around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Oh,” you groaned, slightly high pitched and confused at first, but once his fingers dived past your dress, underneath your core, right in the center of your sweet spot, you groaned again, a deeper, more gratifying noise bellowing in response.

“Does that feel good?”

“Mhm,” you whispered, looking up at him, “feels so good already.”

Your hand felt dizzy again, a lightheaded texture adding. You weren’t sure if it was his fingers or the alcohol speaking, but it most likely was the loud bang that came from the east part of the room. You jumped immediately, bumping heads with Felix as you quickly covered yourself, given no time to fix your hair as you were being dragged out, Minho’s jaw clenched as he walked you out.

“Sorry, uh Felix, it was nice to meet you,” you yelled down the hallway, pushed all the way to the front door.

“Minho what the fuck?”

“Shut up and get in the car,” he growled, not putting up with any nonsense that you were about to spew at him, “Jisung’s taking us all home, your friends included.”

“Ugh, whatever,” you scoffed, the digging of his fingers becoming slightly painful. You opened the door, seeing Hyunjin’s smirk as soon as he saw you, hand in hand with Minho. He never had to say anything, he always knew how you felt about him, even when it wasn’t clear to you. 

The midnight breeze was very apparent, hitting you like a truck. The goosebumps on your skin raised in an instant, shiver running down your spine as you walked. Minho let go of your wrist, removing his jump over his head, and plopping it on top of yours. You wanted to turn, scream at him for ruining your hair, not even thinking about your makeup. But honestly, you were just tired. It was late. 

***

You pushed the button down in the backseat, letting the cool breeze smack you across the face as Jisung drove down the highway. It felt nice, distracting you from the imminent pressing of your best friend’s brother inconveniently pressing up against you, too big for the middle seat. Of course he had to sit next to you. Invade your personal space, your privacy. He was still overprotective of you, even when you were by yourselves. It was annoying, and you really didn’t know why he was always like this with you after the needless torture that was gorwing up with him around. 

You decided to put the window up, a sudden drowsiness coming over you as you leaned your head against the window. Your eyes were fluttering, half lidded when you felt someone whispering, right up to your ear. His lips were cold, roughly but incidentally lingering on your lobe.

“Y/n,” Minho hushed, patting your arm lightly, “y/n, baby.”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows, “what is it?”

“We’re here, wake up.”

“Oh,” you sighed, releasing your weight on the window. Your eyes opened, turning from the window, which was a big mistake. You caught yourself, inches away from your face. Apart from the club, it was the closest you had been ever to him. You saw him, looking down at your lips, causing you to gulp loudly. You wanted to lean in, push away all the doubt you had in your mind, and follow your heart. To have him on your lips, around your body, caressing every crevice, every curve. It was something you had fantasized about in your head several times, whether you wanted to or not. Your hand flew to his chest, truly speechless and unsure what to say.

“Minho. I-”

He licked his lips, fingers latching onto your jaw, thumb against the subtlety of your lips. He flipped, lip bouncing back as he leaned even closer. His breath had never felt so imminent, not even the first time the two of you had shared a kiss.

***

“Did you need help?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest, about to lose balance on the stool. The tea bags were high in the cupboard, and you weren’t the tallest person going around. Minho put his arms out, helping you adjust yourself before stepping down and back onto the ground.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “you know me, never able to reach anything.”

“It’s okay, they’re stored pretty high up.”

Without giving you time to move, he reached over, torso pressed against your chest, half of his body weight leaning on you as he reached up to grab one for you. Your face rose in heat as he placed it on the bench behind you, keeping firm in his position.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, still not moving, “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh, uhm no, it’s okay” you mumbled back, pushing the hair behind your ear. He beat you to the other side, lifting his fingers, watching how delicately the fibers of your hair curved along your ear lobe. 

Faces inching closer, it felt like do or die, but you would rather get hit by a truck than make the first move. Minho was the type to flirt, hard. He knew he could get anyone he wanted. College really changed him. For the better though, even if it meant he became a mass fuckboy.

“You have a really, uhm, beautiful face.”

He had become nervous all of a sudden, and you couldn’t help but smile. Smile at both his nerves and slight awkwardness, as well as his proximity. 

“Uhm thanks,” you mumbled again, scared that if you attempted to speak at a normal volume, it would squeak, “you have a nice face as well.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, piercing eyes boring into yours.

“Make me.”

He hesitated for a brief moment, before bringing both hands to your face, pressing his lips to yours. It was soft at first, a series of gentle pecks you wrapped your hand palms around his neck, keeping him close. His body felt good, right when close to you.

