skzoolandia

[skzoolandia]

More Than Anything

Summary: You and Bangchan had been in a very healthy relationship for 8 months. It was obvious that you were both head over heels, but there was a tiny issue...you've never had sex before. This is the story of how Chan slowly helped you gain confidence for your first time with him.

Pairing: Bangchan X Reader (F!)

Genre: Smut (MDNI), Fluff

Warnings: nipple play, handjob, spitting, oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected penetrative sex (reader is on the pill but please wrap it before you tap it guys), praise, cum shot, pet names, Chan kinda guides reader, sickeningly sweet Chan, 100% 18+ (seriously like if you're a minor don't read pls and thank you <3)

Word Count: 7.7K

You still couldn't believe that you had been in a healthy relationship with the man of your dreams for 8 whole months. Hell, you couldn't believe that you were dating the one and only Christopher Bangchan. Even after all this time of being able to be by his side through the good times and bad, through all of his wins and failures.

You considered yourself extremely lucky. And so did he.

He had an incredible woman who was so sweet and so kind to him. When he didn't take care of himself, you were there to yell at him for not going to bed, or not eating or drinking enough water. There were times you even threw pillows at his head just so you could try and get him to listen to you. And if he was being completely honest, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Well, he would. And you would too. See, you both loved your relationship. It went from a honeymoon phase of you two being extremely giddy and clingy, to a much more serious relationship. You both still made time to see each other a lot, Chan coming to visit you as much as he could. But it wasn't just cuddling up while watching a movie, sharing small pecks and kissing each other's cheeks and noses and foreheads anymore.

Almost every time you two were together, makeout sessions would occur. Hands would start wandering. And every time that Chan thought he could take it further, you'd always back out. Every single time, without fail.

Now, back when the two of you were fresh into the relationship, and makeout sessions would rarely occur, Chan could understand. The two of you didn't know each other that well. Hell, even he didn't want to push anything all the way yet. But, that was way back then.

Now? Now you two knew each other way better. You two knew each other so well, it scared the other members of Stray Kids any time they heard Chan talking about you. But...when it came to taking things past the making out like highschoolers...you'd back out.

The reason for you was simple enough. At least, that was what you thought. You hadn't ever had sex. You were a virgin. And while you wanted nothing more than to have Chan fuck you senseless, you were scared. More scared than you thought. Partly because of all the questions you had.

What if it hurt? What if it didn't fit? What if he didn't like what you had to offer? What if he didn't like the fact that you weren't experienced? What if he didn't like your body? What if things got awkward afterward?

All of these questions, and so many more, and nobody to go to. At least, that was what you felt. And so, you backed out.

But...you didn't realize what messages were being sent to Chan.

Tonight wasn't much different from the other nights you two hung out. Greet each other by the door, eat the food Chan brought with him and visit about your days while eating dinner, then go to the couch to put on the show you two had decided to start together, only to end with you in Chan's lap, lip locked with the incredible man.

Kisses with Chan were always so magical. His lips were plush and soft, and always moisturized due to him using Chapstick religiously. And the way he held you to him every time you two made out, his tongue dancing perfectly with yours? Oh, it MELTED you.

But, you didn't fail to notice how his hands started to wander. At first, they were wrapped around you, just resting. You didn't really mind that. But it was when his hands started to move up your sides, his thumbs going to just sit under your breasts when you knew what he was up to.

And so, you pulled away, out of breath. Your eyes laid on his closed ones, that opened in the confused manner they usually did. And as usual, you were the first to speak.

"I-I...I can't...I'm so sorry..." It was the same thing, over and over. You always said you were sorry, but Chan was really starting to have a hard time believing it.

And this time, he decided to speak up about it.

"You always say that, though." Chan's voice was soft, but he sounded upset. Was he upset that you weren't letting him fuck you? You were about to speak up, until Chan continued. "Is...Is it me?"

"What?"

"Am I doing something wrong? Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"What? No, No, Chris, that's not--You're perfect!"

"Then why do you always wanna stop? Do you not see me like that?"

"Of course, I do. Trust me, I really, really want to, Chris. Seriously."

"Then what is it?" His voice was soft, yearning to understand. It was how Chan always was. He was so sweet like that, always wanting to help you if you needed it. Even if it was just him listening to you, he'd be there in a flash. But you just couldn't get yourself to look at him.

"It's stupid."

"It's not stupid, nothing is stupid if it's troubling you, hun." Once he said that, he placed a hand onto your cheek, guiding your face to his, tilting his head. God, he looked like a confused puppy. You'd gush over him if you weren't feeling so embarrassed right now. "You know I love you, right?"

"...yes."

"And that you can talk to me?"

"Yeah."

"Then talk to me. Please, Y/n?" Chan placed a peck to your lips, giving you a smile. "I wanna understand what's going on. It could be the dumbest shit ever, and I'd still listen. You know that. So what's going on?"

You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. You didn't want to look at him when you said it. But he was holding your face so that you'd look directly into his eyes. Those warm, comforting, sweet eyes of his that you usually could never look away from. But then, you said it.

"I... I've never had sex before." You watched for Chan's reaction, seeing him keep a warm smile on his face. He was wanting you to continue. "I just...I'm nervous about a lot of it. I want our first time to be good, y'know? And I feel like I'm gonna disappoint you because I haven't done it before."

"Oh, you could never disappoint me, sweetheart." Chan brought you down for another kiss, pulling back and brushing some hair out of your face. "And I don't care if you haven't had sex before. Really, I don't."

"Really?"

"Really." Chan nodded at your small question. "I love you for you, not for your experience in bed. What will make having sex with you magical is getting to do it with you. It doesn't have to be mind-blowing, or hardcore. As long as it's with you, I'm happy."

"But what if it's not what you expect?" You couldn't help but ask questions. You were an overthinker. Thankfully, Chan had plenty of experience with overthinkers, thanks to being a father of 6 with a motherly figure who stuffed his children's mouths with tissues.

"I'm not expecting a lot from you, hun. I just want you. Point blank period." Chan then took your hand with his own, kissing it.

"And if it hurts?" That made sense for you to be scared about. Thankfully, Chan had an answer.

"We'll go slow. I'll prepare you and wait for when you're ready." Chan gave you a smile, watching you take a breath to try and calm your nerves. And before you could ask him anything else, Chan spoke up again. "Y/n, there's no need to rush into it. It'll happen when it happens. Okay?"

Hearing him say that made you feel a lot better. Chan was a man of his word, too. He would wait. Especially now that he knew you were nervous. If that was all it was, then he'd wait until the end of the earth. And you knew that, too.

"Okay."

||

After having that talk with Chan, you felt a little more confident in yourself. A little. You were still scared to shove something in a hole that's never had anything in it before, but it was completely understandable. Thankfully, Chan would be willing to wait until you were completely ready.

Speaking of, you had just gotten back to your apartment from work, already feeling exhaustion hit you like a bus. Your plan of action was to just change into one of Chan's sweatshirts and shorts, lay on the couch, order food, and watch a movie.

And so, you did your thing, changing and getting onto the couch, relaxing with a blanket before starting to search for a movie. It didn't take you too long to just pick one that showed up, deciding on good old 'Enola Holmes'.

It was when you were just about to order food when you got a phone call from Chan. An unexpected phone call. But you still picked up, a smile on your face. You couldn't help it, you were in love.

"Hello?"

"Hey! Can I let myself in?"

"What?"

"I'm outside of your apartment, I brought some, um...what are these called again...? Oh, whatever, I'm here with food. Can I come in?" You practically laughed at your boyfriend's words, before speaking up.

"Yes, you can. Door should be unlocked."

"Perfect! See you in like, 2 seconds!" And in two seconds you saw him, indeed. He came right through the door, shutting it and taking off his shoes before coming over to the couch, smiling when he saw your face. "Hello, gorgeous!"

"Channie, I thought you had work until late tonight." Not that you were complaining. He bent down, placing a peck on your lips as he sat next to you, setting the bags of snacks and drinks down.

"I was supposed to work late tonight, but our manager let us off early. Figured I still had time to come and see my favorite girl!" Chan explained. He then hugged your side, noticing the movie that was playing. "Enola Holmes? Again?"

"What? It's a good movie!" You whined. Chan only laughed, starting to open a bag of chips as you leaned against him, drinking a bit from your water bottle. Sure, you may have seen the movie about a hundred times, but you couldn't help it. The series was good, in your eyes.

That's what the two of you did for a while. Eat, catch up, and watch Enola Holmes. It was when the second movie in the series started when you both settled down, you still leaning against Chan while he had an arm over your shoulder. You were engrossed in the movie, paying attention to every little detail.

But then, you felt a hand on your stomach.

You glanced over to Chan for a moment, knowing that it was him. But he was watching the movie, seemingly engrossed into what was going on. Little shit.

And so, you went back to watching the movie, only to feel his hand go further up, going right in between your breasts, up to your chin. You did your best not to say anything, just wanting one night of peace, but you always said something.

So you kept your mouth shut, wanting to see where this would go.

Chan tilted your head to the side, keeping his eyes on the TV as he placed a few kisses onto your neck, going up to your cheek, only to go to your ear, giving it light nibbles. Okay, he was definitely up to something.

"Chan..." It was like a warning. A warning that Chan was going to happily take. And throw into the garbage.

"Just relax..." His voice came out in a whisper, gently guiding your head to face his, only for him to gently kiss you. And who were you to not kiss the man back?

The kiss was soft and gentle enough, but it didn't stay like that for very long. Before you even knew it, the kiss had picked up, the two of you moving in sync with passion, tongues twisting together. Your arms were around Chan's neck, Chan's hands firmly on your waist. And before long, Chan's hands started to wander. One slipped underneath the hoodie you had on, the other going to your cheek as he pulled away from you.

"Can I keep going?" This time, he wanted to make sure you were okay to continue. And upon seeing you hesitate, Chan continued. "Just a little further? We don't have to go all the way."

You liked that idea.

"O-Okay." With a shy nod from you, Chan smiled, before grabbing the base of the hoodie, slowly pulling it up a little bit. But then, he stopped and looked to you.

"Can I take this off?"

"Yeah." You nodded once more, before watching as Chan pulled the hoodie off of you. And like that, your top half was exposed to him. He knew you hated wearing bras at night, so he was expecting you to not have one on. But...he wasn't expecting to see perfection.

"Holy shit, you're so beautiful..." Chan then looked up at you, placing his hands back onto your waist. "Can... Can I touch your chest? Are you okay with that?"

"Y-Yeah..." And then, Chan looked back down at your beautiful chest, staring at it in awe before slowly reaching towards it, placing his hands over them, just squeezing them a bit.

They were so soft...so squishy, so...perfect. He slid his hands down, placing them just underneath before lifting them up, admiring them in his own way. They were so beautiful, just like you were to him. He also didn't fail to notice your perky nipples, screaming for attention.

"Ch-Chan..." You breathed out, watching him work with your chest. Chan looked up, giving you a concerned look.

"Is this okay? Does it feel good?"

"Yeah...i-it does..." Chan smiled at your response, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your neck, trailing down and kissing your collarbone, and then your sternum.

"Good...that's good." And then, he looked up at you, his fingers starting to gently roll your nipples between them. It was so gentle, but it felt so good. You let out a small whine at the touch, Chan just smiling at how responsive you were. "You are just so...you're so beautiful, hun. Absolutely breathtaking."

And then, he placed a few kisses onto your breasts, making you flush. You couldn't help but feel shy, but you also felt incredible. The amount of body worship he was doing made you feel a lot better about yourself. That was for damn sure. And when he came back up, he placed a firm kiss to your lips, looking at you in the eyes with the sweetest look in his own.

"I love you so much, baby." He spoke gently, like if he talked too loud, he'd break you into a million pieces. It made you smile.

"I love you too, Channie." You then placed your own kiss onto his lips, feeling his hand on your thigh.

"I wanna go further." He still spoke softly, bringing his hand up towards your waist, hooking it onto the waistband of your shorts. It made you tense up a bit. "We don't have to if you're not ready. But fuck, I want you so bad."

"I-I..." You let out a sigh, Chan immediately stopping, taking in your tense stature.

"Hey, we don't have to. Okay? It's totally up to you on what we do right now." Chan didn't want to pressure you. That was the last thing he wanted. And knowing that made you feel just a little bit better.

"I...I'm not ready yet...I'm sorry-"

"No, don't apologize. It's okay, okay?" Chan smiled, placing a kiss to your forehead. You just let out a sigh, looking down. You felt bad, not being able to give Chan the one thing he probably really wanted. But then, you noticed the tent in his sweatpants.

"Chan, y-you're..." You trailed off, eyeing the bulge before looking back up at him with sad eyes.

"Hey, it's okay. I can take care of it later. Don't worry about it." Chan told you, putting a hand onto your cheek. You took a breath, leaning into his touch, glancing back down at his sweats. "Seriously, it's fine."

"It's not fine." You immediately countered him, giving him a determined look. "How long have I been cockblocking you? It's not okay, a-and it's not fair."

"Y/n-"

"Chan." Upon hearing his name, Chan stopped talking, seeing your determined face. God, he loved when you always looked so determined, whether it be because you wanted him to take breaks, or if you were trying to beat some video game against whoever you were playing. "I...I wanna help you."

"Y/n..." Chan trailed, not sure if you really wanted to or if you were just saying that because you felt bad. "You don't have to if you don't want to, I mean, it doesn't take long for me to jerk one out. It takes me like 4 minutes tops-"

"Chan, just...please?" You gave him a soft look, crawling a little closer to him. "If I didn't want to, I wouldn't offer."

"Fuck..." Chan knew that was the case, too. If you didn't want to do something, you wouldn't speak up about it or bring it up. And seeing that pleading look in your eyes made it easy for Chan to make his mind up. "Okay. Yeah, i-if you want to, I'm okay with it."

Hearing him say that made you smile. You placed a peck to his cheek, before backing away to focus on his visible erection. You spared him one last glance, seeing his eyes on you with anticipation. And then, you brought your hands to his waistband, pulling it back just enough for his cock to spring out. Chan hissed upon feeling the cool air hit it.

Your eyes widened upon seeing him for the first time. He was so...it was beautiful. And big. You wanted to say 7 inches, and it was fat. Veins ran up and down his shaft, and it oh, so slightly curved up. His tip was red and leaking, too. You just couldn't take your eyes off of him.

"Everything okay?" Chan's words got you to look up at him. He looked so eager, but nervous. You didn't know exactly why, but...you guessed it was because you weren't doing anything.

"Yeah, you're just..." You glanced back down at his cock, watching it twitch slightly. "It's a sight."

Chan laughed slightly at your words, which made you giggle. It was good to know he wasn't as nervous as he looked.

"So um...how do I do this?" You looked back up at him, curious on how he liked it. You knew that you had to move your hand up and down around him, but you didn't know the specifics.

Thankfully, Chan was happy to guide you.

"Here, put your hand around it like...oh, like that..." Chan took your hand, putting it around his base, not having you move quite yet. He needed a second himself, if he was being honest. Just seeing your hand around him...your smaller, softer, daintier hand around his cock was just...oh, he could cum if he thought about it enough. "And grip firmly, not like, death grip, but--holy..."

"Like this?" You tightened your grip just enough to where Chan wouldn't slip out of your grasp. Not too loose, not too tight.

"Fuck, just like that..." Chan let out a groan, sinking back into the couch a bit as you held his cock, before getting to the next step. "Okay, and just move your hand at a nice pace...fuck, baby, just like that...squeeze towards the tip, and...hoooh my god..."

You followed his instructions, keeping that grip as you moved your hand up and down, tightening your grip slightly as you got towards his tip. And obviously, Chan was enjoying it, breathy moans leaving him as you jerked him off.

"Feel good?" You asked, just wanting to make sure you were doing good. Chan nodded, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes, it's so good, hun...ungh, can you spit on it? Make it nice and wet for me?"

Of course you could. And so, you leaned over his dick, gathering spit into your mouth before opening and sticking out your tongue, letting the saliva fall onto his tip. And that sight alone brought Chan even closer than he intended.

"That's it, baby girl...go a bit faster...yes, perfect, you're doing such a good job..." Chan's brow furrowed, his hips bucking to meet your hand, more moans leaving him as you continued to follow his instructions. They were still breathy, but getting higher. "Oh, fuck, I-I'm gonna cum, keep...keep going, please, baby...ugh, yes...!"

And like that, Chan let out a nice and long moan as he came, white ropes flying out and landing on your hand. You continued to move, slowing your pace bit by bit, helping him ride out his orgasm. You figured that was what you were supposed to do, at least, from the porn you've watched. And once he calmed down, you stopped, carefully taking your hand off of him.

"Feeling better, Channie?" You asked, giggling when he groaned, giving you a fucked-out expression as you stood up.

"Are you sure you've never done this before?" Chan laughed a bit as he watched you go to the kitchen, cleaning your hand off before getting a rag for Chan. You couldn't help but laugh as well, coming back to him to help him clean up.

"Positive." You kissed his cheek before starting to wipe him down, Chan just groaning.

"First you give me an insane handjob, and now you're giving me aftercare?" Chan said, watching you tuck his now soft cock back into his pants before setting the rag on the table. You nodded, Chan just smiling and bringing you down for a kiss. "Fuck, I don't deserve you."

"I should be the one telling you that." You replied, grabbing his sweatshirt that you originally had on, sliding it back over your body. Chan just pulled you to him, letting you rest on his chest.

"I can't wait for when you let me give you the best first time ever." Chan told you, kissing your forehead. You smiled, melting into him as you both went back to watching your movie.

"Me too."

||

It had been a few weeks since the last exchange between you and Chan. It was really hard to get the image of his face melting in pleasure out of your head. The way he looked when your hand was wrapped around him was so ethereal, and it made you wonder what he'd look like when he was finally inside of you.

Just thinking about it made you want to do it even more. You felt ready enough, and after getting to experience the small amount you did with him before made you realize that as long as it was with him, you'd be okay. But...there was a tiny problem.

Chan had gotten extremely busy.

You two never really had time to hang out these days, all because Chan was busy with releasing a new album with Stray Kids. They had filming, photoshoots, practices, recording sessions, and before they knew it, they were on stages, performing for Mnet. It was almost like they didn't have time to breathe, and you felt bad for all of them.

But you really just missed your boyfriend.

You found ways to distract yourself, though. One of which being going to the gym and getting a good workout in. That was what you were about to do currently. You were in a sports bra and sweatpants, keys in hand as you texted your friend, letting her know that you were about to head over, only to see that she had bailed on you for a date. Rude.

You just let out a small sigh, setting your things down on your counter, before seeing that you were getting a call from Chan. You smiled, excited to hear his voice after not hearing it for a while. And so, you picked up, not even having a chance to greet him.

"WE WON!" You just laughed, hopping up on the countertop as you heard you excited boyfriend on the other end of the line.

"Hello to you, too."

"What, no congratulations? You're killing me over here, you know..."

"Ah, sorry, sorry. Congratulations, Chan."

"Thank you. But can you believe it? We won! I was seriously nervous, but we still managed to come up on top."

"You always do, baby."

"I know! And guess what?"

"What?"

"I'm gonna have time to see you! I'm heading over now, actually."

"Now?"

"Yeah, I'm about...2 minutes? Yeah, 2 minutes out. We just got here, so I'm walking to your building right now."

"Ah. Well, I'll leave my door unlocked then."

"Perfect! I'm expecting a hug from you when I get inside."

"Alright, I suppose I can spare you one."

"Great! Then I'll see you in a bit." And with that, he hung up. You wanted to change into something a little more decent, but you knew you wouldn't have time. But you also felt excitement shoot through you, knowing that Chan would like to see you in this.

Speaking of...it didn't take your boyfriend long to come right through the door, smiling brightly as he spotted you on the counter, not realizing what you were wearing quite yet.

"Hey!" He quickly took off his shoes, leaving them by the door before taking his coat off, hanging it up.

"Hey." You replied, smiling just as brightly as Chan was. You couldn't lie; you really missed him. And it was good to see him again after so long. You watched as he finished putting up his coat, turning to face you. And that's when he noticed what you were in. His eyes widened, a sharp inhale coming from him as he walked over to you slowly, taking it all in.

"And... what are you wearing?" Chan's eyes couldn't leave your body. God, it looked so perfect, and he really wanted it off of you. He walked between your legs, placing his hands onto your bare sides, gently rubbing up and down as he gave you a playful smirk. "This isn't for me, is it?"

"Well, I was supposed to go to the gym, but got bailed on." You rolled your eyes as you spoke, putting your arms around his neck as you looked back to him.

"And you didn't change?"

"I didn't have time to, baby. You were practically already here once we got off the phone."

"So then...this is for me." Chan smirked, tilting his head to place kisses onto your neck.

"I didn't say that." You replied, tilting your own head to give Chan more space.

"You implied it."

"I definitely didn't do that."

"Well, you could've changed while we were on the phone." He had a point there. You've done it before, plenty of times. But you didn't this time. "Is this a sign? Are you finally gonna let me rock your world tonight?"

"Mm..." You weren't actually sure if you were all for that. And upon noticing your hesitation, Chan pulled away, looking to you.

"Hey, remember what I said. If you don't want to, we don't have to." Chan then placed a kiss to your nose, putting his forehead on yours after. "You're ready when you're ready. Not when I'm ready."

You nodded at his words, knowing he wouldn't ever push you to do something if you didn't want it. You just weren't sure. And so, you let out a breath.

"I... don't know." You looked away for a second, before looking back to his eyes. "I want to, but I'm still nervous, you know?"

"Yep. And that's totally understandable." Chan placed a kiss to your lips, giving you a smile. "Tell you what. I am hard. You never fail to make me hard. If you wanna jerk me off again, then let's start there, and see where it plays out, yeah?"

You took a second, thinking about what Chan offered. Now that you thought about it, you had been wanting to try something for a while, since you had given him that handjob. And since the opportunity opened itself up, you decided to take it.

"Yeah, okay." You gave him a smile, nodding. Chan smiled back, crashing his lips onto yours a second after. He picked you up, bringing you to your room before setting you down on the bed. You then, watched as he took his pants off, his hard cock springing out once more before he went and laid on the bed, lifting his sweatshirt up a bit.

"Alright, baby. You know what to do." You did. And so, you went to him, wrapping your hand around his base, slowly starting to pump it. Chan let out a sigh, already feeling pleasure course through his body. You repeated what you had done the last time, keeping your grip tight, squeezing towards the tip and loosening as you moved back down.

"Fuck, just like that...you're a natural at this, baby girl..." Chan hissed, letting out a breathy moan as you continued. But then, upon seeing him enjoying this, you smiled, only to lean your head down to his cock. Chan watched with wide eyes, seeing you get close to him. "Whoa, what--"

"I wanna try something. Is...is that okay?" You wanted to make sure Chan was okay with it, not wanting to do something he wasn't comfortable with.

"I-I mean, yeah, sure...just...just don't push yourself o-or anything." You nodded at his words, letting out a breath. And then, you stilled your hand, before opening your mouth and placed his tip inside. You glanced up at him, hoping that this was okay.

The face you saw told you everything you needed to know.

His jaw was open, his brows furrowed as a silent moan left him. And once you brought your tongue in to swipe against his tip, going over his slit, an actual moan left him. His hand immediately went to your hair, running through some of it before gripping your head. And then, you started to carefully bob your head, not wanting to graze his cock with your teeth.

"Holy fucking shit, baby...your mouth feels so good..." Chan could hardly believe it. He hadn't ever felt anything this good or wet. He was sure that your pussy would be even better, but your mouth was just as amazing. "Oh my god...I'm not...I'm not gonna last, I'm already so close..."

You just took that as an incentive to go faster.

Chan just held onto your head for dear life as you did your best to move your head, using a hand to pump whatever wasn't in your mouth. And to Chan, it just added to everything he was feeling. Your hand, your mouth, your tongue, it was perfect. So perfect, he couldn't stop himself from cumming.

"F-Fuck! I'm cumming!" You could feel him doing that.

You just kept your mouth around him, letting him shoot his seed into your mouth as you slowly pumped his length, waiting until he finished. And once he had finished, you slowly pulled him out of your mouth, swallowing his semen. That got an audible moan from your boyfriend. You looked back to him, a shy smile on your face as he looked at you in awe, gulping himself.

"Was...was that okay? I didn't graze you with my teeth or anything, right--"

"Shut up." And like that, Chan immediately sat forward, capturing your lips with his. You were a bit taken aback, but you kissed him anyway, hearing him moan at the taste of his own cum. It didn't take him long to find one of your breasts, groping it as he pulled away, watching you moan a bit from the pleasure.

"Chan--"

"You are absolutely incredible. You know that, right?" Chan's eyes didn't leave yours as he lifted your sports bra up, revealing your perky nipple to him. He immediately leaned down, taking it into his mouth. You just let out a breathy moan, arching your back as you felt his tongue flick the hardened bud, watching Chan seperate from it with an audible pop. "Please, I'm begging you...I gotta taste you, baby. Let me return the favor. I wanna make you feel so good..."

You gulped, feeling yourself gush at his desperate pleads. He really wanted to do that? Did you want that? You did, but you felt nervous. Then again, you remembered to the first little exchange, and how loved Chan made you feel. Every ounce of nerves left your body because of this man.

And how could you possibly deny that?

"I...okay..." You gave a nod to him, and the sound Chan made as a result was delicious. You watched as he got up, grabbing your sweatpants and took them off of you, leaving you in your panties. He tossed those sweats to who knows where, before grabbing your panties. Before he pulled them off of you, he gave you one last look.

"Are you sure you wanna do this? We really don't have to if you don't want to." You swore you were going to get a cavity from how sweet this man was being to you.

"Chris." He gulped at your use of his English name. He knew you only used it when you were serious. "I'm sure. I trust you."

Chan smiled, quickly coming up to peck your lips, leaving another kiss on your forehead.

"I love you." He whispered. With that, he went back to where he was, slowly pulling your panties down and off of your body. Immediately, his eyes went wide.

Your cunt was so fucking beautiful in his eyes. It was sopping wet, it was pink, it was everything Chan could've ever hoped for. And the way you clenched around nothing...oh, it had him reeling.

"Holy shit, baby...your pussy is so pretty..." Chan adjusted himself, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he brought his head close, placing a kiss around your cunt. It made you whine. "And you're so wet...did sucking me off turn you on, baby girl?"

"Y-Yes..." You didn't know why, but you felt obligated to answer him. You couldn't help it. Chan just smiled, placing a kiss onto your clit, making you whine once more.

"Aw, you're so cute like this...I'll make you feel so good, okay? I'll make you feel so good..." And with that, he licked one long strip up your pussy, making you gasp and squirm, your back arching off of the bed. Chan hummed at your reaction, before diving in.

It was very safe to say that Chan knew what he was doing.

The way that he licked through your slit, only to clamp his mouth around your clit and suck, all while flicking his tongue against your sensitive bud made you moan out in ways you never thought were possible. He'd make slurping noises as he tried to suck up all of your juices, only to go back in for more. And eventually, he dove his tongue into your hole. That rewarded him with a dirty moan from you.

As he fucked your hole with his tongue, his nose bumped your clit, the man literally rubbing his face against your cunt, which felt so good. You couldn't help but grind your hips against his face, your hands flying down and gripping his hair as he continued to please you in ways you never thought were possible.

"C-Chan! Oh my--it's so good, your tongue is so good...!" You couldn't take much more. You knew yourself, and you could feel your body reacting. Chan could, too. It really didn't help that you were unexperienced, and that meant that you didn't have much stamina. "I...fuck, Chan, I'm close, please..."

Chan hummed, only increasing the speed of his movements. His hand gripped at your thigh, doing his best to keep them open as he brought you right up to your orgasm, which shot straight through you.

You squealed, your body jolting at the feeling of your orgasm hitting you hard. Your back arched, your thighs immediately clamped around Chan's head, and your hips bucked up. Chan held you steady, helping you through your orgasm until you finally calmed down, releasing your thighs from Chan's head.

"Shit..." You really didn't have anything else to say besides that. You were out of breath, panting like you had just run the high school mile. You heard Chan's laugh, wiping his face off with the bottom of his hoodie before moving up to you, kissing your cheek a few times.

"You did so good, hun, really. And you tasted amazing, too." You just let out your own breathy laugh at Chan's comment, tired after that orgasm.

"Where...where did you learn how to do that?" You looked to him as he hovered above you. Chan just smiled, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

"That, my beautiful girl, is a secret."

"Chan!"

"Y/n!"

"You're no fun..."

"Sure I am, you were enjoying yourself a minute ago--"

"Christopher Bahng!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Chan could only laugh at the pout you had on your face. After he placed a kiss to your forehead, he placed his own forehead there, rubbing his nose against yours. "I love you, baby."

"I love you, too." You smiled at his gesture. You really had the sweetest boyfriend. But his brand new hard on definitely didn't go unnoticed. You could feel it on your cunt, just sitting there. "Are you hard again?"

"Hey, you know I can't control it." Chan told you, giving a shy smile. You just smiled back, thinking to yourself for a second. It was already so close to you...it was so close to being inside of you.

"Well...you wanna pop my cherry then?"

"Wait, are you serious?" Chan's eyes widened at your comment, not expecting that from you. When you nodded, Chan immediately flushed, getting a little bit nervous. "Like, actually? You want me to take you right now?"

"Yeah." You gave him a nod, taking a second to breathe before continuing. "It's kind of what I said earlier. I trust you, a lot. And I know you'll be gentle, so..."

Chan immediately responded with placing his lips on yours, letting out a hum as he held you close to him. He was so happy, you made him so happy. And all of his patience, all of this waiting...

It finally paid off.

"Wait right here, I gotta go grab a condom-"

"It's fine, I'm on the pill."

"Are you actually for real right now?"

"Yeah?" Chan moaned at your response, wanting to just cum on the spot. Not only was he going to be your first. But he was going to be your first, and he wouldn't have to wear a dumb rubber on his dick while doing it.

He just wanted to worship you.

"Fuck, baby, you're gonna kill me one of these days...legs up for me." Chan watched you as you lifted your legs up, and he adjusted them so they rested on his shoulders.

Then, it was up to you to watch him closely, watching as he focused on getting himself lined up. You could feel his cockhead rubbing up and down against your pussy, trying to get himself just a bit more wet. The feeling made you shudder. Finally, he was ready, and his tip was prodding at your entrance. Before he entered you, he looked into your eyes, gulping.

"If it hurts, tell me and I'll stop immediately. Okay?" You nodded at Chan's words, watching him take a deep breath. And then, he was pushing into you.

Both of you moaned when his tip slipped inside of you. Chan moved so slowly, sinking deeper and deeper, almost like he was wading into water. You were so tight. You were tight, and warm, and wet, and soft, and it was perfect. He was honestly surprised he didn't bust right away.

As for you, you were surprised that it didn't hurt as much as you thought. Sure, it stung a bit, but that was probably because of how girthy Chan's dick was. If you were gonna be honest, it was more...uncomfortable? No...it was more unfamiliar than uncomfortable. It was new to you, and it was new to your body. It made your face scrunch, which didn't go unnoticed by Chan. He immediately stopped, looking into your eyes.

"You okay? Does it hurt?"

"No, I'm fine, it's just...weird, I guess." You squirmed a bit, trying to figure out what you thought.

"Good weird or bad weird?"

"Good, I think."

"So I can keep going?"

"Yeah." Chan nodded at your response, continuing to push in. The deeper he got, the more pleasurable it got. And before you knew it, he was sheathed inside of you, waiting for your signal to move.

"Feel okay?" Chan looked at you in the eyes, watching you nod. Your face was finally starting to show pleasure to him, which made Chan relax. And after you moved to try and adjust yourself a bit to get more comfortable, pleasure shot through you, and you moaned.

"Fuck..." Your brows furrowed as your jaw dropped, your eyes going to Chan's. "You...you can move."

"Okay...okay..." Chan then did as you said, starting to give you slow thrusts. Both of you moaned out, your head falling back as Chan's fell forward. You both basked in each other, enjoying how good you both felt because of the other.

"Chan..." You whined, reaching up for him. Chan moved down, letting you wrap your arms around his neck. He moaned into your ear, keeping his hips moving, his pace getting slightly faster with each thrust.

"You're doing so good, baby...fuck, you're squeezing me so well..." As Chan praised you, he moved down and kissed your neck, leaving marks as he moved faster.

There was one thrust where his dick rubbed right up against your soft spot. Upon feeling it, you let out a filthy moan, one you didn't even know you were capable of making, and you clenched around Chan, which made him moan out as well. You were already tight, and now that you were clenching? Chan was certain he just saw God.

"Baby, you can't...fuck, I'm gonna cum already...you're driving me up a wall here, you feel too good..." Chan moved faster, bringing a hand down to your waist, holding onto you as he snapped his hips up into yours, making you moan out and grab onto him, clinging for dear life.

"I-I'm close, I'm gonna cum!" You held onto Chan tighter, your boyfriend just leaning down and kissing your lips, grunts leaving him as he got closer. And before you knew it, you hit your orgasm, your thighs trying to close once more as your body trembled, a loud and very pornographic moan leaving you.

You were almost certain you heard Chan growl in response to that.

"Fuck!" Chan immediately pulled out, hitting his own orgasm as he jerked himself off, shooting his white ropes onto your stomach. Once Chan had calmed down a bit, he fell forward onto an arm, one hand still on his dick, just holding it as he breathed heavily into your ear. You were also breathing heavily, your arms relaxing around him.

"Oh...my god..." You trailed, Chan swallowing his spit as he slowly sat up, running a hand through his hair.

"So... how was that for your first time?" Chan asked, smiling down at you. You just mumbled nonsense, Chan only laughing before standing up, leaving you for a few minutes. While he was gone doing...whatever he was doing, you had time to just try and calm your body down.

Eventually, Chan came back, placing a few kisses onto your cheek and forehead before picking you up and bringing you to the bathroom, setting you into the water before taking off your sports bra. He then took off his sweatshirt before getting in behind you, laying you back against his chest.

"You okay?" Chan asked, holding you close to him as you nodded. Chan just smiled, placing a few more kisses onto your head before starting to use a rag and clean you off, making sure you were clean from your first time. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yeah. It was magical." You smiled up at him, Chan smiling back and placing another kiss to your lips, continuing to wash you off. "I'm really happy you were my first time, Chan."

"I'm happy I could be your first time." Chan told you, setting the rag aside before rubbing your shoulders.

"So is this aftercare a first time thing, or can I expect to get this treatment every time?" You asked, Chan just laughing at you.

"You know I'll spoil you any chance I get, baby." Chan told you, kissing your head.

Eventually, he got out of the water, drying himself off before slipping on a pair of sweatpants he had left at your apartment, turning to you and helping you out of the tub. He dried you off as well, and just slipped one of his hoodies onto you. And then, he took you to the bed, laying you down before getting in next to you, pulling you into his chest.

"I know I've said this a lot tonight, but I really do love you, baby girl. You're the best thing that's happened to me." Chan told you, seeing you smile in his arms.

"After Stray Kids, right?"

"After that? No way in hell. They're a close second though."

"Ah. I'm telling them that."

"What--Baby, don't do that!"

"I'm totally telling Minho first, he'll air fry you, or maybe stuff your face with tissues, or-"

"Y/N!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." You just giggled, placing a kiss onto his lips before snuggling into his arms.

"I love you, too."

[skzoolandia]

Laundry.

pairing: idol!lee minho x fem!reader

content: you and Minho have been under a lot of stress recently, resulting in neglected responsibilities. when some forgotten laundry sparks an argument between you two, things get heated.

song inspiration: american horror show by snow wife -> “hey baby, I like it when you piss me off, hey baby, usually means the sex is rough” | “I kiss freaks that treat me like an animal, fuck on me and eat me like a cannibal”

word count: 8.2k. sorry not sorry🤷‍♀️

warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, dom!minho, switch!reader, established relationship, angst, arguing, rough sex, cursing, dirty talk, edging/ruined orgasms, overstimulation, sir kink, good girl kink, oral (f. receiving), p in v, multiple positions, unprotected sex (ya’ll, don’t do it. it’s only sexy in a story with no consequences. also psa, pee after sex, because getting a uti is a bitch), cockwarming if you squint, hair pulling, spanking, choking, exactly one face slap, PUBES, use of nicknames (jagi, jagiya, princess, babe, baby, minho calls reader a whore, but like, lovingly), marking, crying, squirting, subspace, brief mention of established safe words, brief mention of aftercare, brief mentions of other members but not in a sexual way, happy ending

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•

Laundry. Little did you know that laundry would be the straw that broke the camel’s back this week.

It had been a long week for both you and Minho. More like weeks, but this past week really wore out the both of you. It was busy season at your job, and you were dealing with deadline after deadline. This meant working late hours almost every night, leaving very little time for much else. You were exhausted, physically and mentally, but hey, the paychecks were nice.

For Minho, comeback season was only a few weeks away. This meant hours upon hours of practice at the studio, learning new choreographies, filming pre-scheduled content, and even working on a few preliminary recordings for the next comeback. His body and brain had been pushed way beyond what he thought he was capable of handling. Yet, he was still pushing through, knowing the hard work was worth it, for his members and for STAY.

These busy seasons weren’t foreign to your relationship, and you both typically got through them without issue. That’s actually part of why you both worked so well together, as you each didn’t mind periods of alone time, and were very understanding of each other’s situations; you still knew that at the end of the hectic days and nights, you had each other, and that was enough.

However, you weren’t living together the first couple years of your relationship, and now you’re going on 4 months of sharing a home. A perk of living together meant shared responsibilities and chores, making life just a little bit easier. A downside of living together though, is the shared responsibilities and chores—things that would get pushed aside during a busy season while on your own wouldn’t bother you, but now those same things affect somebody else. Both you and Minho had been seriously neglecting those chores, too tired from your schedules to do much more than eat and go to bed once getting home. Oh but now, NOW it all has become a complete disaster. Dishes piled up in the sink, clutter and random shit laying everywhere, and the fucking laundry—an awful, massive pile of fabric that is currently the bane of your existence. But you had gotten to the point you were having to steal some of Minho’s clothes, running out of most of your own, and soon enough you’d both be buck-ass naked with nothing clean to wear if you didn’t start this shit now (though, knowing Minho, he probably wouldn’t necessarily see that as an issue).

“Minho,” you shouted from the laundry room, huffing as you lobbed a wet bundle of clothes into the dryer, “please switch over the laundry for me when it’s done, and bring the clothes into the bedroom!”

You didn’t hear a response, so you padded into the kitchen. Minho was at the sink washing the stacks of dirty dishes, up to his elbows in lemon-scented dish suds. If there’s one thing you hate more than doing laundry, it was washing dishes, so you were thankful to see you weren’t going to have to tackle that monstrosity as well tonight.

“Min, did you hear me? I need to run to the grocery store real quick so we have food here this weekend, and I don’t want the clothes to get wrinkly from sitting in the dryer.”

“Hm?”  he mumbled, trying to brush the hair out of his face with the dry part of his arm.

“You got it babe? I really need to head to the store right now so it’s not completely dark out on my way back.” Driving at night wasn’t your favorite activity, so you were in a rush to get this errand over with.

“Yeah, I got it, please be safe jagiya,” he said over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the crusty frying pan that was giving his scrubbing-strength a run for its money.

“Always am!”  you replied as you grabbed your keys and shoved your feet into your sneakers, heading out the front door. You had expected you’d be gone for an hour max. Well, you were sorely mistaken, because you hadn’t accounted for people. Seriously, do people not know how to walk? We all need groceries, is it too much to ask for a little self-awareness so someone can grab the damn orange juice next to them without it taking 5 years??

What little patience you possessed had officially worn out by the time you made it back home, over 2 hours later. Quietly grumbling to yourself, you stumbled through the front door, arms overflowing with bags of groceries because you’ll be damned if you have to make a second trip.

You quickly put away the groceries, staring into the fridge for a moment as you realized you couldn’t remember the last time it was filled with something other than leftover takeout containers. You also had to stand in awe at the empty, clean sink. You didn’t realize how much of a weight would be taken off your shoulders knowing that the dishes were done. I really need to thank Min for doing that, you noted to yourself.

Speaking of, where is he? He wasn’t in the kitchen, and you didn’t see him in the living room either. Heading into your bedroom, you heard the sink water running from your shared bathroom. Minho must be getting reading for bed. You got excited, knowing you’d be able to do the same right after putting away the most recent load of laundry, and could finally snuggle up next to Minho after way too many nights of going to bed alone, or carefully trying to fall asleep without waking him up after he’d already passed out for the night.

You glanced over the room, expecting to see the laundry basket either on the bed or floor, but you couldn’t find it. Did he put it in the closet? You secretly hoped that maybe he even put the laundry away for you since you had been gone so long. You switched on the light to the closet, and felt your eyebrows pull together in confusion. No basket, and the closet was still filled with more empty hangers than clothes.

“Min??” you called out, the confusion evident in your tone.

Minho appeared in the closet entry, with a freshly washed face, clearly ready for bed. “What jagi?”

“Where’s the clean clothes?”

“What clean clothes?” he questioned, wearing an expression like he didn’t know what clean clothes were.

You blinked at him a few times before plainly stating, “The clean clothes I asked you to take out of the dryer before I left for the store.”

“You didn’t ask me to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” you retorted, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “I specifically asked you to take care of that.”

He stared at you for a moment with narrowed eyes, wondering if he had short-term memory loss, because he did not remember you asking him that. All he could remember was you telling him you were going grocery shopping, while he was debating throwing out all the dishes and just buying new ones so he could spare his pruney fingers from more scrubbing.

“Are you serious Minho? You didn’t take out the laundry??” You could feel the frustration start running through your veins. “That means it’s been sitting for hours, and it’s going to be all wrinkly and need to be run through the wash again so I don’t have to iron everything. I asked you to do that for a reason, and now I have to stay up late fixing it so we can leave the house tomorrow and not get arrested for public indecency.”

Minho scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Y/N, are you serious? You can’t seriously be mad at me over laundry.”

“I’m not mad at you over laundry, I’m mad at you for not listening to me about the fucking laundry. You know, I’ve barely spoken to you this week, so I would’ve really appreciated it if the one time I asked something of you, you actually paid attention.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to take them back. One of the things that made you fall in love with Minho was how he always made it a point to listen to what you had to say, even in moments of disagreement. It was unlike you to be so bothered by something so insignificant, but your mental filter was gone, and your petty annoyance was spilling out without resistance.

He stared at you, disbelieving the direction you were starting to take this. His heart rate started to pick up from his own growing aggravation.

“Oh, so that’s how it is? You know, maybe if I wasn’t half-asleep washing dishes for hours, I would’ve understood what you were telling me. But no, I was cleaning up that mess, consisting mostly of your dishes, by the way.”

You couldn’t help the humorless laugh that left your mouth. “Ha, my dishes? I’m sorry, but the same can be said about the laundry, which consists of mostly your clothes. I could open a clothing shop with the amount of your shit piled up in there.”

“Because you’ve been wearing my clothes too! Of course I have more dirty clothes in there!”

Damn, he kinda got you with that one. You would’ve laughed too, but you’re in too deep now to back down. You’re over-tired, worn out, and now this stupid argument about laundry of all things is sending you over the edge.

“Minho, just go to sleep like you always do, and I’ll take care of it, like I always have to do,” you snap back, blood rushing to the tips of your ears as you start trying to push past him to leave the closet. He firmly grabs your arm in the doorway, stopping you from leaving. You look up at him, and you can tell you hit a nerve. Oops.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” he lowly questioned, voice barely more than a whisper. He wasn’t so much as angry as he was genuinely surprised at what you said. Did he really leave you to do so much? He knew he hasn’t been doing a lot around the house these past couple weeks, but he was trying, especially by taking care of the dishes tonight. He knew you hated doing it, and he’d gladly take care of it if it meant you could feel a little less overwhelmed with life at the moment.

“I said,” you slowly enunciated your words as you yanked your arm from his grip, “go to sleep, and fuck. off.”

You can’t remember ever being so mean to Minho. You actually can’t remember ever being in an argument so pettily mean over something so ridiculously stupid. The laundry can wait another day, it really doesn’t matter, but you can’t help the way your pent-up stress is finding release in your biting words.

You’re glaring at each other, both not willing to budge. Minho can’t help but glance down at your lips, tightly pursed from your scowl. He also can’t help but start getting pissed off at himself, because why is he finding your expression so cute? His eyes drag further down, and he notices you’re wearing one of his favorite t-shirts. It’s the one you most often steal from him, the one he finds you in after some of your worst days at work. You’d mentioned to him that it brings you a weird sense of comfort when you wear it because it makes you feel close to him—and that it’s also “really soft and comfy, like my Min Min.” He told you if you ever called him that again, he’d have to put you in the air fryer, but that didn’t stop him from melting on the inside at your words.

He looked back to your lips, still holding strong in their scowl. When was the last time he kissed those cute lips? He racked his brain, but all he could remember were the little pecks on the cheek or forehead you’d give one another when one would be asleep before the other when finally home, or right before leaving the house in the morning to take on the day ahead. He misses those lips on his. His misses the way those kisses more often than not lead to more. The way your bodies press together, holding each other close and wishing time could stop so you could stay that way. The heat that eventually starts to build between you both, building and boiling, until it reaches a fever pitch that results in clothes being haphazardly thrown across the room. Some of those clothes are probably in the laundry room currently.

Irritation floods through him again, and he snaps out of his thoughts. Annoyed with his silence, you start to walk away, and he grabs your arm again to stop you.

“You’re not walking away from this Y/N.”

“Oh yeah? Fucking watch me.” You start pulling away, and the next thing you know you’re being pushed roughly against the door frame. Minho then grabs your face with both hands, and slams his lips into yours. You freeze, having not expected that reaction from him.

You feel heat start coursing through you, for multiple reasons. First of all, who the fuck does he think is?? Kissing you while you’re clearly pissed off? It makes you angry. Really angry. And also really fucking turned on.

It had been weeks since the last time you slept together, busy schedules and tired bodies keeping you from escalating to much more than light kissing in the early morning or late evening. You’ve simply been too tired and overwhelmed to be horny.

But now, it’s like your body is confusing the heat of anger with the heat of lust, and with the fire of both fueling you, you push both of your hands against his chest and shove him as hard as you can into the other side of the door frame. You simultaneously hear the thud of his body and the breath of wind escape his mouth from the shove, and for a moment you wonder if you actually hurt him. But the breath leaving him turns into a low moan, so rough and loud you could accurately describe it as a growl. He opens his closed eyes, and looks down at you with the darkest expression you’ve ever seen him wear in the bedroom.

You and Minho certainly have had your fair share of kink exploration over the years, but usually keep it pretty tame, at least, what you two would call tame. At the very worst of your behaviors, you enjoyed bringing out his rougher dom persona while being a little brat, teasing and egging him on until he has tears running down your face from how good he’s making you feel, turning into “such a good girl, Y/N.” Some manhandling wasn’t new (and you honestly wished he’d do it more, haven’t quite gotten around to that conversation yet), but you manhandling him? Yeah, you never had the guts to try that out. Until now.

From his expression, you knew you were in trouble. But with the way you’re feeling right now? So is he.

You keep up your brave streak, and step up to his face, bringing your hand up to twist into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling him down until your lips crash together again. The kiss quickly becomes hot, wet, and absolutely filthy. Your tongues are pushing into each other’s mouths, fighting for dominance as your fingers pull his hair tighter, and his hands gripping your waist so hard it hurts. You hope there’s bruises left from it tomorrow.

Not breaking your kiss, Minho starts pushing you towards the bed while somehow pulling you closer to his body at the same time. You can feel his hard length at your hip, and you let out a heavy sigh into his mouth. Suddenly, he pushes you away from him, and you gasp as you thump back into the mattress. You look at his face, and he’s a pure image of a man ready to ruin you. Eyes so hungry, yet calculating, as he starts moving you up to the middle of the bed. His lips are glistening with your combined spit, red and parted, his cute bunny teeth pulling back his bottom lip ever so slightly as he climbs on top of you. His hands press down on either side of your head, his pelvis nestling in between your thighs, almost pinning you down to the mattress.

You say “almost”, because there’s no way you’re letting him win this easily, even with those cute bunny teeth. You let him think you’ve given in by running your hand up his chest, gently resting it at the side of his neck, thumb running over his jaw, looking at him with the best doe-eyes you can manage. You wrap your thighs around his hips tighter, knees digging into him slightly. You begin pulling him down into a kiss, but in reality, you use the movement to get some momentum and use every ounce of core strength (thank you, Changbin, for the occasional gym pointers), and flip him onto his back. One hand next to his head, the other hand that was on the side of his neck is now around the front base of his neck, gently yet firmly pushing him down. Your thighs are now caging his lower half to the bed, pressing down as much as you can into his bulge, hoping he can feel just how wet you are through your leggings.

You wish you could take a picture in this moment, as you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so off guard. His face is a mix of shock, amusement, and clear arousal, and holy shit, you want to do the nastiest things to him right now with his face like that.

You bend your elbow, bringing your face down, lips hovering over his as your eyes roam his expression, and whisper, “What part of ‘fuck off’ did you not understand, Lee Minho?”

Minho lets out a puff of air, amused and annoyed by your use of his full name. He knows you’re a pro at getting under his skin for a sexual advantage, but never have you been so successful at doing that while also being in control. It’s pissing him off, and making his dick so hard and leaky that he wonders if it’s staining his gray sweats. Oh well, what’s another piece of dirty laundry?

“Watch your mouth, Y/N L/N, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Hmm…” you teasingly hum, dragging your clothed core over the outline in his pants. You noticed he wasn’t just wearing pants, but his gray sweatpants, where you could see the faintest wet marks, indicating he was really enjoying this, despite his sexy threats. “…you’re not very intimidating when you’re the one pinned to this mattress, Min Min. Look at you, pretty cock making a mess already in your sweats…making even more of a mess for me to clean up. What am I going to do with such a filthy boy?”

In that moment, it’s like you could see something flash in Minho’s eyes, and the next thing you know, you’re on your back again, with your hands pried off of him and effortlessly pinned above your head by one of Minho’s deliciously veiny hands. You took a moment to let your eyes follow those same veins, up his wrists and forearms. They’re more pronounced, the adrenaline and exertion making them pop up from his skin more. If you weren’t pinned down, you’d definitely be licking them at this point.

Your eyes follow up until you reach his face, and a shiver runs down your spine. Well, he’s definitely intimidating now—eyes pitch dark, swimming with fiery desire and determination to put you back in your place.

“You keep these fucking hands up here, or I will not hesitate to tie them up. Do you understand me?” he commands, daring you to challenge him again.

You consider that threat, and wonder if it would actually be a threat or more of a blessing? But you can feel you’ve utterly soaked through your panties, and if he doesn’t start doing something to you soon, you might actually combust. So, you decide to behave in an attempt to not waste any more time.

However, he takes your momentary lack of response as another act of control, so he uses his free hand to lightly slap your cheek, then immediately grabs your jaw with a tight grip, his face hovering over yours just as you had earlier.

“I said,” he spits through his teeth, “do you understand me?”

Now you’re the shocked one. Not because of the slap, you’ve played around with that before, but because you didn’t think it was possible to get even more turned on by this man.

“Yes,” you squeak out, the sound distorted due to his hand gripping your jaw so firmly.

“‘Yes’ what, princess?” he eggs on, and you know exactly what he’s looking for. Through your fun in experimenting with your sex life, there was one particular thing that Minho found out he liked to be called in these situations.

“Yes, sir, I understand.”

Minho smirks over this small victory, and rewards you with a messy kiss, all tongue and spit. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs into your mouth, and it takes all you have not to whine at the comment. That was one thing you found you liked to be called. It was always so much more satisfying to be called his good girl after spending some time annoying the shit out of him.

Minho separates himself from you, sitting back on his haunches. He looks you in the eye as his hands grasp the waistband of your leggings, then shucks them down your legs so fast you thought they might’ve ripped. Then he looks down, placing his hands on your knees and pushing them apart to admire your own mess you’ve made of your clothing.

The gusset of your light gray panties had turned charcoal due to your arousal drenching the fabric, sticking to your body, allowing a perfect outline of your pussy for Minho to gawk at. He sucks in his plush bottom lip in an effort to prevent himself from drooling at the sight.

“And you think I’m filthy? You’ve ruined your panties, jagi. Such a shame.”

You can feel your cheeks start to burn at his observation, but the embarrassment quickly fades when you watch him crouch down and lick a long, thick stripe along the center of the fabric. You let out a soft gasp when he sucks in the top of your pussy, right where your clit is throbbing for him. If your panties weren’t soaked before, they are sopping now, with the addition of Minho’s spit seeping through. He runs his tongue all along the ruined piece of clothing, then carefully sucks the fabric between his front teeth and pulls it back, then lets it go with a snap. You can’t help but whine then, and Minho has to hold back a chuckle at your growingly impatient state. Deciding to have a little mercy, he sits back again and pulls off your panties, putting them out of their misery.

 It was that moment that you remembered something. Due to your hectic schedule, you hadn’t been taking much time to keep up on your usual pubic hair trimming. You liked to have a little ~something~ down there, but never let it get as overgrown, for lack of a better word, as it was now. Your stomach dropped from the sudden insecurity, and you almost said your safe word to end this all immediately to go run and hide in the bathroom.

But when Minho looked back down at your glistening pussy, he wasn’t turned off by your new appearance. In reality, seeing your body in a more “natural” state, he felt like something in his brain short-circuited. He felt fucking feral at the sight.

His actions followed suit, and before you could dare utter any kind of apology, he was diving back into your sweet cunt, and began eating you out like a compulsion. A guttural moan escaped from him as his tongue explored your folds and dipped into your tight hole, tasting you with no barrier.

You swear you see his eyes roll into the back of his head, and you desperately want to thread your hands that were still above your head into his hair and pull him down even deeper into your dripping pussy, but his earlier threat looms in your brain, and you don’t want to dare do anything that will make him stop.

But you can’t help but buck your hips up into his face, resulting in a quiet growl from him. In an effort to keep you still, he wraps both arms around your upper thighs, but then decides to be a menace and digs his fingertips into the joints between your pelvis and inner hip bones. You jump with a light cry, the pressure point making your back arch off the bed. Minho doesn’t react though, and continues holding your body down with his arms around your thighs, and pulls them back slightly to fold you even more in half.

He swirls his tongue around your throbbing bundle of nerves, then sucks it between his pursed lips, trading off between the two movements until you’re a moaning mess, legs starting to shake from the stimulation. You feel that familiar knot start to pull tight, and you’re involuntarily moving your hips again, body warring between wanting more and trying to escape from the intense pleasure. Even with Minho’s impressive strength, he can’t keep you completely still (again, thank you Changbin. Min’s not the only one with massive thighs now, huh?) As your body gyrates, he moves his head along with your movements, not allowing you to find any escape from the onslaught of sensation.

You feel your orgasm right on the edge, just about to tip over. But Minho feels it too, knowing your body just as well, if not better than you do. Right when you reach that line, he pulls back from you, almost going off of the bed. You let out the most pitiful sound you’ve ever made as your orgasm fades away, being officially ruined by Minho’s action, and leaving him with a dumbass smirk on his face.