It didn’t take long for things to heat up however, Minho’s tongue begging for access as you gave it to him willfully, a gentle hum as he simultaneously rolled his hips into yours once. A soft groan escaped your lips, causing him to pull away. The smirk on his face was priceless; you knew he was satisfied with himself. His hands snaked down to your waist, lifting you up and placing you on the kitchen bench. Minho nudged your leg with his left knee, spreading them wide, allowing himself to fit into the curve. He kept his digits across your fingertips, gently tapping as he leaned back in, skipping the innocent kisses and heading straight to a heavy, heavy makeout. The noises erupting were increasing in quantity, and it wasn’t until you heard footsteps running down the steps were you snapped back into reality. Hands on his chest, you pushed him off quickly, pushing your hair back in front of your face.

“Y/n what’s taking you so long?”

“Oh uhm, I was just trying to reach the teabags.”

“Yeah,” Minho joined in, helping you cover your ass, “I just grabbed it for her, seeing as she was already in my way to get to the glasses, annoying ass.”

“Okay whatever weirdo,” she replied to him, “stop annoying Y/n.”

***

The memory of the flashback playing in spurts, ones that your intoxicated mind was probably failing to accurately recall the event. It was, however, enough for you to pull away. Saying nothing, you turned away, opening the car door, semi-stumbling onto the ground as you jumped out the car, heading towards his front door. Luckily your best friend was out of town, away on a camping weekend with her boyfriend and her parents, because if she heard you walking in with Minho, it was game over.

“Y/n,” he whispered, tone harsh like he wanted to yell, “y/n.”

It was nothing but a faint noise in the distance. You stood there, in front of the door, impatiently waiting for it to be unlocked. It wasn’t until you could feel him. He grabbed your wrist, almost having to yank you back to stop you.

“What,” you whispered back, similar in tone, “what do you want?”

He waited. It looked like he was trying to put a thought together, knowing that he needed to say something very important. It could make or break: everything. He took a step closer, that familiar feeling of adrenaline, no, some other feeling that you couldn’t describe. Made your heart race, body sweat. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was. All you knew was that it only happened when he was around you.

“I’m, I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him, adoration at how gentle his skin glowed in the moonlight. Fuck, this was annoying. Why did he have to be so hot? It would have been the easy way out to forgive him and let him do what you craved, yearned for. But it was simply too much to do so. This man had been toying with your heart for a long time. Whether he had a crush on you for the lingering amount of time that you had, you deserved better than someone who played with you for their own amusement.

“What are you sorry for?”

Your tone was calm, yet still firmly questioning him. It was easier to just deny the night events than argue about it.

***

The music was loud, deafening as Minho, dragging you by the delicacy of your poor wrist, locked in a spot right next to the speaker right beside the DJ of the club, aka pole position. At first the dancing was innocent, a bright smile of pure joy (and intoxication) plastered across your face, holding each other’s hands as you pushed and pulled them back and forth. It wasn’t until the motions of arms were not moving in the opposite directions, somehow were both pulling in his direction, right up against his waist. The music was much too loud to allow your rational cognitions to process the sequence of events. Facing him, not facing him. Appropriate distance, very much appreciate distance. It was hard to explain how you ended up with your back pressed against Minho’s chest, somehow in the monstrosity of alcoholic beverages and shots actually moving your hips in a synchronized way with his. Maybe it was the firm grip, thumb digging into the soft flesh that was hardly hidden under that dress, making sure that this was the only place you needed to be, that he wanted you to be. 

Your hands easily followed too, palms on top of this tendon illuminating the side of his hands as his lips rested on the outside of the cartilage that made up your ear. The second time you could feel the magic that was his lips. The crowd that was Minho’s friends and the new, yet very much fun strangers that would end up making the later house party were long gone at this very moment. The only thing you could remember was coming with Minho, and the last thing you wanted to do was leave with him.

“Mmmm,” was all that could be heard, well no, felt from the man behind you. The vibrations of his lips were the only indicator that he was trying to say something. His teeth soon followed. Gentle, almost kitten-like nibbles nipped at the heated flesh of the neck and shoulder, head falling limp against his own shoulder as he continued to chuckle inbetween. There seemed to be an innocence to his antics, almost like he didn’t want to hurt you. Yet knowing the downright filthy desires, things he wanted to do, for a numerous amount of time was very much ironic.

Turning around, you pulled away, eyes boring into yours and his face came closer and closer. Eyes fluttering shut like a butterfly's wings for a brief moment, desire had never been stronger.

“There he is, Jisung!”

And just like that, it was over. Reality came back and your Minho clouded fog dissipated in a matter of moments, and it must have for him. You had never seen someone take their hands of someone with such speed. The timely reaction of Minho brought you back to a realistic part of your life. The one where this was nothing but a dream, and Minho was once again out of reach, and the many barriers that were his friends, your friend being in the way, made you nothing but a pawn in his chess game.

***

You stood there in silence, the only sound that could be heard was the ringing in your ears from the loud music prior. The want for him to explain himself was one of such desperation. A sign, anything at this point. Yes, you were very much exhausted from the games but if it was all worth it for him to finally do something about it in the end, the fatigue would be easily wiped away.

“I don’t mean to be this way. So, uhm, aggressive? Or the opposite, I don’t know I-”

“Minho in the nicest way possible, I’m tired and we’ve both had a big night. We can talk about it in the morning.”

Using the spare key that your friend had so graciously given you as a symbol of how much time you truly spent at her house, his house, over the years, the door was unlocked, you ripping your shoes off and letting them laz sprawl against the living room carpet as your body heavily dragged up the stairs. Your feet automatically knew the way to her room, 4 paces straight and two to the left. To get to his it was 7 paces straight 2 to the right. The 4th step on the second floor felt unnatural at this moment, body wanting nothing more than to be pressed up against him in a deep slumber, you craved it; but you knew better at the same time.

“Y/n.”

Silence. You could feel him coming closer, but it’s honestly just too painful at this point to even wait for anything more.

“Y/n.”

Silence, again. It wasn’t until you could feel the unintentionally harsh pull at your wrist, once again pulling back and up against him.

“Y/n wait.”

“For fucks sake Minho,” you huffed, yanking your arm away from his grip, “leave me alone.”

“No, I want to talk about it now.”

Nothing but an eye roll followed, ignoring him and storming into her room. He followed in pursuit, the first time any kind of behavior like this from Minho had happened before. Sitting on the edge of the side of her bed, you turned away as you took off your jewelry, precious earring and delicate chain necklace lying on this decorative plate placed on the bedside table.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Can we please stop pretending like there isn’t something going on between us?”

He was not serious. His bold statement made you stop, turn around and face him.

“You have to be joking right now.”

“Why would I be joking?”

“Minho” you yelled, standing back up and right in front of him, “this is nothing but a fucking game to you! We don't have a problem, YOU do.”

“I don’t play games with you,” Minho scoffed, eyes wide in his own disbelief, “you play games with me.” His voice was also beginning to rise in volume.

“That’s such a fucking lie! You’ve been playing games with me for years. Three quarters of my life! I know that you hated me or couldn’t stand me for most of that but then all of a sudden you come back from college and you want to be around me and all over me?”

“That’s not true-”

“Yes it is! You couldn’t stand me!! Then the kiss in the kitchen? Tonight, you were all over me and I could tell, drunk or sober, that you were enjoying yourself. Until your friends come along and I’m nothing but a secret little game-”

“No Y/n, shut up, that's not true!”

“Explain yourself then!” 

Both of your chests were heaving simultaneously, the heated exchange taking the breath out of the two of you. There was no part of you that was wrong, and you knew better than to lack confidence, especially to someone who has kicked you around for what felt like your whole life.

“I never hated you,” he whispered, once again shifting the tense atmosphere in the room. He took a step closer, that goddamn palm resting on your cheek, fingertips pushing the baby hairs sticking to your forehead as you took him in, listening deeply to his words, “I could never hate somebody like you, Y/n.”

His tonality had become the softest you had ever heard someone speak. It was empowering to keep him on his toes, gaze fixated on him, but lips refusing to move. You could see it. The dip in his own gaze below your eye line, past the tip of your nose, and right to where you wanted his lips to be: your lips. The right thing, like your previous thoughts, was to pull away, save yourself the heartbreak.

“Let me take the time to show you how false that statement really is.” 

But god, was it it easier to just give him. His approach was gentle, but the texture of his lips felt like the key to everything. The light weight of his lips were equivalent to a tuft of feathers falling from a clear sky. Your lips tussled in return, wanting to kiss the man you were in love with so much passion, yet so much reservation. His lips, unlike the first time, had so much admiration for you, somehow the feeling was communicated in the way his lips touched yours, the way his tongue slipped into your mouth, colliding with your own. The world stopped spinning, and the only thing that mattered was Minho’s lingering touch.