“Min?!” you cry out in frustration, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him better.

“What? You were concerned about having to clean up more messes, right? Didn’t want you to make a mess on these sheets and have to wash them,” he responds with faux innocence.

This little bitch, you thought, letting out an annoyed laugh and rolling your eyes. “Fuck you, Minho,” you grumble, and start to move to the side as if you were getting off the bed.

Minho’s reflexes are about 100x faster than yours, so you shouldn’t be surprised when he uses the opportunity to grab your hips and manhandle you onto your stomach.

With your hands pinned behind your back, he proceeds to get on top of you, his thighs keeping your legs trapped underneath him. You feel him press down harder, allowing you to feel his even harder cock, still tucked into his sweats, grinding against your ass.

“No, actually Y/N…” he begins to whisper in your ear, his hot breath sending a cold shiver down your back. You feel him shift his weight briefly, and then you feel the stinging smack of his hand colliding with your ass cheek, causing you to let out a yelp. “…fuck you,” he finishes, and you hope it’s a sincere promise.

He shifts his weight again, still keeping your hands pressed into your clothed back. He decides to let you go, and quickly strips himself of his clothes. You start to flip around while your arms and legs are free, but then feel another stinging slap on your ass in the same spot as earlier.

“Did I tell you to move?” he questions, smacking you again, so hard and so fast you thought you heard the air whistle through his fingers. You’ll surely have a nice bruise of his hand print after this.

“No, sir,” you moan, slightly sticking your ass in the air, ready for more of whatever he was planning on giving you.

“Keep being a good girl, and I’ll let your cute little cunt make a mess all over my cock. You want that, princess?”

Another bruising slap, and you let out a strangled moan. You have to be dripping onto the bed right now. You need him to fuck you right here, right now, until you can’t remember your own name. You knew when you started this sudden little dom experiment that you had very little chance of coming out the winner. No one doms better than your Minho. And now, you want nothing more than to be his good girl. Though, with how Minho treats his good girl, you might actually be the winner after all.

“Yes, sir, please let me cum all over your pretty cock. I want it so bad, I need it so bad, sir!” you cry out, bringing your knees under you, spreading your legs wider and tilting your hips up even more, giving him a perfect view of your drooling cunt clenching around nothing.

“Such a needy little whore, aren’t you?” You can’t see his face, but can hear the slight smile in his voice as he takes in the sight of you spread out for him.

“Only for you, sir.”

“Mm, that’s right jagi,” he praises, and you feel his thumbs spread open your pussy lips, causing you to clench again. You hear him groan, and so wish you could see the look on his face right now.

Then, after what has felt like forever, you feel the silky head of his cock gliding on your cunt, gathering all the wetness flooding out of you, and you practically wail at the sensation. You can’t help what starts coming out of your mouth, on the verge of tears, “Pleasepleaseplease fuck me, fuck my hole so good sir, pleeeease!”

Minho groans again, deep and rough, and if he doesn’t put his cock in you right now, he might start crying too. He starts to slowly put the tip in, and you let out a beautifully high-pitched moan. So pretty, he thinks, and he makes a mental note to bring up the idea of recording you guys someday, so he could capture such a beautiful noise to listen to whenever he wants.

You feel him stretching you out, and it’s slightly uncomfortable as it’s been a while, but the stretch feels so fucking good. You feel so full of him, and can’t believe you’ve gone so long without this. You whine when you feel him bottom out, and clench around his fat cock.

He then places his hands in your hip dips, gripping the soft flesh as he begins to slowly grind his cock into you. You breathe out in relief at the stimulation, but it’s nowhere near enough. You’re going insane with the need to feel him in your guts.

“Sir please,” you cry, “I’m being a good girl, please fuck me faster, fuck me so hard, please sir!”

Minho huffs, “You want me to fuck you harder princess? You wanna be fucked like a dumb whore, is that it?”

“Yess, please! Let me be a whore for you, sir, I promise my pussy will make you cum so good, just give it to me,” you moan out, pathetically begging him to fuck you dumb.

Minho pulls out, and you’re about to completely lose it at him for being so mean, but then he slams his cock back into your pussy and starts fucking you down into the mattress at a relentless pace. Over and over and over again, he’s pulling you back onto his cock, the sound of loud, wet squelches filling the room. He tilts your hips ever so slightly, and he’s pounding right into that spot within you that makes all the thoughts in your head disappear. You start pressing your face into the covers, trying to muffle some of the pornographic sounds leaving your lips, but Minho notices, and won’t have it. He reaches down into your hair, gripping it at the base of your head, and pulling your face out of the covers to force all your sounds to be heard.

The knot inside is building again, and you can feel your eyes start to roll in the back of your head. You’re starting to clench harder around Minho’s cock, and he knows you’re close.

“You gonna make a mess on my cock, jagi? You wanna cream all over my cock like a good whore?” he teases, trying to keep up with the pace he set.

“Yesyesyes, please let me make a mess, sir!” you beg, right on the edge.

“Mmm, then cum, cum right fucking now,” he growls, tightening the grip in your hair, causing you to arch your back even deeper.

His words combined with the deeper angle cause you to crash over the edge, cumming so hard you stop breathing for a second. Minho keeps fucking you through it, and you let out a loud gasp when you finally remember how to breathe.

Minho pulls out, and roughly flips you over onto your back. He starts pulling the shirt you still had on over your head, along with your last clean bralette, chucking both onto the floor, doomed to be covered with cat hair in no time. You thought he might be wanting to finish by cumming on your tits, trying to make even more of a mess, but Minho isn’t anywhere near being done with you.

He brings both your legs straight up, pushing them back by holding down your calves, almost folding you in half like a piece of paper. He grinds his still achingly hard cock back over your spread-out cunt, causing it to catch on your swollen clit. You whine out at the delicious sensation.

“You didn’t think you were done, did you? You want to be a whore for me, huh? Whores get fucked over, and over again. They take what they’re given. You wanted me to fuck you good, jagi?” he starts sliding himself back into your waiting hole, “…then fucking take it,” he finishes, and begins fucking into your pussy so hard that it’s your turn to growl. You meet his eyes, and keep eye contact as you take both of your hands and wrap them around the backs of your thighs, holding your legs open for him even more.

Minho smiles down at you, loving how good you’re being for him. So willing, so filthy, so sexy, and all his. He lets go of your calves so he can bend down, and gives you a sloppy kiss as he keeps pounding into you. His mouth travels to your neck, sucking on the skin, making sure to leave a mark in a spot that wouldn’t be covered easily with clothing. You’re his, and he wants every one to see. When he lets his teeth graze over the tender skin, you let out another high-pitched, airy moan, and Minho smiles again into your neck.

Another orgasm was building quickly, your whole body feeling flushed with heat. You can’t help your legs from shaking, and you can’t keep them open on your own any more. Minho notices, and sits back to pull your legs over his shoulders, bringing his arms around the sides of your legs and pressing his hands into the mattress.

While he adjusted the position, you looked down to where your bodies met, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see you weren’t the only one slacking on trimming. Minho was never one to be bare down there, even if he kept the rest of him pretty hairless. You always thought it was sexy. But you can’t remember ever seeing him this far out from a trim. The sight of him so unkept, soaked and matted from both of your bodies, turned you on so much that you wondered if you asked him to keep it that way if he would.

Minho was continuing to hit that spot inside just right, and you were starting to cum again. Knowing the effect his filthy words had on you, he decided to help keep pushing you over by running his mouth.

“There it is, princess, keep cumming on my cock. Such a good girl for me, making my cock feel so fucking good in your sloppy pussy.”

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, preventing yourself from screaming in pleasure, his words making you go cross-eyed. He was truly fucking you dumb, just like you wanted.

Minho thought going so long without having sex with you would make him overly sensitive, unable to control himself. But he was no stranger to pushing his limits, and seeing your fucked-out face made him determined to push you to your limits too.

“One more,” he instructed, pulling out again and flipping you onto your side, “you’re gonna give me one more, and then I’m going to cum inside this pretty pussy of yours, got it?”

“I c-can’t,” you stammered, feeling a little floaty from everything he was making you feel.

“Mm, I know you can princess, you’ve done it before. You always cum for me, jagi,” he said in your ear, his breath making you shiver as he pressed himself against you, chest flat to your back. He was right about that. If Minho intended for you to cum, you were going to cum.

He lifted one of your legs up, giving himself access to your ruined little pussy yet again. He used his other arm to wrap under your chest, trailing his hand up to push against your sternum, pressing your back to his chest even more.

“What’s your color, jagiya?” he whispered into your ear, a genuine tone of loving concern in his voice. Minho always had fun playing rough with you, but only because you enjoyed it just as much, sometimes even more. He would never want to actually push you past the point you were comfortable, ready to stop the moment you uttered any established safe word.

You hummed at his questioned, touched by him checking in on you as he so often did when things got more intense than usual. “Bright green, baby,” you whispered out, grin spreading across your face.

He hummed back with a matching grin, kissing your shoulder as he lifted your leg just a little bit higher, easily sliding right back into you. He began slow this time, focusing on long, deep strokes to build you back up slowly. The moment felt tender, getting lost in the feeling of being pressed up next to each other, as close as you could physically be, just wanting the other to feel good. The stress of everything you both had been carrying recently felt like it was melting away more and more with each thrust, each moan, and each searing kiss.

Minho picked up his rhythm, snapping his hips a little bit harder, gradually building intensity. You rolled your head back into his neck, letting out the sweetest ah’s between your parted lips, letting yourself shut off and just feel him. Minho felt like his heart could explode, seeing you give in to him and trust him with yourself so wholly. He would do anything to make you feel even just a fraction of the love he held for you in these vulnerable moments.

A little faster, a little deeper, and your body started to tremble. You reached your arm behind you to hold on to his back, trying to ground yourself as the pleasure started to take over again.

“I got you, jagi, I got you, just let go for me. I’m right here,” Minho softly spoke into your ear, sounding close himself, words coming out a little breathless, his hips losing rhythm ever so slightly. He picked up his pace just a little bit more, feeling himself start to lose it. A sweet moan escaped his lips, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear and neck. You knew your release would push him over the edge, and you wanted to get him there. Making him feel good would almost be more pleasurable than your own high, maybe more. Minho deserves it.

A few more well angled strokes, and you’re reaching the peak again. You let out a breathy whine, clenching around him so tight, and the next thing you hear is his own whine. His deep, loud, yet airy groan fills the room as he fills you with his hot cum, fucking it deep inside as he rides out his high. The overstimulation, his moans and heavy sighs, the knowledge that your boyfriend is falling into pieces because of you, has you climbing right back up the wall for the fourth time tonight.

Minho can feel it, and he’s a little shocked your body still has that much left in you, but he’s not one to complain. He brings the hand still pushing into your sternum up to the front of your neck, adding firm pressure to the sides of your neck with his thumb, middle, and ring fingers (who do you think gave Chan pointers for the Red Lights music video? The man knows how to choke juuuust right). He brings his top leg underneath your thigh he’s holding, hooking it underneath to keep you open. Then he brings that hand to the mound of your cunt, his fingertips flat against your clit as he flicks his wrist in a rapid back-and-forth waving motion.

“Fuuuckkk, oh my g—” you sob out, the intense stimulation causing your already tear-filled eyes to overflow, hot tears falling down your face and dripping onto Minho’s hand around your neck. Any noises you make get stuck in your throat as you lock up, seeing white as blinding pleasure takes hold of your body.

“That’s it jagi, take it just like that,” Minho praises you through your orgasm, keeping your legs from clamping down with his own as he guides you through it. He’s still inside of you, still rubbing your clit, choking you so good that it feels like it’s lasting for way longer than usual, and all of a sudden you feel wet. A weird kind of wet.

Minho lets out a quiet gasp, trying to process what he just saw you do. What he just made you do. Did he just make you squirt?

He slowly starts massaging the soft flesh of your inner thighs, helping you down from the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced. He brings the hand on your neck up to your face, gently caressing your jaw with his thumb, and leaves light, tender kisses to the back of your neck and shoulders.

You lay there, eyes closed, taking in the gentle touches he leaves all over your body as your mind floats somewhere above you. You heard about subspace, read about it, thought you had experienced it before, but never have you felt something quite as intense as this. It was kind of scary if you were being honest, but knowing Minho was right there with you, not leaving your side until you were back in control of yourself, made you feel completely safe.

You’re not sure how much time passes, but you suddenly feel like you’re in your body again, and become aware of Minho’s strong arms wrapped around your middle. You move to turn in his hold, but realize his softened dick is still inside of you.

“Min?” you croak, voice shot to shit after all you just went through.

“Hm?” Minho breathes out, half-asleep, feeling the most relaxed he has in a while.

“Why are you still inside?” you giggle, turning your head to try to look at him.

“I just wanted to be close to you a little longer,” he mumbles into your shoulder, “and I didn’t want to move around too much while you came back down. Are you okay, jagiya? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You slowly remove him from you, hissing at the feeling of emptiness, and the feeling of his cum starting to leak out of you and onto the sheets. You turn in his arms so you can finally see his face again. He looks concerned, yet fucked-out at the same time.

You smile at him, and he mirrors you. “I’m more than okay, Min. You just fucked all the stress out of me. Thanks, babe,” you tease, kissing the tip of his nose, both giggling at the gesture.

“If fighting like that always leads to this, we should really fight more often,” he smirks at you, making you breathe out a soft laugh.

Even with the joking air, you started to feel guilty for your earlier reactions. “Min,” you start, looking at his chest to avoid his eyes. Damn, he has really nice pecs, your mind starts to trail, and you lightly shake your head to snap back to the moment. Gotta stay focused, you thirsty bitch, you scold yourself.

 “…you know I didn’t mean any of that earlier, right? I was just frustrated, and I wasn’t thinking. You help me so much, all the time. I mean, the fact you washed that cursed pile of dishes and didn’t even ask for any help was so nice of you. You listen to me, you make me feel seen, and so loved, Minho. You didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that. I love you so much, and I’m so sorry.” Tears were starting to spill over again, this time not from pleasure. How could you have said all those things to Minho, your Minho?

Minho places a soft hand on your face, gently using his thumb on your chin to make you look into his eyes. You thought you would see annoyance or disbelief there, staring back at you, but all you could see was love in his beautiful boba eyes.

“Jagiya, don’t beat yourself up over this. I was stressed just as much as you, and I should’ve made sure I heard what you said before you left. Actually, I should’ve left those dishes where they were and went with you. We’ve barely spent any time together. Chores be damned, I’ve missed my girlfriend.”

Another tear escapes your eyes, and Minho is quick to catch it with his thumb. His eyes start becoming glassy, fighting back his own tears. “I love you so much,” he continues, “so, so much. And I appreciate you so much. Every little thing you do for me. Every day. I don’t think I’ve expressed that to you enough. I’d wash a million dishes if it meant showing you just how much you mean to me, Y/N.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you pull his face to yours, kissing each other with a sweet passion, trying to communicate just how much you love one another with every press of your lips.

Pulling back slightly, you smirk, a teasing glint in your eye, “Soooo…does that mean you’ll help me wash these sheets tonight?”

Minho laughs, a big smile crinkling his eyes, his cute bunny teeth on full display.

“Uh uh, you’re the one who squirted all over the sheets, that’s your responsibility!” he jokes, pushing at your arm.

Your mouth drops open in humored shock, and you lightly smack his arm as you exclaim, “You’re the one who made me squirt, you sexy jerk! That’s on you!”

Minho lets out another loud laugh, “Okay, okay, I propose a compromise. How about we get you washed first, then throw the sheets in the wash while we watch that one drama we never finished, make the bed when they’re dry, get some good sleep, and we’ll work on the rest of the laundry tomorrow. Together. How does that sound?”

“I think that’s an acceptable compromise,” you mused, sitting up in bed with a theatric hand to your chin.

“On one condition though,” he adds, propping himself up on one elbow.

“What exactly would that be?” You narrow your eyes at him, bracing yourself for whatever this “condition” could be.

“We stay naked the whole time. You don’t have to worry about dirtying more laundry, and I get to stare at your bare ass all day.”

“Minho!”

You lightly throw a pillow at his face and he catches it, tossing it back at you while pulling you back down to him. You’re both giggling, lightly pushing and pulling at each other, hearts light and filled with a kind of happiness only found in the presence of the other.

In that moment, you find yourself grateful for the giant pile of dirty laundry that started this beautiful mess.

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author’s note: this one-shot is inspired by a hard thought I shared with @skzms and @hyungszn, and finally decided I needed to run with it and create my first story post on my blog💜 thank you for your kind words and your own shared thoughts, and thank you to every other creator I’ve interacted on this app! your talent and hard work inspires me✨ and thank you to any one who takes time to read my story. i’d love to hear any feedback🫶

disclaimers: MDNI 18+, will not hesitate to block ageless blogs, so do not interact with my blog you horny gremlins. it’s for your wellbeing, so go outside and touch some grass while the adults keep drowning in their delusions. also, this is a work of fiction and in no way reflects the actual, real-life people these stories are inspired by. any correlation to something in real life is purely coincidental. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE SHARE MY WORK WITHOUT PERSMISSION. thx✌️

[skzoolandia]

Love Said To Soul | lmh

❝𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮?❞

↳ When the God of Love is tasked with humiliating a beautiful mortal girl, he finds himself much vexed to discover her immune to his skills. Determined to discover the root of the problem, he takes to mortal form and embarks upon a dastardly ruse that requires his getting close to her. The God of Love thinks he knows all. The God of Love knows nothing.

↳ Lee Know x female reader

↳ Enemies to lovers romance trope. A retelling of the Greek myth Eros and Psyche. College au, angst and conflict, developing romance and yearning, quest and high stakes, Greek mythology and frequent reference to gods/goddesses etc, fantasy and myth meets modern day, mild drug use, smut throughout.

! Explicit content, adult themes, 20.1k, suitable for 18+ readers only !

「Final part of the skz tropes collab w @yoongihan」 「main contents list」 「© April 2024 by jl-micasea-fics」

“Thus, my dearest son, I charge you with this quest.”

Minho knelt reverently before his mother, head bowed low. Rarely did he question her whims or ways, for what the Goddess Aphrodite coveted, the Goddess Aphrodite claimed, and may the Fates help anyone who stood in her way, kin or otherwise.

Still; this all felt too bizarre.

“May I ask why, mother?”

Aphrodite smiled gently, her eyes—an infinite silvery galaxy of lovers’ souls—trained to him. As self-assured as he was, even Minho’s composure wavered under the gaze of the most apocalyptically beautiful of the twelve Olympians.

“It just seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to for a mortal girl,” he hastily added.

“You are correct, dear child. It is awful trouble. Trouble that I would not have you go to if it had not been ordained that this girl’s beauty will inspire a cult of worshippers that will revere her as the most beautiful creature to ever have lived. As more beautiful than even the Goddess of Love herself. They will make to her sacrifices and votive offerings and pray to her as though she is divine. I cannot have that, child. There is a natural order to things, and we must maintain it.”

Minho supposed that was answer enough.

“Relay to me again what you must do,” Aphrodite said.

“I am to go to her bedroom while she sleeps, and take with me a hog.”

“The hairiest and foulest you can find,” Aphrodite added.

“Yes, mother. I am to shoot her with one of my arrows and ensure that the first thing she sees when she awakes is the beast.”

Aphrodite smiled, her golden skin shimmering under the vast, heavenly sun. “She will fall in love with the monster, thus disgracing herself and ensuring that her Fate shall never come to pass. No mortal shall ever worship a pig-lover!” She laughed, melodic and triumphant.

Compassion in his very nature, Minho could not help but feel a sliver of sympathy for the girl that, for all intents and purposes, was innocent. She could no more control the beauty she was born with than her Fate— now it would be a sad and lonely one. She would be reviled by other mortals and mocked by the Gods, and spend her life in misery.

But an order was an order.

“Go now, my son,” Aphrodite commanded. “Take your bow and quiver, and make without delay to the girl.”

“Yes, mother.”

Minho stood, bowed, and from his divine palace retrieved his golden bow and quiver of enchanted arrows. Forged by Hephaestus and blessed by his mother, the arrows could pierce the heart of any mortal or deity with true, unbreakable love.

Such was his onus, his purpose, his charge as Eros.

--

Minho always enjoyed visiting the mortal world.

It was true that his reason for spending much of his time there pertained to the never-ending demands of love’s machinations, but even on the days when he sought to take a small break, he lounged in the warm waterfalls and on the snowy mountains and near the pellucid oceans, marvelling at the luscious spectacles of Mother Gaia— a different sort of ephemeral elegance to that of his heavenly home.

Mortals entertained him endlessly; such funny, flighty creatures. They warred and fucked and loved and killed and worked so hard for ultimately trivial reward. He often wondered what would have become of them, had Prometheus never gifted them fire. They certainly wouldn’t have built up centuries of civilisation and developed what Minho now overlooked from a wisp of cloud: the University of Oxford. So far as he understood it, this was a place where mortals gathered to learn— a little like the Mouseion, which he was admittedly less familiar with than he ought to have been. More importantly than any of that, however: this was where his charge resided.

Securing his bow and stepping off the cloud, he drifted down and over the sprawling campus on plush, white wings. The cool midnight air flowed through his onyx hair; starlight kissed his deep, rich complexion. A peaceful glide to the ground it would have been, had the ghastly pig strapped to his back not squealed for the duration.

Landing softly on the dewy lawn, Minho wriggled his naked toes on the grass and looked around. The building ahead, domed and Victorian in grand architecture, was signposted ‘Goodhart’. Being the dead of night, there was no sign of life from any of the single-paned windows; just as he had hoped. Invisible as he was to mortal eyes, the pig remained very much discernible. Nothing like a floating farm animal to incite panic.

With a short, sharp hop he glided gracefully up and away from the grass to the top floor, three stories up. Through each window he peered into dark rooms in which girls softly slumbered, until he came upon one that wasn’t: she was sat at her desk, illuminated by the amber glow of a tabletop lamp. Before her was spread textbooks and notepads, pencils and post-its, an open laptop and cold mug of coffee. Minho watched for several moments. She scrawled something to a cluttered page, tapped her laptop and scrolled. She dropped her pen and raised her arms, stretching out her spine and shoulders with satisfying cracks. She yawned and checked the time, then groaned: “Oh, god.” Her head fell to the desk with a heavy sigh.

Minho had counted on her being asleep. This was due to take much longer now that she wasn’t. Resigned to a wait of indeterminate length, he perched on the rooftop ledge above her window, pig tucked between his legs as he laid back and gazed up at the stars and constellations that decorated the now cloudless sky. There was Hercules, favourite son of Heracles, raised up to the heavens by the Cloud Gatherer himself in honour of his father’s legendary labours. There was Aries, the ram to whom the most coveted Golden Fleece once belonged. There was Andromeda, the wife of the great hero Perseus, who saved her from an unthinkable fate at the hands of the foul sea-dwelling monster Cetus. And in admiring these constellations and recounting the tales of ancient times gone by, Minho drifted into a contented sleep.

It was warmth on his skin that stirred him to the twitter of birds and chatter of mortals. Opening his eyes and rubbing them of their crust, he—for a moment—forgot entirely where he was. Indeed, it was the sore twinge to his skin that firstly informed him he was on Earth, and secondly, that he had Helios to thank for the sunburn. Immortality does not equal invulnerability. With a mean glare skywards, he clambered to his feet and stretched out his joints, possessively checking his bow, relieved to find it still where it should be.

It was at that moment that a wailing screech pierced the air, most alarmingly offensive to Minho’s sensitive ears. More commotion stirred and drew him closer; he crossed the ivy-laced rooftop of Goodhart House with nimble proficiency, peering down at the lawn where it seemed a dozen or more students had gathered.

“What do we do?!” He heard a girl cry out.

“Kill it!”

“We can’t kill it, idiot. It’s huge.”

“W— Well, just, get rid of it!”

“How do you suggest we do that?”

“Call security! Call someone!”

Intrigued, Minho hopped from the rooftop and fluttered to a nearby oak on whose thick branch he gently perched. From the gathering of girls, a familiar squeal and snort erupted: Minho froze. With a stroke of bewilderment, he looked down between his legs, then back to the lawn.

Shit.

The girls screamed and parted from their tight cluster as a splotchy, hairy hog barrelled towards them, slavering drool that splashed them as it passed. Over the lawn it charged and across the campus to yet more cries of distant fear and panic, until it disappeared entirely from view. Aflutter with confusion and fright, the girls drew back together, as though expecting yet more horrid creatures to spring from the ground. Luckily for them, Minho was fresh out. In fact, he was just considering where he might obtain a second beast when from the Goodhart building lobby, a girl strolled out. Confidence in her stride and an easy smile on her face, she was rushed by the gaggle of girls, every one of them relaying to her with varying degrees of dramatics what had just occurred. Minho watched intently; she laughed and hugged them, offered assurances and validation. By no small feat she managed to calm them, after which she took her leave, jogging across the lawn and towards the path with books bundled in her arms. Minho followed, from treetop to rooftop across campus until she entered where he could not, disappearing from his sight into a grand school building.

His mother had been right, he thought. She was beautiful; that was, for a mortal girl. After all, Minho had indulged with deities and nymphs the beauty (and flexibility) of which mortals could not utter into words, and so yes; she was beautiful, for a mortal girl. Rather astoundingly beautiful, for a mortal girl. But that was neither here nor there. He had a quest to complete, and was now distinctly lacking the beast required to complete it. He would just have to find another and bring it back. If not a hog, then something equally as detestable.

Something that would appease mother.

--

In the small and dark hours, Minho returned once more to Goodhart.

Pleased this time to see that the girl was slumbering soundly, he braced himself on the sill of the window and pushed it carefully. It gave with no resistance, as did all things he impressed upon. He climbed through it and into the girl’s room, and found himself immediately taken with what he caught wind of: the sweet and tantalising scent of honey— a substance that had something of a catnip-like appeal to Gods and deities in all forms. Minho paused, his mouth watering. The room itself was of no remarkable make: he had visited the habitats of mortal girls before, their comforts and wants manifesting in soft things, light things, warm things, pink things.

In his hand the creature he plotted with stirred and unsettled; he opened his palm and hushed the spindly tarantula softly. Besotted, it twitched its mandibles and allowed Minho to place it at the foot of the bedspread, where it waited. With a grace of movement unique to the Goddess of Love’s offspring, Minho drew his bow from his back and prepared an arrow, aiming at the sleeping girl. This was usually his favourite part; the anticipation, the thrill, watching how his efforts panned out in those few and rare seconds after his arrow struck and the love searched for a home. Perhaps that was why his heart hung heavily as he took a deep breath and loosed the arrow; in this, there was to be no thrill. He acted solely in service to his mother, and while other deities would surely press that that was ample reward in itself, something inside him ached.

Ever sure in its path, the arrow struck the girl in her breast, setting upon her a heat that woke her immediately. She gasped and made a sound akin to a moan: Minho stiffened, struck by it. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, her sleep-warm skin and bed hair appealing to him in ways he had erstwhile made fun of mortals for admiring. Groggy but seemingly able to perceive enough, she blinked at the end of her bed; at the patient tarantula that sat there. She shook her head, rubbed her eyes again, grimaced and took another look. The tarantula shimmied its eight legs. Certain that his mission had been a success, Minho could bear to watch no longer; he moved to the open window, braced himself upon the sill.

“How on earth did you get in here?”

He turned back. The girl rose carefully from bed and retrieved the glass of water from her bedside, rushing to the window where he stood. A mere inch from him and yet completely unaware, she tossed the water over the sill, the streaming moonlight briefly bathing her face. Minho swallowed and watched as she grabbed a slip of paper from her desk. With care and precise technique, she slipped the paper under the spider, poised the glass atop it, and trapped it.

“You don’t belong here,” she said softly, moving back to the window; back to Minho. “Here, little one. Go home safely now.”

Stretching across him, she leaned out to a gathering of strong ivy that crawled across the close facia. She released the creature onto it, smiling as it clicked its mandibles and scuttled away.

Several things crossed Minho’s mind as he held his breath and waited for the girl to move away. The first was that something, somewhere, had clearly gone awfully wrong. What just happened was not the work of a woman obsessively in love with a horrible spider, but rather that of a pitying Samaritan. The next thing he considered was perhaps more confounding than his failure: he had broken into a clammy sweat, his heart pounded, his vision swum with her nearness. The God of love loves all, loves unconditionally, loves fairly. He does not fall in love.

Thirdly and finally, he thought the worst of all.

He had failed his mother.

Aphrodite was not to be failed.

--

“What is it that you mean to tell me, exactly?”

Aphrodite sat poised on her regal throne of curved ram’s horns and silk, her infinite beauty radiating beneath her golden skin and through her calm, silvery eyes. Her hair, braided intricately and woven with wildflowers, seemed to throb and glow with the very essence of life and love. Minho knelt before her and summoned his courage.

“I mean to say, mother, that I failed.”

Aphrodite brought her palm to her chin. “I do not understand, dear child.”

“I failed to curse her, mother. It just... It didn’t work.”

“So you said. Therein lies my perplexment. You said your arrow struck her?”

“Yes, mother.”

“And yet she remained unaffected?”

“Yes, mother. She didn’t fall in love at all.”

“You must have missed.”

Minho looked up, about to voice his protest when Aphrodite spoke again, “The arrows of Eros cannot be defied. Whomsoever is struck by them must fall in love with the first creature they then see. That is, and always will be, the way of things.”

“But, mother—”

“You must go back down to Earth. Back to the girl. Make sure your aim is true this time.”

“Mother, it wasn’t my aim that was off, it was something else—”

“Are you suggesting there is a defect in Hephaestus’s weapon?” she asked. “Should we visit your uncle together and put this to him?”

Minho swallowed. “No, mother.”

Aphrodite smiled. “Very well then. It is decided. You shall go back to Earth and do a thorough job of things.”

Minho stood from his kneel, anxiety turning over in him. Whatever help he had sought to gain from his mother clearly wasn’t his to take, and so he would have to figure this one out on his own.

“And, darling?”

“Yes, mother?”

“Do not come back until the deed is done.”

Minho nodded dutifully, his heart sunk low.

“Yes, mother.”

--

Now, things were personal.

Not only had the mortal girl somehow resisted his arrows, embarrassed him in front of his mother—a woman whose opinion mattered to him above anyone—but she had also earned him effective banishment. There was no doubt in his mind that his mother’s warning was to be interpreted literally: he would not be allowed to return to heaven or his palace until his task was complete, and so what had begun as a run-of-the-mill task was now a quest of redemption. Minho simply despised working harder than he had to.

So, yes. This was personal.

The more he thought on it, the more he supposed his mother to be right. He must have missed. Yes, it looked an awful lot like he struck her clean in the breast— before this he’d have sworn his immortality on it. And yes, he had never been known to miss a shot, ever. And yes; she reacted as he had witnessed every other mortal react in the afterglow of the landing shot. But still. He must have missed. There could be no other explanation.

Resigned to a third attempt, Minho returned at night to Goodhart. This time, he would watch a while longer. He most definitely wouldn’t take to the (rather comfortable) rooftop and admire the constellations; this was serious business, and he ought to treat it as such. Gliding up to her window and perching on the exterior sill, he was surprised to see the room empty. It was late: late enough for most mortals to be going about their quaint evening routines, such as they were. The desk lamp was switched on and a gathering of clothes was strewn about the unkempt bed alongside an open, transparent toiletry bag. A closed laptop balanced atop the bedside table, where also rested stacked books of romance fiction. White, fluffy slippers peeked out from beneath the bed’s skirt, the small wardrobe door had been left ajar. It was curiosity that drove him to crack open the window, and from inside he once again caught the delectable scent that had so tempted him the night before: honey. It warmed him and made his mouth water, the sweet notes inspiring a rumble in his gut that he mentally hushed—as though it could be heard—when the door opened and the girl walked in. Robed in merely a thin towel, her hair wet about her shoulders, he held his breath and gawked. Something about her—something he couldn’t explain but most desperately wished to—was inexplicably appealing. On her entrance the smell of sweet nectar strengthened, and Minho widened the gap in the window to steal a stronger whiff. She shivered and wrapped her arms about herself, glancing to the window that, to her mind, was swinging loosely.

“Thought I’d closed you,” she mumbled, crossing the room and leaning again into Minho’s space. His heart thumped as she reached out to close it: confoundingly annoying, but what good was it to deny?

And then, something quite unfathomable happened.

She froze mid-reach, and stared at Minho.

--

You had never been the type to much believe in fairy tales, myth or folklore.

Being a student of the arts, you were aware enough that such tales were always a product of their time and culture, born to serve one purpose or another. Urban legends to keep folk from the woods at night, fables to sow the seeds of conformity, myths to elevate men to the status of Gods, for hubris and ambition does much to produce good literature.

So does insanity, for its part, and that was precisely what you felt to be stewing in as you looked upon the barely corporeal form of a creature—a man? —perched daintily on your windowsill. He was naked save for a thin white skirt that seemed not to touch him, but float about him. A broad and firm chest tapered to a svelte waist and thick, muscled thighs. Hair of impossible black framed features that you could not entirely comprehend for their beauty, and as though to that end, his face remained a blur save for the shimmering silver of eyes that stared back. A pair of feathery, white wings closed around and under him, and this, you promptly decided, could not be real. If you were to touch him, he would disappear. And so you reached out, hand trembling and warming the nearer you got, as though pushing your arm into a pocket of hot steam. The angel(?) watched, statuesque, and as the very tips of your fingers grazed the smooth upper chest that you were sure you would simply pass through, a pop erupted, as though piercing a vacuum. An extraordinary bout of colour bloomed and spread across his skin, the opaque veil giving way to an iridescent, dazzling gold that shimmered and sparked under the moonlight, yet where your fingers had touched was a deep, purple blotch— a scar on perfection. His features cleared and you saw him with perfect clarity: sharp yet feminine, strikingly gorgeous with plush lips and strong brow. Like nothing you’d ever seen; nothing that ever should be seen. Despite your wants you cried out in shock, recoiled, and slammed the window shut. The angel flitted from the sill, great wings beating gracefully as it hovered for but a moment, spun around, and darted away into the night.

Sleep did not come that night.

Nor did the angel, ever again.

--

She saw him.

She tried to touch him.

Never in all his centuries had Minho experienced such a thing, and were he not on such frosty terms with his mother, he would have turned to her for advice, for he found himself utterly confounded.

A mortal girl saw him.

Had a part of him somehow broken? Was she not mortal after all? Had there been some cosmic imbalance that simply happened to allow for the veil between worlds to thin with comically inopportune timing? Minho had no answers, and knew his frantic worrying would produce none. Thus, he resolved to a plan. The way he saw it, all attempts made so far had depended on his stealth and gentile as Eros, God of Love. Therefore, perhaps a different approach was called for; an approach that would put him in direct contact with the girl that he might work her out— he would have to if he hoped to curse her and appease his mother. Working in the shadows had earned him nothing but a headache.

It was time to step into the light.

--

The Oxford university cafeteria was not a place one went to eat their lunch.

No; the cafeteria was a grand old affair more fitting the pages of Hogwarts, and was treated as such. A hub of activity for passing students that would meet between lectures or seminars to spread the campus gossip like Burberry-clad town criers. It amused you to play a small part in it; you would listen when the girls from your house clucked and fussed over the slightest thing that, if nothing else, distracted from the general stresses of undergraduate life. Ever aware of the way you carried yourself—mother had made sure to drill that one down since birth—you received all news with a complacent smile, unaffected.

Such was the plan today— to pass through on your way to your next class, touch base with the latest triviality, and carry on your day. Yet as you stepped into the high-ceilinged cafeteria and looked around, something struck you as distinctly different.

The whole place was abuzz, humming with chatter and the excited exclamations. Students gathered tightly around the benches and tables, those newly arrived being swarmed upon by peers that sought to be the first to tell them the great news: news you would soon come into possession of.

“Hey!” Your good friend and classmate, Gina, called to you. “Over here!”

You rushed to her, backpack tight to your shoulder. “What on earth’s going on?” you asked. “Half the student body must be here.”

“Girl, you haven’t heard?”

“Haven’t heard what?”

“Oh my God—” She turned to the girl behind her, tapped her shoulder. “She hasn’t heard yet!”

The girl gasped. “You haven’t?! Everyone’s talking about it!”

“Talking about what?”

“I can’t believe you haven’t—”

“Gina.” You pinned her with a stern glare. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Gina drew closer, her voice no lower despite the closed distance as she said, “There’s a new student.”

“A... What? Is that it?”

“He’s not just any student,” she added.

“I heard his biological mother owns Gucci,” a nearby girl added.

“I heard he’s a self-made billionaire,” said another.

“You’re both wrong. He’s the Dean’s son,” Gina tutted.

You held a hand up, head spinning. “Wait. Time out. All this fuss is over a new student?”

“Gucci heir.”

“Billionaire!”

“Dean’s son—”

You rolled your eyes at the objecting chorus. “Whatever. He’s still just a student.”

Gina shook her head. “You clearly haven’t met him.”

“I don’t need to meet him.”

“Oh yeah?” Gina stared over your shoulder. “That’s too bad, because you’re about to.”

You followed her gaze, as did every other student present. The cafeteria burst into a fuss of noise, whispered elation and an air of giddy delight that infected even you with the way your heart pounded indiscriminately. Through a convenient gap in the crowd you looked across to the gently swinging double doors where a person had just entered: a man. A man that met your eyes as soon as yours did his, through tinted sunglasses that utterly failed to conceal the liquid mercury beneath. Under your skin bloomed a molten wanting unlike anything hitherto felt, and in the next breath, a dizzy spell of desire. Mid-length hair the colour of onyx and skin near unsettlingly flawless, it felt merciful to look away from him; to right yourself and steady your feet. Leather jacket tight about his broad shoulders, the man grinned and with no more than a single stride attracted to him the swarm of students that each sought to introduce themselves and make friendly, Gina included. At home amongst the chaos, the man took it all in and with apparent gratitude, unphased by the riot he incited. It took all possible strength to turn and briskly cross the cafeteria, the more distance put between you and them, the better.

Outside and with the summer sun offering a calming warmth of clarity to your head and shoulders, you diverted from the path to the lawn and stopped near a willow tree for breath. It had been all too much. All too reminiscent of your own experience as a naïve Fresher— how the ‘hottest girl on campus’ had been so violently hitched to her pedestal.

“Hello.”

With a shriek you whirled around: there he was. Sunglasses removed and sitting backwards on his head, silver pools of liquid metal pinned you from under strands of thick black.

“Wh— What?”

The man smiled; white, dazzling. “I said hello.”

“Hello?”

“Isn’t that what people say when they meet for the first time?”

You shook your head, scrambling for sense. The shadow of the leafy canopy above danced over the grass, disorienting. As though nature itself responded to his very presence as your peers did.

“But this...” You swallowed, summoned the nerve to look at him. “This isn’t the first time we’ve met.”

--

Minho’s ichor ran cold— a first for a man whose heavenly blood was perpetually warmed by divinity.

“We’ve never met,” he said flatly, as much to convince himself as her.

In truth, he thought she’d be purged of the memory of that murky evening by now, humans so fickle in their recollection. It had been over a week ago. She blinked, the dazzlement in her eyes such that it made Minho wonder if his mortal shell was sufficient in containing his glorious beauty.

“I know you,” she muttered. “I know your face.”

Minho’s heart throbbed.

“I thought it was a dream, but—”

Seeing an opportunity, he leapt at it. “Funny,” he smarmed. “People do like to tell me I’m the stuff of dreams.”

And just like that, she appeared to snap to herself. She grimaced and turned away, starting over the lawn.

“It’s rude to walk away from someone without even asking their name,” he said, keeping up with her.

“I already know your name.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. It’s all anyone in the cafeteria was saying.”

He laughed. “You sound upset about that.”

“Not nearly as upset as I am about being followed.”

“You could always ask me why I’m following you.”

She stopped abruptly and huffed, “Why are you following me, Minho?”

Never had a mortal addressed him by human name— it felt somehow more intimate than the acts he’d indulged in a hundred times or more.

He cleared his throat, stood tall. “You’re the student superintendent for Goodhart, yes?”

She cast a wary eye over him. “I am.”

From his pocket, he retrieved a small, silver key with a wooden tag attached. The number on the tag read ‘307’.

“I’m moving in,” he beamed.

It was her turn to laugh; melodic and bright. Somehow cutting. “Goodhart is a girl’s only house,” she said.

“It was.”

“Excuse me?”

“It was a girl’s only house. Up until about six hours ago.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Cool. You don’t need to. I just need you to show me to my room. It’s this way, right?”

He started off over the lawn, hands in jacket pockets, thoroughly pleased with himself. With a little luck (and maybe an offering or two to his mother), things would continue to go according to plan. He’d have this mortal worked out and trussed up in love with a snake before teatime.

How pleased Aphrodite would be.

--

It was all so wrong.

How was it that a centuries-long tradition could be so readily abandoned for the sake of a rich boy that apparently possessed more connections than the London underground?

Walking briskly down the halls of Goodhart—halls that you had come to love for their quirky colourings and touch of lived-in neglect—you nursed the mortification that swirled about you. It didn’t help that every girl you passed looked on Minho with abject delight and warm welcomes; he was already at home in a place he had no business calling home.

You pointed down the third-floor hall from the top of the connecting staircase.

“Your room is down there,” you said. “On the left.”

Minho hummed. “Cool. Let’s go.”

“I have a lecture.”

You spun on your heel and started down the stairs, only for the man to jump into your path.

“Don’t you have to give me some kind of induction?” he pressed. “As the superintendent, it’s only right you tell me where the fire exits are.”

A hot whirl of irritation barely suppressed the urge to tell him where he could stick his fire exits: you forced a smile instead, and nodded.

“Right. Sure. This way, then.”

Heading down the third-floor hall with him in close pursuit, you began upon a cold realisation. Perhaps the onslaught of emotion had befuddled you enough that you completely missed what was easily the most horrifying thing of all this: room 307 was next to yours.

Minho was your neighbour.

You stopped outside 307’s door. “This is it.”

Minho grinned. “Excellent.”

He took the key from his pocket and unlocked it, stepping inside what was a typical space for university accommodation. A modestly sized room with nothing more than a desk and bed supplied. It fell to the students to make it theirs, so to speak. The white-framed window looked out to the summery lawn, just as yours did. He strolled inside, hands in his leather jacket pockets, peered out of the window and inspected the ceiling, the bed and then you. 

“Fire exits are at both ends of the hall,” you quickly said from the door. “And there’s an emergency escape connected to 301. Got it?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“There’s no curfew and, uh,” you cleared your throat. “No rules on who you can bring back and such. Just remember you’re not the only one who lives here.”

He scanned you coolly. “I’m well aware of that.”

“Good. Well, then.” With a curt nod, you went to leave.

“You’re 306, aren’t you?”

You stopped short, seized with disbelief. “What?”

“You live next door,” he repeated. “We’re neighbours.”

“H— How do you even know that?”

Minho shrugged. “Am I not supposed to know?”

Confounded, you were lost for words. He strolled leisurely around the bed.

“You’re popular on campus,” he said. “I hear people talking about you.”

“Really?” You scoffed. “I’m shocked you could hear anything beyond what everyone seems to be saying about you.”

“It’s funny,” he continued, ignorant of your remark.

“What is?”

“That they say so much about you without actually saying a thing.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Well,” he sighed, perching on the bare mattress. “They say you’re beautiful. Gorgeous, even. That you’ve got an ass to die for and a killer smile.” He raked his gaze over you. “You’re the hottest girl on campus.”

“They can say what they want, I really don’t care. I’m used to it.”

“Right. But it’s all so... vapid. Don’t you think? There’s no substance to it. Seems to me like not a single one of them actually know you. They just know you for what they see. They’re not interested in peering beneath the tight ass and lovely smile.”

You stared at a patch on the brown carpet.

“Is that their fault, or yours?” he asked.

“I’m done with this conversation,” you snapped, turning back to the door.

“I heard about the Fresher’s ball.”

You stopped and swallowed, heat warming your face. “The Fresher’s ball was a mistake.”

“Yeah. You would say that. Getting so drunk you made out with the entire rugby team?”

“That’s not true,” you snapped. “I got drunk, yes, and I know I made a fool of myself, but nothing like that happened. It’s just a nasty rumour.”

Minho shrugged. “Not for me to judge, darling.” He pursed his lips, then added, “Regardless, your peers seem to adore you. The way you look, anyway.”

“Are you done? I don’t know who the hell you think you are but my life is not a soap that you can just tune into for your own amusement. I don’t care what people say about me; I never have.” You turned away from him. “Leave me alone.”

And with an abrupt slam of his door, you left his room to rush to your own. In the solitude and quiet and after deep breaths taken to ease the dreaded panic that had begun to sink in, it was to your own irritation that tears pricked and streaked your cheeks. Nothing he had said was new; you were aware enough of the reason boys smiled at you and girls flocked to you, somehow hoping your acclaimed ‘beauty’ might rub off on them in however shallow a manner. Such had always been the way of things, ever since you were young. Overfamiliar uncles cooing at your pretty face, jealous aunts shunning you. High school friends lost to petty crushes that turned eyes on you, strangers that stared and whispered. You had hoped for a new start with the chapter of university, and for a while, things had been better. You’d been just another student of low profile, had kept to yourself, had protected your peace.

All until the damn Fresher’s ball.

One moment of weakness and indulgence in excess had ruined it: all eyes had a reason to turn to you as you revelled and danced with more suggestive intonation than you would ever have otherwise dared, and they hadn’t turned away since. Rumours abounded of your state and activity after the ball, ranging from those Minho had heard and of far more explicit affairs, none of them true. Unwilling to dig to the root of the whispers, you simply turned away from it, choosing above all else to carry yourself the way you had always done under lustful eyes: with quiet dignity.

Who was this man to throw all that in your face? To so brazenly trample on your boundaries? Whether Dean’s son or Gucci heir or self-made billionaire, it was clear he possessed an appalling level of entitlement, and was someone to be avoided. Just what he hoped to gain from such rash treatment of a stranger, you couldn’t be sure, but promptly decided it was not worth your energy to work out.

You would carry yourself the way you had always done.

--

The mystery of Minho’s identity prevailed for longer than you cared to acknowledge.

He hefted his wants around campus with reckless abandon, and by now it was certain that you were the only one mourning the all-female occupation of Goodhart House, for the other girls were nothing but pleased by the male addition.

Indeed, neither an eye was blinked nor a question asked as to his means of securing a place at Goodhart, much less Oxford on the whole. The man seemed to don the shroud of myth— every word passed around and about him painted a thrilling picture: he was everything the students wished him to be and more, for never once did he deny a rumour. An image forged in gossip is one susceptible to warping, and if Minho played into that, it was lost on the student body. Rather, he was welcomed with more abject favouritism than you had ever witnessed; you might have drowned in the second-hand embarrassment of your peers if not for the glowering contempt you stewed in upon for the fact that the detestable man was now your neighbour.

And yes, you were self-aware enough to admit a pull of attraction that you kept as close to your pride as your dignity. You’d rather be seen dead than join the gaggle of groupies that worshipped his every move and hung on his every word.

Thus far, you had done a stalwart job of avoiding him. A fortnight with no run-ins had confirmed that, inasmuch as you could tell, you had no classes together nor crossover seminars, no reason to interact. Yet through all this, the glimpses you would catch of his jet-black head and the trill of his laughter from next door provoked an unease: what was this familiarity you felt? Why were you the only one that seemed to notice how his eyes shimmered with the light of a cosmos?

Best to put it out of your mind, lest your mind put out of you.

On the Friday evening you nursed your well-loved copy of Wuthering Heights, contemplating between long paragraphs just what Heathcliff’s redeeming qualities were intended to be. While all for reading between the lines, it seemed to you that any virtue of character should not be so difficult to find.

Situated comfortably on the inner sill of your bedroom window and looking out, it was another fair night. The moon hung bright and clear over the distant woods and town of Oxford, the sky utterly clear of a cloud. Perhaps it had been a cloud that night, that you saw. A cloud in the form of an angel, sent to you by sleep deprivation and an overdose of caffeine.

A knock on your door drew your attention; supposing it would be one of the regular girls stopping by to regale you with their Friday night antics, you rushed over and threw it open.

How your heart seized in your chest.

Eyes of mercury assessed you from under damp raven strands.

“Good evening,” Minho said.

Too bewildered to much reply, he breathed a soft laugh at your dazzlement.

“May I come in?”

“What?”

“Can I come in?” he asked again, emphasising a glance into your room that reared a bout of self-consciousness.

“N— No. Go away.”

“I come with offerings,” he said, tapping the plastic Tupperware box tucked under his arm that had somehow gone unnoticed. “Fudge brownies. A little birdie told me they’re your favourite.”

You folded your arms defensively. “Did they now?”

Minho cocked a brow. “They were wrong?”

“N— No. I suppose not.”

He grinned, utterly disarming. “I feel like you and I got off on the wrong foot, so to speak,” he said gently. “I’d like to start again. Get to know each other. Clean slate. We’re neighbours, after all.”

“I don’t think—”

He held the Tupperware box up. “Please?”

You huffed an indignant sigh.

Might have to strangle a birdie or two.

--

Minho had no experience with human narcotics.

Indeed, the closest divine equivalent was the concoction of ambrosia, and that—if the Sky Father’s behaviour was anything to judge by—induced the sort of buzz that mortals gained from an excess of wine. There was no substance in heaven or on Earth that could so impact the Gods the way he had seen man-made narcotics impact humans; though he desired no such extremity tonight. He had simply taken the advice of those keen mortals that surrounded him, given when he had subtly enquired as to the real nature of his target: “She’s uptight, man. Super hot, but uptight. She needs to relax, smoke a little. It’ll help her unclench. Man, can you imagine her high? No, yeah, I know she doesn’t smoke, but like— She likes brownies, right? She always buys those little fudge ones from the cafeteria. I’d love to see her eat a moon cake. I bet she’d get totally wild, just like that one time at the ball.”

Thus, a plan emerged.

Stepping into her room was the first hurdle overcome: he had been fully braced for a door slam to the face. Instead, he found himself pleasantly surprised, and then somewhat concerned, for it was clear by now that that not even his mortal disguise could completely conceal his divine appeals from her. Where other mortals saw a dark and handsome man, she saw beyond it. The way she stared and how her heartbeat quickened told of it all. Worse still that he seemed to respond in kind— but no, he could not even entertain it. His visit carried a purpose, and that was to get to the bottom of what made her so special.

“Nice place,” he said as he looked briefly around, not to impress discomfort upon the girl.

“Thanks. It’s the same as every other in this building.”

Minho chuckled. She was possessed of a sense of humour, at least.

“You were reading?” he asked, idly flipping the cover of Wuthering Heights that sat on the bedside table. He hadn’t read it himself, but recalled the sister Muses’s boasts from the time of its inception: what promising devotees they claimed those Bronte’s would be.

“Yeah.”

“A touch on the heavy side for a Friday night, no?”

She shrugged, arms wrapped around herself. “I like it.”

“You read a lot?”

“I mean; yeah. English Lit student.”

“Ah. A romantic, then.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“All arts students are romantics, darling.”

He sat at the foot of the bed, Tupperware box in his lap, quietly pleased with how her heart sounded to have skipped a beat at the endearment.

“Join me?” he asked, tapping the space at his side.

She cleared her throat and swallowed, moving stiffly to the desk where she pulled out the chair. Minho watched in amusement, but did not contest. He snapped open the Tupperware box to the velvety rich scent of chocolate, humming in delight: a deity he might be, but just as susceptible to the serotonin of indulgent food. Neatly sliced brownies sat on paper towel, and he offered the box to her first. She eyed it warily.

“They’re just brownies,” he lied.

A purse of her lips and she contemplated something: whatever it was, it quickly passed.

“Thank you,” she sighed, dipping into the box and retrieving the topmost brownie.

“You’re welcome, darling.”

Minho helped himself to one, wishing almost that he could join the girl on the trip she was about to take. It’d be fun to witness, nonetheless. With inhibitions lowered and her true state of mind brought to the forefront, he’d surely discover what it was that blessed her so. What it would take to make her fall in love with the most horrible thing he could find. What he had to do to—

“Mhm.”

A small but sure groan of appreciation made Minho’s fine hairs stand on end: he paused his own consumption to watch her, her face aglow with warm delight. Chocolate on her lips begged to be illicitly removed; Minho swallowed, yearning thrumming under his skin.

“Is this why everyone on campus adores you?” she asked after a moment.

“W— What?”

“You bribe them,” she said, pointedly glancing to the Tupperware box.

Minho scoffed. “I don’t need to bribe people into liking me. It comes naturally.”

“Does your modesty come naturally too?”

“You know; you’re awfully abrasive with me. Did I do something to offend you?”

She shrugged, took another bite of brownie. “No. You’re not that powerful.”

He smirked. “Then what is it?”

“I suppose I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“You.” She licked her lips. “Nothing about you seems real. There are so many rumours about you and you don’t deny or correct a single one.”

He quirked a brow. “You think I should?”

“I think anyone that puts any value in their identity should, yes. I have a past. A home. I know where I came from and who I am. If I heard people saying otherwise, I'd want to put them right about it.”

She licked her fingers, one by one, the sweet and tempting chocolate coating her tongue. Minho crossed his legs.

“Tell me about them,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“Tell me about your past. Your home. Where you came from and who you are.”

“We weren’t talking about me—”

“We are now.”

She blinked, swallowing the last bite of brownie and, once again, darted her tongue out over shiny lips. Minho followed the movement of it slowly, wondered how sweet she’d be to kiss, drew his attention back to her eyes where she, too, had been watching him. She cleared her throat abruptly.

“I, uh...” She shrugged a shoulder. “Well. I was born in a small village. There was nothing much to do growing up, so I read a lot. Too much, my mother used to say. She never really understood why I liked it, and I never really had the energy to explain.”

Minho nodded. “What did your parents do?”

“Mum was an artist. A sculptor, mostly, though she did paint too.”

“And your father?”

“I never knew him.”

“Never?”

She shook her head.

“Your mother didn’t tell you anything about him?” he pressed.

“Nothing I could have believed.”

“Such as?”

“It’s not even worth talking about—”

“Humour me.”

She hummed. “Well, she... I mean, you have to understand that Mum wasn’t a well woman. She had strange beliefs. Acted oddly. It got worse as she got older. Towards the end, not a thing she said made sense. She told me that...” She hesitated.

“Go on,” Minho encouraged.

“She said that my father was a god. As in; an actual god. He pursued her relentlessly, apparently. Sent her gifts and showered her with affection. Was obsessed with her. Eventually she caved and fell in love with him, then they made me, but he had to return to... wherever the hell he came from. I don’t know.”

Minho’s palms grew clammy; he set the Tupperware box on the bed. “I see.”

“I told you; she was completely delusional.” She stood and reached for another brownie, breaking a piece off and popping it into her mouth. “The story changed every time. Sometimes he came to her as a man, sometimes as a snake, or a stallion. For all her berating of my reading, she had a wicked imagination of her own.” She swallowed the brownie piece, broke off another. “I’m pretty sure he was just someone from the village. I really don’t care either way.”