His hands scrambled to find an appropriate spot. His palms spread across your waist, the pressure of his weight pushing you to the edge of the bed, a small shriek escaping your lips as the sudden knock of balance leaves you lying against the material of the bed. His hands left your sides, one coming to your face as he broke away, taking a moment to admire you underneath him in all your beauty. He lifted his fingers to your forehead, brushing the baby hairs on your skin before smiling and leaning back in for another kiss. Hands around his neck, you brought him closer, gasping into his mouth when you felt the roughness of his knee conveniently sitting between your inner thigh, spreading to make room for his own. 

You decided to take the liberty of breaking the kiss back this time, Minho rising on his own as he pulled his shirt off in one swift motion. Even the way he moved his limbs was majestic. Eyes widening for a brief moment as the shock of Minho’s body that you had seen many times, especially post-college transformation, it still amazed you how attractive this man was. The proximity all these years amounting to this moment. All the teasing, ignoring, negative behavior came as the collateral of coming to this moment; and you would tolerate all of it again if this what it would lead to. Which is why you refused to rush things, savor the moment as much as you could.

“Minho, wait.”

“Yes?”

“Can we just,” you were hesitant to ask for what felt like a silly request, “I don’t want to rush anything. Can we just make out a little longer?”

His chuckle was one of the most adored. He nodded as he got up from the bed, sitting back down at the edge of the right side. As he turned to put his leg atop of the bed, he leant on his left elbow, patting the empty spot next to him, a very adorable invitation that you simply could not resist. You shooed over, facing Minho as he pinched your chin, bringing your lips to his again. The kisses, for the moment, stayed soft, sweet. He was allowing you to take your time because he was ready. Minho wanted you so bad, but he knew better than to rush. If anything, the anticipation made him fall for you more.

However, the heat was unconsciously beginning to turn up once bodies became involved. The subtle grind of his hips against yours was sending you into a frenzy, and the friction was something you needed to chase. At first you were holding back, only wanting the generosity of his tongue and lips, but now the selfish part of you was taking over, and there was nothing more that you wanted than to have sweet passionate sex with the man in front of you. Gently pushing his chest away, he looked up, confused as you turned away from him, standing up and undoing the zip on the back of your dress.

“Oh,” was all he could say, a smirk plastered on his face as he dragged your body back toward him, now covered in undergarments, back to the bed. His hands became a lot more adventurous, taking the signal of you undressing yourself as an acceleration of what you wanted. Still facing each other, Minho placed a gentle peck to your lips as his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you much closer to him, and exactly where you wanted to be. 

Once the lack of space was established, Minho brought the tip of his digits just above your panty line. A small gasp elicited from your lips once his fingers dipped down to your clothing covering your core. Just above the center of the folds. Minho’s lips quiver at your body relaxing underneath his touch. The more vulnerable you became, the more in love he fell with you. Each second. Your eyes fluttering almost shut, hips gently bucking underneath the pressure of his fingers had his mind screaming with adoration. His gaze was making you shy, causing you to bury your head in his naked chest. You giggled with innocence at how good his fingers felt. The other times you reminisced, romanticized what this would be like was tenfold of what you actually expected. 

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered, a soft kiss to the tip of your forehead. Your head came out of his chest, a somewhat fucked out expression already coatign your face as his fingers traveled back to the top of your panties, fingers grasping the hem before asking, “Can I take this off?”

You nodded, this time without hesitance as you turned to your front, assisting Minho in letting the thin fabric subtracted from your body. Your bra soon followed, leaving you completely exposed. Minho still had his pants on which you felt to be a little unfair, but the tent that was beginning to form in his pants was a reason enough for him to keep them on longer. 

Turning back to your side, you reached him in another sensual kiss, bodies now as close as they had even been. Minho’s fingers had much more to travel, left palm already reaching for a gentle squeeze of your best breast. His touch was noticeable enough to break away, a small groan at the digits brushing your nipple. Another chuckle escaped his lips as he watched your nipples get harder under his touch.

“Wow,” Minho gasped, gently pinching the soft flesh his eyes couldn’t help but be glued to, “you look amazing.”

“Do I?”

“More than I could have ever  imagined.”

Your silence made him giggle, fingers snaking back down to where the two of you wanted them to be. It was almost embarrassing how easily his index and middle finger slipped between your folds, already coated in your arousal as his digits swirled around your pussy hole. It was evident that he wanted his fingers coated, so when he brought them up to his lips, tongue evidently out as he licked them clean, then slid them back down to your waist once more, spreading your folds apart and pushing on your clit like a button. Your hands grabbed onto his shoulders for support, the sudden amount of sensation in comparison to before sending you into a frenzy. Your jaw had already become slick, the gentle whines and moans spilling out sound after sound. 

“Fuck,” He cursed under his breath, lips right in front of your tits, teeth grazing over the geneoristy of the skin, “you have the features of an angel.”

His shower of compliments caused a louder moan to slip from your lips. It really wasn’t something that you expected. The fantasy you had of Minho being a rough, man handling lover contrasted to the man that presented in front of you right now. But it was much better than anything you ever thought he was to be.

His fingers moved in delicate circular motions, Minho himself groaning at how pretty you looked under his fingers. He kept his curiosity peaked, fingers traveling back down to your hole before plunging them inside, tips instantly curling to bring his lips right up against his own.

“Minho oh my god,” you gasped, short breaths hinting at a rapid pace from your throat as he started to move them back and forth, “your fingers are so good.”

“Your welcome,” he smiled, wrapping his free arm around your chest to adjust for the way your torso squirmed against him. Your own hands soothing his arm that did all the work as he picked up his pace, a slight bump forming into your pussy. Minho’s pace became quickly unforgiven, a spill of curse words that made you feel extremely dirty coming from your mouth. The irony of feeling dirty from cussing and not from the two fingers being shoved into your whole was comedic. 

“Lift it,” Minho grunted, attempting to fix his position so he could get a better angle to finger you from, “lift your leg and put it on my hip.”

You did as he said, a gut wrenching moan that was bubbling in your throat bursting at the seams as your maneuver allowed his finger to enter deeper, stronger, harder. The combination of skin slapping and wetness could be heard by anyone in the house if there was anyone in there, the noise echoing the room as you watch his eyebrows furrow, bitten bottom lip in concentration. All this time, Minho wanted nothing more than to see you be happy, make you feel good. It was in half disbelief that he was present in this moment that he had dreamed of several times. And his perception of you, with his fingers inside of you, moaning his name over and over exceeded expectations to say the least. The temperature that began to rise on your cheeks was spreading to your limbs, muscles slowly coiling as the pleasure continued to build at your core. Minho’s jaw clenched, increasing his effort and strength in, with much effort, fucking you with his fingers. His pace became even quicker, desperate and motivated to make you shake under his fingers.

“Minho please,” you cried, suffocating his lips with yours to muffle the continuous noise that baffled the room, “so good.”

Your sentences, if you could even call them that, were not coherent in the slightest. Yet it did not matter. All Minho could focus on was how beautiful you looked with your lips pouted, the gentle teeth marks under your bottom lip from biting down on your precious skin too hard. The condensation beginning to cover the skin of your forehead as your eyebrows scrunched together, your facial expression could have been interpreted as anger. However, Minho failed to see it that way. He saw you as nothing but an angelic woman that he had the gratitude of being allowed to share a moment of vulnerability with. There was no judgment in his eyes as he felt your tight pussy clench around his knuckles, knowing how close to what you were, and what he wanted to achieve for your sake.

“It’s okay baby,” he whispered, wiping the moisture glistening on the nose, half of your face shimmering in the moonlight as he withdrew his fingers, rubbing the sensual juices all over your swollen clit as your legs began to shake in response to the overwhelming stimulation you were experiencing.

“Can you feel it?”

“Mhhm,” you whined, suppressing your lips together as you focused on him, analyzing to him the intricate details of your body. His lips moved with vigor, leaving a string of semi wet kisses along your shoulder, kissing every little skin contusion, beauty mark, scab, wrinkle, dimple. You name it, Minho was eager to use his lips to analyze you, analyze the way your skin felt against him. The idea increased your arousal to a level you thought would not be possible.

“I’m gonna cum Minho I-”

“It’s okay baby,” Minho hushed you, wanting to relive any pressures or expectations you may think you need to fulfill “even the way you speak such vulgar things is angelic to me.”

“I’m cumming,” was all you could cry out. You know that once this was over, you would be appreciative of how gentle and warm his presence was to you during this unguarded moment, but right now all you could focus on was the tight coil in the pit of your stomach that would give out at any second. Like your foreshadowed, your body was coming undone under him, Minho unable to give up the succulent ability that was your pussy as he reinserted his two fingers back into your hole, thumb almost ghosting over your clit in an attempt to not overwhelm your body in sensation.

Minho thought you couldn’t get any more fascinating. Even the way you orgasmed was angelic. Legs spread wide open as you let him have his way. The trust you developed in him in this intricate moment was such an attraction but mainly an appreciation. He knew that he had not been the most trustworthy person to you. His mixed signals and just overall treatment of you was simply a mind of confusion.