Minho did not hear much of what was said after— he couldn’t over the rush of ichor that deafened him. It could not be true: it made no sense to be true.

“As for who I am,” she continued, oblivious. “I’m nothing special.”

“I very much contest that.”

She scoffed, breaking off yet more brownie and eating it. “You don’t know me even nearly well enough.”

“I’d like to,” he said.

She eyed him. “Why?”

“Why not? Can't we get to know each other?”

“Alright then,” she smacked her lips, set the brownie chunk aside and dusted her hands against each other. “Your turn. Dispel the illusion for me.”

Minho chuckled. What earlier cold dread had settled on him began to thaw.

“I could just feed you a pack of lies,” he said.

“You could.”

He held her gaze, the dim moonlight streaking her features.

“Swear that you won’t,” she muttered.

 Swear? To swear was to forge an oath; to forge an oath was divine. Under normal circumstances he would shy away from such a hefty obligation, but this...

“Alright.” He nodded. “I swear.”

With a slight smile, she asked, “Where’s home?”

“Far from here.”

“Where do you come from?”

“I was born in the mountains.”

“You swore you wouldn’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

She pursed her lips. “Okay... Who are you, Lee Minho?”

“I am the God of Love, sent to Earth by my mother Aphrodite to curse you for being too beautiful.”

She blinked, her shoulders drawn tight. A moment of tense silence passed, and in the next instant, she burst into laughter, doubling over herself on the chair. She cackled and guffawed until she cried, and Minho found himself not only enraptured with the sound of her joy, but elated at being the cause of it. If indeed, he truly was.

“It’s a zero for originality,” she whimpered on a laugh. “You can’t just steal my stories like that and twist them!”

Minho watched in amusement.

“Also— you promised no lies. That’s an even bigger zero.”

She picked up the last chunk of brownie she’d set aside, pushing it past her lips with a giggle that carried for long minutes as she chewed contentedly. She swallowed and sighed, brought her legs up to cross under her, swivelling gently in the desk chair.

“Imagine being the God of Love,” she mumbled. “Must be bloody awful.”

Minho hummed. “You think so?”

“Yeah. For sure. Imagine being surrounded by love all the time— every second of every minute of every day.” She shuddered dramatically. “Couldn’t be me.”

“But you are surrounded by love,” he said. “It takes many different forms, you know. Friends, family, faith.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Fornication.”

She coughed suddenly, looking anywhere but at him. Endearing warmth pooled under the simmering yearning that resided in Minho; how much longer he could keep it wrested, he wasn’t sure.

“I imagine being a God of Love to be great fun,” he said. “I imagine they might get into all sorts of mischief.”

“I don’t like mischief.”

“Everybody likes a bit of mischief.”

She shook her head. “Not me. I’d much rather—” She yawned. “I’d much rather live a quiet life.”

Minho hummed, watching as she wilted on her seat. She sat bolt upright on feeling herself sag, blinking rapidly.

“I don’t, uh...” She put a hand to her forehead. “I don’t think I feel very well.”

“What’s wrong, darling?”

“I...” She slipped her legs from under her, made an attempt to stand that ended futilely; Minho quickly rose and caught her weight. To restrain what burned in him; what the God of Love so easily took when the urges presented, was a goliath task.

“S— Sorry,” she mumbled, and tried to move from him, only to stagger once more.

“I’ve got you,” he said. “Want to lie down?”

“No. I just—” She gripped his arms tightly, let herself lean into his strong frame. The thin cotton of clothing under her hands seemed to fascinate her; she released the grip and, transfixed, began to stroke softly, her touch wandering from bicep to shoulder to chest. Minho hoped she could not feel the way his heart throbbed under her hand; she looked up at him, eyes glassy and rounded with adoration.

“You are... so pretty,” she mumbled, touching softly his cheek, his jaw. “So, so pretty.”

Heat flared under his skin, singing what sense he possessed.

“I thought you—” She grinned lazily. “I thought you were the angel. It came to me, you know. Right to my window. It was the prettiest thing I've ever seen. Then I saw you.”

He sucked in a sharp breath; much more praise and the swelling in his groin would not be so ignored.

She cupped his face with warm hands. “I don’t really like you. But I do like you. You make me—” She narrowed her eyes, blinked slowly. “You make me want to do things I’ve never even thought about before. Bad things.”

“Bad things?”

She nodded, then pressed a finger to his lips. “I’ll never admit that to you, though. Just so you know.”

The already abused thread of Minho’s self-control frayed and worried; he gently removed her hand, took her wrists in hold. To remove himself was the wise thing to do; she was not herself, and he was not so virtuous as to resist much longer.

 “It’ll be our secret, then,” he said.

“Mhm.”

“Why don’t you lie down for a bit, darling? You’re not feeling well.”

“I’m fine.”

“Of course. Just try it. For me.”

She shook her head, about to protest when in the next instant, a sallow and sickly look of panic came over her.

“I— I think I’m going to be—”

And with a short, retching heave, she threw up over Minho’s slippers, sweats and the rest of the brownies in the open Tupperware box.

There was hardly a shred of grace to be found in the rest of the evening, the responsibilities of caregiver taken on board. Minho cleaned both of them up, set the girl to bed with surprising lack of resistance on her part, and once sure that she was free of cramps and convulsions, retired himself to the roof of Goodhart.

Wired and utterly unable to sleep, he watched the constellations until he could think without the red mist of lust impeding him. In doing so, the cold realisation he had earlier felt on hearing her mother’s story returned to him. He would not have entertained it had the finer details not rung so true to a certain Olympian King and Cloud Gatherer’s famous behaviour. Indeed, it would certainly explain her invulnerability to his arrows and her uncanny intuition as to Minho’s nature: not much would escape a daughter of Zeus.

But then; if true, how had it gone unnoticed by Aphrodite? Surely she would know of the girl’s lineage. Surely all Olympians would know, for Zeus made no secret of his bastards and indeed, cultivated a long line of offspring from mortals, demi-gods, minor deities and nymphs all, much to Hera’s (equally as famous) wrath.

He would think on it, he decided. If nothing else, he was further along in working her out than he had been several hours ago, and with no thanks to the moon cakes. A stupid idea, to attempt to relax her through such unpredictable means in the hopes she might talk or reveal some mystery.

He would apologise tomorrow. Perhaps find her a gift.

All for the quest, of course.

--

You awoke feeling distinctly like a beaten piñata.

Your head throbbed steadily and a nausea lingered, rolling dangerously on your attempt to get up and out of bed. Trudging to the window, you threw it open and gulped in the fresh mid-morning air, warmed by summer’s sun and redolent of the nearby woods, earthen and faintly floral. A musk hung about your room; not one that was generally familiar to you, but it was reminiscent of the night before; of a sudden drowsy warmth and hands touching things they most definitely shouldn’t have. With a grimace and under the chill of mortification, you got dressed and tried to make presentable, quietly leaving your room and heading next door.

A deep breath preceded your soft knock: for a moment you thought it too soft to be heard, but it quickly opened to reveal a shower-fresh, modern-day Adonis— not even your sickly state could perturb the way you stared. A wet towel was slung over his sloped shoulders, the twisted ends hanging over curved pectorals. The rest of him was entirely naked, his skin still wet and catching the gentle light of the morning that shone in streaks through the half-drawn blinds. Dripping, dark strands framed rosy, handsome features. Veined biceps flexed as he held the door, and following the line of his body, you saw a wave of slight abs, svelte waistline, shapely hips, a fine dusting of hair that crept from his groin to his navel; a happy trail, so delightful as to make your mouth water.

As for what hung between his legs— well, it seemed to you on first glance that he possessed three of them.

Minho cleared his throat, apparently as mystified as you.

“H— Hi.”

“Sorry—” You snapped back to yourself. “Jesus. Sorry. I, uh— I’ll come back.”

“No, don’t. Just give me a second?”

He quickly disappeared, though left the door ajar, the sounds of rummaging and changing heard. When he reappeared, he was mercifully clothed in sweats and a black shirt.

“Come in,” he said.

“I... I really can come back if it’s a bad time—”

“It’s not. Come in.”

Compliance came courtesy of his authoritative tone, and in stepping into his room, you were surprised to see it so sparse. Aside from the wardrobe and larger than average bed, there was nothing that denoted even an ounce of personality; no posters, no books, no belongings. Nothing to suggest it was even lived in at all, if not for the presence of the man himself.

“I haven’t had time to decorate yet,” he said intuitively.

You nodded, though quietly doubtful, and wandered to the open window where at least you could call on the fresh air to keep you grounded. While clothed, he was no less dazing to be around.

“I just wanted to—”

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Not great.”

Minho, holding position at the other side of the room, looked downtrodden.

“Nothing a few paracetamols won’t fix, I'm sure,” you added lightly.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“What? I’m the one that should be apologising, I behaved like a—”

“You have nothing to apologise for. You were only like that because of me. It’s my fault.”

Confused, you watched as he came closer, raked a hand through his slowly drying hair.

“There was, uh...” He licked his lips. “There was marijuana in the brownies.”

Dumbfounded, you could only blink.

“I thought they might loosen you up,” he continued.

“Loosen me up?”

“It was a stupid, ridiculous idea. I know that. I’m so sorry. If I'd known how badly you’d react to it—”

“You drugged me!?”

Minho flinched. “I... I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”

“That's what it is, Minho. You drugged me. You fed me drugs without my knowledge or consent. I’ve never taken any kind of drug, let alone eaten it. You—” Too enraged to find the words, you gesticulated wildly. “Fuck. You.”

Storming past him with a succinct shoulder barge, Minho caught you by the wrist, an earnest apology on his gorgeous face.

“I’m so sorry, darling. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

A wave of bitter resentment accompanied the heat; you snatched away from him, summoning your courage.

“I’m not your darling.”

He caught your other wrist, persistent.

“You could be,” he said.

“Let me go—”

“You like me."

A concoction of embarrassment and want swam around you. “Looks like you can’t keep a secret, either,” you muttered.

And with that, he released you, his silvery gaze dropping in something finalistic; something defeated.

“Stay away from me,” you said flatly.

He did not stop your third attempt at exit, nor did he call on you for the rest of the day.

Nor the rest of the week.

--

It was difficult for a God to experience guilt.

Minho, being a creature of compassion and with love built into his very existence, found that it tarnished everything he hitherto enjoyed about the mortal world. As though being forced to swallow his pride and admit that he had made a mistake was not bad enough, there was the added realisation that he had acted detrimentally to his own quest— she would not even look at him, let alone allow him to get close enough to make amends, to lower guard, to give him opportunity to strike.

And so ensued a cold war of sorts, her avoidance of him going to such lengths as to involve her temporary removal from Goodhart House to stay with a friend on the other side of campus. This ‘Gina’—the girl upon whom she’d imposed—struck Minho as a fickle creature, susceptible to gossip and vapid trends and student body politics insofar as their theatrics. Not a good influence, he ultimately surmised, but nonetheless his target appeared fond of her. Trusted her. To that end, Minho saw an angle. A new opportunity. One that he somewhat wished to have happened upon before he decided on the use of narcotics, but hindsight would do him no good now.

It was as Gina left her last class of the day that Minho sought to introduce himself.

“Hello, darling.”

He was met with the typical starry-eyed wonderment, the blushing and quickening of heartbeat that all betrayed her delight at being so approached by trend #1— if Minho played into that, he was no sorer for it. Neither was he spoiled for choices, which posed his reasoning for offering to escort her to her dormitory, whereupon the worst simply had to happen.

On the stone steps of the grand, old building waited his target, her beauty seeming more so dazzling since he had been denied the sight of her. On seeing him, however, she rolled her eyes and muttered a curse, storming towards her friend.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed at Gina.

“Lovely to see you too,” Minho smarmed.

Gina startled, seemingly offended. “What is with that tone? I know you two aren’t on the best of terms—”

“The best of terms? He drugged me, Gina.”

“Right, so you keep saying, but like...” She glanced at Minho fondly, then shrugged. “He hasn’t drugged me.”

Dumbfounded, she stared at her friend, then at Minho. What pain he saw there perplexed him— it shouldn’t have felt like a betrayal, for there was nothing so intimate between them to betray.

“Minho was actually just offering to take me out for drinks tonight,” Gina said. “You can come if you want.”

“No way.”

“Alright, well, I’m not going to stand here trying to convince you. We’ll be at Cherub’s if you change your mind.” With that, Gina whirled on the spot and started off. Minho lingered.

“Aren’t you going with her?” she snapped.

“You should come.”

“And third wheel your date? No thanks.”

“There’s enough of me to go around,” Minho grinned, more amused than serious.

“What a gentleman you are.”

“I like to think so.”

“Do you like to think you’re the kind of gentleman that drugs the dames before he has his way with them, too?”

Minho flinched. “That’s not how it was. I just wanted to—”

“Loosen me up. Because I'm such an uptight bitch. Yeah, I get it.”

“No. Because you confound me. That’s all.”

She almost laughed, clutching her books so tightly the skin of her knuckles drew thin and tense.

“Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds? It makes no sense—”

“Come for a drink with me. I’ll make it make sense.”

She huffed a deep breath. “I can’t. I have plans.”

Minho quirked a brow. “With Heathcliff? How exciting.”

“It— It’s infinitely more exciting than spending a second longer with you, actually” she stammered.

Minho laughed. “That’s simply not true, darling.”

“How many times; I’m not your darling.”

“But you want to be.”

“Oh my god.” She spun on her toe, marching back up the steps. “I’m going inside.”

“I’ll see you at Cherub’s, then,” he called.

“Leave me alone, Minho!”

“Never,” he whispered as she shoved into the building.

And suddenly, things looked up.

--

Not your finest moment, to tiptoe into a bustling Cherub’s with your proverbial tail between your legs, dignity waving you off at the door.

He said he’d make it make sense: that’s what you clung to the entire way here, for there was so much about him—the things he did and said—that didn’t add up. You imagined what it might be like to understand him instead of loathe him as you peered between gatherings of students in search of him and Gina. About as typical a student union bar as one might imagine, Cherub’s was home to beer-soaked carpets and sticky seats, outdated seventies décor and mismatched lighting. Cheap and (not so) cheerful, it did just the trick for instilling a quick buzz, yet its nearness to accommodation meant that said buzz devolved to debauchery more often than not.

Heathcliff was, you rather thought, far more exciting.

You had vowed after the Fresher’s ball never to drink unless circumstances were dire enough to call for it, and so your detouring to the bar should have said something as to the state of your nerves, whereupon you ordered a vodka and tonic. With a weak smile at the tender, you gratefully took the almost-cool glass, a sip of the fizzy concoction neither unpleasant nor particularly enjoyable. It would take the edge off, in a moment.

“Drinking alone?”

The voice behind your ear startled, the glass slipping from your grasp only to be caught deftly by another, not so much as a drop spilled. Minho smiled warmly, ever radiant against the surroundings. Almost unsettlingly so, for all near eyes were trained to him, and in turn, you.

He brought the rescued glass to his glossed lips, a perfunctory sip followed by a sharp grimace. He set it on the bar and slid it away, out of reach.

“Excuse me, I paid good money for that—”

“My condolences,” he sighed, raking slim fingers through silky, dark strands that framed shadowed eyes of liquid silver.

He flagged down the tender with a wave. “One pornstar martini and a Glenfiddich, straight. No ice. Make the martini virgin.”

“A virgin pornstar martini?”

“I am a collection of paradoxes, darling.”

Your heart pounded; hopeless as it was.

The drinks arrived promptly, and Minho took them in hand.

“Where’s Gina?” you asked, realisation of her absence coming perhaps a touch too late.

Minho smiled. “Come on.”

He led you through the student bodies and to the rear of the venue, where a booth table went unoccupied. A folded piece of A4 card with ‘RESERVED’ scrawled on it adorned the polished table; you poorly stifled a laugh.

“They reserved a table for you? At Cherub’s?”

Minho nodded, sliding into the opposite seat and setting the drinks down. “I asked them to, yes.”

“It’s a student bar, not a five-star restaurant. Honestly. Who are you?”

Minho settled, a serene smile on his lips. “I believe we’ve had this conversation.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right.” And took the cocktail glass. The pink concoction finished with a half pomegranate slice smelled sweet and fruity, yet distinctly lacked the tang you wished it had.

“This didn’t have to be non-alcoholic,” you weakly complained.

“Mhm. Well. I’ll not be guilty of the same thing twice,” he replied, swirling whiskey around his own short glass. “Besides; you don’t strike me as a drinker.”

“Do I strike you as the drug taker?”

Minho’s gaze fell. “No.”

You hummed and sipped your drink. In truth, giving him a hard time was beginning to lose its novelty. Not only did you wish to move on from the whole thing, but it was getting harder to withstand the clear guilt in his mesmerising eyes. Whatever his intentions had been, they most certainly were not malicious, which ought to count for something, you thought.

“I’m still sorry,” he said.

“I know.”

“I’d very much like to make it up to you.”

“How?”

Minho opened his mouth to speak, but in place of his alluring tone came a high-pitched screech of your name; you startled and looked to Gina, who was barrelling towards the table.

“You came!” she cried, shoving hastily into the seat beside Minho; he scooted aside as best he could, but was already trapped. She linked an arm through his, settled into his side, utterly at home. She looked you over incredulously.

“I didn’t think you’d show. You know; I actually can’t even remember the last time I saw you out,” she said, her thick, glossed lips sticky with reflective residue.

You forced a smile. Ignored how their apparent familiarity made your stomach twist. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“I’m always telling her she should get out more,” she continued, this to Minho. “It’s like she’s allergic to socialising.”

“I’m not allergic to it, G. I just prefer to—”

“Sit in and read, I know. Hey— I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. You do you, babe. I just find it funny that the only time you actually make the effort to come out is when you know a hot guy is going to be around.”

Your face flamed with heat— why did this martini have to be so horribly prudish? You stared into it, adequately mortified, for she wasn’t entirely wrong in her observations, and that only raised questions as to your character too difficult to answer in the light of day. Or grunge of bar, for that matter.

“You’ve got it all wrong, darling,” Minho intervened lightly. “I insisted on her coming so I could buy her a drink in apology for the... incident. The timing happened to be right for her. That’s all.”

Gina rolled her eyes. “Sure. Whatever.” She unlinked her arm from his, fanned out the ends of her short hair from the collar of her leather jacket. “I’m going to get a drink.”

She planted a brief kiss on Minho’s cheek, and slid gracefully out of the booth. Your heart catapulted to your throat, where it stayed until Minho spoke.

“We, uh—”

“I don’t want to know,” you quickly said.

“There’s nothing to know, darling. She’s just... exceptionally forward.”

“Don’t call me darling—”

“I call everyone darling.”

“I know,” you hissed. “Why do you think I feel so bloody stupid that it makes my heart race every time?!”

A moment of comprehension crossed you both, and where your realisation of emotional confession brought him to a slow smile, it brought you to cold despair.

You stood quickly, gathering yourself. “I shouldn’t have come; this was such a bad idea—”

A swift grip on your wrist stopped your panicked exit.

“Don’t leave.”

“Minho—”

“There’s so much I have to know about you,” he said, pinning you with a softening gaze. “So much that I don’t understand. So much that infuriates me, so much that intrigues. You’ve caused me so much trouble, but even so, there’s something that I... Something about you that makes me just—”

“Everything okay over here?”

Gina’s flat question javelined the moment; you looked to her, saw her unimpressed eye trained to where Minho held you still. She upturned her lips in a sneer, the three drinks in her hand trembling.

“You couldn’t just let me have this, could you?” she snarled at you.

“Gina—”

“Every single fucking time, it’s you. It’s always you. Every boy I've ever liked or that’s ever shown any interest in me— They always fall for you. It’s like you can’t stand to see me happy.”

Gutted with guilt and confusion, you snatched your wrist from Minho.

“It’s not what you think, at all. We were just—”

“You might be beautiful on the outside,” she spat. “But inside, you’re a fucking monster. Everyone will see that one day.”

Minho rose from his seat. “That’s enough,” he snapped, glowering. “She takes no blame in this. She takes no blame in anything you accuse her of. It’s her fate to—” And he stopped himself short, as though stumbling back from a precipice. He straightened himself and took a deep breath.

“It’s not her fault,” he said acerbically.

Gina pursed her lacquered lips. “Right. So, it’s yours then? That's what you’re saying?”

Minho shrugged. “Perhaps I manoeuvred in such a way as to ensure you got me close to her, yes.”

Your gut turned over with hot nausea.

“What does that even fucking mean?” Gina balked, anger wrinkling her. “Sometimes you talk like you’re from a different planet, I swear to God.”

Minho sniffed, then smiled. He licked his lips, and said plainly, “I used you to get to her, darling.”

Gina’s jaw slacked, then tightened. It seemed she understood, this time, and perhaps you saw the next thing coming from a mile away: she swore and brutally tossed the three drinks she held straight at Minho, soaking and swilling his head, face and chest with sticky, sweet alcohol. The man took it well, for all his surprise, and swept his hands down his face stoically.

“You two are made for each other,” she hissed, and with that, turned tail and stalked away.

All eyes in near vicinity watched in tense silence as you, unable to even think beyond the molten mortification of it all, did much the same. Perhaps Minho called after you, and perhaps a small part of you wished to stay and console him, yet the larger part of you seethed with disappointment, for he had once again demonstrated himself to be less than half the man you ever wished to be so attracted to.

Minho, for all his obvious and daunting appeals, was not a good man.

--

Minho was starting to believe that the Fates had something against him.

Every attempt he made to get close to her ended in unmitigated disaster, and as if that wasn’t headache enough, he was now forced to acknowledge that what burned in him when he thought of the mortal girl was not simple curiosity: he craved her.

This called into question everything he knew: his quest, his mother’s wishes, his own existence as the God of Love, for as has been established, the God of Love loves all. He does not fall in love. Until he does.

 Perhaps it would simply be easier to out the truth of it all. Yes, it would shatter her mortal logic and push her to the limits of her comprehension, but what was the alternative? To continue wresting his own desires until such a time as he imploded? There was only so much one could take, even for a God, and Minho felt the tether of his patience rapidly diminishing.

Whatever he decided to do, he could not do it under these circumstances. He would have to, once again, make amends. Somehow.

What small silver lining there was to this whole mess came in the form of her moving back to Goodhart House, presumed discomfort between she and Gina resulting in such separation. Minho knew well what part he’d played in that, but in truth, couldn’t bring himself to feel entirely bad about it.

Two nights later—he had learned that mortals valued their space—saw him timidly knocking on her bedroom door, an uncharacteristic bout of nerves swirling about him. Moments passed before she answered, her vacant expression drawing grim on the sight of him.

“What do you want?”

The afternoon sunlight streaming through the window appeared to halo her, a warmth resonating from her person and within her room that set upon Minho a steady yearning; he could take her in his arms so easily, make her feel things no mortal man could.

Instead, he licked his dry lips, and from behind his back, produced the object he’d been concealing. She glanced at it, brows knitting together.

“What the hell is that? A twig?”

“I couldn’t find an olive branch.”

Just like that, the subtlest of curves to her lips ignited hope. She quickly reset herself into a deep-set frown.

“You’re an idiot,” she said.

“I am.”

“Gina and I aren’t speaking because of you.”

“I know.”

“You used her.”

“I did.”

“I mean; why did you have to be so—” she huffed. “You could have been nicer about it.”

“She knew what was happening,” Minho shrugged. “Sugar coating it would have only wounded her further.”

“You can’t just use people, Minho.”

Minho quirked a brow. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

“What?”

“It worked. You’re talking to me again. You’ve done nothing but talk to me since the minute you saw me with her, in fact.”

She dropped her gaze, wrapped her arms around herself. “You let her believe you liked her.”

“I do like her,” Minho replied.

“Oh.”

“Just nowhere near as much as I like you.”

A small puff of breath from her sweet lips seemed almost to indicate disbelief, and Minho supposed that until now, he’d made no such clear indication of his feelings. Suggestion and vague inference, perhaps, while he tried himself to understand what he battled with, but such roundabout behaviour was not in his nature.

“I like you a lot,” he said softly.

She shook her head. “Stop.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not— I don’t know. I can’t do this.”

She moved to shut the door, but Minho caught it quickly, stepping inside.

“You won’t even give me a chance to explain?” he pressed.

“I can’t. You don’t get it. Gina likes you. She was so upset about the whole thing, and you’re just— You don’t care at all. If anything, you seem proud of it. I can’t be with someone like that.”

Minho crowded her, for while her mouth said one thing, her body said another. Against the near wall she shrank, the rampant thump of her heart so alluring as to draw him near until barely a foot of space rested between them.

“You’re lying to yourself,” he said. “You claim that you can’t be with someone like me, but you know it as well as I do, darling; there is no one like me. I am the epitome of what you’ve always craved, and pretending otherwise will only push you to madness.”

“Minho—”

“As for the girl,” he interrupted softly, still so near. “She was a means to an end, yes. And you are correct; I am proud that my course of action bore fruit. I would do the same thing again, given a choice.”

She shook her head. “That’s the problem. I told you already; you can’t just use people.”

“I can do whatever I damn well please, and so should you. You have that right.”

“Not if it hurts other people.”

“And what of hurting yourself? Why sacrifice your own happiness for someone that doesn’t value you? Calls you names? Thinks you no more than a heartless monster? You might consider her a friend, but I assure you darling, she holds no such fondness towards you. Who do you think it was began the slanderous rumours that circulated after your Fresher’s ball?”

Pain flashed in her watering eyes; a truth that perhaps she had always quietly known brought to the surface.

“This abstinence from me only serves to hurt you.”

She cast a contemptuous glare cast up at him. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she snapped. “You don’t know the first thing about me or what I'm feeling.”

Minho pressed in close, strong arms either side of her head. He hummed softly, “I hear how your heart cries out to me. See how your womanhood swells the closer we are; I only wish you’d give it to me, darling. I’d take such good care of it.”

He felt a shiver barely suppressed as she relented, melting by the second. Words of honey in her ears warmed her from within; Minho might die if he couldn’t taste.

“I wish to undo you and put you back together, one delicious, wet molecule at a time,” he said gently, nosing her soft lobe, then along her jaw. Her breaths devolved to soft pants, each one redolent of sweet nectar that further maddened him. “I’d defy the heavens themselves if it meant I could spend a single night with you.”

--

Minho had once said that arts students were hopeless romantics: he seemed none removed from the vagaries of waxing poetic himself.

You would have given it more thought if not so tightly strung with desire for the man that had, by some cosmic or divine will, worked his way into your bedroom. You knew nothing about him— that much had not changed. Neither had it changed that you detested how he carried himself, how he seemed so aloof to the most basic of kindnesses, how confidence and self-assurance came so naturally to him while it constantly evaded you.

It made no sense that a man like him could desire a woman like you, yet here he was, in your space, hot and firm, whispering such sweet and magical words as to make your head spin and your heart throb.

“Your desire for me is so strong, I can taste it,” he said breathlessly; a statement of fact offered as such, and you weren’t of the mind to deny it.

“Will you admit it?” he pressed. “Return my sentiments?”

Your weak nod told it. “Yes.”

He drew his lip between his teeth, a quick glance cast down your frame. “Am I permitted to touch you?”

“Yes.”

He held a cautious hand over your heaving chest. “Here?”

You nodded; his hand swept to your tummy, still at a hover. “Here?”

“Y— Yes.”

He hummed, then held over the curve of your waist, no contact made and yet electricity flitted between the inches. “Here?”

“Anywhere,” you breathed, defeated, a wreck. “Touch me anywhere. Everywhere. Please.”

Minho grinned, the silver ripple of his eyes flashing smug victory. A hand under your chin tilted your head back to present wanting lips, and when he kissed you, all else faded from existence. Near painfully soft was the first explorative brush, the man inclined to feel out your acclaimed desire— when you curled a grip to his shirt, he indulged you deeply, locking plush lips with yours and taking what he—unbeknownst to you—had already decided was his to covet. Bursts of white-hot delight rendered you breathless and dizzy, and when he broke off, you thought only of more.

“Swear to me that you’ll be mine,” he said, voice a thick and husky rasp.

“Minho...”

“Swear it,” he pressed. “Or this goes no further.”

The quiet promise was made in all but an instant, “I swear,” but even tight in his arms it was akin to stepping from a cold and slippery cliff; you felt to be falling, rescinding all control and handing it to this man that you knew nothing of, but craved like water to a dying man.

With a groan of delight, Minho swept you from the wall and about to the bed, where he laid you down and followed your form. Having no such experience with intimacy save for what the pages of your novels told, your expectations were none. The wanton urges held dominion, your chastity looking on in resigned approval as he smothered your neck and throat with attention, lavished your body with his touch, stripped you of all that hindered his touching your skin. In the warm light of the late afternoon, you laid naked beneath him, bared and as vulnerable as ever a soul may be. Minho looked at you, his gentle eyes seeming more so infinite with the awakening of intimacy; soft, patient hands canvassed your skin— waist, hips and thighs. Gentle, moist lips worshipped you at fingers, toes and lips, such reverent attention that swelled your heart to near bursting.

“You’ve never laid with a man before?”

A giggle bubbled out before you could stop it. Minho cocked his head questioningly.

“S— Sorry,” you mumbled. “No. I haven’t. But…” You hesitated, wondered on the timing, then asked anyway. “Did you have to ask me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like a nineteenth century suitor,” you laughed.

Minho grinned and shook his head, seemingly embarrassed. “Sorry,” he chuckled. “I forget sometimes.”

You ran your hands over his. “Forget what?”

For a long moment, he merely admired how your fingers slotted together. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but instead took a deep breath, and smiled once more. “Nothing.”

His kiss this time was insistent, but gentle. The exchange soon forgotten, work was made of stripping him, the act itself seeming dreamlike the more of him was revealed. Skin smooth and flawless, the complexion of which was so deep and rich a healthy glow, it made you shy to touch it. Clothing removed and tossed aside, the naked sight of him was entirely reminiscent of something— something you could not quite put your finger on, but that nagged at the back of your mind.

He returned to you, all silken warmth and firm in the right places. Between your open legs he settled, your inhibitions melting with his attention— kisses and careful touches, each one further devolving until he could no longer exact patience. He touched you where most you ached, assessing your every expression.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, lips to lips, soft ministrations over your naked centre eliciting groan after whimper. Slow and controlled, he rubbed you, then parted you to run a finger through the wetness. He shuddered and drew tight, a firm kiss pressed to your mouth.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled, wet digits circling you once more. “You’ll make the perfect companion.”

Too far gone to give much consideration to the perplexment his words instilled, you could only cling to him and wave the ride of euphoria as it flooded you, one molten lash after another. Was it normal to be so immediately aroused by so minimal a touch? Normal to feel like body might split from soul after only minutes of such stimulation?

“Don’t fight it. I’ll guide you through it, darling.” He kissed your bared throat. “Mhm, just like that. Give yourself over to it—”

“Ngh, Min, please—”

“Yes, fuck.” He quickened his motions, a gentle but rapid flurry of sensation against your throbbing centre. Thighs parted wider still for yet more of what he gave, you writhed in desperation, panted like a possessed creature, gave in to what he beckoned out of you. With a cry of delight and no shred of a complex, you trembled violently through the orgasm, felt yourself coming undone on the man’s fingers. Minho hummed and kissed your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, ever patient until the violence had subsided and only your tender panting remained. He ran a soft, light finger through your dripping sex. 

“You’re ready for me,” he muttered, and closed the gap between your bodies.

Spent but still yearning, it seemed almost too natural to open to him and trap him between your thighs. Minho smiled as though with pride, angling himself just so that the formerly observed ‘third leg’ could be seen from your laying position— a most intimidating sight, but one that had you clenching around air. Minho took himself in hand, the girth such that even he struggled to maintain a whole grip. A slow drag from his base and over thick, smooth shaft to blushed tip, and he sucked in air through his teeth, let slip a gravelly groan.

“Can you take me, darling?” he asked softly. “All of me?”

Your weak nod in place of words seemed somehow to dissatisfy him, but all the same, he kissed you tenderly. Tracing the line of his body with trembling hands as he aligned himself, the breaching prod stretching you, you drew tight with a gasp. Minho hissed and the silver of his eyes swirled intensely, each inch that he sunk seeming to exacerbate it; pebbles to rock pools.

“S— Slowly,” you pleaded, the warm soreness of his entrance only just beginning to turn dull ache. “Please.”

“I have you, darling. Trust me.”

Fully sheathed and with his hips cradled tightly to your body, he began to move a slow pace. Such bizarre sensation to feel so thoroughly full, almost sated, on the brink of being driven mad.

“Okay?” he breathed, weight on his arms to better assess you.

You nodded. “Yes. K— Keep going.”

Drawing his lip between his teeth, he maintained the motions, the mattress beneath you creaking its rhythmic complaint. Transfixed to where your bodies connected, Minho’s attention diverted, you explored the curious shimmer to his skin as he moved— perhaps it was the fading sunlight, the evening rolling in with its tricks. It seemed as though tiny rivers of silver moved beneath his skin and through his veins, each one snaking beautifully up his arms, over his shoulders, down his chest to— His chest. How had you not noticed it until now? Amidst the otherworldly perfection there sat the smallest of blemishes, faded purple and gently rounded. Proof that he was indeed real, for over the latter minutes you might have begun to doubt it.

Heart pounding and rapidly approaching yet another crisis of heavenly delight, you brought your middle and index finger together, and by instinct, pressed them to the spot that was now not only familiar to you, but that joined the fragmented pieces of puzzle.

It was a perfect match.

Minho, seemingly oblivious, grunted your name, his rhythm now devolved to a frantic rut. He collapsed atop you, held your warmth close, the smooth drive of his thickness made blissfully easy by the second orgasm he gifted that in turn brought on his own— he shivered and clung to you, words of praise and nonsense both flitting from his bitten lips.

The afterglow was as intense and intimate as the act itself, for Minho gently attended to you, putting you together as he so expressed a wish to. He kept you near to his side, curled up, and whispered stories that you soon forgot in contented, restful slumber.

What you would not soon forget, however, was the truth newly discovered.

The angel had returned to you.

--

Minho now profoundly understood what it was the mortal poets clamoured so desperately to capture.

It was with alarming clarity that he realised he had undertaken his duties as the God of Love with no real concept of what love actually was or could be— such a spectacular thing could not be wrested into something simple; something bite-sized and digestible. All his life he had been casting his arrows and looking on warmly as mortals embraced and made love. He heard their romantic declarations and loving promises with the sort of fond understanding a parent might have for their babbling toddler, and gave it no more consideration than that.

How naïve and foolish he had been. How much he’d missed out on! He dreaded to even think of it now, and cursed his aloofness to the power of what he so easily commanded. Love, he had realised, was the whole point. Powerful enough to fell entire kingdoms, but gentle enough to soothe the most septic of wounds. Wondrous and warm yet cutting and cold, the faces of love were mortally unpredictable, and therein laid its allure.

Minho looked to the future; he had failed in his quest, that much was without question, and could not return to heaven if he wanted to. His mother’s wrath would be terrible, and he was aware enough of his own strengths to know that a conflict with Aphrodite would sign off on his demise, blood or not. And all of that was without the terrible considerations of what she might do to his beloved.

There was nothing for it. He had to do something, and there was no way around it being drastic.

No way around any of it, now that the God of Love was in love.

--

Had you been informed several weeks ago that you’d be engaged in an illicit affair with a man you started out detesting, you’d have cried insanity.

Still; that was the truth of things, and waking next to him after what constituted your first night with any man was not half as terrible as you might once have believed. You had marvelled, mostly. All over again. That he had wanted you at all was mystifying, but when he awoke to find you right where he’d left you, he had proved his want all over again.

A week continued just like this, with not so much discussion as heated, stolen moments. You pleaded that what you were doing be kept under wraps, for the attention he commanded was not something you sought. Begrudgingly, he had acquiesced, but made it known that one day he would show you off to all who came within distance.

This night, he reposed under the stream of pale moonlight that shone through your window; following exertions you had slept straight through the evening and to the small hours. The smooth curve of his lean back disappeared beneath your sheets, his muscled leg hung out and over the bed. Plush lips utterly relaxed and face framed by silky strands of raven black, it struck you once again just how—while unthinkably beautiful—very normal he looked like this. Only when he opened his eyes and mouth did it become clear that he existed on a plane above and beyond other simple people, and while unsure of the finer details, the quirky qualities he possessed had begun to vibrantly outshine those things about him that once irked. He was boastful, yes, and terribly proud. He spoke before he gave much (any) thought and had little regard for consequences, both for himself and those around him.

But he was the very spirit of adventure. Thrillingly spontaneous and occasionally reckless, he dragged you out from under your books and away from your comfort zone, making it so that he instead became a security blanket, for wherever he was, there was safety. The wild promises he made ranged from a lifetime of wealth and happiness with him to taking you around the world. Well intended, of course, but ultimately too fantastical to ever truly believe. Whatever this was and for however long it would last, it wasn’t so wrong to enjoy it.

Led by the hand of desire, you reached out to touch him. A gentle trace down the slope of his shoulder and over the curve of his smooth back, firm under your fingers. You thought of the first time you touched him, before you’d even spoken so much as a word to each other. How he seemed the most beautiful creature your dreams had ever chanced to conjure, for that was what you’d believed him to be— a being born of pure gold, floating on magnificent white wings.

But this man was no dream. He was something else entirely.

A soft murmur of breath, and Minho’s eyes cracked open slowly. Calm pools of silver looked upon you, stirring with love. He smiled softly.

“Who are you?” you whispered.

His smile faded, yet he did not move. He blinked sleepily, slowly.

“You know who I am,” he said quietly. “I told you.”

“The God of Love?”

He nodded, just barely.

“Sent here to curse me for being too beautiful?”

He nodded again.

“By your mother?”

“The Goddess Aphrodite.”

The room was silent. There was no urge to laugh. No stroke of cold disbelief. No terrible fear or suggestion of mockery or anything other than a wave of acceptance, bathed in cold, silver light.

A God.

He was a God.

“Why me?” you whispered.

Minho puffed a soft breath through his nose. Amused, perhaps, by your immediate acquiescence.

“I’m nobody,” you added.

He lifted his head from the pillow, propped himself up by elbow. “Do you truly believe that, or are you being modest?”

You blinked at him, the truth of it in your eyes. He sighed gently, took your hand across the bed.

“You are the most beautiful woman to ever have lived,” he said quietly, running his thumb over your knuckles. “Kind of heart and exquisite of soul, you outshine everything and everyone around you. You were born of a God—”

“What?”

“So I suspect, anyway. I intend to find out for certain. But I do not think your mother was entirely mad with her stories.”

You balked at him. “You’re saying she was telling the truth?”

“Perhaps. A version of it, as she remembers it. Mortal memories are ephemeral things. Regardless, your beauty is divine, and that cannot be disputed.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” he chuckled. “Had you lived several thousands of years ago, it would have been you that all of Greece warred over and that the Trojans bled to defend. You are fated to be revered and worshipped for your beauty, more so than even that of my mother’s. This is why she sent me. To shoot you with my arrows and curse you to love something so foul it would disgrace you and push you into a solitary life.”

You swallowed over the disbelief— for all your readiness to hear him out, you found yourself stumped.

“You are invulnerable to my arrows. You see beyond the veil of my mortal disguise. You were able to touch me in my true form. Only divine blood could grant such boons.”

“How do you know I'm invulnerable?” you asked, and on his torn face saw the obvious truth of it. You mumbled a quiet, “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Talk about a lucky escape.” You tried to laugh, though it was a bittersweet reveal. He was only doing as instructed, you supposed. Things were different then, too. He didn’t know you. Didn’t love you.

Keen to change the subject, you did just that.

“Your mother—”

“Aphrodite.”

“R— Right. Aphrodite.” You cleared your throat. “Why would she want to curse me like that? If what you’re saying is true, it’s hardly my fault.”

Minho shrugged. “The Olympians care little for semantics. I love my mother, but she is as susceptible to vanity as anyone. It wouldn’t be the first time that jealousy has driven her hand.”

“But—” You leaned into him. “This is the twenty first century. Things like that don’t happen anymore. I mean; revering and worshipping, or whatever.”

“Don’t they? What are celebrities and influencers if not modern-day Gods? Politicians if not modern-day kings? Wealth and fame might no longer be measured in cattle and heroic deeds, but it is as attainable today as ever it was, and the power it bestows can be terrible. Armies rallied at the tap of a button. Lives ended at the publishing of a post. Times are different, yes, but fundamentally, mortals will never change.”

An element of truth to his words, you shrunk back against the pillows, head spinning. To suppose that it was all real was one thing— to suppose that it was all happening to you, was another.

Minho kissed your hand softly. “Don’t fret, darling. You are perfectly safe with me.”

“How can that be true? You just told me that Aphrodite has it in for me. That Aphrodite is real. That all the Gods are real.”

Minho hummed. “It’s a lot to absorb, I know. But it is fact. As the world changed and mortals developed beyond what even we predicted, we were lost to them. They turned from us. Nobody prays to us anymore. There are no sacrifices or festivals. Our names are told in stories and that is our legacy. We—our flesh and blood and everything that makes us—are myths.”

He whispered the last word, a sadness in his eyes that tugged insistently at your heart. You leaned back to him, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“You feel real enough to me,” you mumbled.

Minho smiled slightly. “I am glad of that.” And turned into you, a palm on your cheek bringing you back for a firmer kiss. With a soft gasp that turned moan on the sensation of his slick tongue slipping into your mouth, you fell willingly into the hazed content that the God of Love seemed so exclusively able to invoke. Dragged across the bed until tucked underneath him, he shadowed you from the moonlight, raven locks tickling your cheeks. Keen hands slipped down your body to tenderly part your legs, the suggestion of his arousal prodding thigh until he, quite familiarly and with a chaste kiss to your throat, sunk inside you. Clinging to his broad shoulders and moving with the man, for you had come to know the paces he enjoyed, Minho filled you gently and slipped away with each controlled thrust. Silver eyes told a maelstrom of truths and sadnesses that his long years of life had portended, and by the gradual incline of coming undone at his ministrations, you saw them all. He watched your descent into euphoria, and you saw them all— the lovers, the souls, the stories, the worlds that had been touched by Eros’s arrows, generations of lives built on their enchanted tips, civilisations birthed and ended by the snap of his bow string. An existence spent between heaven and Earth of unspeakable loneliness propelled by gratification of servitude brought you to hot tears amidst the release of crisis.

And you saw that he would have been alone in perpetuity, were it not for you.

--

Minho had a plan.

The beginnings of a plan, anyway, which he thought ought to count for something.

He could not call on any of his aunts or uncles for aid without alerting Aphrodite to the state of things, and so he turned his thoughts to what he could do. The things he possessed. After only moments of consideration, he broke into absurd and near hysterical laughter. How foolish he had been, once again! How could he forget?! Of all the things to slip his mind and fall into obscurity!

He had a palace.

Eros’s famed sky palace of jewels and gold— that was what he possessed. That was where he could go, for it was too removed from heaven for Aphrodite or any of the other Gods to be bothered making the journey. They would be left alone there. It was perfect.

The idea had come to him at high noon— a most inconvenient time for ideas to spring upon one. Unable to bear a second’s delay, he burst out of Goodhart and sprinted across campus, drawing heads and attention from all he passed. When he reached the lecture hall, he swept from room to room, offering breathless apologies to the bewildered occupants for his intrusion on finding her in none of them, much to his irritation. It stood to reason that the last he checked should be the place he found her: she looked up from her notebook, mortification freezing her from neck to forehead.

“Excuse me.” Minho flashed a dazzling smile at the Professor, who for all his usual nettlesome temperament, stood flabbergasted.

He strode confidently across the hall and through the projector’s beam, his shadow casting over the bullet point analysis of Austen’s pathetic fallacy. All eyes followed as he approached her and made quick work of closing her notebook, plucking her pen from her hand and grabbing her backpack.

“I’ll just be taking this one,” he said to the Professor, taking her wrist with a gentle tug.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed, the eyes of her peers scalding her back.

Wordlessly, he stole her from the lecture hall, and said not a thing until they were out of the building and on the sun-warmed lawn, where he yanked her into a strong embrace.

“M— Minho!”

“I have it worked out, darling,” he said excitedly. “I have it all worked out!” He relinquished her to arm’s length, her flustered state inspiring urges that he swallowed down. “I know where we can go.”

“Go?” she repeated, confused. “Why would we go anywhere?”

“We can’t stay here. We spoke of this last night. My mother is—”

“You said you’d protect me from her. You didn’t say anything about needing to go anywhere.”

“I thought that was implied, darling. I assumed you understood.”

“Understood what?”

“That yes, I will do my utmost to keep you safe, but not even my power can match that of Aphrodite. If she discovers my betrayal, she’ll stop at nothing to hunt us down.”

The fluster of her condition gave way to dreaded realisation; Minho saw it in her eyes, the panic.

“There is one place we will be entirely safe,” he quickly said. “Somewhere she nor any of the other Olympians can set foot.”

“Where?”

“My palace.”

“P— Palace?”

Minho nodded in earnest. “Yes, darling. It is protected, its gates open only to me. We will want for nothing there. We can be together, undisturbed.”

She looked around, as though lost. “But I...” Her voice was weak. “I can’t just leave everything. This is my life.”

“I am your life now, darling. There’s nothing here for you.”

“Nothing here for me?” Her features drew tense and she stepped away from him, shrugging off his touch. “You're saying all this is pointless? Everything I've tried to achieve is worthless?”

“N— No, I simply mean that—”

“I know what you mean. I have no-one to miss me if I should disappear.” Her bottom lip trembled, she wrapped her arms around herself. “And what if I stayed? Would all those worshippers you promised me show up? Would I have something then?”

Minho’s heart ached impossibly; how careless he had once again been. One would think him used to the fragility of mortal hearts by now.

“It’s too late,” he said sorrowfully. “My love for you is a betrayal to my mother. If you stay, she will subject you to terrible punishment before anything ordained for you ever happens. If you come with me...” He reached out to her tenderly, a hand on her trembling shoulder. “If you come with me, I can spare you that fate. You do not have to engage with me or love me in return, but I hope that you will at least allow me to make reparations for taking you away from all you know. I can give you a most beautiful life. I can show you such things as your books will never describe. I can dedicate myself to you, soul and all, and be whatever you wish me to be.”

Tears streaked her cheeks, each one a dagger to Minho’s composure.

“You will never be alone again,” he whispered. “This, I swear to you.”

--

Why were you even thinking about it?

The earth-shatteringly handsome God of Love—Eros himself—loved you. He wished to take you away to his sky-dwelling palace, where he would serve you until your mortal days gave out. He wished to dedicate himself to you. How many women could claim to be on the receiving end of such implacable devotion? How many women turned away from it, especially when the love was reciprocated?

Thus you asked yourself the question again— why were you even thinking about it?

The conflict that raged within you was that of head and heart. On the side of romance and such emotion as brought you to tears, your heart cried out. ‘Go with him,’ it pleaded. ‘See all that he’s promised you. Take a chance on the extraordinary. Be the main character, just this once. You can never go back to life without him now— how it hurts to even imagine it. Only immovable darkness is left in place of such radiant light, and his light is what you must stay in forever. You love him, foolish girl. Go with him!’

On the side of reason and familiar doubt that was in some ways easier to hear, your head told other truths. ‘Run from him,” it commanded. ‘It is madness to believe any of this. What you saw that night was a hallucination; you were overtired. Overworked. He lies to you. Recall what he did to you. He plays on your vulnerability and would have you tripping over yourself for some impossible fairytale that cannot be real. It cannot be real. Screw your head back on, foolish girl. Run from him!’

With a night spent alone you hoped to come upon some form of clarity, but instead spent the long and empty hours tossing and turning, floating between despair and joy. You were at a crossroads, and the next decision you made would forever change the course of your life.

Go, or stay.

Live, or suffer.

Love, or mourn.

--

By the guiding, formless hand of the West wind, Zephyrus, Minho always found his way to his sky palace.

It would be a fruitless task to try to explain, in mortal terms, just where the palace was located. Not even Minho could, had he tried. That was why he needed gentle Zephyrus. Rather, it existed on a plane between those of heaven and Earth, in a pellucid sky of cloudless wonder that cycled through dreamy days and starry, moon-filled nights. The palace seemed always as though to be drifting along, warmed by streams of hot, shimmering air that kept it afloat. Its jewel-encrusted and gold-plated high walls caught the brilliant peaches and pinks of sweet Eos, Goddess of the Dawn. A reflective moat of the clearest still water kept the palace enclosed, magnificent fish and regal sea creatures having made their homes there. Great birds with feathers of virgin white and onyx black soared the length of the battlements and swooped through the palace arches, attracted by the glittering structure. It mattered not how many times Minho visited. It always took his breath away.

He looked at the girl bundled in his arms, her eyes still tightly closed, her head still buried in his chest. His white wings enclosed her safely, kept her from Zephyrus’s inherent chill.

“Won’t you look, darling?” he asked softly.

“No.”

He stifled a chuckle; how endearing she was.

“This would be one of those wonderful things I told you about.”

She cracked open one eye, just barely.

“You’re perfectly safe,” he assured her.

With a swallow and a timid nod, she turned her head out to the view, and Minho saw immediately how her eyes welled up with tears as they caught the rising light. He dared to imagine Eos might be making a special show of things, just for them, for the sky was ablaze with a rich and vibrant beauty the likes of which he’d never seen. Oranges and deep pinks melted into variegated crimson, the horizon seeming as though to glow. The palace was iridescent with life, it walls and towers reflecting and refracting the dawn in such a resplendent spectacle of colour, Minho was sure she would never forget this moment.

She maintained silent awe until Zephyrus had safely escorted them to the palace steps: the West wind twirled and whirled around them, hugging her warmly before departing, much to her delight. She kept close to Minho as the joy wore off, her fear of the near edge demanding it, yet it was her resolve that warned her from holding his hand, from taking comfort.

Such were her terms.

Such was Minho’s pain.

--

Take a chance on the extraordinary, your heart had said.

So it was that ‘extraordinary’ fell catastrophically short of describing what it was you now looked at: an opulent crystal palace at home in the sky, a testament to all things fantastical and impossible. The majesty of it was almost enough to take away from the inherent unease of being so high up; if this was even high, for it hadn’t escaped your notice during the journey that you hadn’t so much travelled up as through. Through what, you were surely unqualified to say, but what was certain was that this place was so removed from what you knew to be true of physics and gravity—indeed any temporal rule—it was pointless to think on it too much.

Minho had indeed promised to show you incredible things, oblivious that he himself was one of them. His feathery wings closed on his back, his raven hair fluttered in the warm breeze. He led you up the crystal steps to a vast arched gateway manned by—you rubbed your eyes—floating spears?

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said intuitively. “They will do you no harm. They’re here to protect us.”

As you passed by them, adequately mystified, the spears hopped and jerked as though in salute, their steel tips polished to a fine, sharp edge. Over the glass drawbridge he took you, a river of water so clear running beneath, you could see every pore of your own reflection in it. Creatures swum in the calm currents, fish and eels and octopi, their scales and skin of such stunning purple and deep green, it amazed you to look at. As you approached the tall and gilded palace doors, they opened before you, a swarm of floating brooms and mops and hat stands and trolleys and all other manner of furniture descending upon you with swift elegance.

On your fright, Minho held a hand up. Everything stopped, and sprung to attention in a neat, formal line.

“Darling.” He turned to you. “These are our attendants.”

You blinked at him; your head was beginning to hurt.

“They are invisible to our eyes,” he added softly. “It was my wish that we be left to our own devices. Entirely undisturbed. Just the two of us.”

“So there are... people? Holding those?”

Minho nodded. “Of a fashion, yes.”

You looked around him to the patient line, where mops fluttered and trolley wheels spun in anticipation. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what ‘of a fashion’ even meant.

“I would have had us here alone, but the palace takes some looking after,” he said. “Not to mention your own needs to be attended to.”

“I can look after myself. I don’t need—”

“Please.” He moved as though to take your hand, but stopped himself short. The strength with which such a small thing smarted seemed ludicrous, yet you held no grounds for complaint. He was only doing as instructed.

“I would like to make sure the very best care is on hand for you. Allow me that,” he said quietly.

At your small nod, he turned away, wings unfurling gently as he entered his palace. The peach light that so radiantly streaked the sky haloed him and made him a breathtaking vision. Was a God truly so different from an angel?

The palace interior was as extravagant as the exterior, its vast halls encrusted with sapphires and aquamarine, pearls and diamonds, emeralds and topaz all trimmed with gold. Wall sconces of blue flame bathed all in a glorious light, the high ceilings finished with intricate murals so lovingly painted, it made your heart ache to simply look upon the heavenly scenes they depicted with Eros at their centre.

Escorted dutifully by the same two floating spears that had seen you inside, Minho guided you through the winding halls. He held them at the door he had led you to with no more than a look.

“These are your private chambers,” he said once inside. They were homelier than what you’d thus far seen, finished with soft furnishings, blankets and comforts and a more natural tone of light offered by long windows and an open fire. It was the fire that you were in the midst of admiring, when a dainty teacup flew up and in front of your face, bringing you to a shriek.

“Your attendants will keep you here,” Minho laughed. “Forgive them. They’re excited.”

The teacup rattled on its saucer, as though in agreement.

“It has been some time since anyone’s resided here,” he added.

Residing here. You were to live here. In this place between places, with a thousands-year old God. It seemed that only now this fact began to dawn on you, for a chill realisation swept over and extinguished the bewilderment that hitherto kept you together.

Minho watched you carefully, distance maintained as he stood at the door. You looked through the grand window, out over the endless sea of multicoloured sky.

“You promised me an answer,” he eventually said.

Your heart sank.

“I know.”

“Will you give it?”

You chewed your inner cheek, tracing the lines of wispy cloud that floated by.

“I have shown you the palace,” Minho said. “I have respected your boundaries of affection, despite how it pains me to act as though we are no more than friends. I have revealed my true form to you. I have done everything you’ve asked.”

“I know.”

“And so? Is your mind decided?”

Exasperated, you turned to him. The God of Love with so sorrowful a look of distress on his handsome face, it made you want to weep.

“My mind has been decided all along,” you said simply. “How could I ever say no to you?”

His silvery eyes lit up. “You mean...?”

“Yes,” you laughed. “I’ll stay.”

Without a second thought, the God of Love on his great, white wings surged across the space and caught you in his strong arms. He braced you against the pristine glass in an embrace of ignited passion, the gasp you emitted was devoured by his hungry mouth.

“How you infuriate me,” he mumbled between kisses, the slick of his tongue wetting your lips. “You have no idea the depth of the madness you would drive me to.”

“I needed time,” you breathed. “To get my head straight, to process it all.”

“I know, darling. I would have given you all the time that time itself possessed if I could.”

You kissed him gently. “Liar.”

He grinned, and with a low chuckle enclosed you in his magnificent wings, the feathers reaching around and curling under you to lift you from the ground. Poised on them as the most comfortable of elegant chairs, the God so close in your space and stood between your open thighs, it became soon apparent the type of mood that descended on him. An inferno of want tainted the silver of his eyes, his deep, gold complexion shimmering with the lust that made Eros so feral as to tear your shirt open and relieve you of your jeans, all that he might touch your skin— finally. Secured in the space of his heat, helpless but to succumb, the dainty cloth that hovered about his hips was torn away to reveal the intimidating girth of what he offered, sprung proud and hard. Lightheaded and too aroused to think much of consequence—you weren’t strictly here alone, after all—you clung to the slope of his shoulders as he aligned himself and with a sharp intake of breath, steadily sunk inside you. Groaning through the sensation of fullness, your delight was caught by his mouth on yours.

“You were made for me, my love,” he whispered. “It is you and I, until the end of time.”

“Minho—”

“Hush, dearest girl. Let me pleasure you the way your tender heart so deserves. Let me serve you as I crave to. Nothing makes me feel so alive as when you allow me inside you like this, sweet thing. Feel me, darling. Feel all of me.”

Sealed with a kiss, the God of Love thrust himself upon you, the slick drive made so much easier by your own steeped arousal. Yet it was not simply lust that brought you to gasps and the stinging tell of tears— to accept such pure and unconditional love, to accept that it was offered so readily, to accept that a creature so objectively perfect as him could be possessed of affection for you— sky palaces and jewels and divine landscapes could not compare to that impossibility.

So it is, the start of your new life.

So it was, in years to come, that the Goddess Aphrodite forgave her errant son and welcomed the mortal girl, gifting to her immortality on her wedding day.

So it ever shall be, that the tamed Eros and his beloved spend their sun-warmed, endless days reigning over love’s intricacies, granting to mortals the divine bliss they themselves found in one another.

One precious heart at a time.

thus marks my last offering for the skz tropes collab! i really hope you enjoyed. this was by far my favourite of the bunch. if you could be kind enough to comment or even buy me a coffee as thanks for the 20k read, i would be super grateful. mica x

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 >

𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙? 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚 ♡ >

𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙠𝙯 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 ♡ >

[skzoolandia]

Ride Along*

Summary: Y/n is feeling bored alone at her apartment, so Harry takes her for a ride.

A continuation to Discipline.

Trope: Agent Harry

WC: 6.3k

Warnings: mentions of speeding, a pinch of meanrry, smut, degradation, choking, face spitting, unprotected sex, implications of somnophilia, after care.

A/n: The writing is a bit rusty because it’s been a while since I wrote smut😬

Main Masterlist | Agent Harry Masterlist

Y/n was placed on house arrest by Harry for a week, and it was torturous.

Perhaps “house arrest” is a bit dramatic but she felt suffocated. She could leave her apartment whenever she wanted. Harry’s insistence on her relaxation was clear, and he only meant for her to avoid any activities that require physical exertion.

Anyone would be thrilled to have a week off from work, but it was rather confusing for Y/n. Although she hadn’t been an agent for long, she adapted quickly to the agent lifestyle which was hard to suddenly pause.

Even with Harry’s confirmation and reassurance that he wasn’t disappointed, she still felt the need to occupy her time with something useful.

There was absolutely nothing in her apartment that could pass away time. At least nothing that interested her. 

She cleaned up a bit, reorganized the living room, and stuck to the meals that Harry sent for her daily. They weren’t bad actually, except for the spinach soup that made her want to puke.

With no one accompanying her but Tim Tim and her thoughts, she realized how nice and caring it is to send someone customized meals. If someone heard her say it out loud, they’d snort in her face but—they just don’t know Harry and his personality.

He texted her every day at least twice. At first, she thought he only did so to make sure she ate the meals and took her supplement (which would be considered too kind coming from him), but slowly he began diverting from those topics asking her about her day and chatting with her.

He gave her updates on the agency and promised to pass by her apartment only to bail on her because of an emergency that required his presence.

On day 4 she was fully annoyed. She couldn’t handle being away from the agency for long, and even if she could go out and enjoy her time away—she didn’t know where to go.

She didn’t lead a normal life, no agent did and she was completely okay with it. She had no one to check up on or call to hang out with. The idea of going out somewhere alone felt weird. She would feel like an imposter amongst a sea of normal people.

She buried the eerie feelings and decided to spam Harry with texts to annoy him a bit. 

Y/n: I’m gonna pass by the agency :)

She pressed the send button and waited for his reply as she heated her lunch for the day.

His reply was almost automatic as if he didn’t have a load of responsibilities.

Harry: No.

Y/n: Yes.

Harry: I said no Y/n.

She huffed in frustration before remembering that if she could be a menace at the agency, then she could be a menace over text too.

Y/n: Too bad I’m already on my way.

Harry: Don’t test me.

Y/n: 😜

Harry: Are you disobeying me?

She choked on a piece of meat when she read his reply, and immediately reached for a cup of water. She wiped her mouth, staring at his text in confusion. It wasn’t strictly sexual, but it was a phrase that he always used during sex, because one thing that he combined between his professional and sex life was discipline, and Y/n adored it.

She loved his attitude, how he dared her to go against his orders or defy him. It wasn’t that she liked getting punished or sought pain—it was more of a need to observe him being dominant. The way he manhandled her and treated her like nothing but a toy, only for him to hold her to his chest right after.

Another text from Harry pulled her out of her fantasies and daydreams.

Harry: You’re well aware of how I feel about you disobeying me, right?

Y/n: Yes. I do.

Her response was automatic as if it was generated and not typed quickly by her. She wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.

Harry: Good Girl.

Motherfucker. He knew what he was doing. After all, he had her memorized by heart, and he probably was aware of how close she was to drooling. The meal in front of her didn’t appeal to her anymore because she had a different type of meal on her mind.

It had been a while since they hooked up and it was a rushed quickie behind closed doors at the agency. He kneeled on the ground to eat her out in no longer than five minutes before having to return to the training. He knew her body like the palm of his hand and had her panting and biting on her bottom lip in no time.

She adored it, really, but she craved the feeling of his cock driving into her as she held onto his body or while his hand wrapped itself around her neck with his mouth spewing the dirtiest sentences into her ear.

She sighed deeply reminiscing her adventurous sex life before he banished her to her apartment so she could rest. Was it a bit dramatic? Maybe. But she might be addicted to sex with him.

She glanced at his text knowing that he was probably smirking at his replies. He always knows how to get to her. She grabbed her phone and typed her reply because she was so fucking bored at the apartment and needed some fresh air.

Y/n: I’m still bored.

This time his reply wasn’t as quick as the previous one. It took him about five minutes to respond which was still fast considering how busy he was.

Harry: Okay. Go out.

Y/n: Wow! I didn’t think of that.

She scoffed at his dumb reply because who said that she was waiting for his approval?

Harry: Why didn’t you go out?

Y/n: I’m not sure…it feels weird…?

She could see the little dots that indicate that he was typing appearing only to disappear a few seconds later.

Harry: I’ll pick you up at 9. Dress comfortably.

When she complained about her boredom she thought that he would recommend her places to visit or give suggestions, not take her out. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when she read his text. She wasn’t hallucinating, right?

Y/n: Where are we going?

Harry: Eat your lunch and take your supplement.

Y/n: Damn grumpy pants.

He didn’t reply to her after that but if he did she’s sure he would have sent a thumbs-up emoji even if it was out of context. She continued her meal just like he instructed her. The hold he had on her was unreal, and she was okay with it.

Harry was knocking on her door at exactly 9 PM. Not a minute later.

This time she didn’t welcome him in with a tear-stained face, and grumpy attitude. It was the entire opposite of it. The only thing that was similar to the previous time was her shock. Harry was dressed in all black and a leather jacket. His hair looked so fucking soft, and a hair strand fell on his forehead as he leaned against the door with his hands in his pockets. He was a sight for sore eyes, especially Y/n’s whose jaw almost dropped.

“Hello, little minx.” He grinned devilishly as he entered her apartment. His cologne had her knees buckling, reminding her of when she’d bury her face in his neck.

Black shirt, black pants, black boots, and a black leather shirt. He’s going to be the death of her, surely. He strolled in like he owned the place while she shamelessly stared at his body.

“Little minx…” He tutted, cornering her against the kitchen counter. “… sent me message after message today as if I don’t have a workload.” His tone made her feel like she was in trouble, but the good kind of trouble.

“But you still answered, no?” She replied confidently with a smirk to remind him of the hold that she also had on him, even if they never spoke about it directly.

He remained silent, offering her his cheesy smirk as his eyes raked over her face and neck like he was trying to come up with sinful scenarios. She was more addictive than any type of drug.

“Ready to hit the road?” He deviated from the topic skilfully while checking out her attire to make sure that she’d be comfortable during the ride.

“Hmm. Let’s go.” She walked in front of him like a princess, going down the stairs excitedly.

She stepped out to the street and looked around with a hint of a smile painted across her face. She could hear Harry’s boots behind her and smell his cologne that seemed to have stuck to her clothes.

“So…are we going to walk there?” She asked with confusion evident on her face.

“We’re riding there.” His response held a sense of pride as he grabbed her hand and walked down to the end of the street before taking a left and stopping.

A large black sports bike was parked in its glory itching for someone to take it for a ride. Y/n stood still in her place with her mouth wide open in shock. Harry was a motorcycle guy?

“Oh…wow.”

“Scared little minx?” He mused like it was so fun to see her reaction. He approached her from behind, bumping his body with hers and trapping her physically. She could feel him breathing against her neck as she swallowed down his throat. One touch from him and she’s paralysed.

He pressed a soft peck behind her ear before whispering. “Don’t worry… you’ll hold on to me.” She barely processed what he said as he immediately urged her forward and gave her a helmet to put on. She wore it as soon as he gave it to her to cover her facial expression from him. He helped her tie it up before placing his helmet on.

“C'mon hop on behind me.” He situated himself on the bike, and the more Y/n stared, the more the wetness between her thighs increased. Seeing him in all black was something but with a biker helmet on? She wanted to drop on her knees right there and then, but she didn’t.

Instead, she hopped on behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso. Her grip was weak making him urge her to get closer and glue herself to him. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, it just made her ridiculously horny.

The feeling of hugging his muscular body with her core touching his lower back had her feeling some sort of way. She could feel his abs under her touch, and his cologne drifting in the air was not helping.

“I can’t even see anything because of your back!” While she joked about it, deep down she found it fucking hot. His broad back and shoulders blocked her view, and the only thing she could do was rest her head against it.

“I don’t hear you complaining when you’re scratching on it.” Even with his helmet on, she could feel him smirking.

She gave in to the feeling of his warm body against her as if he were shielding her from everything. It was not an ideal timing for her size kink to get activated, but she genuinely couldn’t help it.

“Hold on tight little minx.” The engine roared to life and Harry fixed his position before taking a turn and heading straight for the highway.

This was her first time on a motorcycle surprisingly. At first, her body was tense, and it didn’t feel nice. Despite having a helmet on, it felt like the wind was slapping her. Harry turned out to be a skilled biker who speeds for fun—still he was careful.

She eventually regulated her breathing and unclenched her jaw as she adapted to the adrenaline rush that she felt. It was an otherworldly feeling. She couldn’t tell what made her feel this way. Harry’s body against her, the evening breeze, or the rush of speeding.

No matter what it was, she felt amazing.

Harry wanted to taunt her in some way, preferably verbally—but she seemed like she was having fun, and her arms around him were a distraction. The feeling of her body clinging to him was priceless.

He tried to avoid speeding on the highway for her sake despite loving to do so. It was one of the things he resorted to when he needed a break from everything. Nothing could compare to the adrenaline rush he felt…maybe just Y/n’s lips.

He slowed down and took an exit on the highway that led them to a deserted road and ultimately a hill. He stopped and turned off the ignition before stepping off the bike.

“Fucking hell. Do you want to kidnap me?” Y/n joked as she looked around the dark and deserted space.

“If I want to kidnap you, little minx, I’ll simply carry you.” He chuckled as he took off his helmet and fixed his messy hair. She swallowed down her throat as she stared at him. Why did he have to look this good?

“C'mon.” He gestured for her to follow him, and she jogged to catch up. He placed his hand on her lower back to urge her forward. His body was dangerously close to her, and she could smell his cologne again. Harry’s hand itched to hold hers, but he wasn’t sure if she’d like that, so her lower back should suffice.

They took a small turn to the left as rocks crunched under their shoes. Harry wondered whether he should tell her to close her eyes or not. But if he does, then it’d sound romantic which crosses the boundaries of their physical relationship.

“It’s right…here.” They were met with a gorgeous view of the city. They could see almost all the lit buildings as if they were in the sky. It felt as if they were spying on the city with its lights and secrets. No one but them on the deserted hill.

“Wow..this is so beautiful”. Y/n gasped in shock at the view in front of her. She never expected Harry to take her to this spot-she didn’t even know it existed.

“I know.” If she wasn’t too occupied with the scenery, she would’ve noticed that Harry was in fact, staring at her with a smile on his face.

“How do you know this spot?” Y/n still couldn’t take her eyes off the shimmering buildings.

“I discovered it once by mistake, and I come here often.” He didn’t mention how this place was his escape from the world, or that he came here before heading to her apartment that day.

“It’s so nice.” Despite the darkness filling the space, Harry could still see and feel her smile.

He quickly got the bike so they could sit on it, and left it turned on for the light.

“Oh, it’s so big I could sleep on it.” Y/n remarked.

Perhaps he was feeling extra chill or it was just from being around her but a weird sound came out of his mouth as he tried to suppress a laugh. Y/n usually gets sleepy after sex, and his dick isn’t the average size. So did he think of her sentence sexually and almost burst out laughing? Yes.

“Did you just try to laugh at me?” She asked in an annoyed tone.

“Me? Never.” He covered up his chuckle with coughing.

“Whatever…” She mumbled a few other words under her breath as she attempted to climb the bike, but it was gigantic. She can’t even recall how she climbed it previously and she’s not even short!

She gasped suddenly as Harry’s hands lifted her body like she weighed nothing and placed her on the seat before she could blink. She was glad that he couldn’t see her face clearly because she could feel her cheeks burning. Was she that touch deprived?

“I was handling it just fine.” She huffed in confidence.

“Mhmm.”

The bike was indeed huge, but Harry took most of the space making their bodies glued on the seat.

The tension between them could be cut with a knife. Y/n would usually be the first to break the silence, but she just couldn’t. She felt paralyzed next to him, and he didn’t even touch her yet. His presence and cologne were enough to weaken her.

“Are you still mad at me?” He cleared his throat.

“What?” She couldn’t mask the shock in her tone as her face turned around to meet his.

“About last week.” It sounded as if something was holding him back, almost like he was afraid of asking.

She took a few seconds to process his question, mostly because she was shocked at the gesture. She knew deep down that it meant a lot. No one would believe her if she said that Agent Harry Styles was checking up on her and apologized. They’d probably laugh in her face.

She couldn’t decode what it meant. Was he just feeling guilty, or did he share the same feelings? The need for more than just physical boundaries haunted her but she wouldn’t dare to bring it up. Even if he was feeling guilty, it still had to be something. He’s literally merciless to other agents.

“I—I—“

“You don’t have to give me an answer.” He reassured her in a low whisper.

“No, I do—I’m just confused.”

“About?” Harry was itching to know her answer. He even rehearsed his question for the past week.

“Well… why did my lack of performance anger you in the first place?” She had a lot to ponder about in her free time. Questions that popped into her head about Harry.

He took a deep breath and clasped his hands together before exhaling. “I didn’t want you to get hurt on the field. Most of the time when agents slack, they end up getting injured in the field…”

“Wanted you to be strong for when I’m not there.” He whispered as if the city was able to hear him confessing his secrets.

“Oh.” Y/n’s head was swirling with thoughts and questions-none that came out of her mouth. She could even feel Harry’s stress radiating off him. She simply allowed her Pinky finger to touch his as they continued staring at the city.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that she broke the silence.

“I’m not mad anymore. I was just surprised. Just—don’t do it again.”

“Never.”

They stayed in the same position with their fingers touching for almost two hours, as they chatted about important and mundane things. His heart fluttered when she laughed her ass off after he told her how an agent peed his pants because he was caught smoking.

He even told her about his mother briefly. That’s how whipped he was. She shared a few details about growing up as an orphan, but they both decided to close the topic knowing how heavy was.

“Your cologne is suffocating me.” Her remark was innocent, it really was—but his mind wasn’t.

“Thought you liked it when you buried your face in my neck?” Cheeky Harry was back in full force. He inched his face closer to her and he could hear her swallow down her throat.

“Harry…”

“Tell me…did you think about me knocking on your door and fucking you against the wall?” Lust dripped from his voice and Y/n’s chest was rising. Goosebumps spread all over her skin as their noses bumped.

“I—yes.”

“Good. Cause I stopped myself from doing that every single day.” He was needy for her, and only her.

“What are you waiting for then?”

In a few seconds, he had her straddling his lap with his hand supporting her lower back as his lips devoured hers. Their kiss was sloppy, wet, and lustful. Harry counted the minutes that led to this moment so he could taste the sweetest fruit.

He was fucking obsessed with everything about her. Her lips, eyes, body, mind, and pussy.

“Fuck!” He moaned into her mouth when she grinded over his clothed cock. He might as well cum right there in his pants if she kept doing that.

“Behave. “He slapped her ass causing her to whine sweetly. His large hand rested on her cheeks trying to knead them over her leggings.

Their breaths were labored as their tongues clashed like lovers who hadn’t had sex in ages. His mouth was fucking devouring her and she could already feel her lips getting sore. He kept urging her body closer as if he could morph them into one body.

“Ne—need you.” Her whimpers made the blood rush to his cock.

“Yeah? Where do you need me, my baby?”

She ignored his question and continued kissing all over his face, brushing over his stubble and chin. She was hungry and he adored it. But she also didn’t answer him.

He pulled her away by wrapping his hand around her throat. She gasped, secretly loving the feeling of his veiny hands choking her.

“I asked you a question, little minx. Where do you need me?” His voice was so deep and lustful that she wanted to get down on her knees and suck him.

“Uh—In my pussy.” She breathed out, feeling the wetness increase between her thighs just from his hand around her neck. “Here, baby?” He cupped his other hand over her pussy making her feel tingly.

“Y—yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir.”

“Attagirl.” He felt her wetness on his hand and if it wasn’t so dark he’d bend her over the bike and fuck her into the next day. Besides, his little minx gets sleepy.

“C’mon, I need to get us to your apartment.” He spanked her cheeks again, earning a squeal from her. He pulled her off his lap and winced at his painful hard on before fixing his pants as much as he could and seating himself on the bike. His hand reached out for her and pulled her onto his lap again.

“Whoa! What are you doing? I should be behind you.”

“No. Since my cologne makes you horny, you’re gonna have your face buried into my neck the whole ride.” His smirk was sick but fuck her if she didn’t like it.

Her nose bumped over his neck and she fought a moan. This had to be the best punishment.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you with my body.” His arm tightened around her waist as he took the route they came from.

It was going to be a torturous ride.

Y/n could barely open the door properly with Harry kissing on the back of her neck. His hard on was pressing into her ass as she tried to insert the key. Her soft whines only made him hornier and needier.

As soon as they were inside, the keys dropped to the ground followed by the loud shut of the door. Harry grabbed Y/n by the throat pushing her to the wall where he kissed her deeply. The kiss was rushed and erotic, he could never get enough of her lips or sweet whimpers every time he pushed his tongue inside her mouth.

“My minx…” The warmth between her thighs was torturous. His deep voice rumbled from his chest sending vibrations straight to her pussy.

“Uhh..” She tried to push her core against his crotch for any sort of friction.

He caught on immediately as he smirked against the kiss and tapped on her ass to lift her on his waist. He had her placed lower than usual so she could feel him against the fabric.

“Is that what you wanted sweet girl? To feel how hard I am for you?” He panted, cradling her jaw with his hand as he deepened the kiss.

“Y—yes." She didn’t want to respond or part from his lips for a millisecond. She could feel her pussy pulsating just from the feeling of his cock pressing into her core.

She pulled away reluctantly, glancing at his neck like it was her next meal. He may have been teasing her, but he was right. She loved burying her face in his neck and sucking on it. She prided herself in knowing that the hickeys she’d give him would be on show for all girls at the agency.

His scent always played with her pheromones and messed with her brain. His cologne had a hold on her, and she knew that she looked like a puppy in heat when she clung to him. “Dirty girl…” His hand rested on her hair as his head rolled backward giving her access to his skin. He was a sight for sore eyes with his face scrunched in ecstasy and lips slightly parted. She didn’t have to speak for him to understand her possessiveness and boy did he like it.

His little minx was obsessed with him just like he was.

“Bedroom please.” She laid her forehead against his having had her fill from giving him love bites. Their noses bumped as they looked into each other’s eyes that shared the same desire.

She didn’t need to tell him twice. He supported her body with one hand around her waist as she directed him to the room. He didn’t waste any time and kept his mouth busy with her neck.

He placed her down on the bed gently before taking off his clothes quickly while she stared at his toned body and tattoos, holding in her drool.

“You could stare at me all night darling, but now I need you to be a good girl and take off your clothes so I could relieve that needy cunt of yours.” Harry barely finished his sentence, and her clothes were off in a few seconds.

The light in the room was dim, supported by a small bedside lamp. If she thought that staring at his body was a delight, then she should read his mind as he stared down at hers.

She looked so fucking pretty for him. Only him.

It was like an erotic scene out of a movie or a wet dream. Y/n on her back with her legs spread showcasing her glistening pussy and hardened nipples, and Harry standing tall in front of her with his cock erect to his stomach begging to sink itself inside her warm walls.

The sight of him standing like that nude and horny will never leave her mind. Almost as if he were a Greek god.

She squealed as he pulled her by her legs to the edge of the bed. Harry suddenly lowered his body till his face was at the same level as her pussy. His teasing game was strong, she was crumbling underneath him.

“My favorite scent.” He buried his face in her cunt and inhaled. A tiny whine left her mouth as his nose bumped into her swollen clit. Y/n felt like she could cry if he didn’t fuck her, and he was taking his sweet time in savoring the scent of her wetness.

“H—Harry.”

“Mhm?” He turned his attention to her, hovering over her body and taking delight in her needy face.

“Please—it hurts.” If he waited any longer, Harry was sure that a tear would’ve fallen from her eye.

“Oh poor baby…” He cooed as he caressed her cheek gently. “…you just need me inside, don’t you?” She was quick to nod while slightly squirming beneath him.

He pulled her closer, situating her core right under his cock, and stroked it giving her a show of his moans before tapping it against her wet cunt.

“Is that where you need it? Just have to slide in.” His sick grin with the feeling of his cock sliding over her cunt back and forth made her eyes roll back.

“Please.” She dug her nails into his back followed by a set of pleas.

“Shhh.” He whispered softly, pressing a peck to her cheek before pulling away from her and fixing their position.

He placed her legs on his shoulder and gave her his twisted smirk as he stroked his shaft and bit his bottom lip. “Gonna be my good girl as usual? Hmm?”. He lowered his body again, allowing his cock to rest on her stomach.

“Uh—huh.” She nodded mindlessly immediately. She was already cockdrunk and he wasn’t inside her yet.

“Ready baby?” His hand rubbed her legs softly as she gave him the cue. He glanced quickly at his cock resting on her skin and he almost got dizzy from the size difference. It got to him every damn time.

His eyes were focused on her facial expression as he slowly pushed himself inside of her. A wave of relief washed over her face with a sweet moan making him still his hips to avoid cumming.

There was nothing like sinking inside her warm walls that begged him to go deeper. Wet squelching sounds filled the room the more he pushed inside her—his baby was made for him.

“That’s it little minx—so fucking warm for daddy.”

Y/n’s brain felt mushy. Harry was so fucking good to her, and his cock scratched the itch just right. He never referred to himself as daddy before, only sir but she liked it so bad.

She pulled at his arms with soft whimpers signalling for him to get closer to her—which he did without hesitation. She clung to him, digging her nails into his back and tugging at his hair. His cock drove deep into her cunt, massaging her hot walls with its veins and thickness.

“Use me d—daddy”. Y/n shed tears from pleasure that stained his face since he was glued to her, pressing pecks to her cheeks and nose.

“Yeah? Want daddy to use you like a fuckdoll?” He increased his pace, going deeper and moaning into her ear at the feeling of her bare cunt.

They both adored raw sex and went for it almost every time. Y/n was on birth control, and Harry tested regularly (despite only fucking her). He was pussy whipped.

“Uhh—be rough daddy.” He stilled his hips at her words, leaving them glued to hers. He lifted his body and took in her fucked sight. Messy hair, tear stains, and a needy face.

“Wanted to be gentle with you but I forgot that you’re a whore deep down.” He chuckled before spitting on her face, and watching her chest rise and fall as she breathed heavily.

His little minx was insatiable and provoked him further by trying to fuck herself on his cock as she bit her bottom lip. He could faintly hear her whimpering ‘Daddy’ under her breath.

He wanted to slap her knowing how much she liked it but something else distracted him. He looked down to where they were connected noticing the mix of her wetness with his precum. He pulled out slowly, moaning at the loss of contact and his cock that is painted in white.

Harry tried to breathe in and out to avoid cumming. Not only did she cream on his cock, but her cunt was pulsating as if she was asking for his cock to slide in again.

“Pathetic. Creamed all over me.” Her inner thighs were coated with wetness, and she didn’t close her legs—not even a bit. She knew that she should always keep them spread for him.

He flipped her on her stomach effortlessly and she immediately arched her back, presenting her ass to him. “What a good fuckdoll.” He slapped her cheeks and placed his tip at her entrance before sinking into her warmth again.

Her walls pulled him back in as if she were some sort of seductress that made him addicted to her. Harry balanced himself and focused on the fast thrusts instead of her extremely warm cunt.

“Fucking insatiable aren’t you?” He grunted with his eyes fixed on his cock entering her pussy and coming out all creamy as her ass jiggled.

Y/n’s muffled moans were all she could offer. With her face smushed in the pillow and brain turned off, she was in fucking heaven.

The arch of her back had him rolling his head backward as his hips rotated forward, going deeper and harder.

“That’s it slut. Take my fucking cock.” He gritted his teeth, grabbing a fistful of her hair, and pulling it backward before wrapping a hand around her neck and lifting her body to his chest. 

She was completely gone. She could only look at him with teary eyes that begged him to claim her.

Deeper, harder, faster.

“D—d…” 

“Good fuckdolls keep their mouth shut.” He tightened his grip on her jaw, tapping on her mouth to open it up before spitting inside.

“Swallow.” If the warmth of her cunt didn’t kill him, it was going to be her face. So needy, compliant, and dizzy from pleasure.

Their bodies were glued to each other, skin to skin with her back to his chest as he thrusted inside her while panting in her ear. 

He was supporting both of their bodies seeing as she could do nothing but whine. His arm was secured around her torso with her hand clinging to his bicep. The clenching of her walls around his cock was always the hardest for him. She’d rile him on trying to milk his cum, taking every drop.

“You wanna cum?” He panted against the back of her neck knowing how her body acts when she’s reaching her orgasm.

She gave him a weak nod, clinging harder to his bicep as she laid her head on his shoulder. They didn’t always cum together, but when they did, the euphoria was unmatched. Harry had been holding himself back ever since he sunk into her, just to feel her shake and pulsate around him as he spilled his cum into her.

“C’mon minx, give it to me.” His tongue left a broad lick on her neck with a harsh bite. It wasn’t her clit that got her off—her sensitive spot was her neck, whether Harry choked her or sucked on her skin—she was a goner.

“H—Harry” Her nails dug into his skin as she looked up at him with sweet eyes and shaky legs.

How could he resist laying his lips on hers as he stilled his hips to empty himself inside her?

She was shuddering—even with their skin glued together. Her sweet moans made his cock twitch inside her, already hungry for more. Her orgasm hit her hard, clouding her vision and thoughts. The feeling of his cum spiling inside her with her pussy clenching to take it inside was the only thing she felt and wanted to feel.

“Fuck. That’s it, take every drop my lo—minx.”  His eyes fluttered open at his word slip up.

His eyes furrowed in confusion and immediately glanced at her face which seemed to be too occupied with cumming. His chest heaved as he swiped his hand across her face, moving her sweaty hair strands away before kissing her temple.

“Talk to me, are you okay?” He angled her face towards him to examine her expression.

“Yes.” A hazy smile was planted across her face making him chuckle.

“Mhmm. I’m going to pull out now and carry you to the bathroom so you can pee.” He gave her a heads up while rubbing her cheeks.

Once she nodded at him, he began pulling out slowly, wincing at being separated from her warmth—something that she reciprocated. Harry tried to avoid looking down—he really did, but it was too tempting.

His creamy load dripped out of her pussy, sliding down her legs, and the more she clenched, the more came out.

“Fucking hell.” He muttered under his breath, swiping his finger across her pussy and gathering his cum before tasting it.

Y/n’s whine echoed in his ear. She sported an angry look on her face that disappeared once he signalled for her to open her mouth. He spat the residue of what he tasted inside of her mouth, enjoying the faint moans that spilled from her.

“C’mon let’s clean you up.” He carried her effortlessly to the bathroom before giving her privacy and heading back to the room to change the sheets.

Who knew that changing bed sheets would make him irritated? He let out a huff, finishing the last touch right as she came out of the bathroom.

She was dressed in nothing but a plain white shirt that barely reached her thighs.

“Hm I love my bed.” She smiled as she climbed the mattress, giving Harry a show.

“Y/n.” He spoke rigidly.

“Yeah?” She glanced up innocently at him as she relaxed under the duvet.

“I was supposed to clean you up…and where are your panties?” He questioned her as he joined her on the bed—nude.

“You can wake me up at night, make a mess then clean me.” She taunted him, switching to the side and giving him a view of the shirt riding up her ass.

He got under the covers, situating himself properly so that he was attached to her.

“Is that what you want little minx? Hmm?” His fingers caressed her skin slowly starting from her arm, down to her legs.

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll see.” He nibbled on before earlobe as she dosed off to sleep. She loved sleeping after sex and Harry knew that, but it was almost 1 in the morning and she needed rest.

Harry dared to let his hand dip in her hair, giving her head scratches as she slept peacefully. He didn’t realize what he was doing until she stirred in her sleep making him pull his hand away.

His eyes furrowed in confusion as he stared at her sleeping face. First the word slip up and now he’s playing with her hair.

What the fuck was going on with him?

Taglist: @prettythingsworld @slut4marvelmenn @wandas-lawyer @tbsloneely @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @missmielyhoran @harryssideboob @harrysficreblog @itslottiehere @hsonlyangelxo @gem1712 @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @hrryberry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @matildasatellite @a-strange-familiar @greivingfortheliving @straightnogayhs @awesomenavy @infinatetatie @be-with-me-so-happily @harrysrockstarsgf @cherrys4suckers @stilesissaved @daphnesutton @elioslover @myalovesharry

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

[skzoolandia]

SHATTERED PUZZLES | M.LIST

PREV TITLE: I Don’t Remember Me, Before You

PAIRING(S): Hyunjin x Reader ft Minho x Reader

 THEMES: fluff, angst, slight love triangle, amnesia!Hyunjin, Doctor!Chan, Rude!Hyunjin, car accident, trauma, mentions of death/blood

WORD COUNT: 40k+

 RATING: pg13

 SUMMARY: A rude and arrogant patient with no identification wakes up from a year-long coma and develops temporary amnesia. Assigned to you, a volunteer who’s not going to put up with his attitude, you’re both in for a rough ride.

 SERIES SONG: I Don’t Remember Me (Before You)

 SERIES TAGLIST:  @p0t4t0don14ll​​ @bowlofblueberries​ @ohmysparkle​ @perriwiinkle​ @p2q3r4 @hyunjun-jpeg​ @stuckonkpop @geniejunn​ @koroleva–rezni​ @straykisz​ @jeonginlvr @imnaye0n @skzooo​ @mythicalamphitrite​ @minspalette​ @koovvie @felix-neverbad​ @danihow​ @lolalee24​ @mickmoon​ @betysotelo18​

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[skzoolandia]

Hwang Hyunjin Fics recs Pt. 1

bold = completed, italics = on going, 🌸 = personal favourites

Pt.2 (i'm sorry i read too much)

Written Series

Star Lost With You by @/hyunjinspark 🌸🌸🌸

On Tour by @/seospicybin (Hyunjin x Reader x Felix) 🌸🌸

Anti-Romantic by @/jisungsdaydreamer 🌸🌸

Starlost by @/jeonginify 🌸

Twin Flame by @/hwajin 🌸

Velvet Opiate by @/hh0320

Four of Wands by @/straywrds

The Taste Of Honey by @/straywrds

Super Bored by @/straywrds 🌸🌸 🌸

A Lullaby on His Throat by @/straywrds

Hotel Vermillion by @/cb97percent

Inferno by @/cb97percent

goodnight n go by @/cosmic-railwayxo

FREEZE 땡 by @/j-0ne25

Hunger by @/under-and-over-the-moon 🌸

Shattered Puzzles by @/hyunnows

Back to December by @/jinhyun

Age-Restricted by @/gamerwoo

Collateral Damage by @/straylightdream

How He Sees Me by @/sunflowerhyun

Crave by @/changbunnies

So This is Growing Up by @/milkandhyunnie

Make Love, Not Porn by @/charmercharm3r

Mine by @/milkandhyunnie

All for Nothing by @/hyunfilms 🌸

Begin Again by @/starrgaziinggg

Enough For You by @/lotus-dly

The Zone by @/cb97percent 🌸

Reflection by @/cb97percent

Experienced by @/ballelino

Hell Above by @/kim-miyeon

Red Moon by @/lixiepeach (OT8x Reader but HyunChan focused)🌸🌸🌸

No Catching Feelings by @/puppy-byun 🌸

Sharp Edges by @/straywrds 🌸🌸

Dangerous by @/minghaoyoudoin

The Guy Next Door by @/jl-micasea-fics

Play With Fire by @/lalal-99

SMAUs

Only Fools Fall For You by @/hyunjinspark

All I Know is Your Name by @/imagine-a-life-like-this

I Fell For You By Accident by @/imagine-a-life-like-this

Technical Difficulties by @/ahgastae

Crush Culture by @/1-800-hyunlix

It's Just A Mistake by @/seosracha

Love Risk by @/feelbokkie 🌸

I Choose You by @/3rachasaucy

How We Fell by @/strayzid

saudade by @/strayzid 🌸

The View by @/luvrhyune

Sweet Like Candy by @/staysuki

Star-Crossed Enemies by @/mingiswow

SHANGRI-LA by @/zoe8stay 🌸

The Boy is Bad News by @/milkandhyunnie 🌸🌸

Watercolor by @/jinhyun 🌸🌸

Yellow by @/burningupp

Maybe it's not our fault by @/cosmic-railwayxo

Hearts Full of Honey by @/staysuki

Heart Attack by @/cupidsheqrts

Chit Chat by @/sugrlamb

Die for You by @/minnielvr

Just Look At Me by @/ppiri-bahng

Carousel by @/luvlyhyunjin

[skzoolandia]

Hot n Cold

Pairing: Lee know x reader

Genre: enemies(ish) to fwb to ?, smut, angst(a bit?)

Summary: after going from annoying each other to fuck buddies, Minho took your situationship from granted, always having you on his beck and call. So imagine how surprised he is to hear you have a date with someone else?

This content is +18 ONLY, minors do NOT interact.

Warnings: Minho is possessive, a bit manipulative, kind of a jerk too(he's a walking red flag let's be for real), hair pulling, rough sex(?), unprotected piv(this is fiction please always use protection irl), creampie, bites/hickeys, I think that's all let me know if I missed something.

I had to write this plot because it has given me brain rot since I first thought about it so I just really wanted to take it out of my head ☠️ as always let me say that I'm not very good with smut but I keep trying so I can get better at it, so I hope you guys like it.

You didn't like him, not at all. Minho is a known fuckboy, the guy you shouldn't get involved in anyway. You were always surprised with how many girls fell for his tricks, until you did too.

You didn't mean to fall in love, it actually was the very last thing you wanted to happen. You and Minho were always fighting, bickering, provoking each other, it was natural. You were not friends, more like you were part of the same group, so you were always together and that ended in arguing every time.

You can't remember why you thought it was a good idea to fuck, maybe it was all the pressure and snarky comments your friends kept making, saying there was too much sexual tension between you two.

You didn't hate each other, you just didn't agree with everything. It always started with you saying something, anything, and Minho making some stupid comment with that damn smirk on his face.

Your first reaction was to feel embarrassed, blush rushing to your cheeks as you think of a good answer to give him. After that, you would pick on anything he said, making him roll his eyes every time you opened your mouth.

That was your thing, annoying each other.

One night, after everyone drank themselves to unconsciousness on the floor of your apartment, you decided to take a shower to sober up and go to sleep too.

You thought everyone was sleeping, clearly you were wrong because you bumped into Minho as soon as you opened the bathroom’s door. He was waiting outside, turning around to look at you the moment he heard the door.

He checked you out, staring at you up and down, biting his bottom lip before showing you that pretentious smile of his. That made you hold onto the towel tightly around you, afraid that he could undress you with only his eyes.

“Looking good”, he says, leaning against the wall. His comment makes your whole face hot and you just pray you were not as red as a tomato.

“You are drunk”, you scoff, trying to recompose yourself, walking past him.

He grabs your wrist, forcing you to turn around to bump right into his chest. He's looking down on you and you can't muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, just staring at his chest.

“I'm very much sober”, he tells you, mockery in his tone.

“Okay”, you mumble. Even though you're avoiding his gaze you can feel the intensity of his stare without having to look at him, “can you let go? I want to go to bed”

“Maybe I could keep you company”, he whispers, bending down to reach your height, making you look into his eyes now.

You shake your head frantically, closing your eyes.

“Are you sure? I'm very good company”, he whispers in your ear, he has gotten even more close now.

You gulp, feeling the warmth spreading through your whole body, making the tingling sensation grow in your stomach and that's the moment you knew there was no turning back.

You woke up alone in your bed, so exhausted and sore you couldn't lift an arm. Flashbacks from the prior night came rushing in, making you want to scream. What the hell did you do? How would you look at his face now?

You look around to find a tray with orange juice and pancakes on top of your bedside table. You snatch the note that's glued to the tray so fast it's embarrassing, feeling your cheeks warm up.

“Enjoy the food. I had fun last night, let's do it again. - Minho”

An involuntary smile creeps in while you read his simple and nothing romantic sentence, you don't know why you felt so flustered and excited, was it because he was handsome? Was it the remaining feeling of a great night? You just thought it would be okay to have this kind of relationship with Minho, just pure carnal desire.

Minho was always very good at setting his boundaries and crossing them too, so good it often made you confused.

Minho would call you at midnight and talk to you till 4 in the morning, fuck classes the other day.

Minho wouldn't spare you a glance for an entire week until you received a text from him, telling you to meet at janitor's closet nearby so you could fuck before class.

Minho would buy you flowers, take you on a date and hold your hand, whispering sweet nothings in your ear after spending another night together.

Minho wouldn't want to go out with you on valentine's day, saying he was busy.

Minho would introduce you to his mom, he would take you to have dinner with his family and his cats.

Minho wouldn't ask you to be his girlfriend even after months, actually, he would often tell you how good it was that you were friends.

You were already tired of this situation, he would give you so many mixed signals, messing with your head. The last straw was when you were at his house and his phone buzzed while he was in the bathroom, you mistook it for yours and grabbed it instinctively to look at the screen, seeing texts from a girl.

You shouldn't feel jealous, you're nothing more than fuck buddies and you're not exclusive, you know you're not. Then why did that feel like a punch on your stomach?

You wanted to fight with him, yell, make a scene, but you had no right doing that. So you just collected your things and left without saying goodbye.

You spend a week avoiding him, every time he wants to come to you, you tell him you are out. Every time he asks you to go to him, you tell him you are busy. You finally decided to let him go and you are just mustering up the courage to tell him that.

You even downloaded a dating app, thinking that you could maybe distract yourself, maybe you could think about anything other than Lee Minho. But every man reminded you of him, how they were not him, how they didn't stand a chance against him.

After talking for a few days with someone new, you agree to go on a date. While you're getting ready, your phone buzzes, taking your attention out of your reflection on the mirror.

Minho: come over

Minho: I miss your face

You: Can't

Minho: what's your excuse today?

Minho: I can go to yours if that's the problem

You: I'm going out soon

You: I have a date tonight

You throw your phone on the bed, not in the mood to engage in conversation with him. You're actually afraid that he'll tell you to go on, because even though you know he doesn't care, it's different to have him sending you off to a date with someone else. You finish getting ready, grabbing your phone and purse, giving yourself a last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in place.

The date goes well, the guy is so fun and respectful. You go to a beautiful restaurant, he opens the car door for you, pulls the chair for you to sit before dinner and pays the bill. He smiles the entire night and compliments you, asking questions about everything: school, family, friends, he just seems very interested in anything related to you.

You enjoy his company, he makes you believe that you will be able to get over Minho, that maybe he can help you with that.

It's after midnight when he leaves you in your apartment, watching as you get inside the building safely. The night was perfect, you just didn't expect to find Minho at your doorstep.

He turns around quickly when he hears your footsteps, looking you up and down and scowling, noticing your blurred lipstick.

“Did you have fun?” He asks, scoffing.

“Yes, I did”, you say, walking to your door to open it so you can go in.

“Did you fuck?” He asks, shamelessly, making your head snap to look at him.

“That's none of your concern”, you whisper yell, trying not to wake up the neighbors but shocked by his bluntness.

“It is, I don't like people touching what's mine”, he says, through gritted teeth.

He's so close you can feel his breath hitting your skin, making you nervous, trying to find your keys inside your purse.

“I'm not fucking yours, we are nothing”, you glare at him when you have the keys in your hands.

“You should tell yourself that while I fuck you stupid, I'm sure the only person on your mind at that moment is me”, he spits, his anger growing.

“Well, I'll not be doing that anymore”, you inform him. Unlocking your door and walking inside.

“What? Why are you acting like this, Y/N?” He says, walking behind you. “Things were going great until now”

“It was great for you”, you say, throwing your purse on the couch, turning around to look at him and crossing your arms. “Being just your booty call is not enough for me anymore, I want more”

Your voice sounds more weak than you meant to in your last sentence, you want to cry. You didn't plan to end things like this, not right now.

You can almost see the gears turning on Minho's head, he's trying to find a way out.

“You told me you didn't want to date”, he accuses you.

“I really didn't want to”, you sigh, “but we've been doing this for months, Minho. It's impossible for me to not feel anything other than just horny”

“Well, I do like you”, he clears his throat, looking anywhere but your face, “I just don't want to date anyone right now”, he completes.

“Then we are done”, you tell him, shrugging and smiling bitterly.

“No, no”, he takes a step closer, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his mouth, kissing them. “Don't say that”

He places your hands around his neck, sliding his behind your back, wrapping your waist with his arms. You want to tell him off, want to tell him to go away, that you two are really over, but his scent is just so intoxicating, you can't help but take a deep breath.

“What are you doing?” You manage to say, feeling his lips brushing against yours.

“I'm showing you my affection”, he whispers.

You almost melt into his arms, feeling his lips press against yours. He kisses you deeply, his arms holding you tightly.

Minho starts walking, making you take steps back. He leads you to your room, slowly helping you lie down on your bed.

Minho takes his shirt off, looking down on you and leaning to kiss you again, soft lips pressing lightly on yours, his hands traveling through your body, making you shiver to his touch.

He pulls your dress off of you, looking at your chest.

“Didn't wear a bra?” He smirks, “did you want him to touch your tits? Hm?”, he asks condescendingly, leaning closer to your breasts, licking your hard nipples, making goosebumps rise all over your body. One of his hands slide down on your stomach, reaching your covered pussy.

“Oh?” Minho disconnects his mouth from your chest. “Are you sure you two didn't fuck? Why are you so wet? Did you let him play with you?” He's smiling playfully, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's staring deeply at you, daring you to tell him you wanted your date to fuck you.

“Maybe I should have”, you challenge, he has no right to inquire what you did or didn't do on your date.

“Really?” He scoffs, standing up and you just watch, afraid he'll leave. However, he starts unbuckling his pants. “I guess I've been too nice to you this whole time, y/n. Since you apparently don't know who fucking owns you”

You feel your whole body shudder, you should be mad, not excited about what he said. Then why is there a pool forming on your already wet panties? You never really noticed that Minho was the possessive type, but thinking about it, it was quite strange how he always had his hands on you whenever you were out. Other than holding hands, he often would just wrap his hand around the back of your neck while you walked together, like he wanted to claim you, let people know you were not available.

Minho leans over you again, pulling the soaked piece of fabric down your legs. He grabs your waist, flipping you around effortlessly and positions himself in between your legs, caressing your ass as you get on all fours.

He's not really worried with foreplay since you're plenty wet, he's more preoccupied with putting you in your place. So he drags the head of his cock through your folds, soaking his cock on your arousal before pushing it in.

“Min-Minho”, you gasp at his fast thrust. “Slow down”

“I don't think so”, he bends down a bit, sliding his hand through your back until he reaches your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling it all together. “The way you're squeezing my cock, tells me you like it when I treat you like the toy you are”, he tells you, smacking your ass in an unexpected slap.

You shake your head, unable to talk. His cock is reaching everywhere, like he always do. That's the worst part, he always fucks you so well and you always want more.

“Fuck”, you groan when your knees give in but Minho doesn't stop. He forces your legs open, leaning on top of you to keep fucking you from the back. His mouth is so close from your neck now, he starts biting your skin, sucking so hard you're sure you won't be able to cover the hickeys with makeup later. “I'm close”, you cry out when you feel his teeth on your shoulder.

“Tell me you're mine if you want to finish”, he tells you, slowing down his movements. But you shake your head, not giving in that easily. Minho sinks his teeth on your neck once more, sucking and licking the sensitive skin, he knows how much that turns you on even more.

“Come on, babe. I know you want to”, he says one more time but you hold it in, making him huff angrily, changing the pace of his thrusts again to deep strong movements that rip the air out of your lungs, “fucking say it”

You feel the tears brimming and running through your cheeks, the overwhelming feeling of the pending orgasm making your mind hazy.

“I'm yours, I am-”, you struggle to spit the words.

You can feel his smile on your skin while he disconnects his teeth, leaving a kiss on the reddened area.

“Was it that hard?”, he says, sliding his hands to your folds, sinking his fingers on your already full pussy to wet them. Minho brings said fingers to your clit, making circling movements accompanied by your moans, choking on the pleasure.

“Please, please, don't stop”, you cry out feeling the tightening on your lower stomach, the heat spreading to all your body, making you moan loudly when you finally reach your orgasm.

“Fuck, keep squeezing me like that.”, Minho groans, thrusts getting sloppy. He puts his hand behind your neck, pressing the side of your face to the pillow. “I love seeing your fucked out face while I cum, kitten”

Minho moans, releasing his load inside of you, making you squirm beneath him, feeling his warm shot. With no energy, you just feel him pulling out of you and throwing himself by your side.

When your high starts subsiding it hits you that you're still at the same place as before, so even though you just want to cuddle with him at that moment, you turn your face to look at him and ask.

“What are we now?”

------

A/N: as always, feedback is VERY important to writers, so please leave a comment, reblog or stop by my DM, I love to hear your thoughts on my stories!

[skzoolandia]

Crown | Series Masterlist | lmh (m)

𓆩⟡𓆪 Pairing: Unseelie!Lee Minho x Half fae!reader

𓆩⟡𓆪 Summary: The prince of the Unseelie Court has a single job: find a suitable marriage to strengthen the ties of his court. But it all comes crashing down when Minho meets you by chance and feels the mating bond come to life. From that moment on, the fight for his court's crown begins.

𓆩⟡𓆪  Series Word Count: 8,542 and counting

𓆩⟡𓆪 Genre: Urban Fantasy | Soulmates | Angst | Slow Burn

𓆩⟡𓆪 Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

𓆩⟡𓆪 Series Warnings: Fantasy violence, intense world building, graphic depiction of violence and fighting, explicit language, sexually explicit content, themes of arranged and forced marriages, discrimination between supernatural races, toxic themes. Each chapter will have their own set of warnings. 

𓆩⟡𓆪 Disclaimer: All members of Stray Kids are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

⟡ Main Masterlist ⟡ Playlist ⟡ Ask ⟡

One ↣ Amid bloodshed, you finally find the thing that has been missing from you all this time.

[skzoolandia]

Rodeo | lmh (m)

𓆩⟡𓆪 Pairing: hitman!Minho x arms dealer! F. reader

𓆩⟡𓆪 Summary: Minho’s relationship with you is like a good weapon - uncomplicated, refined, and trustworthy. He likes it that way. When you appear on his target list, his relationship with you becomes quite the opposite - complicated, rough, and unreliable. 

𓆩⟡𓆪 Word Count: 18,249

𓆩⟡𓆪 Genre: Cyberpunk | Smut | Angst | Peers to Something

𓆩⟡𓆪 Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

𓆩⟡𓆪 Warnings: Violence, world building, murder, discussion of murder, depictions of blood and fight sequences, brief mentions of drugs, depictions of wounds and treating them with syringes if you don’t like needles, explicit language, depiction of an anxiety attack, angst and self-doubt, Minho being an idiot, gun fights and scenes with weapons, some vague terms and references specific to the world building, sexually explicit content featuring oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, cum eating, bodily fluids, and mentions of spit in several places. I think that covers everything, for the most part. 

𓆩⟡𓆪 A/N: This is what happens when writers just write what they're inspired for. After almost two months of being unable to write, I got this random idea and I just went with it and took advantage of the moment and... genuinely had so much fun writing this. It got so much longer and more complex than I meant to, but I hope you enjoy.

𓆩⟡𓆪 A/N 2: This work is heavily inspired by Fallout 4, Blade Runner, Altered Carbon and the lovely song Rodeo by WayV. I imagine Rodeo playing during the shootout scene at the bar. Additionally, a fun fact: I use the nato alphabet to communicate Minho's targets and reader's target in this spells out 'reader' in the nato alphabet :)

𓆩⟡𓆪 Posted: Sunday, March 3 2024

𓆩⟡𓆪 Disclaimer: All members of Stray Kids are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Tag List Request Form | Song Inspiration

Any work is good work. 

Minho isn’t so sure that his father would say that as he crouches down next to the body on the living room floor. His thigh muscles protest, aching and tight from hours of sitting crouched across the street in the chill of a high-rise building waiting for his prey to enter this very building. 

Neon light bleeds through the foggy window behind him. The room is awash in watery pink as he pulls out his scanner with one hand and leans forward with the other, pressing his gloved fingers to the man's chin to push his head to the side. It rolls easily, giving a fleshy sound that might make someone squeamish as the man’s cheek hits the floor. 

Any work is good work, Minho thinks as he scans the man's non-existent pulse with his watch. He sees the blue ring of the biochip flash beneath cooling flesh, his watch flashing green with a soft buzz. The man’s entire life flashes on the screen - full name, date of birth, ID number, blood type, and place of work. Everything about him casts a sickly green glow on Minho’s sharp face.

Tapping a few buttons on the watch face, he waits, holding his wrist near his mouth as the sound of a dial tone chimes once. It’s silent in the apartment, though he can hear the hum of airborne traffic a few blocks off as the roar of adrenaline winds down. 

“Receiving,” a male voice answers. Minho doesn’t know who it is - he just knows he’s one of any of the Delegators who work for Collect Co. 

“Collection request number alpha-echo-tango-delta complete, served by Collector 102598.” 

“Collected alpha-echo-tango-delta confirmed. Please place a beacon before you leave. All credits for this Collection have been transferred to your account. Please wait five to seven business days before funds are available for use. Your next collection is in four hours, seven minutes, and eight United Seconds.” 

The line goes dead. The glow of the watch makes him squint before he can lower his brightness, scrolling to his bank account. He sees the credits added with a transaction pending. When he was a kid, the number glowing at the bottom of the screen to indicate his balance might have excited him. Now, it’s just a number on a screen that confirms the power won’t go out at his apartment and that he won’t go hungry.

Minho’s knees crack as he stands. He groans and leans backward, pressing his hands into the small of his back. A series of cracks slither up his spine, making his eyes roll back as he shuts them for a moment and shivers. 

He’s so goddamn sore.

Leaving the body on the carpet of the living area, he goes over to pick up the handgun resting on the counter. The energy weapon glows at his touch, syncing with his interface briefly before he holsters it inside his jacket. 

While he is technically within the law to eliminate targets for Collect Co., Minho finds that most people find it unsettling when Collectors walk around with weapons. He hasn’t given much thought to what people think about him, but it certainly causes a lot less trouble when he looks like an average businessman going to and from work instead of a licensed killer.

The gun isn’t technically legal, either. He would probably get away with it if a United Enforcer stopped him. The hitmen of the privately funded but government-sanctioned Collect Co., do not technically outrank the government’s militia, but no one with a badge is going to tell a Collector no. Not if they can help it, anyway.

Tossing a beacon on the counter for the cleanup crew to track to the apartment and get rid of the body and clean, Minho heads outside into the rain. He ducks his head down against it, water sliding off the slicker jacket he hugs a little tighter. He feels warmth kick in and his mouth twitches at the sign of the heating system in the body armor on his chest is doing its job. A nifty little upgrade from you, he knows. 

At the thought of you, Minho turns north toward the speed train, remembering that he needs an adjustment on his armor that is out of sync with his watch, and JumpPacks. He already used the last one about five hours ago and he feels the numbness of exhaustion buzzing at his edges, a warning sign that if he doesn’t get a jump or sleep he’s going to pass out.

Whichever comes first. 

Smears of color splash across the wet sidewalk as he jogs down the steps to the train. It smells wet and foul, making him tuck his chin to his chest as he rushes to the fast-closing door of the train. He steps over the threshold just as the doors clang shut, the hissing of an airlock barely finishing before it launches forward. 

He tenses to avoid being pitched forward into one of the standing railings. As the train rocks, the fluorescents above nearly blinding him, he finds a seat toward the back of an empty car. This late at night, there are only two other people in sight, both of them curled heaps of clothes on a seat, fast asleep. 

Sleep tugs at him the moment Minho sits down. He has a twenty-minute ride to North Ward Three, dropping his head against the back of the seat and closing his eyes. 

The light still hums behind his closed lids, making a splash of colors. There’s no sound save for the whine of the magnetic rail beneath his feet and the occasional mechanical creek as the vehicle sways. 

He melts into the seat a little, limbs loose. Fuck he needs a JumpPack. The last forty-eight hours awake are wearing him thin at the edges, stretching him like fabric over a surface far too wide. The forty-eight-hour mark is when he starts to decline, and as soon as he starts to creep toward seventy, he knows it’ll get messy. 

Minho is a lot of things, but he is ultimately human. The JumpPack can help him push beyond shaky hands, imagining things that aren’t there and the foggy thinking, but they won’t keep him sharp forever. 

As if proving his point, Minho hangs somewhere between awake and asleep, suspended in a dreamy space where he can still feel the rocking of the train but doesn’t feel the ache in his limbs or the pressure growing behind his eyes. 