On the contrary, every negative moment that you shared with him melted away. The part of him having his fingers inside of you, bringing you to climax was not what you were focused on. You were focused on the attention. Solely the attention, his words held so much more weight than his actions to you in this moment, and all he did was mumble sweet nothings, adoring every single part of you that you wanted Minho to love.

“Fuck baby,” Minho groaned, finally withdrawing his fingers entirely from your core as he palmed his own arousal. But he merely wasted any time on that as he stood up and discarded his pants in an instant. A half lidded gasp came from your throat as you watched his length spring free from the suffocation of his previous undergarments. Minho laid back on the bed, back against the bed as you extended a hand in which you willingly took, enjoying the sudden rapture that Minho had tangled the two of you in. His fingertips came to your face once more, brushing those delicate strands away as he took his precious time. Willingly ignoring the fact that your very slicked up pussy was creating friction against his tip, he was more focused on your face. The crinkles underneath your eyes that came up when you smiled. The way your lips turned upwards in the slightest. The longer he looked up at you, on his lips, body pressed up against his, the more he fell in love. Both of your hands now came to his face. It felt like hours upon hours that the two of you had been looking at each other. Calmness fell over the room as you leant down to kiss him again. The taste of him was simply nor enough. You needed him. On you, next to you; it did not matter. His presence was something that you truly craved. Sexually, platonically, romantically, it did not matter. Any closeness with Minho was more than adequate. Deciding to lift your hips slightly, your hands followed, gripping him as you slowly slid onto him, a deep groan leaving his lips, a soft moan leaving yours as he stretched you out. Before you could even initiate any moment, Minho grabbed your arm lifting your palm to his face as he sent kisses up your arm, almost as if he was in complete disbelief of what was happening in this moment.

“I just want to worship you my god,” he whispered, making you giggle in the slightest.

His lips traveled just under your shoulder, arms wrapping around his torso to bring you into another embrace. It was that his strength was brute enough to lift you up, and put your back down. Hisbody almost moved with vigor, wanting to make sure the experience was an equal one. A sharp whine came from you as he established a gentle pace, your whole body being used in an attempt to pleasure the both of you. Someone may have seen this as selfish, Minho controlling the pace, but really, he just couldn’t get enough of how much he wanted you. The amount of times he had thought about this moment over the years almost derailed him. But nothing could be more perfect than the moment right now. 

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, then on his chest, across his face, you were too stimulated to be organized with your hand placements. It’s just what he did to you. Minho could tell that you were unsure, so instead he just put his head in your chest, almost wanting you to wrap your fingers though the bse of his scalp, the gentle texture of your fingers against his scalp could have honestly made his toes curl. Just like you, Minho craved your touch in any way shape or form, so the combined combainton of your closeness, tussling digits, and tight pussy was sending him into a headspin.

“Minho,” you hesitated, unsure, if he could hear you in the muffle of your chest, “Minho.”

You were desperate for him to hear you, yanking on his locks to pull him away from the darkness and back into your gaze. His eyes were glazed over for a moment, an innocent peaking on them as he looked up at you with intent.

“Yes my princess, my Y/n?”

“Yours?”

The skin slapping, volume of each time your ass landed on his hips was increasing, but no matter the crescendo, it was never loud enough to get in the way of the intimate looks the two of you had a silent agreement to fixate on.

“Mine,” he moaned, hands snaking back down to your hips, breaking this distance and once again guiding the speed of how fast he filled you up, “all mine.”

“You’re so gorgeous,” you mumbled, barely able to talk at this point, “I want you so bad you have no idea.”

“You have me,” he almost chanted, “you have me. I have you. Always.”

Your head rolled back, the intimacy of his words, rather than his cock, bringing you closer to the brink of pleasure. The attractiveness of finally putting his walls down, striking his fear of vulnerability was unmatchable. Even if things didn’t work out with Minho in the future, you knew that deep down, no one else could ever make you feel this way. Minho was a witch, and the spell he was casting on you was something that would be everlasting.

“I love you,” you cried, throwing your head back in somewhat embarrassment, “I love you Minho.”

“I love you too baby fuck,” he grunted, increasing the strength in which he filled your pussy. He couldn’t handle this anymore. Flipping you over, his body hovered, cock pressing your back into the mattress. On his knees, Minho trusted deeper and deeper, your eyes almost cloudy from how good he truly felt inside of you. Another sensuous kiss ensured, the combination of his deep moans and your vibrating whines slipped into each other 's, easily one of the most intimate things that could ever be done. 