He flinches when the chime echoes above him at the next stop, eyes flying wide for a moment as his gaze sweeps the train car, his hand on the inside of his jacket where he grips the handle of a very nice knife. 

No one enters the car. It’s just him and the other two sleeping people - he isn’t sure they’re even alive, really - and he relaxes, cursing at himself. This time when he drifts, he does so with a little more awareness, hand tucked warm against his chest and wrapped firmly around the blade.

It’s a unique little knife, snug in the sheath that’s buckled to the leather harness under his jacket. The handle is firm and made from non-conductive material that fits his exact grip from the meticulous measurements you took of his hand. You crafted the blade from a metal alloy you’d been playing around with and lined it with a highly conductive silver alloy you’d perfected.

When the button on the end of the handle is pressed, 5,000 volts of lethal electricity pulses through the sliver, finishing off a victim if he manages to fuck up a killing blow. It’s saved his life a few times in situations like now when he’s exhausted and his guard is blurry, or when someone has decided to make him the target for robbery. 

A lot of your little gadgets have saved his life. You like to remind him every time he visits you. He doesn’t mind, though. You’re an easy enough arms dealer - easier than anyone else in the city, really. You don’t ask the kind of questions that he doesn’t want to answer, and you’re always two steps ahead of him. Even your prices are fair, which he used to find suspicious. 

But Changbin and Jisung both swear by your tech and your business, and Minho is just happy that he doesn’t have to worry about you trying to give him a shitty deal or fuck him over. 

The Collection industry is made for fucking over. He knows the system can be fucked with, especially the closer to the top you get. 

Almost everyone tries to fuck Minho over. More than once he’s shown up as a Collection Request. He doesn’t know if it’s the system trying to clean up after itself or someone pulling strings to get him out of their way. It’s probably both, but every time it happens, he’s managed to evade it. 

A Reverse Collection, those in his industry call it. In a way, it’s sort of like a pop quiz. He gets attacked or shot at, and if he wins, he passes the test and reverses the Collection, earning him more time without any coworkers trying to murder him. The Delegators don’t seem to care which Collector murders the other, and he’s never suffered for coming out on top. 

Any work is good work. 

Minho snorts at the thought, feeling the deep twinge in his extremities as he rouses himself, the train coming to his stop. 

Rain sluices the streets in North Ward Three. Here, the streets are busier with an assault of people, smells, and sounds. LED umbrellas float along like jellyfish as people walk from pleasure house to food stand to fight arena. The hologram advertisements and neon signs are louder here, inescapable. 

“The United Republic stands for justice, equality, prosperity and freedom, bought by the noble sacrifice of the United Church. Join us today-” Minho presses the ad blocker on his watch. 

Immediately the holograms vanish and there’s just the neon watercolor reflecting off the umbrellas as he walks down the stairs of Neon Rodeo, the orange lights making his eyes throb as he reaches the door manned by two guards. 

They know him immediately but they scan the biochip in his neck anyway. When they’re pleased, they step aside and the door slides automatically, the base vibrating his ribcage as he steps into the dingy light, hesitating to let his eyes adjust.

True to the name, there is neon fucking everywhere. The servers are dressed in chaps with LED lights and glittering tassels, their cowboy hats flashing smiling faces on top of their head. The neon here is low-grade and covered in layers of dust, giving the air a dusky, burning sort of glow as he walks around tables.

Eyes follow him as he goes. The regulars are familiar with him, tipping their head in greeting though he doesn’t do more than watch them from the corner of his eyes. The servers all slow-smile at him, teeth too white and too glittering. He finds them more unsettling than attractive, and he quickens his step to the unmarked door at the back where Hyunjin sits on a stool.

Hyunjin is perhaps the most unsettling thing in the Neon Rodeo. His eyes are a strange grey, looking at Minho as he approaches. There is a predatory gaze in Hyunjin’s eyes that never fades, a sort of knowing in them that Minho can’t shake. Minho knows Hyunjin is entirely human, but every time he approaches the man, Minho is suddenly unsure. 

Nightcrawler.

Minho has heard the whispers about Hyunjin. He believes them, too. Everything about Hyunjin is like a carefully balanced blade, ready to tip in either direction. His senses are honed to perfection and he has a habit of both blending in and standing out depending on his mood. 

And he can kill. Minho has seen the lethal man in action a single time when someone tried to push past him into the Builder’s sanctuary. Hyunjin had been so fast that even Minho had a hard time keeping up, struck by how efficiently and quickly the former assassin moved.

Unnatural. Everything about him is uncanny, which is in line with everything Minho has heard about the underground sect of killers. What Minho does is legally sanctioned murder. The Nightcrawlers do something far more sinister, their skills going beyond the natural desire for order in the United Republic. 

Agents of disorder and chaos. That’s what some say. Minho isn’t sure where his opinion lands on the spectrum, but he gives them a healthy distance and respect either way.

Even the way Hyunjin sits on the barstool is unnatural, one foot kicked up on the bar between his legs, the other stretched out in front of him as he leans forward, his hand on the front lip of the seat. 

“Hello, Cowboy,” Hyunjin greets, voice deep and smooth. 

His hair is blonde today, slicked back out of his face, the ends touching his shoulders. He’s dressed in a black button-up with a cow print pattern across the shoulders and white, beaded tassels outlining the pattern. His dark pants are tight and he makes no effort to hide the gun on his waist or the knife handle peeking out the top of his cowboy boot.

“I don’t like when you call me that.”

Hyunjin’s smile makes the hair on Minho’s arms stand on end. “I know, but I like it.”

The guard makes no move to let Minho in and he tries not to show he’s irritated. By the way the grin spreads on Hyunjin’s face, Minho can safely assume he isn’t doing a great job. “Is the Builder in or not?” 

“Who is to say?” 

“Just tell her I’m here.” 

“If she’s in, she already knows.” Hyunjin nods toward an empty stool at the bar. “You can wait, Cowboy.” 

Gritting his teeth, Minho turns on his heel to sit on the stool a few feet away. Hyunjin’s uncanny eyes follow him, never leaving him once. Minho ignores him in favor of asking for water at the bar, the headache pressing behind his eyes growing more intense with the loud music and the choking smell of cigars. 

When the water comes back, it’s warm without ice. He glares at the bartender who has already moved on to paying customers. The water is tepid and a little sour, making him cringe. He’s pretty sure it came from the faucet, but he sips on it anyway, eying the grimy fingerprints on the glass. 

A cowgirl slides up next to him, her pink vest pulled tight across her chest, showing sweat-slick skin. She smells like vanilla, the scent overpowering as she leans in, lacquered lips grinning.

“Don’t,” Minho grunts, sipping the water. “Not interested.”

“But you’re so pretty.”

A severe reprimand dies on his tongue as Hyunjin appears like a wraith, leaning in close to murmur, “Builder is ready for you, Cowboy.” 

The cowgirl cowers away from the Nightcrawler, pressing up against the counter and fleeing as soon as he slinks away. If Hyunjin is offended, he doesn’t show it. He slips back onto the stool with that same eager lean, watching Minho through narrowed eyes as the Collector gets up and walks briskly to the now-open door. 

Minho doesn’t turn around when the door shuts behind him, immediately cutting off all sound. The door leads to a step of steps, mirrored walls on either side with glowing orange light strips above them. He climbs the stairs as quickly as he can, his head swimming a little as he gets to the top. 

The entire second floor is a massive, open-concept workshop. Tables covered with papers and instruments are placed in a chaotic maze, glowing screens with slow-spinning schematics and drawings giving the space a clinical, blue light. Workbenches with user interfaces hum along the corners of the room. Closed metal doors and offices stretch down a hall toward the pack, all under high-tech padlocks and surely protected with some sort of weapon system, if Minho had to guess.

Amid the organized chaos is you. The Builder. 

Minho hates calling you that. He thinks it’s a little ridiculous of a title, but it suits you. There is nothing in this room you haven’t built and no weapon on his person that was not carefully crafted by you. He hesitates to watch you, standing at the edge of your luminescent domain as you lean over something, a small welding tool in your hand. 

“Do you need a formal invitation, Cowboy?” 

He doesn’t mind the name from you. He tells himself that it’s because, despite his predisposition to not liking people, he doesn’t dislike you. You’re easy to deal with, sort of like the weapons you make. You make his life functional and you’re to the point. He admires that, and he’s willing to take a little bit of prodding and joking from you as a trade-off.

Wordlessly, he floats toward you. You don’t look up to greet him, but you kick your foot out and hook the toe of your boot underneath the leg of a stool to pull it out for him to sit on. He can smell a hint of jasmine and amber wafting from where you sit, making him clench his jaw as he fights a shiver. 

“I don’t have long,” he says, forgoing the seat. “Just need JumpPacks and wanted to drop off my armor. It’s having trouble connecting with the interface of the watch. I hit it pretty hard last night and I think I damaged the receiver.” 

That gets your attention, drawing your sharp gaze up to him. But instead of dropping your eyes to his chest where the flexible armor stretches across his chest, you zero in on Minho’s face. 

Your silence is uncomfortable, but he remains unmoving, willing himself to stay in place under your calculating gaze. You lean forward, eyes drinking him in, examining him the way you would a schematic for a weapon or a complicated piece of data. 

Minho busies himself with looking at you in return. There’s a crease growing deeper in your brow and your pretty mouth - he doesn’t remember when he started thinking it was pretty - begins to dip, displeased at something you find in his face. 

“When is the last time you slept?”

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?” You level a stare at him and he feels his mouth twitch. Minho thinks besides the occasional joke from Jisung - which he defines as Jisung accidentally hurting himself - you might be the only person who makes him want to smile. “Fifty-two hours, eighteen minutes and forty United Seconds.”

“No to the JumpPack,” you say finally. “Sleep.”

“I have another target in three hours, twenty-eight minutes and fifteen United Seconds.” 

“Down the hall and second door on the right. Sleep for two hours. It won’t kill you.” He opens his mouth to protest you cut him off, “I’ll be done by the time you’re up. Take off your armor.” 

His hands open and close. You’ve never declined a JumpPack before. You’ve definitely never offered sleep before. He stands buoyed by his confusion before he reluctantly sheds the jacket. It crinkles in the silence as he shucks it from his shoulder and neatly folds it, placing it on the stool you had intended for him to sit on. 

Next, he sheds the holster, his gun, and a few knives clanking as he does. You seem amused by the amount of weapons he’s managed to shove in the leather straps and he shrugs a little at your arched brow. 

Minho’s shirt is more armor than a shirt. It’s made from highly coveted synthetic material with hard but flexible geometric pieces stitched in that sync with his watch to turn on a light energy shield, pulse when there’s an energy weapon aimed at him, and generally keep anyone from being able to stab him. You’ve also added little things like warming sensors and anti-theft. 

Delicately, Minho peels off the shirt. He marvels as it moves, surprised at the give and flex of the material every time. He hands it over and you snatch it, tossing it on your work counter as if it’s not the most expensive piece of technology he owns. 

Immediately he’s covered in goosebumps. Your studio is bitter cold and you always wear sweaters and jackets with sleeves pulled over your hands. You’re dressed as such now, the too-long sleeves on your arms pooling over your hands as he stands there, trying not to shiver. 

You pay no mind to his armor, instead standing up and twisting your mouth in a frown as your gaze skirts his chest and stomach. For a second he feels self-conscious, which he thinks is a little ridiculous as he glances down his chest. He realizes there is bruising blooming across him, spider webbing across to show when the armor unsynced and he took a few hard punches. 

Minho holds his breath when you lift your hands, as though you’re going to brush the tips of your fingers over each wound. Your hands are smaller than his and far more delicate, nimble fingers reminding him of artists. His mother was an artist. Her slim hands and careful brushstrokes are one of the few things he remembers about her. 

That, and that she chose to leave him.

Minho finds himself so hypnotized by your hands that your voice startles him when you say, “Three hours, twenty-seven minutes and five seconds, Cowboy.” 

You drop your hands and step away. He nods and sheds his watch as well, handing it over. “Alright.” 

With heavy footsteps, he follows the directions to the appointed room. He’s a little off balance, his hip catching the corner of a table as he goes. He curses loudly, hands shooting to his hip where pain blooms from the jab. Your laughter trills behind him and he scowls over his shoulder at you, but you’re unfolding his armored shirt. 

Muttering under his breath, he goes to the hall to the second door on the right. He’s never been in the hall before, but there are several doors lining each side. He carefully tries the handle, glancing up at the ceiling where a camera stares at him. 

The handle gives under his hand easily and he swings the door open to what looks like a very small and well-kept medical room. He raises his brows as he steps in and closes the door behind him. There’s no lock on the door, his finger brushing across the handle to find one. He thinks about grabbing the chair tucked into the desk and sticking it under the handle, but the thought evaporates as quickly as it forms.

He’s not in danger here. 

Slowly, he trods to the cot. It’s a standard size with a thin mattress and scratchy blankets. Carefully, he sits down and immediately his body sighs. Minho’s eyelids flutter as he sags for a second, shoulders rolling inward as he curves in on himself, exhaustion pressing in. 

He needs to take off his boots, but his arms feel heavy. He promises himself that he’ll do it in five more minutes before he gives up and lays down on his side, kicking his feet up boots and all onto the cot. The room is cool so he reaches for the blankets, uncaring that they scrape against his bumps and bruises. 

The last fifty-some-odd hours begin to press in on Minho, a physical force that squeezes everything out of him until he’s fading fast into a heavy, dreamless sleep. 

-

A gentle knock pulls Minho from a heavy sleep. He feels the dregs of it like a weighted shadow he can’t shake off, groaning and blinking at the ceiling a few times. His limbs feel heavier than ever and his neck cracks as he rolls it to the side to look at the room he’s in.

He suddenly remembers where he is, flinching a little as he sits up, movements jerky with nervousness. The room is still dark and cool, the itchy blanket falling to the floor as he sits and stares toward the door where there’s another knock. 

“Come in,” he rasps, voice deep and rough with sleep.

A crack of light appears in the doorway as you slip in. You’ve got your arms full of stuff, using your elbow to smack the touchpad near the door. Dark orange light fills the room, gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt his vision but bright enough to see that the stuff you’ve brought in is food and several bottles of water and some sort of blue liquid.

Minho eyes all of it warily, straightening as you stand in front of him, holding it out. He doesn’t move to take it and your mouth presses in a flat, firm line. “I know Collectors don’t have to be smart, but I do assume you know how to utilize the main food groups of the pyramid.”

He can smell the jasmine and amber again, soothing. “Why did you bring me food?”

“Because you look like shit, Cowboy. Don’t go losing your mind over a small gesture of goodwill.” 

Chagrined, he snatches the items from your hand. He immediately realizes that there are energy bars, protein bars, and packs of gel that will replenish immediate levels of hormones and vitamins. He eyes you curiously as he sets the pile on the bed next to him, ripping a foil back open with his teeth.

You cross the room to lean against the medical table in the corner, crossing your arms over your chest. When he doesn’t eat right away, you raise your brows, waiting. He pops the end of a gel back in his mouth and squeezes, immediately tasting blueberry and lemonade. It’s not half bad, making him hum in fascination.

That gets a grin from you, his mouth twitching at the corner again as he works the gel in his mouth to break it apart.

“Fixed your armor. How hard did you knock the watch?” His guilty expression tells all and you scowl. “It’s made with durast carbonate. It’s pretty shockproof.” 

“Didn’t mean to. Some guy’s goons jumped me when I was calling in the Collection. It um… took a bullet.” 

“How did they get the jump on you, hmm?” He stares. “Were you tired?” 

Instead of answering, he tosses the empty gel back on the bed and picks up a protein bar. He looks at it, squinting his eyes in the dim light. It’s peanut butter flavored, which he enjoys. He rips it open with his teeth and tears into it, realizing just how hungry he is.

Minho has no idea when his last meal was. He thinks you know his line of thinking, but you don’t say anything more. You’ve already gotten your barbs in and you don’t intend to poke until he’s truly annoyed or embarrassed, which he appreciates.

Without another word, you push off the desk and head to the door, slipping back through to leave him alone while he chews absently. 

Alone, Minho realizes the importance of accepting food from you without second-guessing it. He slows his chewing, contemplating about that. 

Minho’s relationship with you is like a good weapon - uncomplicated, refined, and trustworthy. Your tech has never failed him, you’ve always been reliable for a fast turnaround time or understanding of what he’s asking for, and you’ve never sold information about him.

Ever. He had tried to buy information from you on himself through multiple channels and pseudonyms just to see if you would, but he’d been met with steely silence each time. 

He eats with a little more enthusiasm as he realizes he does trust you. You’re as steadfast as the guns you build, and there is a confidence in that that he can at least resonate with.

Examining the contents of the blue liquid, he realizes it’s electrolytes and mineral compounds. As he takes long gulps, he realizes he feels infinitely better already, senses sharp, aches a little less terrible, and his headache is gone entirely. He’s not at a hundred percent, but he’s a hell of a lot better than if he had waited around for his next Collection. 

When he finishes, he crumbles the trash together and tosses it into the incinerator. He hears the fire hiss as it destroys the waste and sends the fumes somewhere to be turned into energy. 

In the main part of your lab, Minho spots you. He hesitates in the hall for a moment, watching you play with his watch. Movement in the corner of the room makes him tense up, hand going to the knife in his boot. He realizes it’s just Jeongin sliding across the room on a rolling chair, pushing away from his computer to examine what you’re doing.

Minho only relaxes marginally. He’s still getting used to seeing your apprentice in your workspace, and though the youth is excitable and intelligent, Minho refuses to let Jeongin near any of his builds. The trust he’s established with you over the last three years does not extend to apprentices he’s only known for a few months, no matter how much you trust them.

You trust the Nightcrawler too, and Minho cannot fathom why. 

As though sensing you on the edge of the room, you turn and look at him over your shoulder. The corner of your mouth lifts up and you beckon him eagerly before hunching over whatever you’re working on again. He strolls over, crossing his arms over his chest to lean against your worktable on the other side of you, eyeing Jeongin on your other side.

“Hello, Collector. How are you today?” Jeongin asks politely, giving Minho a smile that touches his eyes.

Minho says nothing. You elbow him sharply in the ribs and he coughs, clutching his stomach as he mumbles, “Fine, you?”

“Doing great, thanks! This piece of tech is a marvel.”

“My watch?”

It is his watch. A green light flashes on the underside of the face, the bio scanner that connects with the one with his neck to monitor his nervous system. You push the watch toward him and he carefully picks it up, brushing his thumb across the cool, glass screen.

An interface lights up again. He can’t figure out what’s so special until you gesture for him to put it on. It fits nicely, the perfect size. As he slides it into place and looks at the watch face, a diagram of thin body armor comes up, spinning. Except it looks different than the diagram that he’s used to, giving you a questioning look. You point to the corner of the room at a mannequin.

He walks over to it, cocking his head to the side as he stops in front of it. It’s far different from the armored shirt he wears. The contraption is equal parts ribcage and the thorax of a spider. The material looks like leather but feels hard to the touch like metal. 

Skirting his fingers to the hem, he bends the bottom of the shirt, watching as it flexes easily. It makes no sense to him how something could be so hard and flex immediately. If he were to guess, whatever the cloth is made from is a newer technology than he has access to. Perhaps more bio-engineered spider web. 

Minho’s fingers skirt inside of it, brushing across a strange, prickling fabric. It doesn’t hurt, but he brushes his fingers back and forth, rubbing the material between his fingers. It’s abrasive, but he can’t imagine what it is.

Blue flashes on the diagram on the watch. He pauses and presses his fingers to the needle-thin fabric. The watch flashes again and lines of color light up on the diagram, showing his nervous system in different, complex colors. He raises his brows. It’s far more sophisticated than what he came in with.

“The needles,” he calls, not taking his eyes off the contraption. “Do they connect with me?”

“Yes. When you put it on, it syncs with your biochemistry.” You get up and walk toward him. “You won’t even feel them. They’re the smallest on the market right now, and incredibly accurate. They use them in military armor to report back live health reports and status during enfighting. They’re more accurate than the sensors lined in your last one.”

“What’s the point, though?” 

You reach out and tap the watch. He watches curiously as a series of icons pop up, each a different color. “Inside of this,” you instruct, tapping the hard shell, “Is a series of chemical compounds. When you have on the armor underneath your shirt, you can tap to inject what you need. The needles don’t push deep, but they’re high-grade enough to break the barrier needed to disperse the compounds.” 

Minho looks up at you, silent. You don’t notice his trepidation, carrying on as you go into salesperson mode, explaining everything. “Blue is elektrolytes,” you instruct, pointing to it. “Green is a chemical compound of cortisol and adrenaline. Yellow is endorphins and an incredibly high-dose painkiller.”

“And purple?”

“Jump,” you deadpan. “But a compounded version Jeongin and I have worked on that lasts longer with less damaging effect. You should be able to sleep easier after using it. And you won’t need several JumpPacks a day to keep going. I can give you refills too, since it’s non-addictive.”

Minho stares. “What?”

“What part didn’t you get?”

“This is for me?” You scowl but he immediately notices the way you divert your eyes. You glance up at the ceiling, shifting from foot to food. “This is worth a million United Credits at least. I can’t afford it.”

“Do you see a price tag?”

“You can’t give me this for free.” 

“Of course I can. It’s just a prototype, so if it accidentally malfunctions and sends all injection options to your body at once and kills you, well…” You shrug. “At least you didn’t pay me. Consider yourself a test subject. I’ve never integrated the needle network into armor before. I don’t have the builds the military uses, just intel. I had to do it from scratch, so it might not work. Your current armor doesn’t protect you from plasma. This does.”

Minho doesn’t buy your bullshit for two seconds. He knows you wouldn’t give him this if it would risk killing him. For all your jesting and affectation, Minho has learned how to read you pretty well, and the way you blow him off and scoff tells him everything he needs to know. 

It is a favor and a gift, and a new sort of olive branch that he is unsure how to accept or take from you. Taking this gift worth more than his entire salary complicates things.

Did you make this specifically for him? He’s not sure. But the fact that he wants the answer to be yes is worse than anything else he can think of. 

Minho has peers. You’re a peer. Always have been. Anything else would complicate the simplicity of the relationship, and Minho immediately steps back and removes the watch. You watch him with razor-sharp intelligence, drinking him in as he holds out the watch to you. 

“The one I have is sufficient enough, Builder.” 

You snatch the watch from him, pivoting on your heel and walking with a ramrod-straight spine back to the table. For a second he thinks you’re going to kick him out but then you take a breath and melt into a smile, though a little sharp at the edges and not reaching your eyes.

“Fixed the connection. I also reinforced it again. Give me a moment to sync to your old armor.” 

Old armor. As if the new one is still his. His stomach flips and he grimaces. 

The affectation in your voice makes Minho uncomfortable. He doesn’t move, watching you tap viciously against the screen on your work desk. Jeongin spins a pen in his hand, glancing between the two of you nervously. When he notices Minho glaring at him, he grins awkwardly and pushes his chair behind one of the clear screens, his face distorted by blue lettering and diagram.

Wordlessly, you hand him the watch and turn away when he takes it. You say nothing else, moving on to a different project as Minho delicately picks up the shirt. He slides it over, feeling the warmth seep into his cool skin. He meticulously pulls the hardness with weapons on, followed by his jacket.

Fully dressed, he waits for you to say something. He doesn’t know what he expects - or wants - you to say. But he pauses anyway, eyes on your bent shape. His gaze flits to your hands, delicate fingers typing wildly, tense as you wait for him to leave. 

It feels like a stone has sunk to the bottom of Minho’s stomach. He doesn’t move for a few minutes, torn between walking out and preparing for his next Collection and staying to… what? He doesn’t know. He has no idea what to say or do, but he feels the palpable shift in your mood. 

So Minho chooses the easiest option. He nods to himself and heads toward the exit. You don’t spare him a second glance but he certainly looks at you out of the corner of his eye. Your jaw is clenched and you tap with a ferocity that thinks might shatter your desktop interface. 

As soon as the door opens, Minho is drowning in thumping base and synth again. Hyunjin leans on the stool, this time with his back against the wall and his glittering eyes focused on Minho. Though the former Nightcrawler wasn’t in the room, Minho has a sneaking suspicion that Hyunjin knows everything that happens in the Builder’s workshop. 

Hyunjin’s smirk is all-knowing and Minho storms by him, hating him for it. 

Rain no longer falls from a dark sky. Opaque, charcoal skies stretch above him, lines of moving air traffic creating layers of latticework. Looking at the watch - which shows his normal armor once more - tells him it's in the early morning hours now. 

The streets are not as busy as the night before. There are still glaring advertisements and he spots a group of cloaked United Church members walking around to accept alms and recruit, but the energy is muted outside of the clubs and pleasure houses. 

Morning commuters fill the speed train tunnels. United Travel Agents lurk in the crowd, watchful eyes on anyone causing trouble or trying to double up on the scanners as travelers pass through, machines charging their United Credits as they go. 

Minho falls into the dull buzz of morning travel. Glancing at his watch, he knows he has enough time to go home and change. He likes to receive his calls while he’s at home anyway. He tries not to replay the last conversation between the two of you. The offer you’d made him. The meaning behind it, whatever it may be. 

It’s nearly impossible, but he manages. Especially once he gets into his apartment, sinking into the routine of showering, changing, and sliding back into his clothes like a second skin. As soon as he reties his boots, his watch begins to ring. 

“Receiving,” he answers, straightening up. 

“Collection echo-tango-foxtrot-bravo has been assigned to Collector 102598. You have five United Hours to complete your Collection.”

“Collection accepted.” 

The line goes dead. Minho slides his weapons into their holsters, then pulls on his rain jacket. It always rains in the city, like God is weeping for what he has become.

Any work is good work. 

Minho leaves the apartment to take another life. 

-

The water runs red in Minho’s shower. He stares it for a while, hot water rushing down his neck, shoulders and back in rivulets. It turns pink the longer he stares, the wound on his leg bleeding less and less. 

The irony is not lost on him that if he had accepted your gift, he might not have taken a gnarly hunting knife to the thigh. He was lucky that it was an energy weapon, the blade cauterizing the wound immediately. He’d had to pick the wound back open to flush out the dead, burned skin and pour burning antiseptic on it.

Shifting, Minho examines the wound. Pain blooms in his thigh as he turns, making him suck in a sharp hiss. The wound is to the bone. He knows he’s lucky it was not a well-made weapon, the ion pulse too weak to sever his limb. Still, it’s a deep wound and it would surely fuck him up if he didn’t have the next twenty-four hours to himself. 

If the knife had been one of yours…

A pulse of frustration echoes through him. He presses his closed fist to the old tile of the shower wall, feeling the dissonance between the scalding water and cool tile steady him. His knuckles are sore from the last Collection - which had gone wrong in every way possible - and he’s brutally aware of just how much everything hurts. 

Yet the ache isn’t what bothers him. His Collection target getting the jump on him from inside intel isn’t what bothers him. Minho has had that happen enough times that he no longer feels surprised when a Collection knows he’s coming.

What fucking bothers him is the ripple effect of his rejection of your offer made. 

Minho shuts off the water and steps out the water carefully. He can barely put weight on the leg, gritting his teeth as he grabs a towel and hobbles out of the bathroom, the steam billowing out into the tiny apartment and dissipating. 

Blue neon lights from the shop across the way burn in his window. He hardly needs to turn the lights on in his own home to see in the dark, the ever-present glow of blue guiding the way. 

Carefully, he sits on his bed. Another pulse of pain from the wound makes him shiver and take several deep, steadying breaths. He peels back the towel at the waist, revealing a single, thick thigh with a horrible cut right in the meat of it. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Walking around has made it bleed again, scarlet trickling toward the towel. 

Trying not to disturb the wound, he reaches for the medical kit under the bed. The metal is cool to the touch as he flips the latches, rummaging around the bandages, antiseptics, and gels until he finds what he’s looking for.

Minho takes the single, long syringe and uncaps it with his teeth, spitting the cap on the floor somewhere. He flicks his hand a few times, holding it up to make sure there are no bubbles in the vial. Holding his wound carefully with one hand and with the syringe in the other, he inserts the needle deep into the flesh, the sting minor compared to the throbbing ache the cut itself emanates. 

The compound burns as he injects himself. He clenches his teeth, pushing down on the plunger with steady pressure. He can already feel the numbness spreading in his leg as the local anesthesia takes root. He knows he’ll be itching when it wears off, the tiny nanobots working to stitch the muscle and tissue back together already making his skin crawl. 

DeepStitch is an expensive thing to have. He pulls the syringe out carefully, glancing at the medical kit. It only came with one, meaning he was going to have to replace the vile. Medical compounds made for healing abnormal wounds cost a fortune, especially the type with micro-technology to assist the process. 

Tossing out the empty syringe, Mingo lays on his bed, uncaring if he’s damp and in a towel. The numbness in his thigh spreads, making him shiver. He tries not to think about the fact that there are thousands of microscopic bots working on internally stitching his muscles an tendons as quickly as they can before the blood in his body deteriorates them.

The medical advancement of this world is beyond Minho, but he’s grateful for it as he drifts in a half-sleep. He finds it harder to sleep after using JumpPacks, his body unable to adjust from the constant state of false energy and adrenaline. 

It makes him think about your stupid fucking offer again. A piece of armor that could sync with him and balance his hormones and chemical compounds at the tap of a wrist. Something that high caliber for a low-level contract killer was beyond him. 

There was crazy, and then there was that. 

Minho wonders if you’ve been charging him fairly, suddenly. He’s always thought the weapons and tech you provide him with were good prices. They were well-made but always within his budget, albeit he stopped looking at what you were billing him a long time ago. Now that he knows you’re willing to offer something that he’d only find on a United Praetor in the military, he wonders if you’ve been cutting him deals.

He’s never asked the others. Changbin and Jisung seem friendly with you, enough to make Minho wary about asking them questions. Though they’re the closest things that Minho has to friends, he doesn’t trust them whenever it comes to you. 

Jisung already thinks it’s sweet that Minho is nice to you, and he hates that. Even if it’s true. 

Time fades away as Minho circles his conversation with you over and over again. He examines every moment of it. When he can surmise nothing else of the interaction but you offering an olive branch of friendship, something a step beyond peers, he goes back to all of his other interactions.

He remembers almost every one of them. 

Minho’s memory is fine-tuned. It has to be in his line of work. But the memories of you are particularly sharp. He’s able to recall the way you always poke fun at him to the exact line of his tolerance, the way you always know how to get in a good jibe without actually pissing him off. The way that you let Jisung and Changbin have it in front of him for his benefit, especially after they’ve irritated him, like you’re giving him a gift or saying I’m on your team. 

Thoughts of you ultimately lead to other things like the way your eyes reflect the blue light of your many screens. Or the way you always smell like jasmine and amber. The way you pull your sleeves over your hands in sweater paws because it’s bitter cold in your studio to avoid explosions and corrosion of items. The way the nickname Cowboy runs so smooth off your tongue, making his toes curl. 

Minho’s fingers twitch when he thinks about brushing the backs of his knuckles against your soft skin. He’s thought about it before and immediately cringed at the fantasy. Now, between exhaustion clinging to him and the numb limb, he doesn’t jerk away at the idea.

He finally falls asleep thinking of you and what it would be like to accept that olive branch. 

-

The ringing of Minho’s watch wrenches him from sleep. He sits up straight in bed, gasping and hand shooting toward the nightstand where there’s a draw with one of his guns. He realizes that his wrist is vibrating and when he looks at the screen, he sighs with equal parts tension and regret as he realizes it’s work calling. 

Fuck. He slept for almost twenty hours straight. 

Clearing his throat, he answers. “Receiving.” 

“Collection romeo-echo-alpha-delta-echo-romeo has been assigned to Collector 102598. You have five United Hours to complete your Collection.”

Information flashes on Minho’s watch and he feels the world disappear from underneath his feet. Your name, age, permanent place of residency address, and anything the government has both legally and illegally obtained flashes before him. He’s never even seen your full name before and there it is, glowing on his watch as he stares at the information.

It feels obscene to know any of this. He flicks his wrist, turning off the display. He doesn’t want to see any of it, doesn’t want to see when you were born, doesn’t want to see what ward you pay taxes in, doesn’t want to know your criminal history. 

Minho’s ears are ringing. The Delegator does not confirm that Minho has heard or received the assigned target for Collection. Minho stares at the wall, his vision blurring at the edges as the name - your name - echoes in his mind over and over again. He hears it at the same rhythm as his pounding heart, pumping blood through his system as his watch flashes a high heart rate warning. 

Your name. Your full government name and ID number. He’s only ever known your first name, but you’ve always been Builder to him anyway. Minho can’t remember if he’s ever said your name, and suddenly he wants to. He wants to know what it sounds like shaped by his mouth, what it tastes like on his tongue. Wants to say it so many different ways, laughing, smirking, sighing– 

Three years and he can’t believe he’s never so much as said your name, and now that very name is on his list to kill. 

Indecision roots his feet to the spot. This isn’t like a Reverse Collection where other hitmen try to kill him and he can get away with killing them instead, clearing his name for a little longer. This is a direct and finite order to eliminate you. There is no alternative to this Collection. 

Irreversible. 

Running his hands through his hair, he looks around his apartment. It looks unlived-in and completely impersonal. Just like the impersonal way he calls you Builder, as though not using your fucking name makes it more sterile. As if it keeps you further away from earning his trust.

Which you have earned. Implicitly. Minho can think of no one else he would let take care of him. That he would sleep or eat in the presence of. That he trusts not to kill him in his sleep while he’s unarmed. 

Now he’s supposed to murder you?

Bile turns in his stomach. He hears the ticking of the clock on the wall. Every second inches closer to the decision he has to make.

Will he or won’t he? 

Minho grabs his gun from the nightstand and walks toward the door.

He’s only a few steps toward it when he realizes he’s not dressed or prepared for whatever he is about to do - what is he about to do? He has no idea. All he knows is that he is dazed and his hands are starting to shake and his heart rate is climbing, his watch flashing a warning. 

The room begins to tilt as his breathing comes out in haggard breaths. He stumbles a little bit, the blood pumping through him roaring in his ears. He belatedly realizes he’s having a panic attack, blindly trying to get back to his bed where he can sit. 

What does one do during a panic attack? He has no idea, he’s never had one. He thinks of the last time he saw someone panic and immediately bends over to put his head between his knees, gulping air through his nose and out through his mouth. 

What was it that Jisung said about panic?

It’s hard to remember. He thinks maybe there was counting involved, so he breathes in for seven seconds and then out for seven seconds. Does it again. And again. 

Slowly, the world swims back into focus. He can feel the twinge in his thigh as he comes down from the momentary lapse of panic and judgment. When he trusts that he’s not going to vomit on his bare feet, he slowly sits upright, looking around the neon-blue room. 

Quiet blankets the apartment. The world outside is faint. He can hear the clock on the wall as the minute hand moves, each marking the passing of a United Second. With a deep breath, he moves. 

There are no thoughts as he goes. His mind is a single list of action items, marketing them off as he goes. Get dressed. Check his weapons. Arm himself to the teeth with things you’ve made him. Message Jisung a cryptic, one-word text that only the other Collector will understand. Arm a bomb. Leave. 

It’s clinical. 

Minho had always understood with absolute clarity the reality of his line of work. He’s always had a failsafe - or a killswitch, so to speak. From the first day of work, Minho’s only purpose was to kill until he died. He was always meant to die. And he tells himself that the single, little safe space he has in the world he started saving for… well. If you ever needed it.

Any work is good work. 

Clouds hold in their rain. The night feels ominous. Minho glances up at the choked clouds, wondering what they’re up to. The Ministry of Weather controls the atmosphere in some parts of the city. Minho does not travel in those parts of the city - those assassinations are beyond the abilities of a Collector and reserved for Nightcrawlers. 

Paranoia is imminent, but Minho tries not to look over his shoulder every five seconds. The mysterious nature of Collect Co. is still something he doesn’t understand, so it’s difficult to unravel the nature of his assignment. Without a doubt, whoever placed Minho as the Collector knows you supply his weapons.

That simple fact branches out into multiple possibilities. Perhaps the person who wants you gone simply thinks Minho is the best person for the job because he’s in your tentative circle of trust and a familiar enough face to slip through you’re defenses. Or perhaps the problem is him and they know he won’t complete the Collection, earning a job termination and his name showing up on the Collection list. 

Either way, it’s on purpose. Of that, he knows for sure. 

From his years working for Collect Co., there are only a few things that Minho is sure about. Delegators do exactly what their title suggests - they delegate kills. Callers are a tier above Delegators, calling the shots working the network of requests that come in for contracted kills. Legals do all of the paperwork and research before agreeing to a contract, and at the very top of the chain is the Floorman. 

Beyond that, Minho has no concept of the hierarchy or who is hiring Collect Co. for jobs. There are obvious manipulations to the system and it’s impossible to work objectively within a private company that works with but not for the government, and Minho has little doubt that the financial benefactors are who really control assignments. 

Which leads him back to the root of the question: why you? Is Minho the problem, or do you have enemies so large that they hold sway in Collect Co. He doesn’t consider that your deeds are nefarious enough to warrant a hit. What you do is illegal but you sell to the military, too. 

So it begs the question: is it you or him who they really want gone? 

Maybe it’s even a combination.

Still, he attempts not to seem paranoid. It’s easier than it should be, Minho’s mind so singularly focused on getting to you as he takes the train and traves to North Ward Three that he doesn’t have time to look around every corner or see if he’s being followed. There are other ways of keeping tabs on him, anyway. 

The rain still holds as Minho gets off the speed train and ducks into the street. He keeps to the sides, activating his ad blocker as he’s immediately slammed by a screaming neon world. His gaze and gait must be sharper than he realizes, because people veer away from him, his energy repelling them.

From the corner of his eye, he notes Watchers - people responsible for keeping an eye on what’s going on in the street for their employer - take note of him. Some melt into the doorway of their workplace, and others call for runners.

Trouble. Minho looks like trouble and he can sense the shift as they catch wind of him. 

The Watchers are no threat to him. Their entire purpose is to close the doors and pull back when they catch a sense of danger in the air. They’ll stay out of his way and won’t engage with him unless he threatens their clubs and shops. 

Minho has little intention of doing that. He wants to make this as painless as possible. 

Neon Rodeo burns like a dying sun. The orange falls over him as he jogs down the steps and lets the guards scan him. If they notice anything is off, they say and do nothing. Neon Rodeo is perhaps the only business without a Watcher, and it’s only because no one would dare interrupt the business with the Nightcrawler inside. 

Synth rattles Minho from the ground up as he steps inside. The cowboy hats and their little smiling faces float like phantoms in the night. He only has a singular goal and he looks at no one else as he heads towards the back, sidestepping sweaty bodies and perfumed hair. 

It’s full tonight, the weekend crowd packing the bar from corner to corner. It’s no matter. He cuts his way to the back where Hyunjin sits on a stool. Today, Hyunjin’s hair is blood red and his eyes are sharp, unnatural green. For a moment, Minho thinks of a chameleon before Hyunjin kicks a leg out and blocks the hall leading to the door. 

“Your patronage has been terminated, Cowboy.” 

Minho’s heart flips. Are you that angry with him? He drinks in Hyunjin’s dress and slowly his anxiety turns to understanding. Hyunjin is dressed in all black today. His shirt is armored and in place of pants with tassels are tactical trousers with pockets and weapons strapped to his thighs.

An assessment of the Nightcrawler tells Minho that there are weapons he doesn’t see. There’s a plasma pistol on his hip, a bandolier of small knives strapped across his chest, knives in his boot, and another plasma pistol on this calf. 

Hyunjin’s fingers drum against his thigh as he watches Minho with those unsettling eyes. “Want to try, Cowboy?”

“I need to speak with her.”

“No.”

“I’m not-” Minho grits his teeth. “I’m not Collecting.”

“Didn’t say you were.” 

Hyunjin knows. He doesn’t know how the Nightcrawler knows you’re a Collection on Minho’s list, but it’s clear in the way Hyunjin leers. 

“Look, you can go in with me. Let me get her to safety.”

“And what do you think safety is, Cowboy? Even if you’re not lying, they’ll come after you too.” 

“Listne, Nightcrawler-”

Hyunjin grins. It’s unnerving, and there isn’t much that unnerves Minho. “No, you listen. I tolerate you because I am ordered to. Now, I don’t have to. My only orders were to say no and to not harm you.” He leans back and spreads his hands and shrugs. The neon lights catch his blood red hair. “I’m always within my right to make a judgment call.”

“I’d never hurt her.”

“You’re not friends, last I checked.” Hyunjin cocks his head to the side. “You don’t have friends, right? That’s why you reject acts of faith?”

“What do you know of acts of faith, Nightcrawler?” 

“You’d be surprised, Collector.” 

Hyunjin is unmoving. Minho’s fingers twitch and Hyunjin’s eyes follow the movement. For a second, Minho wonders if he could beat his adversary to the draw. They could do it like an old fashioned movie, the bar the perfect setting for it. Hyunjin is totally unmoving and relaxed, not moving his hand toward his weapons.

He’s that confident in beating me. 

United Seconds are ticking by. Every minute Minho doesn’t make his collection is time lost. He licks his lips ready to mount another argument when Hyunjin’s eyes flicker and look over Minho’s shoulders. His eyes narrow a fraction as they dart back to Minho.

“Here’s an act of faith. Let’s see what you do this time.” 

The energy in the bar shifts. He feels the tremor go through the air and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end. Minho turns his head to the side, not enough to fully look back over his shoulder but enough to see the group of Collectors disperse in the crowd. 

Both, Minho realizes. The Collection had been for them both, and it was a good excuse to get them in the same place. He grits his teeth as he realizes how predictable he is. They might have come even if he didn’t arrive, but they might have sent a smaller force. 

Glancing at Hyunjin, Minho watches as the Nightcrawler does nothing. He waits for Minho, raising his brows and smirking. 

Act of faith. 

Normally, Minho doesn't believe in public acts of violence. Collectors are mostly prohibited from killing in public or endangering the lives of United Republic Citizens unless entirely unavoidable. 

Now, though, he causes a scene and pulls his gun, swiveling around and leveling it at the nearest Collector he has a clean line of sight on. He feels the hum of the weapon and the click of the safety as he squeezes the trigger, the pulse of the weapon barely perceptible as it fires. 

Plasma weapons are bright when they fire. It’s nearly blinding in the dark as he shoots, screams shattering the bar as the world turns into pops of energy and sizzling air. He ducks down as someone shoots at him, instincts kicking in as he grabs the leg of a table and yanks it toward him. 

Behind him, Hyunjin lets out a manic laugh and stands from the stool. He drops a small device next to Minho, drawing his attention for a second. Minho watches as it expands with a shimmer of translucent energy - a shield. He looks at the Nightcrawler who crouches with him, grinning as he peers over the table and shields with his green eyes. 

“There are eight. They’re just going to pin us here and shoot at us like fish in a barrel.”

“Is there a way through that door?”

“Sure there is. If they want to melt it down, I’m sure they have plasma blades, judging from the look of their very nice weapons. They can’t blow it without leveling the street.” 

“Does she have a way out the back?”

“No, then I would have two doors to watch.” 

A spray of metal and plasma ricochets off the shield that has molded to the shape of the table. Hyunjin gestures as if to showcase his point and Minho grits his teeth. Peeking around the table, he can see patrons hiding under tables and covering their heads. Collectors stand spread out, fanning the entrance and blocking the way, but they don’t come any closer.

They want to make the Collection, but they don’t want to face a Collector and a Nightcrawler together. 

“Aren’t you some sort of unmatched assassin, Nightcrawler?” Minho asks, checking the mag on his plasma gun. “Can you just take them all out? That should be light work for you.”

“I’m good at not being seen, Cowboy. I’m not inhuman.” 

“Oh good, so you’re actually useless when visible?”

Hyunjin’s face darkens. “You’d be surprised how often you don’t see me.” 

The threat isn’t lost on Minho but it doesn’t have time to sink into its full effect as bullets rain down on them. They cringe together to ensure they’re behind the shield, which whines under the plasma assault and flickers. Minho thinks it will hold, but it’s only as wide as the table it molds to and the table isn’t very large.

Hyunjin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a grenade. Minho grabs it, looking at him with wild eyes. Hyunjin pulls his hand away. “It’s a flash grenade,” he snaps. “I’m not going to kill everyone.” He pauses and smirks. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“That’s hardly less settling.”

“You know,” Hyunjin muses, pulling the ring from the grenad. Green light pulses on it slowly, counting down until it starts to release blinding white flashes. “One day you and I are going to have a talk about why you think your profession is so much different than mine.”

“One is legal, for starters.” 

Hyunjin lobs the grenade. “Right, so what you’re doing right now? This is legal?”

Minho is spared from having to answer as the world explodes in white. He and Hyunjin move at the same time, letting the memory of where the Collectors stand as they close their eyes and shoot. Minho’s shot blind thousands of times and it usually pays off.

It does for the most part now, the pair of them dropping Collectors as they shoot. The white light fades and there’s only a single Collector left standing by the door, his gun aimed at Minho. He swivels to shoot, but a bullet hits the Collector in the shoulder, twisting him backward from impact as he squeezes the trigger of his gun. 

The shot catches Minho in the shoulder, knocking him back a step. He curses but keeps his weapon trained on the fallen Collector until he hears high-pitched screaming. It stops his heart, the sound of the Collector’s voice reaching a level of madness that echoes even after he gargles and goes silent.

Minho looks at Hyunjin with an accusatory glare but Hyunjin juts his thumb behind him in answer, pointing to where you stand at the door with a heavy pistol in your and. Minho blinks a few times in surprise. 

“I think the nano-tips work, Jeongin.” You glance over your shoulder where the younger boy stands on the stairs behind you, armed to the teeth. “Remind me to write that down.” 

Silence stretches in Neon Rodeo, save the soft quivering crying and sparking sign that’s been shot over the bar. From the corner of his eye, Minho sees it flash between Rodeo and Odeo over and over again, bouncing between the two words as the ‘R’ tries to fight for its life.

Then there’s you. 

You stare at him with a guarded expression, drinking him in. Your gaze lingers on his arm, reminding him that it does in fact burn where the plasma bullet graze his shoulder. Next to him, Hyunjin shifts. The Nightcrawler barely moves forward, sliding part of his body between Minho and where you stand in the doorway to your studio, Hyunjin’s hand resting on top of his gun. 

“You gonna kill me, Cowboy?” Your voice wavers when you ask. By the twitch in your lip, Minho can tell you’re upset that it does. 

“No. I want to help.” Hyunjin snorts and Minho is reminded of his earlier question. What do you think safety is? “Consider it an act of faith,” Minho offers and Hyunjin’s snickering turns to curiosity. “I’ve rejected yours in the past. Let me off you the only one I have.” 

No one moves. Minho slowly lifts his wrist toward Hyunjin, displaying the information. The Nightcrawler looks it over and raises his brows, looking back at Minho. “What strange turn of events, Minho.” 

It’s the first time Hyunjin has ever used his name. He says nothing as the Nightcrawler heads over to you, murmuring quietly. Your face is inscrutable as you nod and look over your shoulder, saying something to Jeongin. He nods fiercely, face set in determination that makes Minho’s mouth twitch a little. 

The three of them join Minho wordlessly as he turns on his heels and heads up the stares. Hyunjin’s watch flashes and lets them know that the United Enforcers are three minutes out and they need to get where they’re going.

You take the lead then, hurrying out the door but not out into the street, ducking into a noodle shop three doors down from Neon Rodeo. You shout in United New Mandarin at the woman behind the counter, shocking him - not that Minho knows anything about you at all - and the woman waves you off.

Through the shop and into the stock room you lead everyone, hoping over bags of flower and starch until you reach a table that you climb up on and pull a vent from a ceiling. It’s far too large to be a normal vent, and his questions are answered when he realizes it leads to a small garage that faces the next street over. 

Once into the garage, Hyunjin takes the lead out into the street, weapon up. Minho brings up the rear, falling into a defensive unit as you go. Jeongin walks closely behind Hyunjin, his steps a little clumsy but his head on a swivel. 

Good, Minho thinks. Jeongin is alert. 

“Decided not to kill me?” you whisper as you skirt out into the street and hug the building face. 

Minho can barely hear you over the fabric you’ve pulled up over your face. He blinks and thinks to do the same, pulling the hood up on his jacket and sliding up a black gaitor over the lower half of his face. 

“I was never going to kill you.”

“Hard to tell with you.” 

“I… don’t have an argument.” 

And he doesn’t. He realizes that he’s kept you at arm's length despite your best attempts to spark some sort of friendship. What reason could he do that other than sparing himself if he had to kill you one day? It makes the most logical sense.

“I thought we were friends.” That makes him pause. You notice a few steps ahead of him that he’s stopped, looking at you. “We stopped being just business acquaintances over a year ago, Collector. My normal clients don’t get to test my new hardware or request as many JumpPacks as you do on the house.”

“They’re on the house?”

“Of course they are!” you snap at him. “Do you not look at your billing, Collector? How do you know I’m not overcharging you?” 

“I stopped looking once I trusted you weren’t robbing me.”

“See, that’s a funny word coming from you. Trust.”

A whistle catches Minho’s attention. You both turn to see that Hyunjin and Jeongin are nearly three-blocks away at the entrance of a nondescript shop. Color floods Minho’s face when he realizes the pair of you had stopped walking to have your argument and he curses himself as you start moving again. 

“I do trust you.” You say nothing to his comment. “I’m sorry I didn’t accept the armor.”

“It wasn’t about rejecting the armor, Collector.” The world Collector sounds dirty in your mouth. He suddenly wants to hear you call him Cowboy again. “It was about rejecting me when I thought we were already friends. I was wrong.”

Hyunjin leads them down into an alleyway that is void of anything besides dumpsters and murky puddles. The smell turns Minho’s stomach but he resists the urge to gag as Hyunjin bends down to pull up a sewer grate. He flashes his flashlight inside and nods before jumping down and vanishing. There’s a light splash as he lands and calls up for Jeongin. 

Minho crouches close to you as Jeongjin adjusts to follow Hyunjin down. 

“You weren’t,” he says as Jeongin jumps. You turn to look at him, confused. “Wrong. You weren’t wrong.” 

You look him up and down, hesitating. Hyunjin calls your name and you turn away from Minho, checking your legs and arms to make sure your pockets are zipped. Minho watches as you jump. He realizes his holding his breath until he hears your feet splash.

Quickly, he scrambles to the grate, pulling the top with him. Looking through the hole, he sees the orange light of glowsticks as you and Jeongin crack and shake them, lighting up the tunnel in a very small ring of light. Hyunjin has turned off his flashlight and looks up at Minho, gesturing for him to hurry.

Minho holsters his weapon and jumps down, bending at the knee as he lands to absorb the fall. His boots splash loudly in the tunnel, echoing for a few seconds. His shoulder wound aches as he straightens up. Hyunjin is already lifting Jeongin up to pull the great back over the hole. The scrape of metal on the concrete sounds much louder in the watery tunnel, making Minho cringe.

Looking both ways, he sees the sewer is less of a sewer and more of a tunnel. The cloth pulled over his face does little to keep out the rancid smell, and he winces when he sees fat, black rats scattering on the edges of the orange light. 

Something touches his arm and he jerks, hand going to his gun. You lean back and apologize, holding out a glowstick. He relaxes and takes it, fingers brushing yours as he does. He instantly gets a chill down his spine, though his fingers are warm where they brushed yours. 

Minho clears his throat and holds the glowstick up, looking around the tunnel. He can hear the faint echoes of dripping water and every movement of the group feels loud in the pressing silence of the dark. 

“What is this?” he asks, looking at you. 

It’s Hyunjin who answers, “Nightcrawler shit. You’re welcome.”

“Should we expect any of your former coworkers, then?” 

“They’re not so bad.” Hyunjin unholsters his weapon as he begins walking south down the tunnel, throwing Minho a sharp grin. “It’s the Darklings I worry about.” 

You fall into step behind Hyunjin immediately, ducking your head to murmur something to him as you go. The glow of your light gets farther away as Minho stands staring at Hyunjin, unsure if he’s serious or not. 

Jeongin steps up next to Minho. “He was joking about Darklings, right? The People Underneath are a myth?” 

“Have you ever heard Hyunjin tell a joke?” 

Minho leaves Jeongin thinking about it before the younger rushes to keep up with him, feet splashing wildly. 

-

Whether Hyunjin was joking about the Darklings or not, they don’t run into anything except rats and roaches in the underground tunnels. Minho finds himself itching to ask the Nightcrawler questions and demand where they’re going, but he doesn’t, 

An act of faith. 

It was an act of faith when Minho showed Hyunjin the safehouse on his watch. It was one of the few things that Minho protected more fiercely than his life, and he was hoping that when Hyunjin saw the coordinates, title of ownership, and Minho’s information, he’d gain a little trust. 

Minho had been right. Hyunjin, though still sharp at the edges, has become unnervingly benign with Minho, addressing him by his name. It’s not much to most, but he knows among killers it’s a huge step. One that means a little more trust, if not at least peers. 

You remain quiet for the most part. Your eyes stray toward Minho often and when he catches you looking, you don’t look away. Your gaze is hesitant and questioning, as though you’re trying to figure him out like one of the schematics on your screens. 

Biting into a protein bar, he quickens his pace to fall into step with you. “What will you do with your lab?” 

Your lips twitch. “Chemical fire. There’s a stop-line in the frame of the building so it should be controlled. I promised not to burn down Neon Rodeo when I established my office there.” 

“Who owns that place, anyway?” 

“Bangchan.” The name sounds familiar. “Reformed Nightcrawler.” 

“You keep unusual company.”

“Better than none.” 

That gets a little bit of a laugh from him. You smile when he does and he swears it’s brighter than the glowsticks you carry. “I deserved that one. I’m working on it, alright.”

“How do Jisung and Changbin deal with you?”

“The same way I deal with them.” You hum, nodding in understanding. For a few minutes, it’s just wet steps echoing in the tunnels. “What made you decide to come with me? I assume you have your own fallback plans.” 

“I do, but I don’t know. I wanted to accept your olive branch.” You look at him. “I wanted to trust you.”

He nods. His gut twists a little at that, both anxious and pleased. He’d been right about offering an act of faith in return for the one he scorned. Now, he just has to keep you alive, which he grows more confident in doing. 

“Where are we going?” 

He looks up at you. “Hyunjin didn’t tell you?”

“No, just said to trust you.” Minho’s brows shoot up and you snort. “I know. Whatever you showed him convinced him.”

“It’s a safe house on Isla de Suenos.” You look up at him sharply and he gives a soft grin. “My mother belonged to a very well-off family. I’m not supposed to exist, and she had to decide at a young age whether or not I was worth throwing away her family and their power. A single safehouse purchased with offshore accounts and through a network of money-changing and bought secrecy is the only thing she could give me.”

“She didn’t choose you?” He shakes his head. You think about that for a second and he lets the words sink in, waiting for the pity, which he hates. Instead, you hum. “No wonder you don’t choose people either.”