“Mhhm,: You whined, breaking away and placing a hand on his face, “I fucking love you.”

“I fucking love you, my Y/n.”

“Oh god,” you breathe heavily, free hand gripping on his shoulder, “I love when you call me that?”

“What? My Y/n?”

“Yes,” you hissed, piercing into his eyes, this time with vigor, “it makes me yearn for you.”

“You have me baby,” he smirked, eyebrows soon furrowing as he realized his hips were getting sloppy in motion, “I’m all yours.”

You could not stop kissing him. He was just too hard to resist. His words, actions, everything, you were so in love that your chest began to hurt. That pit was developing again, and all he had to do was say the words and you were there. Minho took your hand away from his face, pinning them on either side of you as he slid his fingers in between, allowing your hand to intertwine with yours. The affection was the icing on your cake, because as you felt the swirls of his finger prints trickle onto your palm, your hips were spasming.

“Minho I’m-”

“I know baby, it’s okay, he cooed, “I can feel your pussy clenching hard.”

A little giggle escaped your lips as your body raked itself of an orgasm. Back arching, the loudest noise you could have possibly made erupted from your mouth, the unintentionally new angle allowing Minho to plunge even deeper, keeping it slow as he allowed you to come down from the high. He pulled out right after, pumping himself a few times before finishing just above your core. He fell to your side, immediately lifting your body, wanting to feel that constant warmth as he placed your head against his chest, arms wrapped around your back as he kissed the mount of hair in front of his face. His heartbeat was warm, fast, but stil, a sense of comfort felt over your body as you listened to the organ pump in his chest. The moment was silent, yet comfortable, the both of you simultaneously soaking in that delicacy of affection that you both oh so craved, longed for.

Even after all of that, you still had the energy to do so. Minho read your mind, giving you a quick peck before quickly pacing out of the room. The ache in your heart had already reappeared at his absence. The craving would never stop. Luckily he was quick, grabbing a paper towel, cleaning you up, running back to the bin, the running back and jumping onto the bed, your body flying in the air as he caught you, snuggling up to your side with his head pressed into your chest. Your hand came to his hair, letting those fingertips frolic across his scalp. A silence fell over the room as the two of you simultaneously stared at the ceiling, the dim shine of the moonlight shining through the window, lingering across Minho’s side profile.

“I was being serious, you know.”

“About what?”

“Hating you.”

Minho turned onto his chest, wanting to make sure that you were staring at him when he said this.

“I could never hate you Y/N, my Y/N.”

He crawled up to your side, tall enough to press one more kiss, lips lingering across yours as your eyes fluttered shut from his touch. Lifting the cover, Minho invites you under after climbing in first, turning to the side to hover over your now very tired frame. Lips nudged behind your warm Minho kept mumbling, a combination of kissing you and whispering, the tiny vibrations from his voice tickling the bare skin.

“You’ll have to kill more before I ever let you go.”

[multistan-kpopwritings]

Hmmm… 🤨

Say less… See you lovelies next week

[multistan-kpopwritings]

Hello all. When I stared writing here I was a baby kpop Stan and only felt comfortable writing for what I knew… And I know a lot more now.

I’m going to try to get back into writing so let me know what you’d like to see

♥️ Thank you for still following this

[multistan-kpopwritings]

Out in the rain – JJK

P: Jungkook x female reader | G: fluff, drabble | Inc: playing in the rain, fever, Bam mention, Jimin mention, Namjoon mention, Yoongi mention, grad student!Jungkook, dance teacher!Jimin, y/n's also a grad student, sleepy Kookie my beloved | Wc: 980| W: food cw| R: G

Summary: Jungkook initially thinks nothing of spending hours in the rain with Bam; it’s fun, and he likes spending time with his Doberman. Y/n gets her I told you so moment when a fever descends upon the grad student.

Min's notes; This was cute <33 the ending feels a lil rushed tho, but eh- I like where I left it

In hindsight, Jungkook knew spending hours in the rain with Bam wasn’t the smartest idea. He’d woken up feeling like several trains ran through him. He ached. Blinking through the brain fog, he groaned; lethargy, shivering and a sore throat? He would be an idiot to deny the facts – he was sick. Very sick, if the lead weight in his limbs were anything to go by.

How absolutely wonderful.

Flopping back into the comfort of his sheets with little resistance, Jungkook shifted around, overly uncomfortable. Everything was off-kilter, and he couldn’t help but whine in pain when his head throbbed from the squirming. Wishing for the pain to go away without actively getting up to find painkillers wasn’t doing much to help either.