Your candor is a relief. You don’t tell him sorry or try to comfort him. You accept this as a fact of life, a normalcy that a mother would choose wealth and power over a child. “There are no records tying us together, but the title of the house is under what my name would have been if she’d taken me. Lee. My family name would be Lee.”

“What is it now?”

“I don’t have one. My father was servant-class. We don’t have family names.” 

“He worked for your mother’s family?” Minho nods. “Lee. I like it. Will you keep it?”

“Maybe. It’s who I have to be, now.” 

“No longer the Collector?” He shakes his head. “Good. Perhaps I like you more as just Lee Minho.” 

Minho bites back a grin. 

By the time they get to the surface again, they’re just outside of the city-proper on the northeast shore. Here, the night is bitter cold as the salty air blasts off the ocean, dark waves rushing and receding against the shoreline. 

They take a brief break once their topside, Minho gasping deep breaths of fresh air in as he gulps down water. Now that they can see without the glowsticks, they toss them into the trash and breathe in silence. 

Carefully, Minho peers at the wound on his shoulder. It’s caterized from the heat of the plasma, but the burn hurts something vicious. He has no medical supplies on him, and he examines the chawed flesh with mild concern. 

Seeing the injury, you get up wordleslly from the rock where you sit and come over. Your hand digs in one of your pockets and you produce a packet of burn gel and antiseptic, wordlessly gesturing to the wound. He nods and you offer a tentative grin before ripping the antiseptic open with your teeth, spitting the crinkling material on the ground.

With steady hands, you squeeze out the translucent gel on the tips of your fingers and peel the damaged parts of Minho’s shirt away from the flesh. He sucks in a breath when you apply the cool gel to the wound, the stinging of the antibiotic catching him off guard. You shoot him an apologetic wince before continuing to press it lightly into the burned flesh. 

You smell like jasmine and amber. Minho breathes it in deep, a soothing scent mixed with the salty air of the seat just a few yards away. His eyes flutter shut as your fingers work his shoulder, deft and skilled like an artist. 

“My mom liked to paint,” Minho says automatically, unsure where the comment comes from. “That’s one of the few things I know about her. She had artists hands. You have hands like hers. Graceful.” 

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say I’m an artist but I do draw designs for weapons a lot.”

“It’s a kind of art.”

“I suppose it is.”

Your closeness makes Minho dizzy. Instead of chasing you away in the past, he lets you linger and spread the burn gel on his shoulder. He doesn’t open his eyes, letting the sound of the ocean and the press of your steady fingers lull him into a moment of relaxation. 

He can almost pretend you both haven’t thrown your life away to head to some house he’s never been to with little to no plan but to arrive there alive. 

“Does it hurt?” he shakes his head at your question. You voice is soft and raspy, rising the hairs on the back of his neck. You’re so close he can feel the heat radiating from you, making him lean in on instinct, seeking the warmth. “If you let me give you better armor, plasma won’t hurt you.”

Minho’s eyes flutter open. “You brought it with you?”

“Of course I did.” Your face is inches from his, eyelashes fanning your bright, glittering eyes as you look up at him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Hyunjin’s voice shatters the moment before Minho can respond. “Hello, yes, the child and I are still here.” 

“I’m not a child!”

“The child and I need to leave, however. Seungmin and Felix are waiting to escort us. I believe your friend left transportation for you, Minho.”

You whirl around. “You’re leaving? What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“I have some Nightcrawling to do with Bangchan and Seungmin. I’m taking the child to stay with Swan.” 

Minho has no idea who Swan is. He sees the uncertainty color your face as you regard your guard - your friend. “You would do that? Take him to stay with her?” 

“Of course. Swan likes strays.” 

“I am right here,” Jeongin reminds everyone, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I’m not a child.”

Hyunjin grins at him. It’s real and not a leer, something that Minho doesn’t think he’s ever seen. Hyunjin grabs Jeongin by the shoulder, pulling him along before flicking his poison-green eyes toward Minho and you. “Enjoy your evening. I’ll be around, Minho.” 

“Wait!” you bolt over to them, catching everyone by surprise as you throw your arms around the two of them and squeeze. The smile on Hyunjin’s face is so soft that Minho has to look away, equal parts something like jealousy and feeling like he’s intruding. “Here.” 

You divest several items from your pockets, shoving them into their hands. Medical gels, a few gadgets, and a little Scorpion figurine that you shove into Hyunjin’s hands. He raises a single brow in amusement but you say nothing to the Nightcrawler, rushing back to stand at Minho’s side. 

Hyunjin and Jeongin lift their hand in waves to Minho before turning and heading down the beach at a slow pace, their feet sinking into the sand. Cold wind whips at Minho as he stands watching with you silent by his side, waiting.

Without a word, he turns and beckons you, heading up the rocky coast before heading back down precariously to a tiny cove with a boat buoyed between the rocks. It’s hardly a safe-looking boat and he realizes it probably wouldn’t have carried them all, but it’s something. 

Minho climbs into the boat carefully before helping you step down into it. The rocking water throws you off balance and he steadies you, hands tight on your waist. You mutter an apology but he doesn’t let go until he’s sure you’re okay, eyes searching. 

A moment of tension passes, his fingers pressed into the fabric of your hips, your closeness overpowering the sea air again. You clear your throat and it passes. Minho lets you go as he finds the key and plugs it in to turn on the engine.

You busy yourself with untying ropes, your steps unsteady as the vessel moves unpredictably beneath your feet. Once you manage to get rid of all the lines, he begins to navigate out the cove backward, turning the wheel violently from side to side as he fights the tide. 

Thankfully with every swell that pushes the boat into the cove, it drags it back out. It takes about three swells before the craft is pulled into the ocean proper and he throws the throttle in reverse, water rooster tailing for a moment as he does. 

You join him at the helm and stand close as he turns it around and drives. Wind rips at his jacket, blowing back the hood. He’s thankful for the face cover fighting the icy wind, squinting as he drives in the late hours of the night across a rippling black ocean. 

The water gets rough as he turns to the east, glancing at the coordinates on his watch every once in a while. Your hand shoots out to grab his forearm on a particularly violent dip. He curses, pain radiating from his shoulder as you do. You immediately shout an apology and let go, but Minho snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you tight.

For a second, you stiffen, looking up at him uncertain. He remains steadfast in his hold, willing his heart to slowdown as he drives, determined to keep you from falling off the boat and into the water before you can even make it to the safehouse. 

You relax into him after a second, pressing closer and letting him hold on as you go. He relaxes when you accept his help, breathing out a slow breath that he didn’t know he was holding. 

It takes almost forty five minutes, but the dark shadow of Isla de Suenos materializes in the night. The city is a spec of light on the misty horizon as the waves begin to slow down until he can let down on the throttle, bringing the boat to a troll instead of a plane. 

The collection of islands that surround the massive, man-made mountain in the middle of the seat are all only about seven acres in size and are privately owned. The level of exclusivity is something Minho is incredibly unfamiliar with, and he gets nervous as they approach the barely visible shield surrounding the collection of islands.

“Minho, there’s a-”

“It’ll let us through.” He squeezes your waist on instinct, hoping it’s true. As the boat passes, he holds his breath. He feels the biochip in his neck flicker and then they’re through the shield. The water is falt calm on the other side of the energy wall, tapping gently against the hull. “It’s biometric.”

“And you were sure that was going to work?”

“Mostly.” 

“Mostly is not a great attitude in the invention field, Minho.” 

It takes a second, but he realizes you’re calling him by his name and not Cowboy. He likes the sound of it on your tongue, though he doesn’t mind the diminutive. 

Even in still waters, he doesn’t remove his arm around your waist, the protective instinct still high as he steers the boat according to his watch. Islands with lights hidden behind thick jungle and rockface slide past them. 

The beacon on his watch flashes and he turns the boat, trolling to a long, empty dock ahead of them. The island is no different from the rest, covered in sprawling jungle and foliage that look monstrous in the ominous night. 

Quickly, you tie off the boat and disembark. Your steps on the dock feel loud in the quiet night, the two of you hurrying along and up the shore until you hit the stone stairway that leads through the trees. Though he isn’t holding you close to him anymore, you still keep yourself pressed close, the back of your hands brushing as you begin the climb up the island. 

Minho has no idea what the house looks like. He only knows that it’s coded to his biochip and that it’s always been there if he needs it. He doesn’t know if it’s stocked or if the electricity is on, or if it’s been raided and taken over. He doesn’t even know if there are codes to get access.

It is the most unprepared he has ever been. 

A large estate springs up among the trees. The entire building is constructed on a platform with foliage and trees brushing along the foundations. It’s made up of windows and metal framing, the windows dark and hiding whatever exists within. 

It is exquisit. Minho has never seen an estate or a luxury home before in person, but he knows that’s what this is. The thought seems a little silly as he leads you toward the modular home, steps quiet as he glances around. He cannot imagine that anyone but he and his could enter the grounds, but he’s still on edge. 

At the door, there’s a single bioscanner. He leans his neck toward it, letting it flash over his biochip. The scanner turns green and he hears the hiss of an airlock. Glancing at you and shrugging, he tries the handle and pulls the door open toward him. 

Inside, the air is cool. He steps in first, hand on his gun as he looks around the interior. It’s sparkling clean and decorated with dark wood furniture and greenery. He takes a few steps inside, flinching when automatic lights come on and cast a warm, gold glow in the house. 

“You’ve been living as a fucking Collector when this existed the entire time?” you deadpan from the door.

No kidding, he thinks, turning to look at the multi-story wonder that is the home. It’s three levels of tropical opulence, making his head spin at all of the possibilities. 

“I didn’t know what was here, honestly.” He turns to look at you and nods. You step inside and pull the door shut, tapping the screen beside it. The locks click in place again and with another tap, he sees the windows darken to privacy mode. “I assumed she didn’t leave me something grand.” 

“It’s a good start on an apology. She’s still a bitch for leaving you and I think you should let me fight her.”

A ripple of fondness goes through him and he smiles at you, uncontrolled and large. You shoot a shy one back before looking away at the wonder of the home. 

Unlike him, you seem to relax immediately, kicking your shoes off to wander around the house. He follows suit after a moment of hesitation, peeling the cover off of his face and kicking of his shoes. He leaves his holster open on his weapons, hands hovering near them as he follows you.

The house is extravagent. Smaller than he originally thought, with only three bedrooms and two bathrooms, but the spaces for each are massive and sprawling with greenery. It feels like the jungle is a part of the house - and he realizes it is, at least in the atrium. There’s a large pool and something that looks like a hot spring behind the house, hidden from the world by think palms and palmetto. 

Each room is richly designed and cleaned, as though it has been kept for him all this time. He’ll have to worry about that at some point, unsure who has kept the house in such a presentable state while it’s existed. 

After you’ve fed your curiosity, you drift to one of the rooms with a private bathroom. He takes the room across from you, feet dragging as the exhaustion hits him. His limbs feel heavy and peeling off his shirt with the injure arm makes him curse and hiss. He doesn’t bother looking in the mirror, knowing the old bruises from a few days ago are still there.

Steam fills the bathroom. He’s a little put out when he realizes that the stone shower has a wall of glass to reveal the jungle on the other side, but he realizes there’s no one to watch him. He shakes the uneasiness and steps under the scalding water, moaning as he closes his eyes and lets it run down him.

A screen with a dozen or more settings sits in the rockface of the shower, but he doesn’t know how to use them. He hits another button hoping for what is more water pressure and instead gets a heavenly waft of eucalyptus. He leaves the settings alone, settling for tranquility over scrubbing himself.

Minho doesn’t know how long he stays in the shower. His fingers prune and the crust and blood eventually peel away. He spends a short amount of time scrubbing his own skin, eager to get out of the shower and check on you. 

Now that he has you, a new sort of stream of conscious has made itself permanent, always wondering where you are and if you’re okay. 

Steam clouds the bathroom as he steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist. Water clings to him as he ruffles his wet hair, strolling out into the bedroom. He walks toward the table by the door, rifling through his things looking for medical gel. 

A knock draws his attention and you open the door a crack, making a sound of surprise when you don’t expect to see him standing right in front of you. Your eyes dip down to where the towel is on his waist and back up, immediately opting to look at the ceiling. 

Minho’s lips pressed into a firm line, trying to eat the smirk threatening to take over.

“Sorry, I assumed you were still in the shower. I - um - brought more gel for your shoulder.” 

He steps away from the door, leaving drips of water as he does. “Come on in.”

“Are you sure?”

He shrugs and then winces, the burn pulling taught as he does. You enter immediately, shutting the door behind you and ripping the top off the packet as you do, eyes focused on the wound. You’ve got your fingers slathered in gel and pressing to his shoulder before you realize the forwardness, pausing to glance up at him.

Now, Minho does smirk. “I’m at your mercy.” 

“Sorry. I know it’s hurting you and…”

“You don’t want me to hurt,” he fills in, remembering your words from earlier.

You nod and chew your bottom lip as you work. He studies you closely. He doesn’t know if it’s his acceptance that you’re more than just someone he buys weapons from, the exhaustion or the little sliver of feeling he’s always pretended wasn’t there, but Minho suddenly feels a little bolder. 

A little braver. 

“I never had a chance to thank you.”

“For what?” You throw the antiseptic on the table and rip open the burn gel. “Anything. Everything. I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you.”

“There’s a lot of things you haven’t said.”

“So let me.” You dart a look at him, nervous. When you don’t interrupt he continues, “You were right. We stopped being industry peers a long time ago, and I’ve purposefully ignored multiple favors from you to keep the illusion that simple relationships meant I couldn’t be hurt. Or hurt others.”

“And now?”

“I realize it was silly.”

“Hmm. At least you admit your faults, Cowboy.” 

He smiles. You finish applying the gel, but you don’t move away from him. You linger, looking up through silky lashes at him. Your face takes on a dreamy look, mouth parted a little and he feels heat coil in his stomach at that look. 

“Why’d you offer me that armor?”

“I was afraid of how often you were working. I knew you were getting hurt and I wanted to help. Why’d you reject it?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

There’s a long pause. Your gaze drops to his mouth. You’re only a few inches away, the ghost of your breath against his neck. “What if I want you to?” 

Minho needs no other permission. It’s like a dam giving way, the past few days able to wedge their way in and open him up to let the rawness spill out of him. He surges forward, catching your mouth against his as he does so, hands shooting to your waist. 

You don’t push him away. Worse, you melt into him like it’s natural, hands skating up his arms and around the back of his neck to pull him in closer to you. Your mouth is warm and minty and addicting, scattering his thoughts to the stars as your lips move against his. 

Heat is trapped between your bodies. He feels like he’s burning up from the inside, squeezing your hips as his tongue brushes against your bottom lip. You open up for him easily, like you were always made to and he groans. 

Every time he has ever held back from you fuels him forward. He presses into you, turning you to push you on the mattress. You go willingly, opening your legs to let him slot between them. He leaves over you, mouth hungry. Devouring. Ravenous. 

You gasp between kisses, nails grazing down his flexing arms. He wants to fucking drown in you as he bites the edge of your jaw, tasting the soap on your skin. You smell like jasmine and amber, though now he can smell the eucalyptus too, driving him insane. 

You. 

The one thing he’s let himself trust. The one person he’s let in, even when he didn’t want to admit it. The one person he wants to have more than anything else. 

Greedy hands scrape up his chest. Your fingers are warm and searching as he nips the tender flesh of your neck, tongue laving over the bite to soothe it. The sounds dripping from your mouth are so pretty, driving him inside as he traces his desire with tongue and teeth. 

The fabric of your shirt scrapes against his skin, itchy and in the way. His hands pull at the hem and he hesitates, looking down at you through a heavy-lidded gaze and panting. You not frantically, hands pulling at his to guide the shirt upwards and off, revealing warm skin.

Minho wants to taste every part of you. You create art with your schematics and your weapons, but you are art. He worships you with tongue and teeth, hands brushing up your stomach to cup your chest. His tongue pulls a languid moan from you as he flicks it over the peak of your nipple. 

Fuck.

He’s greedy, sucking gentle on your pert bud, ensuring to scrap his teeth along the sensitive flesh. You writhe underneath him, unable to remain still. His other hand works you too, tweaking your stiff peak as he trails spit-slick kisses across your chest to wrap his lips around that nipple too. 

Minho looks up at you through his lashes. You’re a rendering of pleasure, head pressing into the bed, chest pushed up, a sheen of sweat on your collarbones and neck. It drives him wild, cock throbbing heavily as he trails his mouth toward, fingers pulling your pants as he goes. 

Your fingers twist in the sheets. Everything he does affects you and he’s drunk on it, heart thudding in his chest as he drops down to his knees. His towel falls and the cool air makes him shiver. He feels the sticky tip of his cock brush against his leg but he ignores the ache between his thighs, fixing his eyes on what’s between yours instead. 

Pretty and wet, all for him. For him. He gets to have you. But he doesn’t yet, making you wait and feel the personal hell it’s been for him to pretend he wasn’t yours as he kisses up your thighs, licking warm skin and digging his teeth in. 

“Minho,” you half gasp, half wine. He smiles against your knee, giving it a gentle peck. “Please.” 

“Yeah?” he switches legs, biting your calf. “Want it that bad?” 

“Need it.” 

He brings a hand up to your dripping cunt, dragging a curled knuckle through your wetness. You let out a keen and he grins against your leg even more, hypnotized by the way your petty little hole clenches at the contact.

Minho drags it out. Plays with you, dragging that knuckle slow-soft through your folds, avoiding your clit. You let out a sound that’s almost a sob and he chuckles, bringing his hand up to suck at the stickiness on his finger. 

“Hmm. Sweet.” 

“Bet it’s better from the source,” you shoot back, trying to make a jab and failing with how weak your voice is. 

“True,” he agrees, leaning forward. 

Your taste blooms on his tongue as he licks up your center, slow and patient. He savors the taste, humming as he does. You buck under his mouth and he grips your thighs, pulling you open. You’re warm and wet and perfect, and he listens to your breath hitch as he licks you slowly, making sure to circle around your clit each time.

One of your hands shoots to his hair. He doesn’t mind as you pull. The sting feels good and spurs him on, eating you out properly. He loves the sounds you make for him, loves the way your thighs twitch as he sucks your click into his mouth, tongue flicking over it. 

It’s wet and messy and just the way he likes it, slick dripping down his chin as he presses himself in further, desperate to fuck you into sanity with just his mouth. 

He doesn’t have a problem doing it. You buck against his face and he lets you, holding his tongue flat for you to grind against. Your fingers in his hair have him in a vice grip and he moans, a steady stream of mhmmm dripping sweet from his mouth into your heat. 

“Fuck,” you gasp. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Come on,” he mouths against you. “Take what you want, baby.” 

The endearment slips from him more natural than anything he’s ever done. His fingers squeeze your thighs as you undulate against him, his entire attention fixated on you as the begin to shake. Your hand twists in his hair and he groans, equal parts pain and pleasure as you come apart. 

He hums in satisfaction, keeping his mouth working on you, drinking you in as you continue to tremble. The power trip that comes with seeing you come is unmatched, lighting a fire in him as he licks you to oversensitivity.

“Minho,” you beg, voice squeaking. He grins, kissing your cunt before he mouths his way back up to you, capturing your mouth with his. You’re eager to taste yourself, tongue licking at him more than anything, smearing your slick on his lips. He feels his eyes roll back. You’re going to kill him. “More.”

Minho would conquer the world and call it yours if you wanted him to. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give you. Pretending otherwise was the great folly of man, he realizes, as he shuffles you up the bed and climbs between your legs, standing up on his knees.

You watch him, pupils blown and fucked out as he heaves. He can hardly catch his breath as he reaches down to take his cock in his hand, pumping leisurely as he watches you. The way you look at him like you’ll consume him whole makes him shiver. He wants you to. Want you to burn him up until there’s nothing left. 

Leaning down, he drops his cock out of his hand in favor of sliding a hand between you’re legs. You’re a mess of spit and cum, making the glide easy as he slips a finger into your heat to work you open. Your head falls to the side, giving him access to suck at your jawline as he fucks you open with his finger, adding a second when he knows you can take it. 

Your hips roll up to meet his thrusts as he scissors his fingers open, pressing against your warm walls to push the stretch further. You’re putty in his hands but he’s a mess in yours, too. He’s shaking by the time he slips his hand from between your legs to press the crown of his cock at your entrance, hesitating. 

Minho looks up at you. He already knows there’s no going back for him, three years of his own stubborn delusions robbing him of what could have been. But he asks, anyway. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure for a long time. It was you who needed convincing.” 

“What a stuipd man I am.”

“Yes,” you agree. “But mine.” 

That drives him wild. Simple words and yet the very action of you claiming him erodes the last bit of resistance. He pushes into you and goes slow with a considerable amount of effort, shaking and panting as he tries to keep it together. 

You’re warm and tight and twitches of pleasure ripple through him from cock to stomach. Minho swears he comes alive for the first time as he seats himself in your cunt to the hilt, barely able to catch his breath as he ducks down to press his mouth against yours.

It’s not delicate, but it isn’t the same ferocity as earlier. It’s something else that lingers between madness and relief. He only begins to move when he feels your hips wiggle. He smiles into the kiss, retracting his hips before surging forward again. 

Delirious. That is the only word that comes to mind as he starts to fuck you slow and deep. Your mouths bump together but you’re both breathing raggedly, shaking together. Your hands card through his hair, soothing and soft. His lashes flutter as he drops his head further. You press your lips against his forehead as he picks up the pace, letting your hands worship him as he fucks you.

How could he ever think he was sparing you from him? How could he ever make the mistake that if he kept on the fringes, you wouldn’t leave him ruined like this? It seems unimaginative now. Like something that was always meant to happen. 

No wonder Collect Co. knew he would go running to you like a dog when they assigned you to him. Everyone else could admit it except him, an egregious error on his part.

But Minho has you now. Gasping his name and moving in his arms. Rolling your hips to meet his, your cunt clenching on his cock as he fucks you harder. He wants to dig into you and never let go. Wants to sink in to the very core and live there. 

“Mine,” you growl as though you can read his thoughts. “Even though you tried not to be. You are mine, Lee Minho.”

When you say his full name like that, voicing the boy who could have been and now who is, he starts to come apart. His pace quickens as he chases your second release, holding you tight to him as he feels you clench longer and longer around him until you’re sobbing his name and spilling down his shaft.

Minho all but growls your name as he comes. Never again will you be Builder. You’re his. First and last name his to say. The acknowledgment almost makes him cry as he slows his thrusts, gasping for air as he tosses his head back, heat escaping between the two of you. 

Finally, he stops fucking you, hands linked with yours as he leans up to catch his breath. He’s still seated in you, feeling the cum drip between where your ass is pressed against his thighs. He doesn’t care, feeling the sweat and the water from his shoulder drip down his back.

His arm burns where he’s used it. He’d been unaware of the pain while lost in you, but he feels it now, throbbing. He doesn’t care. He’d do it again a thousand times.

Slowly, he unravels from you. Your hands don’t let him go far, pulling him down next to you to roll toward. He smiles, tired and dreamy at the edges as he lets you. The bed is soft against his balmy skin, the cool air helping calm him down. 

Finally, both of you can breathe. He knows that he needs to shower again, but he doesn’t want to get up. He wants to keep you near. Now that he’s all in, he wants to stay all in. 

“We should call this place the Jungle Rodeo.” He cracks an eye open at you to realize you’re hiding a grin as you look up at him. “You know, since we can’t go back to Neon Rodeo.”

“What is it with you and rodeos?” 

“You find Cowboys at the rodeo.” 

“Oh?”

“And you’re here… so… it’s a rodeo.” 

He blinks at you. “Your intellect is astounding.” 

You laugh and it’s like taking a JumpPack straight to his bloodstream, a rush of energy and euphoria driving him upward and toward you. He smothers you with kisses, driving by the need to taste you again. You let him, giggling. 

“What do you say then, hmm?” he growls, nipping your bottom lip. “Want to go for another ride?”

“That joke was terrible.” 

“You know what they say. When at the rodeo.” 

You laugh again and Minho is a goner once more, just like he was the first day he met you at Neon Rodeo. 

-

TAG LIST:

@stayceebs97 @skzswife @bettybeako

[skzoolandia]

𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐜𝐬𝟓𝟓

SUMMARY: if charles can't value what's in front of him then carlos is more than willing to take on the role. REQUESTED: yes but it's for a personal friend. WARNING: kinda toxic carlos, unrequited love, asshole carlos (not towards the reader), a little bit of angst, SMUT, 18+, oral (f receiving), mean carlos, slight corruption kink (blink and you'll miss it), overstimulation, spitting, lost of virginity, p in v, unprotected sex, fluff PAIRING: reader x carlos sainz, reader x charles leclerc WORD COUNT: 6.6k

NOTE: this was meant to be much much longer but i decided to cut it into 2 parts. part 2 will lead to eventual threesome with carlos and charles. let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

part 2: call out my name

masterlist

The first time Carlos met you, he knew you were off limits. Always following Charles around with that same lovestruck look in your eyes, your body coming alive whenever the monegasque touches you. Your affection for him is written all over your face. 

“We’re just friends,” Charles is always quick to correct whenever anyone assumes otherwise. “Best friends,” he’d add as if that made it better and Carlos would watch the way your face would fall, lips slightly quivering as if you’re about to cry on the spot. 

Frankly, Carlos thought it’s a waste. Why are you, whose incomparable beauty and wit, is settling for a man who very obviously doesn’t return your affections? Do you enjoy making a fool of yourself? Do you enjoy the pain?

Carlos has very few bad things to say about his teammate, getting along with him so well he’d even consider him a good friend but one thing is for sure, Charles is an idiot for not claiming you given the first chance to do so. Can’t Charles see the longing looks and lustful gazes frequently thrown in your direction, Carlos’ along them? 

Though he supposes he should thank Charles for handing you to him with a pretty little bow, for letting you slip through his fingers so Carlos can snatch you right up. 

But Carlos bided his time. Charles is Ferrari’s golden boy, their walking god. The prodigal son he’s called. Il Predestinato. The Chosen One. Carlos is the newest member of the team, one with much more to prove. Charles may very quickly deny speculations between the two of you but his claim all over you is still evident. In the way he touches you, the way he keeps you firmly by his side. Carlos had far too much to lose by immediately creating tension within the group. 

He’s a patient man. He can wait, plan and plot. And so apart from the usual hellos when you meet each other and the mandatory polite smiles, he stayed away from you, choosing instead to always keep a watchful gaze on your figure whenever the two of you are in the same room. 

He’ll play the game and he’ll play it well. He’ll wait. He’ll wait patiently knowing that by the end of it, it’ll be you puny on his palm. And it’s not like you notice, far too busy over your unrequited feelings for the monegasque to even look in his direction.  

In his time watching you, Carlos learned so many things about you, things not many people notice. He learned your mannerisms, what makes you tick and what makes you smile, what makes you frown and what makes you pout. He knows your coffee order as well as his own and the foods you don’t eat. He learned the things you like and disliked, learning you till he’s got you memorized like the back of his hand, all his knowledge about you being kept safe for when he finally deems it’s time.

It isn’t like his attraction for you is pure though. Carlos wants you in such a primal way, wants to take you, to claim you. He can barely remember the amount of times he’d touched himself to the thought of you.

It seems the universe is on his side though. He hadn’t even needed to do anything to have you falling straight into his arms. 

It was after the Bahrain grand prix, the first race of the season with Ferrari taking home a 1-2. Everyone is in their best mood, drinking the night away as celebration for the best opening start of the season. Carlos found you in the nearly empty hallway leading to the bathroom away from the crowd of people. You’re leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped around yourself, cheeks red and wide eyes a little less bright than usual. 

You look like a wounded angel in your little white dress, legs and back bare with your hair falling beautifully over your shoulder, shorter strands littering your face. You look breathtaking and Carlos couldn’t not approach you. 

And so armored with his usual friendly smile, he situated himself next to you. “Hey.”

You look up at him from under your eyelashes, offering him a smile of your own. You look sad though and he can’t help but hate Charles a little bit for it. “Hey, Carlos. Congratulations on P2.” 

Carlos smiles at you again in thanks. “What are you doing here?” He asks even though he already knows the answer. In his drunken stupor, Charles had found a woman to entertain him for the night, all wrapped up in her on the table you shared. 

But you only shrug your shoulders and the action made his eyes travel to your collarbone to the V neck of your dress leading to the valley of your breast. Your skin is covered in goosebumps and he noticed your visible shiver. 

“I needed a breather,” you say, which isn’t exactly a lie. You need a breather from Charles and his suffocating presence. “How about you?”

The truth was that he followed you after he saw the way you removed yourself from the group, eyes downcast and bare skin so tempting he couldn’t not follow. He ignored your question and instead shook off the jacket he wore, placing it around your shoulder. You smile at him, a little less sad than the one you gave him earlier, as you slip your hand through the sleeves, the jacket being much too big and practically swallowing your body. 

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, both leaning against the wall. You look a little lost in your head, still hung up over the sight of Charles kissing some girl he just met. For the longest time, you’ve managed to convince yourself that you’re fine with your place beside him even if he never returns your feelings. Loving Charles has always hurt but you’ve been doing it for so long that you’ve become familiar with the pain, even allowing it to bring you comfort. 

Carlos sighs, practically hearing your thoughts as his hand reaches towards you, placing them on your shoulder to force you to face him. For months, he’s watched you torture yourself over Charles from afar but he’s only now realizing that he can’t do it from up close with your sad, defeated eyes staring back at him.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he says and Carlos had to control his breathing as you looked at him like that, eyes so wide and naive, looking so pure and lost. He wants to protect you and ruin you at the same time. “You deserve better, cariño, not a boy who doesn’t know how to treat you right.”

“He’s all I’ve ever known,” your voice breaks a little and he wanted nothing more than to punch his teammate at that moment. 

“That doesn’t mean he deserves you,” he says through gritted teeth.

You’re unable to say anything else as you melt into his touch, your arms wrapping around his torso and he pulls you to his chest. His arms around you are tight, seemingly trying to keep you together as you break apart. 

The two of you stay like that for a few seconds. You don’t cry, which is a good thing because Carlos doesn’t think he can handle that without marching back inside the club and punching the living daylights out of Charles, but you do stay in his arms, your hands clutching at his shirt. 

“I’ll take you back to your room,” he says, deciding that the best thing for you right now is sleep. You only nod, lightly pulling yourself away from him. 

The bar you guys had went to was just in the hotel lobby, a small place with barely any people and so he leads you out, hand firmly clasped against yours as the two of you ride the elevator to your floor. 

“Charles…” you start, voice quiet. “Charles has my key card.”

Carlos nods. “You can stay with me.”

He half expected you to argue but you only nod your head as he leads you to his own hotel room, swiftly swiping the card to open the door, opening it bigger for you. The rest follows swiftly. Carlos lends you clothes to change into after having decided to share a bed. The two of you made quick movements to prepare for bed, the long day had you exhausted and determined to get under the covers. 

And yet, as soon as Carlos turns off the light, it’s like all of your exhaustion melted away, finding yourself wide eyed as you stared at the ceiling, his presence next to you pressing against your skin. You’ve shared a bed with a man before, of course. Ever since you were kids till adulthood, you and Charles never had a problem sharing one. But Carlos’ presence is much different from Charles’ familiar weight next to yours. Carlos’ feels demanding, firm. His skin feels a little too hot, causing you to lightly pull down the covers to reveal more of yourself to the chilly, air conditioned air. 

It’s a little terrifying. He feels much stronger than you. But it’s also a little exhilarating, your mind daring you to reach forward and touch his skin. He’s not wearing a shirt and you’re tempted to run your fingers through his chest, his jaw, his hair. 

“Carlos,” you speak softly, still staring at the ceiling.

“Hmm?” 

“Can I touch you?” 

He doesn’t think you know how your question sounds. He doesn’t think you know how the innocence in your voice makes him want to wrap his hand around your throat. But nevertheless, he nods despite the fact that you can’t see him. “Yes.” 

You don’t need to be told twice, shifting so you’re facing him, the darkness bathing the two of you hiding the blush in your cheek as your hand reaches forward, soft pads of your fingers hesitantly placing themselves on his jaw. 

Your fingers are cold as it slides from his jaw to his neck, palm pressing against the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. His own hand places itself on your waist, drawing circles on the fabric of his shirt as your hand finally reaches his chest, tracing every bump and hollow curve till you reach his abdomen. 

Carlos sucks in a breath, his hand flying to wrap around your wrist, stopping your movement. With the minimal light, he can see the way you looked at him, so so innocent as though you don’t understand why he stopped you. 

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, amor,” he warned you, voice quiet as he stared into your eyes. 

But a pool had started in your panties and for the first time that night, you actually feel alive. You wanted more of him. You want him to make you forget. “Make me forget tonight.”

Carlos groans at your words, cursing in Spanish that you barely had the time to decode before his lips are on yours, climbing on top of you as he holds your wrist over your shoulder. You moan into the kiss, trying to pull your hand away to be able to touch him again but his body is firmly pressing you against the mattress, knees keeping your legs open. 

“Carlos,” you whine, desperate for some sort of friction as you rut against him. 

“Don’t whine.” His voice is low and demanding, full of authority as his lips sucked on your neck, finding a sweet spot that had you rolling your eyes to the back of your head. He’s sucking and biting, flawlessly marking up your neck as you all but fall apart under him. 

“Please,” you mutter breathlessly, still pulling at your wrists. You’re desperate to be touched, trying to create as much friction as you wiggled under him. 

“Please what, angel?” Carlos mocks. He’s waited for this for far too long to be nice now. 

“Please touch me,” you don’t even hesitate, Charles being the farthest thing from your mind with Carlos all over you. 

“Where can I touch you, niña bonita?” his words rushed through your veins, close enough to feel the thump thump thump as he pressed his lips against your jaw, planting open mouthed kisses

“Everywhere,” you breathe out and Carlos grins, finally letting go of your wrist, giving you free reign to run your fingers through his hair as he makes a quick effort to rid you of your – his – shirt. 

“Are you sure?” He asks again, wanting to be absolutely positive that this is what you want to, that you aren’t just letting your emotions get the best of you. 

“Yes, Carlos, please.”

And who was he to deny such pretty pleas?

His lips left a path of destruction everywhere he touched, the burning sensation of his breath against your skin going straight to your core. Eventually, he reaches your nipples, tongue swirling and fingers pinching the other. His teeth marking all over your breasts as he continued his trail down.

“Stop me,” he tells you as his fingers pull the garter of your panties. “Stop me or I won’t be able to stop, baby.” 

“Don’t stop,” you quickly say, writhing under him. “God please, don’t you dare stop.” 

“You don’t have to call me god. My name is just fine,” he mutters against your skin as he pulls your underwear down. If this is the only night he gets with you then he’s going to make sure to ruin any other man for you. “Thought you were a good girl, baby. Always looking so innocent.”

His lips pressed against your clit, tasting the honey that seeped out of you, causing you to shudder as he situated himself between your legs, elbows pushing your legs apart. His tongue flats on your clit, swiping a lick as you moan out, fingers clutching desperately at his hair, a chorus of pleases and Carlos tumbling out of your lips. He doesn’t think there could be a much better sound as he pokes his tongue into your entrance, your tight walls pushing him out. 

Your body is arching up as he sucked at your clit, making Carlos place his arm around your stomach, pushing you back down as his other hand gathered your wetness, spreading it all over your folds before slowly pushing in, a cocky grin on his lips as your moan grows louder. 

His tongue and fingers worked together, one slowly pumping in and out of you as he let you adjust and his lips sucking into your clit. He swears he’s meeting his creator as you come into his mouth, voice becoming strangled and your back once again arching as you scream his name, loud enough that Carlos hopes everyone in the floor can hear it. You sound angelic and sinful all at once. 

“One more, pretty girl,” he tells you. “Tan bonito como este,” he tells you, watching as you shudder with each swipe of his tongue. You’re far too gone to even care about what he’s saying. “Y todo mío.”

Your fingers running through his tousled, demanding him to keep going and to stop at the same time, the faint taste of iron on your tongue as you bite your bottom lip, soft angelic melodies of his name escaping your lips. He sucked harder, wrist working faster as he added another finger in, pumping in and out of you at a much faster rate than he had a while ago, working to bring you to your second orgasm of the night, one he knew you needed but in reality, he needed more. 

"That feels good doesn't it love? You like it when I touch you like this?" Carlos groans and rubs your clit faster. You buck your hips and nod quietly. "Use your words angel," he taunts.

"Yes, yes, oh my god, yes please. yes," you moan loudly.

“Good,” he says, a smug smirk playing on his face. It’s incredible how easy it is for you to submit to him, to beg to his name as if he’s your newfound religion.

It’s an ego thing as his tongue carved Sainz on your clit with the promise of making you his. His kisses stamped your inner thigh, teeth gently nibbling on your skin as he marked what’s his. You don’t know it yet but you’re his. Once he’s done with you, you’ll never want another man again. His tongue slipped inside you, his finger now tracing his name. 

“Can I… can I come please?” Your voice is shaky and broken as you ask him, full of obedience that he didn’t even have to teach you as you so easily surrendered yourself to him and his control. In that moment, your body belonged to him and you both knew it.

“Look at me. Look at who’s making you feel this good,” he demands, your cum dripping from his lips. It takes effort for you to even comprehend his words and much more to force your eyes open as you meet his hazel ones. His efforts doubled in speed and strength, your screams becoming louder as he pushed you to the edge. 

You gasp loudly as you feel your whole body trembling even more and then you feel your body tense as you come against his mouth. Your whole mind feels like exploding and all you can see is stars. You feel so overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you’reexperiencing, your body is still trembling as you feel yourself come down from your high.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he tells you softly as he crawls over to your side, brushing the hair from your face and placing his lips on you. Your body is motionless against his as you climb down from your back to back orgasm. 

“Open your mouth, cariño,” he says, gently tapping at your jaw. You comply as he spits into your mouth, the taste of you now present on your taste buds. You’re quick to swallow, making Carlos grin at you. Your undeniable submission to him gives him a kind of satisfaction. 

“Are you ready for me, pretty girl?” He asks softly, hand on your cheek a deep contrast to what his fingers had been doing to you a few moments ago. “Do you want to stop?” 

You shyly shake your head. Carlos thought you looked most beautiful like this, so incredibly ruined for him. “I’m not- I haven’t–” you start, stuttering over your own words.

“Speak up, cariño,” he tells you and your cheeks heat up even more. 

“I haven’t…done it,” say finally, voice increasingly getting shyer with each syllable. 

For a minute, Carlos was frozen, not having expected your admission. You’re twenty four years old after all, he had expected you to at least have some experience, but he knows you’re telling the truth from the light blush on your cheeks as you all but hide your face to his shoulder, touching him so surely as if you’ve done it a thousand times before. 

He could feel himself melting a little, your shy smile and red cheeks so adorable that he couldn’t help but smile back at you as he wraps his arm around your naked figure, pulling you closer towards him.

“We don’t have to,” he assures you. “We can just go to sleep now.”

“I want to,” you’re quick to say, placing your chin on his shoulder. “I was saving it for…”

For Charles. You don’t bother finishing your sentence, you both already know. The sting in his chest is instant, a reminder that you’re not his, at least not fully. 

And then the pride rolls in. You’ve saved this for Charles for years, probably rejecting a multitude of men along the way and yet you’re so willingly offering it to him now, with no hesitation and no question with the monegasque the farthest thing from your mind as you stared up at him with those big eyes of yours. 

Before you can say anything else, his mouth is on yours again, whatever little softness his kiss carried a while ago is gone now. He’d never let you go, not when he’s already got a taste. There’s no way he’s ever letting you go now, not when you’re holding on to him like that, nails digging on the skin of his back, naked body pressed against his. 

And if he does lose you, if another man gets to touch you after him, he’ll make sure to ruin you for them. He’ll make sure it’s him on your mind every time, his name you’re begging to scream out. 

You’re warm. Tingling with anticipation threaded into your nerves and heat. And you feel your body throbbing all at once as Carlos claims your mouth. Your hands are eager, pulling at the shorts he’s still wearing, a whine at the back of your throat.

“Carlos,” you breath out, needy all over as he takes his time marking your skin. 

“What did I say about whining?” He asks, immediately getting you to shut your mouth and instead settling for biting your lower lip. 

Still though, Carlos does as you ask, pulling away from you in order to remove his clothes. You gulp as you watch his unbearably hard cock reach his stomach. He was carved by god himself you’re sure. No mere mortal can possibly look as beautiful as he does now in all of his naked glory, chest perfectly refined, hair tousled and back and arms littered with scratches. 

Heat travels to your cheeks once you realize you’re staring. You try to avert your eyes but Carlos is crawling back at you, hands cupping your cheeks as he all but forces you to meet his eyes. “You can stare, Amor. I’m yours to look at.” 

His declaration ignites a blazing warmth in your chest, giving you the courage to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you in order to once again connect your lips. He’s yours. He’s yours. And you’re his. You’ve never felt this alive before, never quite felt like this before. Not with any man and not with Charles. You’re his. You know that now. 

“You’re beautiful,” you mutter to no one but the world as his lips travel from your lips to your jaw. 

Carlos only hums as his lips travel all over your face and neck. You whimper as his mouth presses kisses all over your sensitive skin, your hands traveling to his hair and tugging lightly.

“I have been thinking about this moment for so long.” He rasps, kissing your throat softly. Your body trembles against his as he continues to cover your face and neck with kisses.

Your brain is all over the place, eyes heavy and clouded as you try to tell him how much you’ve been wanting him. All your thoughts overwhelm you, disabling any rational understanding of what is going on. You just want him. You need him. 

All you can taste, all you can feel, all you can see, all you can think about is him.

The whine that comes out of you only drives Carlos to seek out more of those sounds, they are potentially the most amazing sounds he’s ever heard. Your arms wrap around his neck, in an attempt to bring him closer to you, your hips accidentally move against him making him groan. 

“Didn’t take you for the needy type, angel,” Carlos teases and you want to tell him to stop, to just fuck you already. You needed him so badly but you know doing so will result in nothing. He’s going to kill you with anticipation, have you begging for his touch. 

“Carlos,” you beg, wanting to cry with unmet arousal. “Please. Need you so bad.”

“Shh,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ll take care of you, baby.” 

His lips travel to your breast, greedily claiming your nipple with his mouth. His tongue circles your most sensitive nerve, making you let out another moan. You whine as your cunt starts clenching around nothing, begging for attention. Instinctively you start moving your hips against his making him groan against your skin. His lips leave your breast with a wet pop and he looks at you intensely as you try to catch your breath. You’re panting, barely able to think straight. 

He groans as you continue to grind up against him, grasping your hips to halt your movements, causing a whine out of you as he pushes your hips against the mattress, so desperate to feel him again. Finally, he slowly moves towards the bed and gently spreads your thighs apart as he fits himself between them. He positions his body against yours, hand coming up to your face to caress your cheek again as you feel his other wander all over your body making you breathless already.

You feel his cock momentarily against your wetness which makes you thrust against him.

“I need you,” you pant against his lips, but Carlos pulls his hips away slightly with a small smirk on his face. “Please…”

You need him so bad and you’re getting impatient as you feel him press kisses all over your neck, being much gentler than you know he’s used to. He’ll have his way with you eventually but for tonight, your pleasure and comfort is all that matters. Panting, you feel him slowly go down your body. He momentarily wraps his mouth around one of your nipples and sucks lightly making you arch your body against his. 

You feel yourself dripping down the sheets, whining helplessly as you become desperate with need.

You can’t help but roll your hips against his to feel his cock in order to relieve yourself some tension. It turns slick as you keep grinding yourself against him, and he has no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting it into your clit.

“Oh fuck,” Carlos rasps, reaching down and grasping himself to line up between your lips. He keeps rubbing the head of his cock to your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you squirm underneath him and back down. He loves the sounds you make as he spreads himself around your slit, where you’re still dripping for him.

You gasp openly into his mouth, desire growing quickly. You’re still so so wet. Carlos swallows your whines with his lips against yours, hips rolling against you. He kisses you full of fervor, his grip on you intensifying heatedly.

You’re trembling against him, full of anticipation. His body covers your whole body with his as you writhe against him, wishing he was just in you already.

“Are you ready, cariño? Let me know if I start to hurt you or if you want to stop.” He whispers as he looks deep into your eyes.

You bite your lip and nod, too shy and excited to talk.

“I’ll try to go slow at first, okay, angel?” He says before leaning back down to kiss your lips again, he reaches down and grasps himself. He is rubbing the tip firmly over your swollen clit and your mind is all over the place.

“Please, Carlos,” you stutter, your body trembling even more. 

He rubs himself up and down your slit for a while longer before one of his hands lean down to spread your outer fold sliding his cock teasingly around your core. You arch your back slightly and whine out of frustration.

You want to beg him to do something again as he leans down to line up his cock with your entrance, your legs trembling under him with a mix of nerves and excitement. Carlos slides in so slowly it’s agonizing. He’s careful, like he’s afraid you might break. 

You let out a long broken whine as he gradually pushes more of him inside you. He’s so big, stretching your walls. It feels as though your organs are moving around to give him space with how full you feel. He leans down to kiss your lips gently as he moves more inside, hoping the sweetness of the embrace will soften the sting.

Once he’s fully inside you, you sigh against his lips. You feel so full, as if he’s made for you and only you. The feeling of him filling you up so completely has you seeing stars and digging your fingernails into his shoulders.You feel one of his hands finding your hand, lacing them with yours as the other one reaches up to your face.

“You okay?” He asks worriedly.

“Yeah, I just need a moment,” you mutter, breathless.

He smiles as your eyes are drifting close, both so full and exhausted at the same time.

You feel yourself gradually adjust to his size, your lower lip between your teeth as you open your eyes again to look up at Carlos’ beautiful sight above you.

“Please move,” you beg.

He nods quietly and starts by thrusting into you slowly, one hand reaching down to play with your clit, while the other holds your hand tightly. The sting hurts you for a while, but it easily changes to pleasure as he moves against you. You’re so overstimulated from all your previous orgasms that the sensation he’s giving you is mixed between pain and pleasure. 

He grunts as he drops his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin there and to whisper sweet nothings as he sets a pace.

“So tight,” he groans.

The angle is so good, but when his pace picks up he finally leans down to wrap his arms around you, making you gasp as he thrust into you faster and harder, pinning you against the mattress and taking full control of your body. 

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart. Doing so so good for me. Eres tan perfecta.”

You whimper as his lips move back up against your own as he kisses you passionately.

At a certain point you feel the end of his strokes slide into a pressure point inside you that has you clenching like a vise around his cock. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, back arching as he keeps thrusting into you, the feeling of him repeatedly hitting your most sensitive spot causing a loud noise you’ve never made before escaping your lips, a strange cry of his name. 

“Fuck,” Carlos muttered against your ears, feeling your walls clenching around him, letting him know that you’re close. “You’re so loud for me, angel.” 

“God.” You’re lost in pleasure, tears streaming down your face as you desperately claw at his skin. Whatever pain you were feeling before is lost now as you all but float in a cloud of lust. 

“Hold it in, baby,” he demands, tongue licking your tears away as his hand pushes your hair out of your face, wanting to see you fully as you reach your high. 

“Please, Carlos,” you sobbed, squirming under him. “Need to…need to come please.”

His thrust doesn’t stop or falter, getting harder and harder as his hand grips your waist. There would surely be a bruise of his handprint there tomorrow but you’re far too gone to care. “Look at you so desperate to cum on my dick. Who’s making you feel this good, angel?”

“You!” You cry out, more than willing to pledge your life away to him at this point, the only thing that matters is your release. “Only you! Please, Carlos.” 

“That’s right. Only me. Sólo yo.” Carlos smirks at the sight of you under him, so completely defenseless. “Go on, baby.”

You didn’t need to be told twice as you spasm under him, losing control of your body. Your vision is hazy as you ride out your high, your body out of your control as your nails dug to his skin, teeth buried on his shoulder. You don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure quite like this.

You feel his cum shoot inside your walls as his body slightly relaxes on yours. He’s barely broken a sweat, his stamina completely phenomenal, but he knows you’re spent and after tonight, you deserve a break, especially considering it’s your first time. And so with that, he gently pulled out of you, making sure not to put anymore pressure on your tired body as he dropped to the place next to you.

Despite your clear exhaustion though, there’s no hesitation in your movements as you turn to him, breathing shallow. Placing your seemingly heavy head on his chest, you throw your arms over his stomach. Carlos’ breath hitched. He had just fucked you, made you come three times and yet somehow the action of you so naturally cuddling to him had his heart racing. 

“You did so good,” he told you gently, arms more than welcoming, immediately wrapping around you. “Are you okay, niña bonita?”

“Yes,” you mumble, voice hoarse from all the screaming as you bury your face deeper into the crook of his neck. “Tired.”

“Sleep,” he told you softly, lips planting a kiss on the top of your sweaty hair as he pulled you closer towards him. 

You let out a hum, already drifting off to dreamland with your naked bodies pressed against each other, not an inch between the two of you as you tightly held on to each other. 

—

The next time you saw Carlos was the next day as you climbed into Ferrari’s private plane. Nearly the entire team is hungover, half asleep as they lugged their baggage, you along them but for an entirely different reason. 

As soon as you stepped into the plane, the Spaniard's eyes were on you and yours on him. You wore the jacket he lent you last night over a simple shirt and jeans, opting to wear something comfortable for the flight rather than something stylish. He, on the other hand, still looked breathtaking in a simple buttoned up shirt and jeans, hair tousled as he watched the way your cheeks turned red. 

Charles, far too tired and sleepy, barely noticed as you disappeared from his side as you all but made a beeline towards Carlos. 

“Good morning, angel,” he greets you, heart soaring at the obvious way you seeked him out, not even hesitating to leave the monegasque’s side in favor of his. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admit, still with a nervous tone to your voice as you take the seat in front of him. “But worth it.”

As Carlos reached forward to lightly push your hair back, his touch now so familiar, you missed the way Charles searched for you upon noticing you’re no longer next to him. You also missed the look of pure jealousy in his eyes, one you’ve longed to see for as long as you can remember. But Carlos hadn’t and for the first time, Charles saw a version of his teammate he’s never seen or expected, one that’s very obviously staking his claim on you, eyes challenging Charles to fight back as you lean into Carlos’ touch. 

Carlos didn’t have to say it but Charles understood anyway.

Carlos is a patient man and he played the game so well, biding his time properly and it had all paid off so well, everything falling perfectly into place as the sight of you next to him became a common occurrence. You often wear his shirts after nights in his hotel room, meeting up with Charles for breakfast only to practically reek of Carlos’ cologne. He’s all over you even when he’s not around, his imprints on your skin, his scent all over you, reminding Charles that he’s lost a game he hadn’t realized he was playing. 

And when he is around, it’s not like Carlos is trying to hide it, an arm always around your waist or sometimes hands on your hips. This time though, it’s Charles that’s watching. He watches as the Spaniard touches you so easily as though he’s done it a thousand times before. He watches as you’re quick to relax against his chest, your soft easy smile painting your face and a certain glint in your eyes that Charles knows so well. 

Carlos, as Charles is beginning to realize, is a pretty fucking great liar. When they’re together with the team, talking cars and strategies or with the marketing team, doing challenges and interviews, it’s like nothing’s ever changed, both of them still so close. The only noticeable difference now is that you’re rarely on Charles’ side. Instead, you choose to always be by Carlos’, barely sparing your childhood best friend a glance as you stare at the Spaniard as though he hangs the stars and the moon. 

Eventually though, the unsaid stare off they often shared comes to a close. It had been during the spanish grand prix with Charles naively thinking he’s doing his teammate a good deed by knocking on his door before the marketing team comes and nags him about a video that needs shooting. Charles didn’t want them to be late and he didn’t want Carlos to have to stand for a lecture. 

But when he opens the door, not having bothered to knock, thinking it’s just another boring weekend before a race with Carlos on his phone like the thousand other weekends before that. 

Charles couldn’t be more wrong though because instead of the sight of Carlos engrossed in his phone, you're laying on his lap, the dress you wore bunched up around your waist and your eyes shut close as soft moans escaped your lips. Carlos has a hand holding you in place while another is busy assaulting your cunt, three fingers deep inside you, pumping in and out at such a brutal pace that has you biting your lower lip till you can taste blood, tears dripping down to your cheeks.

Charles is frozen in place, the sight of you so open, so perfectly spread for Carlos, caused him to swallow deeply. He can hear the filthy sound of Carlos’ fingers leaving your cunt only to unrelentingly push back in.You’re far too gone to even notice his presence, your fourth orgasm on Carlos’ fingers having completely drained your body as you keep taking more, but Carlos looks up at Charles, the pace of his fingers disappearing within the lips of your cunt never stopping as he raises an eyebrow.

The smirk pulling at his lips brings Charles back down to earth, forcing himself to look away from your naked body as he spun on his heel, shutting the door behind him. 

Charles can feel his heart racing, his pants suddenly much tighter than it had been minutes ago. The sound of your moans keeps repeating in his head, completely distracting him from the tasks at hand. 

After fixing his erection, Charles finds his way back to the hospitality, reuniting with his media aid as he tries to shake the sight of you whispering and messy on Carlos’ knees. 

“Where’s Carlos?” One of the Ferrari people asks him, but Charles only shrugs, not quite sure if he’s able to use his voice. 

A few minutes pass as the team waits for Carlos till the Spaniard finally emerges from his drivers room, hair messy and lips swollen. No one but Charles seems to notice though and the memory of you on his lap haunts Charles as he meets his teammate’s gaze, smug and proud as he runs his hand through his hair. 

Carlos claps Charles on the shoulder, mischief clear in his hazel eyes. “Finders keepers, right?”

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16

[skzoolandia]

lolita ☆ cs55

genre: age gap (10 years), porn with plot, affairs, forbidden romance, angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature

word count: 14.9k

You were young, alluring, floating through a disastrous life with the touch of a thousand angels. Carlos was successful, irresistible and someone who often kept a distance from catastrophe. Never in a million years did he think he would have a complete moment of weakness. Especially the week of his wedding. 

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... sexual tension, penetrative sex, dry humping, riding, size kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), semi - public sex, deepthroating, praise, fingering, handjobs, lots of dirty foreplay, slapping (like once AH), a bit of edging, overstimulation, a bit of crying, sucking on fingers, squirting - i should stop now, oh god.  

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

This by no means - in any shape or form - is something that should be admired or looked up to. It does deal with serious topics such as: grooming, suicide, and drugs. While the reader is of age (19), this is not my way of impulsing my own readers - especially younger ones, if by any chance they come across this - to follow this mindset. Dark themes will take place and if that is not something you are comfortable with, then that is okay, I definitely have more light hearted fics in my masterlist. “Love stories” aren’t always filled with flowers and rainbows, they can also be hurtful and confusing, often misunderstood. This is fictional. Given, this is inspired by Lolita and Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey (*everyone cheers*) – what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending. Verses of Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov are also mentioned (extremely controversial book - as it should be).

cherry here!…hi, guys! i hope you all enjoy and i’m gonna do it now: I’M SORRY. 

She was as dangerous as poison could ever be - with no good intentions. She was malicious, sweet laughter that would make anyone fall in love. An Angel walking on Earth, curiously making it her playground. 

He was intelligent. A man of few words, but also simply so, the seven deadly sins all wrapped up in one. Keeping a distance from things he knew would bring him no good.

But in order to understand, we would have to take you back to where it all began. 

Where Paradise met Hell.

-

Growing up in Italy for some odd reason made you out to be the girl you were. Men there would throw themselves at any opportunity if they saw a single daisy looking girl in eyesight. At first it felt as if you were walking a tightrope; you knew it wouldn’t be the wisest idea to fall straight into their traps. Except, slowly, it made sense.

They knew how to sweet talk someone so young and naive - you’ll give them that. It only took one taste and that was the moment you knew. 

You liked them older.

Men fucked in a way boys never would. Every single one would always put your needs first - but there was this one man that had you realizing how fucked up you could be in order to get what you want. That’s one prize you’d cheat to win.

And that’s a story for later.

-

Moving away for college was the best decision you felt you would ever make in your entire life. Given, Italy was home, but the people in it weren’t. Often, you find yourself missing your rendezvous but studying abroad in Spain wasn’t much different.

Note; you didn’t grow up with a tight knit family. Your mother was a drug addict with half of her days knocked out on the couch, your father was someone who was occasionally in the picture. He tried his best.

And your older sister, Ollie? 

Well, you’d honestly forgotten you even had one. 

Some may say that you’re a whore, a slut, a homewrecker, or any other Spanish slur that spits Madrid, but you never cared. You were having fun and why were you the one always being blamed? Perhaps, men, too, should think with their heads rather than their dicks.

Which is how you find yourself still repeating the familiar pattern you had started a long time ago. Riding your professor shouldn’t feel this good. Mierda, he would groan as you bounce up and down like a bunny. Mewling, you shake the feeling of remorse. Not when he felt this good. 

Your phone ringing is what makes you stop, him still inside of you, twitching. Ciao? His calloused fingers would slide up to pinch your nipples as you lightly gasped. 

“Tesoro! Haven’t heard your voice in so long.”

Your father’s tone makes you wince at the reminder. Occasionally, he would check up on you in a way you would assume other fathers did for their daughters. You could never hate him, though. In his own way, deep down, he still cared.

“Papi, how are you?”

Sliding off of his lap, you zip your dress back on as you pace the lecture room. Bored, he takes out his secret whiskey from under his desk. Your sister is getting married in a few weeks! I was thinking you could fly back home so you could join us. The thought alone made your stomach churn as you bit down onto your thumb. Signaling at the older man, you click your fingers, hinting for a glass of your own. He obliges, handing it to you.

“I’m busy with summer courses. Maybe I can send a gift?”

You try everything in the book in order to get out of what seems like a crappy, dull, Italian wedding. It had been ages since you last stepped foot there. In no right mind would Ollie’s wedding be the one to change that. But he says things that get to you. I haven’t seen you in years. Neither has your sister. She misses you, you know?

You bite down on a snarky remark as you down the rest of the gold liquid. Last time you spoke, she promised that you were dead to her. That she never wanted to hear from you again. In the moment, it hurt, but you grew used to the idea. And what younger sister doesn’t pick up on what older sister says? Now, you despised her as much as she did you.

“Ovviamente. I’ll be there.”

-

It’s hot as soon as you land. That you didn’t miss. Ale, your fathers chauffeur, picks you up with a bright smile. Saddened, it dawns on you that you hadn’t seen one of those in ages. He’s nice. Let's you sit in the passenger's seat as he introduces himself. He mentions he has 5 granddaughters and has been married for almost 50 years. It’s sweet. Makes you feel human.

Pulling into the driveway, you almost want to correct him. This isn’t my fathers house. You must be mistaken. Only, he says he isn’t. That he had recently moved into his Italian mansion a year ago. You’re skeptical for a minute, but realize you can’t be one to tell. Years have passed; things change.

Still, that didn’t stop you from gawking at the ginormous house that sits on a hill; overlooking all of Tuscany. It even had a beautiful view of the ocean. Why couldn’t you grow up with this?

“I’ll inform your father that you have arrived safely.”

Taking it all in, you slowly pace the entrance, analyzing everything in sight. The crystals hanging from the chandelier, large - expensive - portraits, shiny mirrors. Quirking your head to the side, you glide over to the golden trophy sitting in the middle of the spacious entry.

Carlos Sainz Sr. : Rally Driver of-

“That belonged to my father. He passed away a year ago.”

Startled, you grip onto the trophy tighter as you slightly jump in panic. You curse yourself for being caught as you delicately place it back down before turning your attention to the booming voice.

Instantly, you’re hit with lust. Standing in front of you is a tall man - around his 20’s, perhaps - dark brown eyes narrowed down on you like knives. Messy, untamed, brown hair. Large nose, plump lips, dark brows. His figure is something you can’t wrap your head around that even exists. Richard Mille's watch clung onto his wrist. Giorgio Armani pressed up against his chest, it almost looked as if it didn’t fit due to his rippling muscles. Woody, rich, scent filling up the room. 

He was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. 

“I am so, so, sorry.”

Your voice is so soft, it has him intrigued. You wore a short pastel yellow dress that didn’t leave much to his imagination; paired with converse and tube socks. Rosy tint on your cheekbones from the humidity. Berry lips. Wide, innocent eyes. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t take his own breath away. Even though you stood far enough away, he could still smell your vanilla perfume. 

Inching closer, he waves you off. “I was kidding. My father is well and alive.” You tippy toe nervously before planting your feet back down. 

“That’s not a nice thing to say.”

And he’s surprised with your response. Yet, he finds himself extending his tan hand out to you. “I’m Carlos.”

Carlos. His name sounds as attractive as his appearance. Strong and sure. But also…dark. You shake his hand, legs quivering at his warm touch. Deep down, he knew how much he affected you - it’s something he’s grown quite accustomed to, having people admire his looks, but it took a lot to not show that you had the same effect on him.

“Nice to meet you, Carlos. Do you work for my father?”

Amused, he lets out a deep chuckle. Even a simple sound like that had you pressing your legs together, arousal dripping in between. 

“You don’t know who I am?” You shake your head, confused. Should you? He smiles. “That’s okay. We haven’t met before…Though you should get to know me since you’re already here…”

Wait.

“You know,” he leans his head a bit, floppy hair following, “Ollie.”

No, no, no.

“It’s so nice to finally meet my fiancée’s sister.”

Foolishly, you try your best to hide your surprise. How does a man like him end up with a bratty, narcissist, like your sister?

What was so fucking special about her?

Envy fills your veins as you try to show that this hasn’t phased you. Excited cheers echo down the hallway as your father runs over, embracing you into a warm hug. You’re here! Wincing, you lean into his touch, eyes still trained on the magnetic man. 

Only then, did Ollie fly down the stairs, immediately running into Carlos’ arms. Making a big deal out of it, she kisses him as she runs her hands against his chest. 

“Come here, tesoro. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

The entire time; Carlos kept his eyes trained on you. 

-

It didn’t make sense. Part of you knows it never will. You’ve only just met him, but you can tell he must’ve been fucked in the head to willingly choose someone like Ollie. Sure, she seemed sweet and kind, but she was anything but that. 

Dinner that night is carbonara. Carlos is extremely talented. He cooked this just for you. Tight lipped, you thank him, looking down at your plate to avoid his burning gaze. 

“How’s school?”

Turning to your father, you remind yourself that you were here for him; because he wanted you there. That’s all that should matter. “Very good. Thank you for asking, papi.”

The sound of glass hitting the table erupts as Carlos hurriedly goes to pick it up, quickly murmuring a strong apology. His dark gaze shortly flickers past you. It leaves you squirming. 

Clearing his throat, he takes a sip of his wine. “Where do you study?” Spain, you tell him as he beams. “No way. I was born and raised in Madrid. Moved to Italy a few years ago for work.” Letting out a laugh, you find the coincidence funny. He moved from Spain to Italy and you moved from Italy to Spain. 

“What do you do for work?”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver. Drives for Scuderia Ferrari,” Ollie weasels in as she smirks down on you. Anger bubbles inside of her when your attention remains on the Spaniard. Drumming your fingers against the table, you lick your lips. Formula 1? He’s about to explain it all up until Ollie butts in once again. She rubs his hand, a glistening ring shining right in front of you. You physically have to force yourself to look away. “Oh, amor, she doesn’t know what that is. She’s too…young.” 

You know she’s trying to make a weak point: you’re only a baby, therefore, you don’t compare to her. And yes, you are young, 19, but it was stupid of her to think that it bothered you. You tsk before leaning back against your chair. 

“Of course, my mistake. I forgot I was still a pure flower instead of a wilting one.”

Ollie’s face switches to bright red as she grips onto his hand. An entertained smile slips onto his lips before flattening back out. He rubs her hand, trying to calm her down. You can’t stop the jealousy burning from within.

“I didn’t mean you, Mr. Sainz.”

The 29 year old brushed you as if nothing, a smile displayed. Eyeing you both, Ollie suddenly stands up, chair screeching. Why don’t you help me bring out the cookies I baked? Ever so gracefully, you nod. Following after her, you stop suddenly as she spins, hair slapping her face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here? Are you here to ruin my life with your existence?”

“I might.”

Her left eye twitches as she growls angrily. If she didn’t make it this easy to tick her off, then you’d be bored, but luckily for you, it was unchallenging to get under her skin. “This is my wedding; my future husband - so don’t fuck that up like everything else you’ve ever done.”

You try to pretend as if her words didn’t affect you as you stare back blankly. Marching over to the counter, she opens up a box of cookies before sliding them onto a polished dish, leaving you standing there alone.

-

You thank the higher Gods for not letting you cross roads with Ollie for the next few days. Though, you’re a bit bummed out that you haven’t seen Carlos much either. Peeking out the window, you could see the way a group of workers hurried to set up for the joint bachelorette taking place later that night, right on the beach. The waves look magnificent, so without a second thought, you slip on a bikini before rushing out the door with your necessities. 

Lathering a goop of coconut sunscreen, you hum softly to yourself. Weren’t you going out with your sister? Looking up, you see Carlos standing in front of you with his face slightly scrunched up from the bright sun. His cheeks looked as if they’d just been pinched. “Where to?”

He takes a seat next to you. “She said she was going out to go buy a few flowers for later. Said she would invite you.” You shake your head, already bored with the idea.

“You know her,” you tap your head, “Forgetful.”

He cocks his head to the side as he shuts his right eye for a moment. “You two don’t get along, do you?” You try making up a silly excuse. Of course we do. We’re sisters. But he’s looking right into your orbs as if he sees right past your weak attempts. “You’re right. I could be wrong.”

It stays quiet for a while - only the soft breeze being heard. You can see him from your peripheral vision; eyes shut as he takes in the moment of peace he hasn’t had since dawn. Long lashes fan his face, freckles scattered all over. 

“Aren’t you too busy to be talking to me?”

“No. Plus, I should take time to get to know my future sister-in-law. Especially since I don't know anything about her even after dating her sister for 7 years.”

7 years.

Squinting at the waves, you slide your sunglasses on. “There’s not much to know, but I can try. I’m 19 years old, studying abroad in Spain, and grew up in Italy. I love the ocean, love a nice cup of hot chocolate - even though I’m allergic - so I only allow myself small sips during the winter. I like to pretend I know how to dance and I kill it in karaoke.” He laughs. You can’t dance? “Unfortunately, I can’t. Once, during my friend's wedding reception, I twirled right into her cake. I spent the entire day on supervision.”

“Dios mío…Remind me to watch out for you on our wedding day.”

Our wedding day. His words slightly sting as you pinch your nose swiftly. Standing up, you brush beads of sand off your legs. Your eyes roam the area before you find your father waving you over. “I should go,” you say as you look down at him. His brown eyes scan you before nodding and standing up. He, too, looks over to where your father waits to introduce you to a group of businessmen. He frowns and that's when you realize just how revealing your bikini might have been, only it's too late now.

“Papi always taught us to greet our elders.”

He clenches his jaw, eyes closing for a second. When his gaze meets yours, you almost choke with how dark and twisted it’s become. “Aren’t you too old to be calling him that?” Confused, you tilt your head.

“Calling him wh- Papi?”

He grinds his teeth together - and then just like that - he’s smiling again. 

“Forget it. How would I know?”

-

Standing next to an empty table, you watch as Carlos and your sister dance along with everyone else. This party has allowed you to pick up on the fact that they seemed to be a much more important couple than you had anticipated. Everyone looked at the Spaniard as if he were a God himself - and being quite truthful - you would agree. There was nothing about him that wasn’t flawless. 

Then, Ollie, just looked like any other person. Her eyes were bright, but any time anyone would walk up to him, her stare would become threatening. As if she was his owner and no one else could get close enough to breathe the same air.

Everyone here was older; that much you could tell. Attendees were accompanied by girlfriends or fiancée’s of their own. It made you feel a bit childish, since you clearly were the youngest one there. Reaching out for your margarita, you twirl the straw.

“Not having fun?”

Your attention directs itself to a dirty, blondish, brunette. He looks a bit tipsy, face flushed as he smiles sweetly. He’s tall, handsome. But not as much as Carlos.

“Max,” he introduces himself. Politely, you shake his hand. He points to the large group that dances on the sand. He lets out a croaky laugh. “They could get a bit much sometimes.” You laugh, nodding along with him. He continues talking to you. Brings up how he knows Carlos from driving with him; except he’s signed to Red Bull.

“Everyone here is invited only if they're a driver, huh?” It’s a lame joke, but he laughs and throws his head back as if it were the most fascinating thing he’s heard all night. 

“It’s a small circle, but I promise, they're all nice lads.” Discreetly, he takes in your appearance. The way your black dress dances with the wind. Painted red nails glistening under the golden lights. 

You were beautiful. Tragically, beautiful.

“You know the groom or the bride?”

“Bride.”

He nods, taking a sip of the beer bottle he had been nursing. You both continue your conversation for a while longer. He’s Dutch. Recently 26. You mention your headache before he brushes his fingers against your hand. Looking down, he pulls away before clearing his throat. He apologizes and asks if you would like to dance. A soft melody now plays and you find yourself taking his hand. It's big as yours disappears into it.

Almost as if he’s shy, he carefully slides his hands down to your waist. You giggle as you throw yours over his shoulders. “I hope slowing down helps get rid of your migraine. Sucks. I get lots of those during race weekends.” 

“It is. Thank you for caring.”

He’s sweet. You can tell with the way he blushes when you mention the way you like his dimples. Slowly, you find yourself enjoying his company. You’re in the middle of laughing at some stupid joke he just told, when someone rudely clears their throat. Carlos’ smile appears bitter as he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry - I’ve probably killed the mood.”

“No problem, mate. We were just talking.”

He clicks his tongue before turning to you. Under his scrutiny, you feel as if you’ve just been caught smoking weed for the first time. Dazed, you hum, waiting for him to say something. You know it’s not your place to feel as if he owes you an apology, but you can’t help it. 

“Ollie said it’s best if you went to bed.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. Since when does she care if I get a good night's rest? He huffs before running a hand through his hair. “She - she…Just do as you’re told, please.”

Now you’re bothered. Up until that point, you were actually having a good time. Dumbfounded, you turn to Max as he smiles understandingly. Pursing your lips, you apologize. Tippy toeing, you lean up to press a kiss against his stubble. He smiles.

“See you around?”

“See you around, Maxie.”

Walking into the lonely house, you let out a sigh as you pour yourself a cup of water. The summer heat had completely dehydrated you. You could still hear the soft beat playing from outside as you sway in the kitchen. You were upset - angry - that your sister had cut your night short. And any other time you would have put up a good fight, but thought it’d be best to not make a fool out of yourself. Especially in front of people you barely knew.

The door sliding open has you alert as you look up. Carlos silently makes his way in as he groans with exhaustion. Loopy eyes match yours as he clears his throat awkwardly. “So…What were you talking about with Max?”

“Nothing that should concern you.”

His jaw clenches, a large hand running along it. Stepping closer, he takes your cup of water before chugging it down. It leaves you hot and bothered just how close he is. It’s a mixture of salt and musk, his scent. It makes your head spin. Lazily, he takes a step back before nodding.

“Right. Have a good night.”

-

Carlos knew he had messed up. He had no right lying and saying Ollie had ordered for you to go to bed. That was completely him. It’s just that - seeing you with Max, laughing, smiling, made him seethe - when he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. It wasn’t like he was your boyfriend, after all. 

So, he was embarrassed. He kept his distance. In his head it made sense. If you weren’t near then he wouldn’t feel the need to keep his eyes on you all the time. The house felt lonelier, colder without you sliding down the hallways. Rightfully so, you had spent your days locked up in your room. The only person that made happy was Ollie.

Either way, maybe it was for the best. He had a ton of shit to do. Starting with changing their honeymoon destination for what seemed like the millionth time that month. First, it was the Maldives, then Cancún - God - he knew that in a few hours his fiancée would come up with a new place. 

“I know, I know we said that, but it’s changed.” He paces the office, stressed. “Can you please just make it fucking happen?”

“Ouch.”

Turning his attention, he sees you peeking at the entrance, phone still pressed up against his ear. Pouting, you enter, sweet aroma filling the room. Excusing himself, he ends the call. “Need anything?” He honestly cared for your response. It had been days without seeing you and he was afraid he blew it before he even had a chance to marry your sister. He told himself it was only because he cared for your relationship with Ollie. But fuck that - he knew not even you both cared that much about each other.

Shaking your head, you walk closer. “You sounded mean. Not a nice look on you, Mr. Sainz.” You’re teasing. You had to be. 

“That wasn’t mean. It's called being straight forward.”

Ignoring him, you curiously eye the dark office. Books, trophies, helmets. Letting out a snort, you pick up the nearest picture frame. In it, it’s Carlos and Ollie, smiling wide. Tears brim her eyes as he looks down at her. The sight makes you want to puke. 

“When was this taken?”

“The day of our engagement.”

You hum, already setting it back down. You can’t help but picture the impossible. That in the picture it was you instead of her, that you wore that diamond ring, that he looked at you. 

Fuck her, honestly. 

“Why’d you propose?”

He’s thrown off by your question. He’s expecting you to bring up the fact that it was a joke, but when you looked back for a response, he found himself with a dry mouth. Because I love her?

“Jesus,” you shudder, taking a seat on top of his desk. His eyes wander down your tan legs as you rest them on top of his chair. You're playing mind games - he’s well aware -  and still he found himself following them. You were the worst temptation out there. It’s as if you knew the power you held. “I bet fucking her is a chore.”

Shocked at your words, he finds himself dumbstruck. He knew you two didn’t get along, but what the fuck happened for you to aim such insults? 

He knows Ollie. Sure, she was a bit much at times, but she was nice. She was pretty. There was no need for your vile words. 

You can tell he’s about to get defensive about her and that makes you shrink. Willing, you had handed him a reason to choose her over you. 

Looking back at the picture, you purse your lips. “Sorry. That wasn't the right thing to say.”

“You should leave.”

You’re embarrassed over him kicking you out, but you knew you had crossed the line. So much for a peaceful afternoon. You comply, jumping off the desk. Not before making your way over, pressing your soft lips against his neck, which was the only place you could reach, even after tippy toeing. You felt him get stiff. 

“Excuse my manners, Carlos.”

Skipping out the door, he’s left with a single thought. 

He’s fucked. 

-

The next morning, you’re forced to spend the day with your sister. Whether it was for running errands, fighting; it didn’t matter. As long as you made your father happy. All he wanted was for his girls to get along. 

“Go,” Ollie growls as she hands you your bridesmaid dress. Snatching it from her, you slowly climb up the stairs to your room. 

It’s a beautiful dress. Strong, dark, cherry red. Just like blood. It hugs your curves the way you’ve always thought all dresses should. For that reason, too, it made you look…older. Trying your best to get rid of the wrinkles, you smooth it down before making your way back. 

Papi loves it as he starts throwing out compliments. You look beautiful, tesoro! You are a true gem. His eyes are bright and proud as you stand there with a shy smile. And though you thanked him, nothing else mattered but the man right in front of you. 

The Spaniard had just gotten back from a meeting. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep the rest of the day, but as soon as he saw a balsé Ollie and an eager father-in-law, he was interested. She had told him to go relax; practically pushing him away. But as soon as you walked down those stairs, he swore his heart had never melted with such a sight. 

His eyes became fixated to the point of no return. You stand there like a divine temptress. A siren who was mixed with innocence. Enough to drool over, but also, to adore from afar. Someone he could worship. If God decided this were his last day on Earth, then he would happily follow, since he finally felt as if his life were complete. 

His big brown eyes are glued onto you as your father spins you. Ollie’s attention flickers between her younger sister and her fiancé. Tears fill up her eyes as she springs off the couch. You’re not bothered by it; don’t even bat an eye. That is until Carlos quickly runs off after her. That was a slap to the face as you show off a wounded smile to your father who stands there lost at the sudden commotion. 

Later on that day, you find yourself trying to forget it all with watered down tequila. That’s really all you could find in such short notice. Leaning against the balcony, you study the soft waves, cold wind causing your skin to flash small goosebumps. 

“Disgusting,” you mumble as you finish the rest of the alcoholic drink. Who knew a simple encounter would set you off?

“Woah there. Are you okay?”

Max cautiously steps closer as you shrug with a sigh. What was there to say? I’m a horrible person. I’m a horrible sister. And yes, we might not get along, but never in a million years did I think I would be falling in love with my future brother-in-law. 

“What are you doing up so late?”

Sheepishly, he raises his cigarette. Letting out a low hum, you raise a brow. “Can I have one?” He knows he shouldn't be the one to give a teenager a form of drug, but you looked so upset, so drained, that he felt as if you needed it. Lighting it up, you bring it up to your lips as you squint at him. He laughs. 

“First time?”

“No. It’s just been a while.”

You’re still not looking at him, but he notices the way you let out shaky breaths. The way you softly pinch your forearm. He frowns. 

“I know we only just met, but do you want to talk about it?”

And maybe it was the gist of the moment. Or that he was being sweet - showing that he cared, but it worked because next thing you knew, you were kissing. He lets out an erotic moan with the taste of your lips. All a mix of cigarettes and tequila. This is wrong. He was friends with Carlos and you were only doing this in a moment of weakness, but you just couldn’t stop. Neither could he. Not when you tasted like a thousand crimes. 

His large hands grab your ass as you gasp, brushing against his cock. He hissed as he pressed his lips much harder. Surely, you will have bruises tomorrow. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you grind against him. Clumsily, you both make your way to the couch that’s nearby. Straddling him, you continue to dry humping. Slowly, but surely, the warm sensation between your legs starts to form. Panting, you pull away as he tries to angle his face closer to yours. You smile tauntingly. 

“You know what you remind me of?”

You hum, leisurely picking up your filthy actions. He bites back a smile as he grips harder onto your hips. 

“A Lolita.”

A menacing smile looks down at him before you kiss down his thick neck, soft bites being left behind. You can’t recall the moment you start bouncing on his cock, or when he sprawls you open like a map, kneeling down in front of you. It’s all a haze; a delicious one, too. You’re falling like a feather from your climax when you hear a thud. Did you hear that? No, he would mumble as he peppers kisses onto your soft skin. 

The tides are crashing harder now, signaling that the night was growing older. Timidly, you share a goodbye as you start to skip your way back into your room, but one last thing caught your attention.

A broken flower pot on its side and dirt trailing into the Italian home. 

-

More days had passed since your last encounter with the devilish Spaniard. If you were ever in the same room, he wouldn’t even glance at you. He would simply just walk past by. He was mad. Upset about something. You tried to think of what it might’ve been, but when he walked into his office with an infuriated expression, you decided it was time to call a truce. 

Knocking, you flinch at his sharp tone when he commands you away. Ignoring it, you still step in. Head thrown against his chair, man spreading, he has his eyes screwed shut.

“Are you okay?”

Your tone is sticky like honey. It annoys him the way it strings him in. Drumming his finger against the large chair, he angles his head to look at you. You’re almost scared to ask again, so you decide to stand still until he speaks up. 

“Why’d you do it?”

Puzzled, you purse your lips, waiting for further explanation. What was he talking about? Did you do something to make him upset? The thought alone made you feel queasy. When he notices you still don’t understand, he clicks his tongue. 

“Why would you fuck a friend of mine?”

Oh. Was it possible that this was something he was jealous of? Bewildered, you know you can’t deny it so you start to word-vomit. I am so sorry, Carlos. He came onto me that night - he kissed me first. I was confused. I was lured in by his words. I didn’t know what I was doing-

His eyes soften up as you try your best to break it down. But you were a liar; a good one. You knew damn well it was all you. You had kissed him first. You threw him under the bus and you knew that. Did he deserve it? No. Of course not. But you couldn't handle the Spaniard being mad at you.

He signals for you to get closer. Securely, he grasps your hand and hauls you onto his lap. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve suddenly become; how your mind replicates a plate of jello. 

“I’m sorry he made you feel like that.”

His rough fingers slide up and down your arms and even that leaves you buzzing. Suddenly, you feel feeble. You assure him that you were fine - that it was no big deal. The way he looks at you is what gives you the confidence to lean in closer. A trace of panic slashes his face for a second. He should probably stop this before anything else happens. There was nothing okay about your ass pressed up against him. Or him craving to taste your plump lips. 

“He didn’t make me feel anything I haven't before.”

Your implication irks him far too much, he starts to consider this all an unhealthy encounter. He can’t stop the images of you being with other men. Someone else kissing you, pleasuring you. Whilst your words were suggestive, your features were anything but that. Wide eyes stare back at him, slightly crinkled. Moving your body, you scoot closer as if you weren't already. He growls as he pinches your hip. Then, you're kissing his neck, and he should be pushing you off, but he’s too far gone to pick up on how wrong this all was. I’m sorry I’ve upset you, Mr. Sainz. I didn’t think you would care who fucked me or not.

“I-I don’t. It’s just that you shouldn't be doing stuff like that. You’re too young for all that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You narrow your eyes. “I’m wiser than one might think. I’m mature enough to know who can and can’t fuck me the way I like.” Your gaze focuses extra hard with your confession. As if it were meant for him.

Pressing your ass one last time against his tight pants, you leap off, giggling. 

“Take care, Carlos.”

-

It's a business dinner, your father fills you in as you sit nearby, enjoying a bowl of ice cream, hairollers dangling around your head. Pouting, you reach up to clip one back into place. He smiles.

“You know, lots of young, talented guys are going to be here. It could be a great opportunity to meet someone.”

You make a face at his idea. “Yeah. No, thank you.” Marching over to him, you gently pat his cheek. “I’m not here to meet anyone.”

Signhing, he grabs your hands. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.”

“Are you and Carlos…” Choking on your own saliva, you push away. What? No. Of course not! Why would you even think that? He lets out a breath of relief. “It’s nothing. Ollie just brought it up, but I told her you would never actually do something like that. I know my precious girl.”

The door creaks open as Satan herself walks in, followed by an Angel. First thing you noticed are their intertwined hands. Ollie tries to be coy as she flashes the action right in front of you. She mainly greets your father as she sticks by Carlos like a piece of gum. Hello, he would say to you as you bite back a smile.

“What are we talking about?”

“Your sister might have a boyfriend by the end of the night, that's what,” your father jokes as you slap his shoulder. Boyfriend? The Spaniard’s eyes burn you, subtle threat evident. Ollie fakes a smile as she tugs him back a bit.

“Wow. You know what? That might actually be a good idea. Could help with how uptight you are. But I’m confused, boyfriend as in Max?”

Fury fills you as you shoot daggers right at her. Ollie’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction. You’re dating Max? “Of course not, papi! Ollie is just being a bitch.”

“No, no, no - I don’t think telling the truth is being a bitch. You should be happy, baby sister! You sure sounded like it when you let him fuck you out in the balcony.”

Shocked at her words, you can’t bring yourself to look at your father who stands disappointed. Ollie, that's enough, Carlos warns as he squeezes her hand. She yanks it away, jewelry clinging against each other. 

“My bad. Shit, I forgot. I forgot no one knew what a slut you are. Opening your legs for any man around you. We’re lucky you’re not attracted to your own father.” She lets out a sour laugh. “Now, that would be fucked up.”

“That’s low, Ollie,” you spit, skin feeling as if it's on fire. You know where all this pent up anger is coming from, but she had no right to make up shit for fun. What kind of sister does that? Embarrassed, your eyes flicker to where Carlos stands with a hopeless expression. Licking your lips, you force yourself to walk away.

Slamming the door shut, you let out a loud scream. Why? Why was she always like this to you? A hard knock is what makes you wipe your tears away. Ollie slithers her way in. It hurt you how proud she looked. As if she had achieved something spectacular. 

“The fuck - Are you crying?”

“What do you want?”

She takes a seat on your desk as she dusts off imaginary lint. “I just want to talk. The way sisters do.”

Ricocheting off the bed, you march over to her as you glare. “Sisters? No. You’re nothing of mine.” Ollie yawns as she rubs her eyes. Then, she clears her throat.

“Do you want to know why I hate you? You’re so stupid you probably don’t even know, but don’t worry - that’s what older sisters are for. I’ll explain it to you. Do you remember, Romeo?”

You do. It hits you all at once; the memories of the first man you ever slept with. He was nice - kind enough to teach you what a man likes. He had jet black hair, a smirk always lingering on his lips. He was tall and a local from where you grew up. He was the perfect experience. 

But that still didn’t make any sense. What did he have to do with Ollie?

She lets out a wet laugh. Already, you can see her own tears as she tries to quickly wipe them away. 

“I loved you; I did. You were my sister before my enemy. But I also loved him. He was my first love. Promised me a home high up in the hills. But do you know what it feels like to see someone you love fuck your little sister against a wall?”

We probably shouldn’t-

Don’t worry. I’ve got you. No ones going to see us. Men love a good thrill.

“You and him…”

She licks her chapped lips. “We had barely started dating.” 

“I didn’t know - I swear to God, I didn’t know!”

If you had, you never would’ve looked his way. Ollie was everything to you growing up. You admired her. Loved her. That’s why it broke you when she started pushing you away as if you were some disease. Later, when your parents got a divorce, she didn’t second guess it when she made the decision to stay behind; causing you to leave with your mother. She never cared for you after that and you never knew why.

But now you did.

“I was young…Younger than I am now, how was I supposed to know?”

“Well, I’m glad we agree on something. You truly don’t know anything.” Strolling over to you, she smiles at your desperate state. “Which is why I’m not making the same mistake twice. Stay away from my husband.”

-

Ollie’s words felt as if they had opened up past scars. You meant what you said. Romeo would have been someone you would have disregarded if you had known the truth. But like always, you were the one with the entire blame and that you didn’t like.

Despite wearing a pretty dress - one that everyone gawked at you for - you felt ugly. Has it always been this way? Maybe it did make sense as to why she despised you. Playing with your bracelets, you try to pretend you’re interested in meeting your fathers investors. You feel completely exposed when they all stare straight at your chest area.

“How are we all doing?”

They all look up at the Spanirad as they start spitting out their congratulations for his upcoming wedding. He thanks them before checking up on you. His eyes connect with yours. Butterflies swirl inside your stomach as you smile weakly. He’s the first one to truly talk to you that night. To show he cares about your wellbeing rather than the way your dress fits you. Though, you looked stunning as always. Excusing yourself, you make your way into the kitchen, looking for something stronger.

Serving yourself a shot of vodka, you throw your head back, burning sensation sliding down your throat. Coughing, you grip onto the counter. Soft moans whisper in between the walls. You stop breathing for a minute as you try your best to identify where it might be coming from. Striding closer, you press your ear against the closet door. Fuck, a mans voice groans. This is not something you should intervene with, it's not your right, but that all changes when you hear a name that makes you burn all over again. So fucking tight, Ollie.

Pushing the door open, you see your sister banging one of your fathers investors. Ben, you think his name is. Honestly, you could care less. Briskly, she pushes her gown back down as he zips his pants. You let out a cold laugh as you clap in amusement.

“Oh, God. This is great. Amazing. You really outdid yourself, Ol.”

Stepping forwards, she grabs your arm harshly as she tugs you out. “How much did you see?”

You purse your lips as you theatrically scrunch your face up in pleasure. “Oh, Ben! Fuck me! Oh, oh, yes, baby, right there!” You bow. “That much.”

“How old are you, sweetheart?” The brunette says as he scans your body. Ollie glares at him as he steps back.

“Not a word of this to Carlos.”

“Why would I keep this a secret? He deserves to know. What do you think, Benny?”

Panicked, the older man shakes his head as his eyes plead for mercy. That’s enough. Raising your hands up in defense, you grin back at Ollie. “You’re not mentioning anything if you know what's good for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You tilt your head back. “And what’s good for me?”

“If you tell him anything of what you just heard - saw - then I’ll just tell him how you’ve been bending over for every man in this house. Charles, Lando, Lewis, Pierre…you name it.”

“He won’t believe you…”

She laughs sinisterly. “No, I think he will. I mean…You’ve already done it before.”

“Hey,” his soft voice enters the room as you turn to look at him. The Spaniard’s eyes dance between you and your sister and Ben. “Is something wrong?”

Ollie shakes her head with a bright smile as she walks up and kisses him. You flinch. “Nothing, amor. We were just talking.” She runs her hands through his hair as his eyes remain on you. 

“Are you okay?” 

Nodding, you grind your teeth together. “Yes. Ollie was just introducing me to Ben.” Awkwardly, the man waves from behind you. Slowly, Carlos nods.

“Papi asked me to introduce them. You know - with the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing!”

“He was serious about tha- Oh. Okay.” He reaches down to take your sister's hand as he eyes you and Ben. “We should probably leave you two alone then.”

Hastily, you nod. “Sure.”

-

If you were willing to try and fix your relationship with Ollie before, then that was long gone. This is what you knew her for. A pretender. She wistfully makes everyone believe she’s some sort of saint, when really, she’s a wolf in sheep's clothing. She’s a hypocrite. She has a man that everyone desires and she does this? 

You hated her.

You hated seeing the way she beams when Carlos’ mother gives her a necklace that belonged to her own mother. She didn’t deserve it. Or the way his sisters helped her slip in and out of her dress, making sure it's perfect for the big day.

Still, you try your best to be a supportive sister. Especially around the woman who raised a man like Carlos. Biting down on your lip, you take a sip of your champagne as Ollie disappears behind the curtains with the lady who is taking some last minute measurements. Reyes smiles warmly.

“We didn’t know Ollie had a younger sister.”

You smile. “Best well kept secret, right?” The older lady laughs. Your heart warms up as you notice it's the same way Carlos does. Ana and Blanca grin.

“Well, we’re glad to finally get to know you. Might I add, you’re beautiful. Those eyes!”

“Thank you,” you blush.

Ana takes a sip of her drink before clicking her fingers. “That’s what you remind me of! You - Carlos - almost have the same puppy eyes!” She turns to her mother. “Mamá! What’s that saying? Soulmates look alike…Something like that, no?”

“Be quiet, Ani,” Blanca hisses before smiling apologetically. “Excuse her - she can be a bit invasive.”

“No problem,” you reassure as you bite back a smile. Ana frowns.

“Lo siento, I don’t mean to come off as overbearing. It’s just that you do…”

Reyes clears her throat as she winks over at her daughter. “Don’t misunderstand us, please. We love Ollie, we do! It’s just…you’re different.” She examines you. “I like you.”

Their words stick with you like a post it. Do soulmates look alike? Playing with the sand, you circle your finger agonizingly slow. Why did their words matter so much to you?

“I always find you alone.”

You stick your tongue out at Carlos as he chuckles at your childish behavior. You pat the sand, inviting him to join you. What are you doing out here? You point at the ocean. “I told you it was my favorite place.” 

“Ah. I see.” 

You sneak in a quick look before looking straight ahead. “Nervous?”

“About?”

“Marrying a monster.”

He gives you a deadpan look, bumping his shoulder to yours. “She’s not that bad, you know.” He glances at you. “Ollie has been there for me through so much. Through my failures. Through my accomplishments. She’s the one who convinced me not to quit racing.”

“You were thinking of quitting?”

He nods. “It’s not as easy as it looks. It fucks you up mentally. But she…” He smiles. “She helped me overcome that. I thank her everyday for it.”

It’s a bittersweet feeling hearing him talk about her like that. On one hand, you’re thankful that she had made him realize that he should carry on doing what he loved. On the other, you knew her true reasons. She loved having a famous fiancé; someone she can brag out to the rest of the world.

Somewhere, far away, you hear a melody. It’s low enough that if you didn’t pay close attention, you wouldn’t catch on to it, but you did. You grab his hand, leading him to stand up. He quirks a full brow. 

“Want to dance?”

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to.”

“Nice memory, old man.” You gently kick some sand towards him. “But I feel like dancing. Plus, you should be practicing.”

Tugging you closer, he hums. “Alright. Only because that's true.”

His hands feel warm against you - so much so - it feels as if he’s on fire. An ease comes to it, too, as you both sway under the moonlight. You giggle when he spins you, dress flying around you like petals. The way you grin makes his heart speed up in a way he’s never felt before. It’s alarming. He pinches your hip as you yelp.

“Mentirosa.”

“Wha- No, I’m not! Can’t dance to save my life.” Clumsily, you dig your toes into the sand. He winces playfully. 

The air grows heavy the moment he brushes your hair behind your ear. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean against his warm hand. One look, and he’s hooked. It’s meant to be something lighthearted, but the way he wishes to feel your soft lips against his indicates that it’s not. He’s tried his best to see you for what you are; his fiancée’s little sister. Someone he shouldn’t find himself caring if they slept well, ate their three meals a day, or that they didn’t talk to any other man that wasn’t him or your father. This was sick and twisted and yet…

His lips meet yours as your eyes spring open for a nanosecond before letting yourself go under. It feels as if you’re exploding like firecrackers on a Fourth of July. Something about the way he cradles your face endearingly has your head spinning. Knees become weak, but his grip is secure. It’s better than you could have ever imagined. His tongue fights for dominance and when you don’t give it to him, he squeezes your ass. Moaning, you open your mouth and that's all it took. He kisses you the way you’ve seen in movies - only better. He’s hungry - desperate - for you as you smile against him. Biting down on his bottom lip, he groans as he kisses you harder than before. You were beginning to think your lips were about to snap. 

Letting go, he stands there, staggered. He’s ashamed when he realizes that he regrets nothing. You both stay quiet; only waves crashing and heavy pants being heard. At first you think he’s going to apologize, and maybe that might have been the case, but no words would come out. Pressing a peck against his swollen lips, you smile.

“Goodnight, Carlos.”

-

Carlos rues the day that he kissed you because that only made things more complicated. He couldn’t find a way to not look for you when he walks into the garden, full of family and friends. Or the way he would want to punch Max when he made you laugh. But there is also something sweet. Like the way you would gossip with his sisters and share stories with his parents. He had never seen them laugh and smile so much, not even with Ollie. 

He flinches at the cold hand that wraps around his own. Faking a smile, he presses a soft kiss on top of his fiancée’s head. Continuing the clicking against her glass, she smiles widely. 

“Grazie a tutti per esservi uniti a noi!”

Everyone claps and a few of the drivers whistle. Rolling your eyes, you lean your head against your father’s shoulder. His heart skips a beat. Ollie continued her speech filled with thank you’s, thank you’s and more thank you’s. Your father kissed your cheek before making his way up to his eldest. Taking the microphone from Ollie, he starts to share warm felt memories about her. You have to admit, you’re jealous about their bond. Somewhere in the past, that had been viciously stolen from you. He notices the way you shrink with sadness and he finds himself about to walk over to you when Ollie laughs awkwardly. Amor. It’s your turn.

“Right.” Fixing his rolled up sleeves, he smiles at the crowd of guests. “Uh…Well like my fiancée said, we’re extremely happy to have you all here. It takes a lot to get this many people out here all at once.” A few laughs echo as he continues. “This means a lot to me, too, to have my friends and family. To have met new faces.” His gaze flickers past you as your breath hitches. “Many ask me what about Ollie made me fall in love with her…And I’m here to be as brutally honest as I could get. I love the way she makes me feel as crazy as the ocean. I could spend calm days with her and not worry about getting bored. Or I could find myself getting into trouble. Ollie has made me a better man. Because of her I know what true love is…” His loopy eyes meet yours. “True love are the waves that meet the shore.” 

He lets out a sheepish smile. I want love like that, Lando yells out as he downs his glass of milk. Everyone claps and cheers and that’s where your nightmare begins. 

Let’s give it up for the happy couple! Kiss, kiss, kiss!

The chants continue as Carlos let out a nervous laugh. That’s something private between me and her, he tries but finds himself being booed. Leaning down, he pulls Ollie in for a peck before pulling away with a tight lipped smile. He hates himself for his sudden realization.

Kissing her suddenly did feel like a chore.

With all the whoops and whistles being thrown out by friends, he finds himself trying to find you. It doesn’t take long as he notices you had picked up on your conversation with the Dutchman. His jaw clenches. 

“Maybe Ollie’s younger sister would like to share a few words.”

Why would he say that? Frozen, you choke mid sip. Me? Your father beams as he nods excitedly. Oh! That’s such a great idea! Unfamiliar faces turn to look at you as they wait. Taking in a deep breath, you nod as you make your way over.

As he hands you the microphone, he can’t stop himself from grazing his fingers against your hand. Coughing, you yank it fast. 

“Ciao a tutti.” Everyone greets you back as you lick your lips. You take a moment to figure out what to say, but there’s not much. Cringing, you try to come up with anything. “As some may know, I’m Ollie’s sister…And I could go on forever about how great she is-” You suppress a sarcastic laugh as Carlos knowingly winks. Your nerves ease up. “But I think I should talk about the man who makes my sister the happiest. Carlos Sainz…When I first met you, you seemed uptight - more than the Grinch - but slowly I got to know the man that even my papi swoons over.” 

True, your father laughs. “You’re kind, respectful, and charming…Ollie is one very lucky girl. But there’s something also sensitive inside of you…Despite the permanent frown on your face, you still seem to like days by the ocean. Maybe it's a reminder that peace still exists or maybe it's the way…” Looking up, you see everyone staring deeply. Suddenly, you feel like this might be oversharing as you twirl your dress. “...Or maybe it's the way your face lights up when you take my sister dancing on the sand. Uh…Thank you for making her happy.” Handing the mic back to Carlos, you smile weakly at the strong claps. 

“That was quite sentimental,” Max points out as you bite down on your finger. Was it too much? He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It looks like you and Carlos get along well enough. I, for sure, thought he hated you with the way he looks at you.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You pause. “I thought so, too.”

-

Aside from the fact that the wedding was approaching quickly, the mansion was quiet. The silence can almost be heard; it's scary. Carefully, you fix your dress as you skip down the stairs barefoot, lollipop painting your lips red. 

Peeking around the corner, giddiness fills your body as you snatch a handful of pre-washed cherries. Earlier that day, your father had scolded you for finishing the new batch. Popping them into your mouth, you hum a song as you kick your legs against the kitchen counter. It creeps you out the moment a chill runs down your spine. As if someone were watching.

“Boo!”

“Santa mierda,” you yelp as you clutch your heart. Laughing loudly, the Spaniard bends over as he gasps for air. You pout and kick his knee. “Cabrón, you scared me! Warn a girl!”

“Fuck - I’m sorry.” His lips form a thin line as he stands firm. Slowly, the corners lift up, wobbly at his poor attempt to not burst out laughing. You frown.

“You’re fucked up.”

Again, his laughs echo the dimly lit kitchen. “Can I have some?”

“No. They’re mine. Grab your own.”

He narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you on cherry prohibition or something like that?” You gasp as you look around before flipping him off.

“Keep your voice low or papi will disown me!”

He zips his lips as he whispers. “I won’t tell a soul. But I want one of those in exchange.”

Tapping your finger against your lip, you pretend to think about it before nodding. You extend your hand out, a single red cherry for him. You’re waiting for him to take it and leave to where he came from, but what he does instead has you swallowing a lump down your throat.

Crouching down, he opens his mouth as he picks up the cherry, lips slightly wrapping around your fingers. This was triggering you as you tried your best to keep sane. But there was no way of going about that when he looked up at you with deep, brown eyes. Licking the red juice sliding down your hands, he steps back. He licks his lips before swallowing. It amazes you the way his Adam’s Apple jumps up and down; thick neck begging to be sucked on.

“Fucking delicious.”

Blinking, you look down at the rest of the cherries in hand. All of a sudden they seemed like a sultry fruit rather than a drupe. 

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of cours-s-e.”

Stupefied, you throw the leftovers straight into the trash bin. You had no clue what made you do that. A small chuckle escapes past his lips as you shut your eyes in embarrassment. Maybe they weren’t as sweet as you made them seem. Too mortified to speak, you keep your eyes focused on the way your feet hit the wood as a distraction. It takes all of you to not run away as he steps closer once again.

“Is there something in that dirty little mind of yours?”

The room feels hot all of a sudden as you shake your head. There’s no words in your vocabulary when he stands this close. You can smell his cologne mixed with shampoo. If richness were a scent then this would definitely be it. His hands cage you in like a butterfly behind glass. Clicking his tongue, he steps aside as you let out a shaky breath. Taking the opportunity, you jump off the edge, bare feet slapping against the cold tiles. Cuidado, he mutters when you almost slip from the sudden action. 

“If you need anything I’ll be upstairs.”

Not sure why you said that, but it seemed like a rationalized excuse. Por supuesto. And that would have been the end of your night. That would have been another successful day of not falling for the forbidden apple. You had held out for so long; the kiss didn’t count. But it only takes a few steps for him to clear his throat. Almost as if this were your secret language, you spin and you find him staring after you; dazzling eyes following your every movement as if he’s trying his best to decipher anything you do.

Smiling wide enough for your eyes to look as if they had a smile of their own, you think - fuck the consequences - as you clumsily run up to him; jumping like a kid onto a tree. Legs wrap around his torso and his hands hold you close to him.

“Do you-”

“Yes,” he whispers. “Since the first day you walked through those doors: yes.”

If you had thought you were obsessed with his kisses before, you were wrong. So very wrong. Because now you were addicted. He kisses you with urgency as you run your hands through his locks, so soft against your fingers. He grunts when you tug on it. 

His kisses were stimulating enough for you to plead for something. Anything. Smirking, he pecks your nose before leading you both upstairs. It amazed you how he could continue kissing you as he hurried to get to the bedroom. Noticing him making his way into his and Ollie’s, you pull away. There’s no way you would let him do that. You spin your finger lazily through his hair.

“How about mine?”

He doesn't care if he fucked you against the floor, he needed you. Kicking the door shut, he throws you onto your bed as you squeal. He smiles fondly as you brush your hair out of your face. He’s had his fair share of girls. Models, nepo-babies, Ollie, but none of them compare to you. 

He was almost scared of touching you again, even though that’s exactly what he wanted. Doe eyes stare back at him as his cock gets harder at the sight. Ollie had always tried her best to look at him that way, but you didn’t even have to try. It naturally happened. Nothing about this felt forced.

You look untouchable. Like a complete goddess waiting to be ruined. Carlos, you would say as you squeeze your tits, eyes struggling to stay open. Carlos, please. Don’t be mean. Towering over you, he shakes his head.

“Linda, I could never be mean to you.”

Slipping your dress off, he groans when he sees you weren’t wearing anything underneath. He shuts his eyes as he tries to not finish inside his pants, which by the way, were starting to hurt. He pinches your nipple before slapping your tits. You hiss. 

“Please tell me you did this for me and no one else…”

“You know it’s always been for you.”

With that, he stands up as he yanks his shirt off; jeans and boxers following right after. A bit worried, you find yourself staring at his rock hard dick. You had never been with some as big as him; it kind of looked as if it would split you right open. That didn’t stop you from wanting it, though.

“Don’t worry. I’ll prepare you nice and good, cariño.”

His lustful tone snaps you out of it as you nod. His fingers rub your wet folds as you cling onto his bicep. C-Carlos. “I know, baby, I know,” he coos as he focuses on the way your face pinches. He slowly starts slipping his finger in as you gasp at the thickness. So big and long. He chuckles. “Oh, come on now. It’s not even fully inside of you yet.”

Stunned, you look down and sure enough, it isn’t. You almost cry out when you notice it’s barely even the tip. “I don’t think it’s going to fit.” He kisses your temple as he slips his finger back out. 

“Let’s start off with something else then.”

You almost pass out when he angles himself in front of your pussy. Glistening clit stares back at him as he moans. So pretty, he thinks as he touches you slowly. He stops himself, though, as he goes in for kitten licks instead. You squirm. His large hands pushed you down against the bed, to keep you in place. 

“Do you want me to make the ache in between your legs go away?”

“Yes.”

His pink tongue teases you as he hums. You bite down sharply. “You’re going to have to stay still. Relax, bonita.” Following instructions, you close your eyes, trying your best to not think of the handsome Spaniard. As if that were possible. Impressed, he leans in again as he licks you, picking up your pre-cum. Oh, fuck. 

Then it’s almost as if Carlos is taken over by something as he dives in like some animal. His stubble burns your legs, but you’re too fucked out to even care. You’re sure you're being loud, but how can you not be when he licks and sticks his tongue inside of you, exploring places you never knew existed. You choke back a moan when he rubs his nose against your clit, only adding to the euphoria. 

“Yes. Oh. Fuck, yes.” Looking down at the brunette, you find him taking in your appearance as he rubs himself against the sheets; a way to try and pleasure himself. And that’s enough for you to cum all over his face. He smiles as he greedily tries to drink up everything you give him. He knows he lost control, but he loves the way you were able to keep up. To take everything he gave you.

And that was only going to multiply.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he groans in between your legs, picking up the white nectar. Crying out, you push his face away as you gasp for air. He sucks your tits as you take a break. His tongue swirls around your bud as you wiggle against him like a fish that jumped out onto land. He laughs. “Can you handle my fingers, now?”

No, you whisper as you push him away. But he knows you’re giving up too soon. He knows there’s an animal inside of you and he’s just waiting for it to decide to join him. He ignores you as he slides his fingers down to your center. You mewl against him. “Hey, hey, I got you, cariño. I’m right here.” 

His voice makes you clench harder against his fingers as he grins like a kid at a candy store. Slowly, you start dripping more than before, making it easier for his fingers to slide in and out of your hole. Can you handle a third? “Yes,” you respond, eyes still screwed shut. Hot air hits your ear.

“There she is…Good girl. Justo asi.”

Picking up speed, his fingers reach the gummy part inside of you as you scratch his arms in an attempt to remind yourself to not black out. His long fingers cross, doing figure 8’s as he touches your g-spot as if he knows your entire body better than any map. Leaning up, he bites down onto your nipple before sucking hard. You should be embarrassed with the way you squeal and shake against his actions, but he just made it so hard not to. Much to your surprise, if you dare believe it, he does the thing you last expected.

He adds a fourth digit.

“No, no, no,” you pathetically chant as your eyes fly open. He cocks his head to he side as he clicks in tongue as if seeing you struggle filled him with pride. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Just trust me; do you trust me?”

He didn’t need to ask because he knew you did. I do, you whimper out as you start grinding against his fingers. Amazement fills his dark eyes as he looks down to where you clench around him, juices sliding down his arm. It only takes a couple of more swirls before your shriek, velvety walls clenching around him as you reach your climax. 

Bringing his fingers up to his mouth, he licks your cum as if it were a meal he’s dreamed of having his entire life. Your mouth hangs open as you watch him lick them clean. You’re sure he’s going to fuck you now, but that flies out the window as he lays down as he drags you onto his face.

This man had stamina. Lots of it. You're trying to beg for a break of some sort. I can suck your dick. Give you a handjob. Just please let me rest. But he wasn’t even listening. 

Maybe somewhere deep down, he knew this would be the only night he would have you to himself and if that meant no pauses, then he would push all your buttons.

Like a starved man, he starts licking you all over as you grind against his face. The way he sucks on your clit and adds his fingers make you squeal as you push down harder. His nose rubs against you in such a way, it has you seeing stars. He seems to be enjoying that though, as his moans vibrate against you. Biting hard onto your lip, you try to distract yourself as you reach behind you for his rock hard cock. The moment your small hand wraps around him, he growls like a lion.

Smug over his reaction, your hand slowly starts jerking him off as he eats you out with more urgency. It takes all of you to control your actions as he shakes his face in between your legs. S-slow down, Carlos. He grunts as his actions speed up, but so does your hand. Gripping onto his erection much harder, you furrow your brows as you twist your wrist. Choking on your juices, he opens his eyes wide, whimpers flying past his lips.

Smiling down like the devil, you nod as your hand picks up its pace. Now it's his turn to be groaning with pleasure. He seems to have forgotten what he was doing as he takes in strong whiffs of your aroma. You shudder when his warm breaths escape to warm up your dripping pussy.

His cock twitches and he seems to snap right back into it; already diving back into your hole. Lurching forward, you grip onto his hair as the other remains wrapped around him. It’s a game to see who can make the other cum first, and you were not about to be the loser. 

Lively, you circle your thumb around his pink tip as he groans and finishes all around your hand. Sucking hard, he bites gently onto your clit as you screech and trap his head between your thighs. Shaking, you twitch against him as you reach your third orgasm that night. Huffing, you roll off him as he laps his tongue.

The way he looks at you makes you want to ride his face all over again, but you know you needed a break if you didn’t want the night to end so soon. Kneeling in front of him, you raise your ass up high as you lean down to wrap your lips around his cock. He flinches, slightly sensitive, but doesn’t dare push you away. Instead, he rubs your face with his calloused thumb; encouraging you. There's something so hot about the way your lips stretch around his fat cock. The way drool exits your mouth, messy blots of mascaras on the corners of your eyes.

Light of my life. Fire of my loins.

Gagging around him, you squeeze your eyes shut, feet curling up along the way. For sure, your throat would be bruised tomorrow, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you wanted that. Deepthroating him as best as you can, your small hands wrap around the rest of his length. He was huge. Dirty slurps bounce off the walls. You try your best to not pull away when you feel his sticky pre-cum connect inside your throat. Not when he looked so good with his head thrown back. His thick neck is a clear display. With his large hands wrapped around your hair as he fucks your face like theres no tomorrow. Spanish curses flowing past his lips. 

“Que linda. Arrodillada como una santa.”

When you giggle around his erection, he groans, head thudding against the headboard. His mind quickly slips over to Ollie - but not in the way one might expect. It hits him like a truck when he compares her to you. With Ollie, she would last at least 20 minutes before calling it a night. He pretended not to mind - he would never force her to do something she doesn’t want to, of course - but once she would knock out, his large hand would slide down past his boxers, looking for a new release. 

Then there’s you, ever so pretty. It seems like with everything you do, you want more. You sucking him off as if you’ve done this for him a lifetime ago. Sure, you’re struggling, but that only makes him harder. You’re trying to keep up with him and it’s working. Now, it’s like he’s the one trying to keep up. Swallowing, your throat closes around him as he flies forward, voice cracking as he presses for more. 