“Love? Good morning— Jungkook?” Walking towards the boyfriend-shaped lump on the bed, y/n frowned, concern knitting her brows. “Are you okay?”

“…’m sick. Everything hurts.”

“Am I allowed to say it? A nod. “I told you so baby, it was pouring with rain yesterday. You stay here, I’ll go and get the thermometer.”

Luckily for y/n, Jungkook hadn’t planned on moving at all. In fact, he was quite happy to melt away underneath his duvet.

Peeping his head over the covers, Jungkook squinted as light poured through the gap in the door, exceedingly grateful that he invested in a good pair of blackout curtains. Saved from looking at the sunlight any longer once y/n re-entered the room, Jungkook returned to the comfort of being under his covers completely. He was shivering – nothing like being smothered under his covers couldn’t fix.

And then his precious duvet was torn away from him.

“Hello there~” y/n snickered as her boyfriend whined, “ can you lift your head for me bun? I need to check if you’re running a fever." Ruffling his sweat-damp hair, y/n hummed as she stuck the device in her sick boyfriend’s ear. Jungkook was definitely running a fever; he was a full two degrees above the human average. With a sigh, y/n set the device aside, wrapping her arms around Jungkook to help him sit up.

“How bad?”

“Very. Think you can make it to the living room?”

“Mhm…” Throwing his legs over the side, Jungkook hauled himself up, taking a grand total of three steps before wobbling, leaning into y/n’s open arms. Determined, the grad student blinked back the bout of dizziness as he tried to steady himself, huffing out an exhale. The fever wasn’t going to keep him down if he had anything to say about it.

Nursing a thermos of green tea with Bam curled up on the sofa, Jungkook read through his thesis for the third time that afternoon. As sick as he was, grad student responsibilities came first; his thesis needed to be worked on, whether he wanted to work on it or not. Coughing into his arm, the student read over his notes, content with simply editing the work he had already done. Alone in the apartment, he had no plans to move from his spot, risking his fate by leaving his front door unlocked.

He was a student, if someone decided to barge in, he’d welcome them in. Anything to escape university.

There was someone tapping his shoulder.

“…Kookie? Earth to Jeon Jungkook?” Opening his eyes only to immediately squint through the brightness of his overhead light, Jungkook made a noncommittal hum. “Oh thank fuck, you’re alive.”

“Jimin hyung?” Blinking as the blob in front him nodded, Jungkook hauled himself up with a weak groan, his vision swimming just that little bit more before it cleared up. His skin boiling, Jungkook made a frail attempt at fanning himself with his shirt, too exhausted to react to the way it clung to him and the sweat on his body. What he did react to, however, was the lack of Bam’s presence on his sofa – they were laying together, right? Turning his head from side-to-side – with all the grace of a ragdoll �� Jungkook still couldn’t tell where his canine companion had gone.

“Hyung..?” Jimin hummed his response from the kitchen. “Where’s Bam? I thought he was here on the sofa with me?” Accepting the bowl of soup while he waited for Jimin’s answer, Jungkook let the bowl rest on the table.

“Namjoon hyung came by and took him for a walk, like, half an hour ago? Probably still with him. Anyway, eat up; Yoongi hyung brought this over and you need to get your strength back.” The older of the two answered, gently flicking the brunet’s forehead. Laughing when Jungkook huffed, whining about not hurting the patient, Jimin turned his head and followed the sound of knocking at the front door.

There was quiet, and then Jungkook paused when he heard laughter.

Y/n was home! He’d live!

“Hello to you too, Mr I Have A Fever~” Y/n cooed, ruffling her boyfriend’s hair as she deposited her bag and coat off to the side. Waving Jimin off when the dance teacher eventually needed to leave, she went on about her day, filling Jungkook in about everything happening outside the confines of his front door. It sounded fun. Pausing her description of a boring media lecture when she finally noticed Jungkook watching her with ever-so-adoring curiosity, y/n’s features softened.

He was just too cute for his own good.

“Anything you want, baby? You’ve been looking at me like that for a while now.” There was a pause as y/n waited for her answer, more than content to return her boyfriend’s gaze.

“Just a nap,” Jungkook yawned, shifting around until his head was settled in y/n’s lap. “You’re here now… so ‘m gonna sleep now~” A smile on his face when he felt the soft press of a kiss to his temples, Jungkook let his eyes shut again that day, the heaviness of fever-induced sleep soon taking over. He welcomed it.

“Sleep well my love.”

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