Glossy eyes look back up at him as you repeat your action. With one last blow, he pulls out as he cums all over your face. His dick immediately gets hard again when you smile wide, fingers going to pick up his mess. Greedily, you pout as you wrap your lips around your finger like the lollipop you had been sucking on a few hours ago.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, abs contracting together as he tries his best to even out his breaths. 

“Will you fuck me now?” 

You’re moving at a snail's pace as you lick his sweaty neck. A chill runs down his spine with the feeling of your warm tongue. Grinding slowly against his thigh, you throw your head back with pleasure, wet lips rubbing against him. He smiles.

“You’re a dirty girl, you know that?”

“I thought that’s what you liked about me, papi.”

In a flash, he flips you onto your back as he hovers over you like a giant. A beautiful, beautiful, giant. His large muscles he works so hard for stare back at you as you admire with an open mouth. It looks as if he could carry mountains on his shoulders. Dilated pupils admire you as you let out a pathetic whimper. Long gone were his brown eyes as they now appear completely black. Sensual.

“Then you should be fucked as such.”

With that, he swings your tan legs over his broad shoulders, practically bending you like a pretzel. You pat yourself on the back for all those pilate classes. Jerking himself off a bit, he looks straight at you, making sure this was something you wanted. The way you bat your cartoon eyes is all he needs to slip inside of you.

First thing he notices is how tight you are despite him already stretching you out to perfection. Raw moans leave both your lips as you try your best to adjust to his size. You had been with men before - that’s all you really knew - but no one’s cock had ever made you burn with such satisfaction. More than satisfaction. He’s reassuring you with his words in order for you to relax.

I’ve got you, preciosa. Just let go for me. I’m right here.

Still, you can’t help but squirm underneath him. His fingers make their way to your mouth as you stare back confused. Suck, he commands before forcing them in. Caught off guard, you gag around them for a bit before your tongue begins to twirl around them. Your cheeks burn up as you hear your low mewls. Ah- ah- ah, you cry out against his digits as he grins down at you. Retracting them, he slides them down to your clit as he starts rubbing small circles.

“Oh God.”

Instantly, you open up against his tired cock as he hums. There you go, he praises as you make it easier for him to thrust into you. You should both be ashamed of the way gushy sounds bloom from your mixed cum. Or the way he pounds into you so hard and fast that it has you sliding further back against the bed, hair tangling along the way. His fingers dig into your calves as he holds them in place.

“Mierda,” he wheezes as he throws his head back, ripping his eyes away from the way your puffy clit envelopes around him. Pants and whimpers escape you as you arch your back from the fulfillment. 

Carlos is a man - you know that - but in this moment; right now: he’s proving it the way a scientist would their hypothesis. His cock brushes against your g-spot as you gasp at the sensation. He’s looking at you as if you held the key to all secrets. 

The keys for the gate to Heaven.

Though he knows that this all feels like Heaven, he deserves nothing but Hell for cheating on Ollie. But that’s the least of his worries.

“Does that feel good, bonita?” 

Wide eyes look up at him desperately as you nod to the point where your neck starts to ache. Yes - Oh God, yes. So good, Carlitos. Yeah, baby - right there. Snapping his hips harder against you, your mind goes foggy with the way his hair flops around him. Sweat causing long strands to stick to his face. Beads of sweat drip down your legs as he presses sloppy kisses. His cheeks look as if he’s been out in the sun for hours. 

In this moment; he looked immortal.

“Carlos, I’m gonna-”

“Hold it.”

Like a doll, you flop back against the bed as you start to leak acid. No - please. Don’t ask me to do that. Feeling a sharp sting, you gasp. His hands dives back in to massage your cheek after slapping you. He cocks his head with fake sympathy. “I know you can do it,” - thrust - “Wait for me, yeah?”

You have no word as you wail - tits bouncing with every assault from his hip. Your stomach burns with the way his abs glisten, with the way his bottom lip juts out, or the way his muscles shine with a layer of sweat as they hug your legs like a teddy bear. 

He was yours. In this moment, he was yours.

“Alright, linda-” He brushes your hair out of your face as he wipes your sweat with his hand. “Cum for me?”

It’s an out of body experience the moment you squirt around his dick - the way your tummy feels like it's on fire. Sore groans leave his lips as he finishes inside of you, brown eyes trained on the way you gush around him. He freezes in place at the feeling. You squirm for a few seconds below falling limp against the bed. The room smells like nothing but filthy sex. 

Pulling out of you, he carefully places your legs back down before kissing your ribs. Then your bruised tits. Then your cheeks, forehead, and lastly, your lips that taste like home. Sighing against him, you try your best to remember the way he kisses you as if you're the only form of oxygen that exists. As if this were a dystopian world and you were the only source of survival.

He pecks your lips once more before brushing his fingers against your temple. “Get some sleep.” Yawning, you nod as your eyes flutter like a butterfly's wings. Will you stay? And he doesn’t know what takes over him when he says-

“I will.”

-

When you wake up you notice it’s still dark out. The moon shines, eyes flickering around, looking for the Spaniard. You let out a low breath of relief when you see him sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Ollie,” he whispers into the phone as he runs a hand against his jaw. “...I made a mistake.”

Your heart stops with his words. He makes sure to speak low, thinking you're sound asleep. She - I - it was a mistake. She’s just a kid…Fuck. She’s just a child. Your heart shatters with the evident blame in his voice. You weren’t a kid. Sniffling, you stop breathing when you realize you’re crying. He pauses for a moment before standing up and making sure you’re okay. Bringing the phone up against his ear, he shakes, already walking out the door.

“Where are you? Let me just see you, amor. I’ll explain it all.”

-

There’s a saying that goes: You know, a heart can be broken, but it keeps on beating, just the same.

You would personally like to punch that person in the face. It’s not true. It doesn’t beat the same - because then why does it hurt everytime it pounds against your chest? Why is it hard to breath when the priest says-

“You may now kiss the bride!”

Everyone’s faces are blurry; cheers sound far away. You can’t be too sure you're standing upright as your father beams at the sight of Ollie pressing her lips up against Carlos. The way his hands slide down to her waist as shows her off proudly like some champion ring is what hurts the most. You feel flames all over your skin, letting out a flinch when your fathers signals for you to clap, too.

You don’t know what happened after that night. Whether Ollie forgave him or not - though clearly she had. Maybe she didn’t know about you the same way he didn’t know about Ben. This was all starting to feel like some nightmare. But it’s very much real life with the way the newlyweds hold hands, smiling brightly as guests throw a mixture of confetti and baby breath.

“Nice ceremony.”

“What? Oh.” You shrug towards Max as he points over at the couple. “Y-yeah. It was…”

He goes over his next words for a moment because Lord knows that if he has it all wrong then he would appear to be the biggest jerk to ever exist. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

“I-I-I’m not sure I understand,” you trample over your words as your cheeks burn the same color of your red dress. He shares a small smile.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

Walking away, you’re left alone, second guessing everything. The violin seemed too happy. The guests seemed too bright. All of this was fake, couldn’t they see? Pursing your lips, you try your best to hide your broken heart as you catch up with old friends. How is college? How does it feel like having a brother-in-law who drives for Formula 1? Must feel pretty great, right? 

The night is boring. Half of it you spend faking smiles and the other you spend trying to avoid the Spaniard. Life was better back in Spain, where ironically, he was never around despite it being his home country. You’re in the middle of conversing with the Dutchman - who quite frankly is an honest listener - when Ollie walks up looking like a ball of whipped cream. Can I talk to my sister alone, please? Max’s concerned eyes ask if you’re okay with that as you nod. Slumping away, he squeezes your knee one last time.

Blue Velvet plays as she fixes herself onto the stool right next to you. “Have you tried the cocktails? They have cherry flavored; your favorite.” Something about her sweet voice makes you unsteady as you raise a brow. She shows off her veneers. “This is weird. Sorry. I’m just so…happy.” 

“Good to know.”

“But enough about me!” She places her left hand over yours, shiny rock sitting perfectly. You wince. “I want to talk about you! How’s school?”

“Like you care.”

She pouts. “I do now…” You furrow your brows. What do you mean now? She gasps. “Oh, you poor thing! You don’t know I know!” Your stomach drops. “Well, you know, as your older sister, I’m also your guardian since our mother is too fucked up to look after you…And a little birdie filled me in on your reputation back in Spain.” She giggles as she takes a sip of your drink. “Doesn’t surprise me, though. It only makes sense that you keep messing around with men old enough to be your father. You always had a thing for those.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

Ollie grins ear to ear when she notices how annoyed you’ve become. “Carlos told you he was born in Madrid, right? Okay, well, he also has a whole bloodline there. And let’s just say, a cousin of his - my goodness, his daughters are beautiful - is a professor at your Uni.”

No.

“And well this birdie also told me how you’ve been sneaking in and out of his lecture room, late at night. And I wonder…What have you and him been doing behind closed doors?”

It can’t be. 

Professor Vázquez de Castro, he says as he extends his hand out, eyes roaming every inch of your body.

Suddenly, the name sounds familiar. The surname is Carlos’ extended one. Ollie’s eyes shine. “I see it’s clicking.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to leave me and my husband alone. I want you to grab your things and leave. Don’t look back; just leave. Don’t contact papi ever again. I don’t want to hear a single thing from you. It’s bad enough you’ve already fucked my spouse.”

She knows. He told her. And they still got married. 

“Ollie, don’t…”

Tugging your hand harshly, she slaps her phone on it. And you don’t know how, but in it, it’s a video of you riding your Professor - Carlos’ cousin.

“Leave or I’ll show this to him. Your choice.”

Wet sobs leave your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief. How did this happen? Who took this video?

“Ollie, please…I love him.”

Her gaze sharpens as she takes the phone back and stands up. “You know what to do.”

Bringing your shaky hand up to your lips, you stare in shock. Wobbly legs walk past Max as he asks if you’re okay. One last smile looks back at him before you brush past by. 

Carlos is craning his neck, looking for you. He had confessed that night, but so had Ollie. He was breaking off the engagement. Spilling apologies as she cried against his chest. Despite it all, he still cared for your sister. But he knew it wasn’t going to work out. He was ready to leave when she brought up the tape of you and a cousin he didn’t even know he had. I’ll get her expelled. Don’t do this, Carlos. And so he stayed. He knew how much you loved school, regardless of what others might think. I just want to help others, you swooned one day by the pool. It’s what I wish someone had done for me.

You get to him before he spots you as you tap on his shoulder. He fills up with worry when he sees your red brimmed eyes. Sheepishly, you take his handkerchief as you wipe your rosy nose. What happened? Who made you cry? You shrug.

“Carlos…I love you.” He blinks. You let out a wet laugh as you lean up to kiss him. You didn’t care who saw anymore. This was it. He doesn’t seem to care either as his hands wrap around your waist. Holding you close, as if you might vanish into thin air. He was the waves, you were the shore. Pulling away, you wink. “Save me a dance, yeah?” 

Then, you’re walking away. Becoming smaller as you stroll over to the Italian house. Clutching his chest, he chokes: I-I…I.

“Carlos!”

Turning to face Ollie, he sees her waving him over to the giant cake. 

“Coming.”

-

Running into the quiet house, he calls your name. He looks behind every door, hoping to find the girl in red. Stumbling up the stairs, he swings your door open. He breathes heavily when he doesn’t find you, even here. Panicked, he grips his hair in despair. Only then, does it occur to him to open the restroom door, hoping to not scare you.

“¿Bonita?”

Silence. He still pushes it open as he carefully walks in, finding no harm in checking. And why? Why couldn’t he be as truthful like you were? Risk it the way you would have willingly done. Why did he let you walk into the house alone?

Falling to his knees, he desperately crawls over to your lifeless body, dark blood flowing from your wrists. 

As red as your dress.

He must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Surely, it can’t.

“No, no, no.” He drags your limp body into his arms. He can’t even pinpoint the moment his tears flow down his face. “Bonita, no. No. No. No.” The Spaniard cradles your colorless face into his hands. He gently taps your face a few times, but almost stops breathing himself when it only rolls back. Blood stains his white shirt. “Hey, hey.  C’mon, please. You want me to say it?” Hurriedly, he picks up your head as he kisses your lips over and over. He winces when he feels how chapped they’ve become.

“It doesn’t feel forced. I’m not saying it because I think it’s what you want to hear - I love you. I do. I love you as infinite as the ocean. I love the way you laugh, the way you trip over anything in your way, the way you say my name…I love you.” 

But he knew you weren’t listening. Not anymore. 

A piece of him died that day along with you. After that, life was a sickening blur. He’s out of it the moment he hears your father yelling out in agony or when Ollie screams at the gruesome scene. 

None of it mattered anymore.

[skzoolandia]

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.”

[skzoolandia]

🍓 Fields 🍓 | LMH

WARNING ⊂✦⊃ This story contains nsfw content as well as mentions of alcohol; minors please don’t interact, please beware of what you consume online.

Genre: College au, fluff, angst

Summary: He was madly in love, she just wanted to live in peace. What happens when one of the most popular guys in college falls in love with the dork who no one knows?

Word Count: 23.5k

Reading Time: approx 2hrs

Authors Note: In this fic I’m combining two of my favorite things in this world… soccer and leeknow ^•^ y’all should know that Im a hoe for romantic fics, so this was enjoyable to write even though it took me many sleepless nights to finish this. This is my first time writing such a long story, so hope you enjoy!!! <3

It was 3 am and you were already feeling today wasn’t going to be a good day. It all started when you abruptly woke up from what was supposed to be a 30-minute nap, just to look at the clock and realize it was 1:07 am… you overslept 6hrs since you got home.

All sweaty and thirsty, you brag yourself out of bed and opened the shower, while letting the cold water adjust to a warmer temperature you opened your Macbook to check what assignments you had to do for the day.

You internally cursed yourself as you blankly stared at the assignment, <what if I say my grandma died> you thought, as you tried to find a reasonable excuse to give your professor. You had no problem in speedrunning a few designs, however knowing your teacher you rather do nothing than give him some sloppy drawings <he is going to kill me> you cried <thats it, Im failing, im never graduating> as thoughts filled your head, you heard a notification pop in your phone, startling you.

Hello Cornell University!

Today we love to announce the beginning of autumn sports! Please join us tomorrow at the field for the first soccer game of the year!

Go Bears! 🐻❤️

You scoff at the notification. Since you moved for college, you didn’t take the time to make friends or meet any new people in general, you missed Korea and even though you were now at your dream college, you didn’t feel like you fit in here, the cultures were just too different and it made you feel off place, you didn’t like the people here, none of them seem to have manners or have some sense of respect towards others everyone was self-centered, the thing that made you scared to talk to others. You decided to go unnoticed and just stick to the friendships you had back in Korea. Although pulling up to the game and meeting a few people didn’t sound bad, you were a very passionate soccer fan, and meeting people with the same interest sounded exciting.

— — —

It was now 6 am, you had your first class at 8:45 am, and you finished doing your designs although they weren’t your best you were proud of how decent they looked, you grabbed the pieces of paper and placed them carefully into your folder trying to keep them at neat as possible, you thought of making yourself a cup of coffee, however, you decided to take a nap before your class started.

The way the sun rays gently touched your face and the birds sang beautiful background melodies was a warning that you were late to class. Eyes fully opening in panic when you read on the clock that it was now 8:28 am, you had about 12min to get to your class, quickly putting on a denim skirt, some Adidas forum, and a cute top, you rushed to grab your bag and left the dorm running. While running through the now-empty hallways with a piece of bread in your mouth, you brushed your hair and sprayed some perfume on yourself, trying to get yourself as decent as possible. As you were about to turn a corner you crashed with a firm body on the other side, making you stumble and crash yourself onto the floor.

Ashamed of yourself you just stood up and continued running, giving you the curiosity to know who that was and what they said while you left running. Luckily you made it to your class, maybe 5 or 8 minutes late but your teacher was the type to give you a few minutes to settle before he started his lesson in the morning. The class was going by pretty fast you were already in your 3rd period of the day, you went to your architecture class and your professor was impressed with your designs, you explained to him that you rushed through them, however, he seemed to have taken it in a good way.

"It’s ok y/n, I just graduate from college as well, I'm also a victim of procrastination" he whispered as he left a breathy chuckle, in that moment you realized Mr. Hyunjin and you had an age gap of 4 yrs, you two were pretty much alike, if he was your classmate he would be your best friend. At that moment you wondered how he got his teaching degree that fast "However, please do your drawings in time, although this is amazing I can see some of the lines are a little sloppy" he grinned at you as he handed back your drawings "I will Mr. Hawng" you grabbed your stuff; as you were about to leave when he stopped you once again in your tracks "Y/n, you should go to the soccer game today, its a big event and I have noticed you haven’t adapted yet to the environment" you slowly nodded as you gave him a small grin "I will think about it".

You thought of the proposal as you walked to your engineering class, everyone was talking about the game, was our team that good or was it just full of pretty faces and popular boys? Guess we will have to find out at the game. Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when someone decided to sit next to you, you usually sit alone in this class so you would lie if you said you didn’t feel nervous "Look its miss hit and run" You blink confused a couple of times as you stare at the brunette boy sitting next to you, his cat-like eyes, sharp nose, and plump lips made your heart skip a beat <Is this man-made by the greek god's wtf> he scoffed as you didn’t say anything back at him "thanks to you I was late to my morning class" he rolled his eyes, you could feel your cheeks turning bright red at the embarrassment "I’m so sorry, I was running late to my class" you mumbled as you tried to hide your face in between your books, he scoffed once again. The rest of the class was spent in uncomfortable silence, both of you were working on whatever assignment the professor assigned, however, you couldn't ignore the glances he would give you from time to time.

The bell rang and you tried to leave as soon as possible, quickly packing up your stuff "Do you have Instagram?" he asked before you could get up, he wants your insta? hell no... no one from here followed you and honestly you didn't want them to find your user either "I don't use social media, sorry" With that you left as fast as you could, to you those words meant nothing, for Minho that was like a dagger stabbing his heart, he knew you used Instagram he saw you on the app during the class, that's why he went for it and asked you, second, you have no idea how much courage it took him to ask for it. Minho is not the type of guy to be nervous around a girl however with you… it felt different.

— — —

Once school was over, you went to the nearest Starbucks and got yourself your favorite refresher, however, you couldn't help to ignore the group of girls in there, they clearly went to Cornell as they proudly wore the red hoodie with the mascot on it, they were probably going to the game, however, they seemed to be talking about you "She is the girl I saw Minho with today at class" a blond girl whispered with a tone of disgust "What are the chances of Minho fucking her?" a brunette girl replied, making one of the girls hysterically laugh "Girls lets be for real, look at her and now look at me" She paused as they examined you "You think Minho would downgrade that bad" she said in a sassy tone "hmm I dunno Vanessa... she is pretty solid, and definitely top of my class" the blond girl was quickly hushed as she saw the glare of her friend "Angie if you don't learn how to shut the fuck up, I will kick your ass" <Lord please get me out of here> you thought, as the girls kept gossiping behind you, you don't know what the deal with Minho is, but you definitely didn't want to do something with him, he just sat next to you for a class and now you got people gossiping about you? worse to say, they thought you two fucking? "Y/N" the Starbucks employee yelled, taking you out of your thoughts, you grabbed your drink and left, noticing how that little friend group looked at you up and down, maybe today was a bad day to wear a denim skirt, people will think you a hooker or something. "y/n... so that's her name," Vanessa said under her breath as she watched you walk away.

On your way home you couldn't forget the interaction at Starbucks and wonder who were these girls and why were they targeting you, knowing that you were a topic of conversation at the moment made you sick to your stomach. As you pass by the campus you can hear all the cheering and music coming from the field, tempting you to take a small peak at the game. When you got closer you hid somewhere in between the bleachers and watched, what felt like 10 minutes turned into watching the whole game, but what can you say both teams were competitive and it felt like watching a world cup final. People started to leave and you decided to wait for all of them to leave, you wanted to wander around the field once everyone left. Minutes pass and it was starting to get dark, the field seemed to be now empty so you left your hiding spot and walked around it while listening to "Good Days" by sza. The music instrumental combined with the beautiful scenery of the field with the vanishing sunset gave you a feeling of euphoria, captured by the scene as you stare at it mesmerized, you didn't acknowledge the presence approaching you.

"Fancy meeting you here" Startled by the sudden voice, your instinct was to throw hands, quickly throwing the refresher you had in your hand with half its content in it. The juice splashed all over the boy's face, leaving him with shock showing in his face. "I- I'm sorry," you stare at him scared "I swear I didn't mean to, you just appeared and..." You were quickly hushed as he opened his eyes, looking at you with pure anger "You just dirtied my shirt" he said in annoyment "I have another game tomorrow" he sighed in frustration "Give it to me, I have a washing machine and a dryer at my dorm, let me wash it for you" your voice stuttering here and there, unlike you Minho was enjoying this, seeing the way your eyes trembled and the way you tried to collect yourself to solve this more professionally "Ok, then..." he paused as he was about to take his shirt right there "WAIT" you stop him, your hands grabbing his forearms as you pulled them down with the shirt "Don't take your shirt here" you flustered "Just follow me to my dorm, it will take 30 minutes max and you can clean yourself" you suggested, you just wanted to be done with the shirt incident and never seen him ever again.

— — —

The walk to your apartment had to be the most awkward moment of your whole life. Once the two of you reached your door, you realized the type of person you were dealing with "Hope your roommate doesn't get the wrong idea when I get in" he said in a rather suggestive tone while he glare at you with a smirk, you sighed "I don't have a roommate, I rather live alone in silence" you said annoyed opening the door, making him chuckle "That's some valuable information right there" he said as he closed the door and quickly took his shirt off "where is your bathroom, so I can take a quick bath" you turn around to give him the directions when you were surprised with his honey-toned chest and flat stomach <Lord almighty> it seemed that after all you were right when you said he was built by the greek gods, however, you knew the game he was playing and you were def not forming part of it, so you shook all those thoughts away and took him to your bathroom, where you also explained to give how the washing machine worked and with that, you left him in there.

Now in your mind, you were recreating every single moment of your day. First, you crash into someone this morning, that someone being Minho, one of the most handsome guys you have ever seen, captain of the soccer team, popular and most likely a fuck boy based on the gossip of those girls at Starbucks, and now he is in your house... taking a bath... things can't get any worse at that moment if you told your friends they would swear you are creating some type of kdrama shit in your little delusional head, however, all this was real... which made you sick.

You stood up from your couch with a sigh, deciding to switch to more comfortable clothes and start your assignments, while you waited for Minho to leave. Going to your room you picked up a pink spaghetti strap tank top and your favorite silk white shorts accompanying it with fluffy socks and your pink slide slipper, then you left the room and made your way to the kitchen, reheating some leftover Gimbap from the previous night.

"Ahhh~" Minho teases "So this is what it would feel like dating you, taking a shower after a rough day, to find you in your little pajamas warming up some food for us" At that moment you couldn't focus on his words, as he was getting closer to you with his wet brunette hair and wearing nothing but a towel... YOUR TOWEL... Once he was a couple of inches apart from you, you looked into his eyes and started laughing, at that moment you didn't know if you were laughing at his words, at the whole situation, or out of nervousness.

"And here I thought I was delusional" you chuckle relaxing "Also what are you doing with MY towel" You emphasize the word as he looks down to stare at it "I gave you another one, you were supposed to use that one... not mine," you say in frustration, now you will have to wash it, the water bill was looking crazy at that moment "I liked the texture of this one better, plus I also liked the scent" you scoff at his words and took your food out of the microwave "Whatever, just dress up and leave my house," you said as you pushed him away of your way and sat on your comfy couch, placing your food on the coffee table and picking up the tv remote "So you are just going to let me go like that?" he said with a dumbfounded face, you look at him confused "ermm... yeah? you are only here cause I spilled my drink on you, don't abuse the invite, I could have hit and run like I did this morning" you said as you blankly passed the channels on the tv.

He scoffed, at that moment he didn't know why he felt disappointed, as if he was hoping for more, for you to invite him and have a bite of your food, an invite to sit there with you and watched whatever shitty show you were watching, he walked to the bathroom and took his cloths out of the dryer, he dressed up and even though he was ready, he didn't want to leave that bathroom cause that meant leaving your house.

The reality was that he had been liking you since freshmen year, the moment he saw you at the welcoming party was like you caught his mind, since then he's been in denial of accepting his crush on you. He knew you were shy and that you were good at drawing, he always paid attention to every little single detail of you, he would often find himself looking for you in crowded places knowing that you hated them, he hated every single thing about being in love with you, yet he always craved being loved by you; in the inside, he wanted to worship you, have you in his arms every morning, cook your favorite meals, go on silly dates with you... he would party and fuck around to see if you would leave his mind someday... yet he was never lucky, the only thing that would clear his mind was soccer, he loved the adrenaline, the intensity, and the beauty of the sport, in his head he would often compare his love for soccer with his love for you, the only difference was that one was more realistic than the other.

When he caught you today mesmerized with the field, he felt like you stole his heart for a second time, the way your eyes shined under the sunset, the way the breeze moved your hair, and the way your smile brought warmth to his heart, he felt like it was the day to do something about it, get closer to you. The moment you offered him to come to your dorm, his heart was beating so fast, he has never been this nervous before, and yes maybe he has been in a bunch of girl's dorms before but for some reason, yours just felt special.

He stepped out of the bathroom with a heavy heart, ready to say his goodbyes and leave your life for once, however, he didn't expect to find you knocked out on the couch, the sight of you sleeping peacefully made his heart skip a beat, making him mad at himself for being this down bad. He slowly walked to your sleepy figure, he grabbed a fluffy blanket you had on the couch and wrapped it around you. The next thing he remembers he was on his knees analyzing your face, he has never been this close, and the temptation to kiss your plump lips was bigger than anything, however, he held himself and instead planted a sweet peck on your cheek, with a smile on his face he made sure to leave quietly.

— — —

The next morning you slowly opened your eyes and sat on the couch, you blink a couple of times trying to remember what happened last night, the tv was off and you had a blanket on top of you... <When did Minho leave?> You ask yourself, due to the tiredness you don't remember a single thing. It was a Friday morning, and you had no plans for the rest of the day as you didn't have any lectures till the afternoon, however, you hated staying at your dorm the whole day so you decided to get ready and go for a refresher and then to the library. Today you decided to go with a simple purple sundress and your white Converse accompanied with a white tote bag.

You would lie if you said you didn't feel self-aware the moment you walked through the campus, a bunch of eyes staring at you, confused you tried asking someone around you what was going on, however, you were too scared to approach someone.

"So are you the girl Lee Minho was lucky to pull or is he just a pass time?" a girl with blond hair and lovely eyes said as she approached you "Excuse me?" you raised an eyebrow "I'm sorry, it's just that rumor is spreading like a wildfire" she chuckled while she gave you a warming smile "I'm rosé" she extended a hand in front of you "I'm y/n" you shook her hand while smiling "ermm do you mind telling me what this rumor is about? I'm really confused" she chuckled "Of course, let's go get something to drink first" she smiled grabbing your hand.

"So there is this girl Vanessa and her group of minions," she said while she proceed to take a sip of her drink "She is Minho's ex, however, she seems to not let him go" She paused "He dated her out of pity, she would always go around bugging him all day until he gave in, they broke up because she got jealous of the female soccer managers and threw a fit that expelled Minho from soccer finals... They still hook up from time to time when Minho loses his mind with the alcohol" She rolled her eyes and laughed "And about your rumor..." She pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened Twitter to show you a thread made by Angie one of Vanessa's minions.

"Angie saw you and Minho together after the game... she also saw how he was about to take off his shirt right there" She cringed as she showed you the video Angie took from a long distance... at that moment you could understand the rumor as in all honesty, it did seem like you two were about to hook up.

"That's a misunderstanding, he scared me so I threw my drink at him..." you mumbled, "Well... it doesn't end like this..." She then pulled a second video of you two walking to your dorm at night <Oh Jesus... People think we fucked> your eyes opened in panic... you went from no one to a hot topic in two days... "Yeah... but don't worry, Minho always handles these types of rumors" She reassured you "He is my brother's best friend, so I know what happened" She caressed your arm to ease your nerves "Thank you rosé" You smile "Don't worry I got you, also you can call me Rosie" She grinned at you, her pearly white teeth showing, she was truly gorgeous.

"Do you mind who is your brother, I have never seen you around... but that might just be cause I don't know anyone here" You took a sip of your refresher "My brother is Lee Felix, we like inseparable" You could tell she admired her brother by the way her eyes light talking about him "We have seen you around, but girl you are unreachable, matter many people have been trying to approach you, but everyone is intimidated by you" She laughed.

"That's why everyone calling Minho a lucky bitch, you have no idea how many people would kill for you" When you heard those words your mind went blank... do people think that about you? at that moment you felt mad at yourself for isolating yourself when you could be out there having fun with new people. "There's gonna be a party tomorrow night, be there or be square," The blond girl said as she stared at you with lovely eyes, after that you two talked until you had to leave for your class, today you could say you made your first friend ever.

— — —

It was around 8 pm that same Friday when you spotted Minho, peacefully walking with his headphones on, you slowly approached him to confront him about the rumor "Hey" you touched his shoulder giving him a warm smile, he froze at your sudden apparition "Miss me already?" he said with a smug face "No, I want to talk about the rumor... I talked with this girl Rosé and she told me you usually deny these rumors so-" You were interrupted when he started laughing "Why would I deny it? it's just an innocent rumor we both know it's not real and that should be enough" You couldn't believe your eyes at that moment, the audacity he had to say he wouldn't do it... that was an innocent rumor, you scoff "I'm sorry... innocent rumor? People out there think we fucked" you scoff once again "Ok and? what's the big deal if you know it's not true" his body stiffed as he stood straight glaring down at you.

"You don't know how it feels walking into a place and having a bunch of people talking behind your back? calling you a whore, a pass time?" you crossed your arms and looked around trying to remain calm.

"Knowing Im the hot topic of the day because of you makes me sick" your tone raising without you noticing "You are making a big deal out of nothing y/n" It was Minho's turn to raise his voice, he was about to say something when he got interrupted. "Y/n everything alright?" you turn to see Mr. Hwang "Oh Mr. Hwang" you nervously laughed "Everything alright, thanks for asking" he gave you a charming smile making Minho want to puke right there "I wanted to talk to you about something, do you have a minute? he asked ignoring Minho, which pissed him off even more "yeah sure" you smiled "Let's go to my classroom then," he said and you obediently followed him completely forgetting about Minho. He stood there, body burning in jealousy.

Minho needed to clear his mind, he didn't want anger to control his feelings, but every time he remembered the way that guy talked to you and even the way he looked at you, made him wanna punch his guts, he knew you weren't his but he wanted you all to himself and that's how he ended up in the soccer field kicking the ball as hard as he could and running as fast as he could until his legs gave up.

The roller coaster of emotions drove him insane as he ran behind the ball, thinking that you might like that guy was his final stroke as his legs gave up and he landed on the soft grass of the field, tears rolling down his eyes as he couldn't understand why he felt this way towards someone he barely knew. After he lay on the grass blankly staring at the stars for like an hour he decided to try and let you go, he grabbed his phone and Tweeted that the rumor was fake and to leave you alone, he threw his phone beside him and closed his eyes.

— — —

The next day you noticed Minho publicly denied the rumor, you felt so grateful to him, a warm smile adorning your face, and you kept it a mental note that you would thank him if you saw him.

The party was today and you doubted if you should go or not but after talking with your best friend Eunchae, she convinced you to go and that's how you find yourself wearing a silk black dress with a slit and your favorite heels, for the jewelry you went with a pearl necklace and long gold earrings and for makeup you went with something natural but cute, once your hair was done you grabbed a small bag and left your dorm.

At the party you meet up with Rosé, who you quickly lost as she joined her brother and a couple of other friends, they all disappeared into the crowded place filled with warm bodies, you weren't ready for all the chaos yet; so you made your way to the bar to get a few drinks and maybe lose up enough to start dancing with people, you were feeling yourself for the first time in years, you never thought you would enjoy this; but at that moment you felt that enjoy was not enough to describe how much you were loving this party.

The taste of the bitter alcoholic drink you were consuming plus the music and neon lights of the club made you feel as if everything was in slow motion, maybe the vodka of your drink had finally begun to hit, and you could also feel the temperature of your body rising, your eyes moving in all directions inspecting the people in the room; that's when you spot him.

Lee Minho, wearing an all-black outfit, his shirt was tight enough to give his body justice, plus it had a zipper he kept half opened exposing a bit of his chest, you could see the way girls drool over him and to think you got to see more than that the day he went to your apartment.

His brunette hair and plump lips, for some reason today you felt tempted by them for the first time, the way his cat-like eyes shined under the neon lights... yeah you acknowledge he was handsome, made by the Greek Gods as you would say, however, you were never captive by his charms like today... was it the alcohol? was it because of your previous interactions? You don't know what possessed you to stand up from your seat and made your way towards him.

Once he spot you the smile he had on his face faded away, at that moment you felt he didn't want you there but the way he looked at you gave you a hint that he wanted you there more than anyone. You smiled before approaching him, a giggle escaping your soft lips "I saw that you denied the rumors..." you trace as you study his face "Thank you" you finally said after a pause. At that moment you could see how Minho's body language changed, he went from relaxed to stiff in a matter of seconds "No problem" he said with no expression at all.

This was the first time you saw him this cold towards you, you couldn't quite decipher what was wrong so to lift the mood you grabbed his hand and brag him with you towards the dancing floor "y/n what are you doing" he said as he quickly walked behind you, At this moment he could feel the warmth of your hand touching his, everything was moving in slow motion for him, he was going to treasure this memory forever.

"I don't want to dance alone... I'm shy but with you, I feel like I can be myself" You grin at him as you glare at his deep brown eyes, if this was some kdrama Minho would have kissed you by now... he didn't know how much he would last this "cold treatment" act he was trying to play on you.

"I thought you didn't like our dating allegations, this will just add fuel to them" he scoffs rolling his eyes "Come on... you are Lee Minho" You emphasize his name "Do you really care about those rumors?" he didn't say anything, the tension was increasing creating an uncomfortable environment between the two of you; but you are y/n and you won't give up easily.

Die for you by the weekend started playing and you decided to screw it and let the music guide your body. Minho just stood there watching the way your hips moved to the rhythm of the song, the way you would throw your head back exposing your cleavage, he felt like you were inducing him, putting a spell under him, the way you smiled as you were having fun... he was falling for your act.

Once the music changed he realized he was hypnotized by you the whole time, but what made his blood boil is that he wasn't the only one as he spot more than a few staring at your body, at that moment out of instinct he placed a hand on your waist and pulled you closer to his body, the contact and the warmth of his chest against yours made your stomach tingle.

A few minutes passed and he had his neck in the crook of your neck as you both danced carefreely, he would constantly pull your dress down as it kept rolling up from all the grinding and movement.

Both of your hearts pounded excitedly there was something about this moment that felt special like it was meant to be, however, you were starting to get tired as you weren't feeling the music with the same energy you started. You gently pushed Minho away thank him for the time and left to sit somewhere in the club.

Minho's heartache as you left him, he wished he could stop time so he could enjoy more of your warmth, but he couldn't do anything and he knew it, you didn't belong to him and that's why he let you go.. he stood there watching your figure disappear between the rest of the bodies "HEY MINNIE" a voice squeaked behind him and he knew exactly who it belonged to as the girl hugged his arm... it was going to be a long night for Minho.

It was around 2 am and the party continued, you were pretty tired your social battery drained hours ago, you sat at one of the chairs at the bar and scrolled through your social media, waiting for Rosé to be done so you both could call for an Uber.

"Hey pretty" You look up to see an unfamiliar face, the man was really good looking and you could tell he had more than a couple of drinks by the way he would hiccup from time to time, by his body language you knew he wanted to hit on you and that he was rather desperate, making you uncomfortable.

"Hey" you tried to be friendly either way "You are y/n right, I’m Jake, I think you are really cute" he got closer placing a hand behind your back, at this moment you panicked you had no way of escaping his grip and it was making you feel uncomfortable, also with all the drinks you had you were feeling tired "Thank you so much and nice to meet you, but I gotta go" you nervously chuckled trying to push him away.

"Come on baby… don’t leave without giving me a kiss" With that he leaned dangerously close to your face trying to steal a kiss away from you when he abruptly got pushed away, startle you looked behind to see a rather pissed off Minho "Leave her alone" he hissed at him and grabbed your hand, quickly walking you to the exit "Wait… Minho, I need to wait for Rosé," you said mumbling "Don’t worry, Felix got her" you relax knowing that she was safe with her brother.

— — —

The walk to your apartment was rather comforting than you expected, you thought the walk would be awkward like last time and filled with silence, however, you didn’t expect Minho to be the type of guy that’s easy to talk to… well what did you expect he pretty popular for a reason.

Maybe was the alcohol lingering in the air or the impulsive thought to let him inside and see what would happen, but you never expected that after the first encounter, you would let him into your apartment again.

"It’s pretty late…" you trace looking into his dark eyes "The college staff might give you a warning if they find you" Although you tried to sound as stable as possible your voice started cracking as you finished your sentence.

He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, however, he quickly stopped in his tracks and slightly smirked "Sure" he smiled as he stepped inside the dorm and took his shoes off.

"I’m pretty tired so I’m going to change into something more comfortable," you said as you dropped your bag in the living room "Make yourself home, I will try to see if I can find something comfortable for you to wear" he looked at you as you walked around the dorm, all he could think of is how close he was but so far at the same time.

"Don’t" he quickly regretted saying that when you turned around to look at him confused "You don’t want comfy cloth?" you questioned, his cheeks lightly blushing… gosh is it the alcohol? he was going to make a mental note to never drink near you ever again "No… no… that’s not what I mean…" he traces shyly, you laugh at seeing him in this condition, where was the snarky, confident man you knew?

"Your dress" he spoke again after collecting himself "You look really pretty in it…" he paused walking closer to you with a smirk and dark eyes "Please don’t take it off yet" his hand moved closer to your face to readjust your bangs.

Once again you don’t know if it was the alcohol or the sinful thoughts you been having about him, but the urge to kiss him was unstoppable.

The way he looked at your lips with those dreamy eyes, with a soft hand resting on your cheek… everything at that moment felt perfect but you just met him a couple of days ago, that made you uneasy, but as your faces got closer and closer by the seconds you couldn’t help but let it happen; you closed your eyes in anticipation but then you came to the realization, that you are not about to kiss with the love of your life, this is Lee Minho… one of the biggest fuck boys in your college… is it worth it risking a night with him and then be the topic of conversation the next day?

You quickly moved your head to the side of his neck "Woah that tequila got me messed up" you laugh awkwardly as you backed away "Maybe on another occasion you get to see me with another pretty dress" You winked and went inside your room as quickly as possible.

Minho was left dumbfounded in the middle of your living room, he cursed himself for being too obvious and too desperate… he was scared you knew his true feelings, however, he is not the type of guy to stress over a crush so he shook his thoughts away and decided to wait for you in the living room while he watched something on the tv.

"Fuck" you mumbled as you struggled to zip your dress off, you had no trouble putting it on, but it seemed like the zipper got stuck on the fabric at some point, you walked around the room questioning what to do <C’mon y/n… you live alone if he wasn’t here what would you do…> stress quickly overtook you as you got more and more desperate trying to get rid of the dress <I guess I could cut it> you thought as you spotted a pair of scissors in your table <But its channel… I went on bankrupt to get it> you cried internally <They better make better quality zippers next time> you sigh in defeat.

Shyly you walk over to your door, the faint sound of the tv getting louder as you are slightly open the door "Ermmm Minho" you said quietly in a whisper, surprisingly that was loud enough to get his attention "Yeah" he said his gaze not leaving the screen in front of him "I need your help" this time he turned around with a confused look "The zipper is stuck… can you help me?" you said sounding defeated.

He hummed in agreement scared that if he used his words he would make his excitement obvious, you grabbed his hand and led him into your room, it was the first time he ever saw it, the scent of lavender and vanilla that surround your room smelled just like you, he studied the room spotting a bunch of books all over the floor.

"Don't mind the mess" you say "I have been busy with work" You sigh as your turn your back and moved your hair exposing the zipper of your dress "Don't worry about it, out of all the girl's rooms I have been, yours is the most exciting to be in" he mumbled as he focused on zipping the dress down; you blushed at his comment although you try to not mind it.

"Really? Usually, boys like it when a girl's room is clean," you said as you hold your dress by the chest so you don't flash him, he hummed at your response "A clean room doesn't tell much about you... a messy room feels more intimate," he said looking at the surroundings "by the bunch of books in the floor I can tell you use them often" he paused scanning the room one more time "And..." you could feel the tone in his voice change to a teasing one "by the panties laying on the floor" you look to see where he was pointing at "I can tell you left in a rush that you couldn't pick them up"

Your eyes widen in embarrassment and you could feel your cheeks burn "MINHO" you squealed hitting his chest, Minho chuckled treasuring the moment, everything about this felt intimate, helping you with the zipper, being in your messy room, the way you turned bright red out of embarrassment, he wanted this to turn part of his daily routine and maybe it was because of the alcohol or because of the euphoria of the moment but he wished he could just throw you on the bed and worship you in every single way, however, he shoved his thoughts aside and continued helping you.

He placed a hand on your bare shoulder, and his warm palm sent chills down your spine "Hmmm" he furrowed his eyes and tighten his grip on your shoulder "You weren’t joking when you said it was stuck" he scratched his neck trying to think of a way to get it out "Oh c’mon, you are a man it shouldn’t be hard for you" you spat, desperation getting the best of you.

An airy chuckle left his lips ticking your neck "Now that was a little sexist coming from you princess" you scoff at the pet name his been giving you "Just please take it off, I'm getting hot" you cried "Alright, but don’t blame me if it breaks" he raised his hand before readjusting his position to zip the zipper down.

After what seemed 2 minutes of struggle, he pulled the zipper as hard as he could, not realizing the brute force he used; the zipper snatched in less than a second, your dress falling to your ankles as fast as the light; both of your bodies tensed, you because you realize you wore your black lace undies just in case you brought someone home, on the other hand, Minho tensed as he realizes he messed up and that you were wearing no bra.

"I-" he paused trying to collect himself "I’m sorry" he almost screamed as he threw a pillow at you and turned to look away, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the situation, if this would have happened while you were sober it would’ve been a different story, however, the alcohol roaming around your blood made you feel more carefree "YAHH" you screamed in between laughs "You are the one who ripped my dress off, I should be the one throwing pillows at you" you grabbed the dress from the floor to cover yourself and picked up the pillow he threw at you and started attacking him with it.

The room was filled with giggles and pillow feathers as you randomly started a pillow fight. During one of your attacks, Minho was quick enough to turn you around so you would be under him, the sweat forming on his forehead and the dim lights of your apartment made it a delightful sight.

"What? Already falling for me" he smirked as he got slightly closer to your face testing the waters, you scoff and smiled back hanging your hands behind his neck "You wish" You moved one of your hands to his face and traced his features like if he was some type of sculpture "However…" you quickly stopped yourself from continuing before you made a mistake "However?" he whispered as his eyes looked from your eyes to your lips back to your eyes, one of the hands that was resting besides your face moved to grab the side of your waist and slightly massage it.

You parted your lips contemplating if the words that were about to come out of your mouth would be worth it "fuck it" you mumbled as you closed the gap and gently kissed his lips.

You can’t describe the feeling of his lips on yours… they are soft… really soft and warm, it felt like you were on cloud 9, as your lips parted a faint moan left his lips in complaint "I wanna taste you" you whispered in his ear, his eyes quickly turned dark in lust and the smirk planted on his face could only describe his satisfaction at that moment.

Were you going to regret it tomorrow when you were completely sober with a hangover? yes… definitely but it's Lee Minho when do you get the chance to get laid by such a man? FUCK IT.

Once again you pushed him down your lips, this time the kiss being rough and desperate, moans leaving in between kisses "You don’t know the mistake you are doing" he mumbles in between the kiss, you parted your lips to look into his eyes and smile at him innocently "I know what I'm doing" you took your arms off his neck and move them to reveal a little bit of your cleavage.

You were teasing him and he knew, the bulge on his pants being an indicator he was enjoying it "fuck" with no warning he grabbed your hands and placed them on top of your head, one of his hands grabbing them down while the other stopped him from crushing you, his lips went back to yours, his tongue dancing along with yours, bitting your lips here and there, you spread your legs unconsciously making him smirk as he placed his leg in between your thighs and pressed into your panties, which by the second were getting wetter and wetter.

You swore you could get drunk on the wet kisses he was leaving all around your neck and cleavage, they were so addictive and the way he would force you to make eye contact or else he would stop had you on the edge. He made his way to your ear and bit it while you tried your best to not grind on his leg.

"You are getting too desperate princess" he whispered while gently caressing your wrists his been holding this whole time, he placed a chaste kiss on your lips "It’s time to stop" your eyes widen at his words… stop?! does he really want to stop??? did you do something wrong…

"Why?" You questioned as he was getting up "D-did I do something wrong" The panic in your tone scared him "No princess, of course not" he said while he hugged you and caressed your hair "I don’t get it.." you trace trying to hold back your tears from embarrassment "You are drunk… we are both drunk… I don’t want to take advantage of the situation" you pulled away from the hug and look into his eyes trying to see if he was joking, but to your surprise he wasn’t, he was straight up serious <A fuck boy who doesn’t want to fuck> you thought as he grabbed your hand "You should go to bed, it's pretty late princess" he stood up and guided you to your bed, he planted a kiss on your forehead before leaving "Sweet dreams princess, don’t forget to include me in them" he chuckled as he closed the door and left you with no words in your bed.

— — —

Two months passed and you and Minho became really good friends, both of you seemed to collectively agree to never talked about that night ever again; although there was some tension lingering between the two of you, you decided to ignore it, mostly because Vanessa has been sending you threatening notes from time to time; she believes you have no clue who those notes come from but it couldn’t be more obvious; the situation was more annoying than scary.

Another reason why you and Minho kept things as they are is because of soccer, he is busy with practice you barely see him, and only during your engineering class and parties rosé makes you tag along.

You have also been busy with your self-development or that's what you call it. You have made a bunch of new friends, mostly thanks to Hyunjin, he is supposed to be your professor but you truly appreciate the soft spot he has for you "I have been in your place" he told you once when he invited you for a quick treat, since that day you understood that he is helping you do things he wished he did during his college career.

So far you are loving the new version of yourself and you rather focus on yourself than on anything else.

— — —

"YAH MINHO" you squealed as you land harshly on the soft grass. It’s been a week since Minho begged you to join him at one of his soccer practices.

You scoffed as he screamed at the tv "This players are ass, I could beat them any day" You shoot at him but quickly regretted your words as he gave you a death glare "Don’t you dare insult my idols like that, I bet your ass won’t last a minute in a game or worse a second at a practice" you took that as a challenge, one that you regretted the day after; since then his been bugging you around with it so you finally cave in.

"Told you" he continued to laugh historically "You are too pretty to last a minute in a soccer practice" he smirked while he walked to you to help you.

You roll your eyes at his words and stood up yourself, rejecting his help, you walked towards your backpack "Woahh quitting already" You could feel the quirkiness in his tone as he followed behind you.

"You wish, Im just getting started" You took a ponytail out of your bag and turned around to face him while you do a medium ponytail.

Minho has been trying to hide his feelings for you, but it's the bare minimum you do that gets him flustered, the way your soft hair moves as you tie it and little details in your face like the mole in your bottom lip that makes him wanna kiss every single inch of you.

A loud smack is what snatched him out of his thoughts, he looks at you blankly while caressing his cheek "What the actual fuck y/n" he says in amusement which you only blink innocently in return.

"I asked you something and you never replied so I found out a good smack would kick you back to your senses" You smiled as he looked at you offended.

"I would beat your ass right now but that’s something I’m saving for another occasion" You could sense the double meaning behind his words but you shrugged it off "Other occasions will it be" you chuckled "Anyway back to what I was saying" you roll your eyes knowing he didn’t hear a word of what you were saying.

"Why do women's sports shorts have to be shorter than men’s sports shorts" You looked down at your legs "You are wearing Nike Pros, those are supposed to make you feel comfortable while moving" you scoff "Comfortable?!?!" you paused to look at him in disbelief.

"How am I supposed to feel comfortable when I feel my ass is bare naked" Out of instinct Minho tilted his head to check you out, making you hit his chest "YAH LEE MINHO" You gave him a death glare as he swung his hand in the air in defense.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to my body just moved," he said in panic, his ear turning in a faint shade of red "Whatever let's just start this practice" You pushed him and walked towards the center of the field.

After the hours passed you felt how your body was dragging you down to the grass, the cold and soft grass touching your skin, sweat dripping down your face as you tried to control your heavy breath.

The feeling of the cold breeze touching your body and the sight of a sky covered with stars felt so euphoric, a moment you wished to be trapped in. It was a feeling you haven’t experienced before, you were used to exercising but this felt different; it felt comforting… safe.

"This is a vulnerable moment for a soccer player" Minho whispered next to you, trying not to ruin your moment.

You turn your face to see him, his sharp features being hit by the soft moonlight, breeze moving his hair lightly "Tell me more" you whispered back.

Even though Minho couldn’t see your face he knew you were smiling, he could feel it in your tone "Once your legs give up to the point your body brags you down to the grass" he trails, debating whether he should turn his face to face you "That’s when you know, you did your best, that's the moment you realize you can rest from all your hard work, it’s like a prize you know?" He turns to face you, your eyes were wide looking at him, he could see the shine of the stars in them.

"A prize" you raise an eyebrow "But what if I feel like I didn’t do my best?" he chuckles "It’s a prize because it's a feeling that lets you clear your mind, you may lay down in the grass feeling like a piece of shit but when you get up, you feel like you can rule the world" he chuckles when he sees your face even more confused "Forget it, you won’t get it," he said as he sat down.

"This is going to sound crazy but I think I do" You copy his movements and sat "It’s weird but I feel refreshed…" you mumbled as you stare at the stars.

As you both stay there in awe a shooting star flew across the sky "Woah" you both said in synchronization, turning to face each other and laughing "Make a wish" he said as he went back to stare at the stars "You should make one too" you closed your eyes to make your wish "I already did" he mumbled as he stared at you.

To this day he hates himself for loving you the way he does. After that night at your apartment, he tried to distance himself, he wanted to take things slow, he wanted you to know him for who he is not for the fuck boy image he won over the years. He wanted you to be madly in love the way he was, he wanted you to crave his attention the same way he did with you.

"What did you wish for?" You broke the silence slightly opening your eyes "It’s a secret if I tell you I might jinx it" you scoff in annoyance "Not fair, now Im curious" You closed your eyes again "Just finish your wish and let’s go, It's getting chilly" He stood up to grab your belongings and get ready to leave.

— — —

The days keep flying by, and Minho’s company became something of your daily life; no matter where you were or the time, he would find a way to be there. At first, you thought it was who he was, pretending not to care about others but secretly wanting to be with them; but as you progressively got closer to him, you noticed the special treatment he would give you from time to time.

Your friendship anniversary was getting closer as yellowish colors started to paint the trees. It was a chilly night on the October breeze when he mentioned it to you "Isn’t it crazy, how it has been almost a year since the morning you ran into me"

You never took track of time the same way Minho did, he would remember every single date he considered special or worthy of remembering.

"Can’t believe so much has happened during that period" you said in a nostalgic tone, remembering how you met, the rumors, the day you became known because of a boy's attention.

That day on your way home, you scrolled through your phone, looking at all the silly videos and pictures you took with your friends and Minho. You wonder what would’ve happened if you hadn’t crashed on Minho that day… would you still be unknown? Would the two of you eventually meet?

All the what if’s started to give you a headache, so you threw yourself in bed and decided to go on a slumber sleep.

— — —

The way his soft lips left wet kisses all over your neck was a delight to your soul and body, the faint whimpers that left his mouth as if he was begging you for more, you opened your eyes, looking at the brunette boy on top of you.

You couldn’t see his face but everything felt a little too familiar, you moved your hand to squeeze his hair, giving light tugs that would gain soft moans from him "Can I" his voice was raspy and soft there was care in his tone.

You just nodded as he slid a hand under your pajama shirt and teased your boobs, drawing circles around your nipples but not touching them, his lips too busy with your lips as his tongue explored yours.

A loud moan escaped your mouth as he suddenly pinched your nipple, a smirk forming on his lips "Please let me fuck you till you scream my name" he whispered in your ears while nibbling it; you just nod at the sensation, you wanted him to do more than teasing, he was making you desperate and he knew it… both of you knew it by the way you crossed your legs in search of some friction "Easy princess, let me worship you" he moved back to your lips, the room being filled with wet noises coming from them, his hands moved from your boobs to your legs, separating them as he left your lips once again.

His body was now kneeling in between your legs, your body temperature rising even though you were wearing shorts and a t-shirt. His soft hands caressed your thighs as he made eye contact with you, the crazy feeling about all this was that you couldn’t see his face clearly, which made you even more desperate. "May I take it off" he signaled at your shirt, there was something about him asking for consent that made you feel a pool of butterflies in your stomach, you slightly nodded, suddenly feeling aware of the situation.

The smirk that adorned his face suddenly softened as he stared at your body topless "Fuck" he mumbled to himself as he dived into his chest, his mouth wrapping automatically on one of your nipples as he played him with the other one with his hand. The way his tongue would move up and down on your nipple would make you squirm in place, There was something delightful about the way he would aggressively suck on your nipple but would leave kisses on them whenever you made a sound of complaint.

As he kept working on your tits with his mouth, one of his hands slid down to tease the band on your shorts, hand sliding even deeper to touch your pussy lips, his middle finger moving up and down your folds dispersing the wetness all over your core. "Please" you begged through moans as your hips unconsciously moved to grind on his finger "Say my name and you have it" he teased biting your lips, you cried in frustration you didn’t know who he was, suddenly he slipped the finger inside you making you moan loud as the sensation "Please" you cried "Say my name" he kept whispering in your ear as he trusted his finger inside you painfully slow.

You squirmed underneath him tears falling down your cheeks as you tried to find his name in the back of your head, a second finger was inserted slowly stretching you out "Please let me fuck your cunt senseless" he begged "Say my name y/n… please" he sounded just as desperate as you, at least you knew he was also being tortured.

The torture continue as you felt his boner on your thigh, his position switching so he could give ghostly kisses on your clit, your hips buckled up at the sensation, his nose hitting that spot you needed him to work on, a moan came out of both of your mouths "Please say my name" he kept repeating, frustration overtaking you as you start to cry "Please just fuck me" you cried grabbing his hair so he would look at you "PLEASE" you cried even harder, your head going blank by the second "MINHO PLEASE FUCK ME"

Suddenly you jumped out of your bed, hitting yourself on your night table "OUCHH" you hissed as you curled yourself up in the bed, then you remembered your dream, the obvious wetness you felt between your legs being the evidence that you did have a wet dream about Minho.

You cringe at yourself as you turn to face the ceiling… what was happening? where you developing feelings for him? <Nah… I don’t think so…> You told yourself <Maybe it’s the hormones… I haven’t been laid in a while> you laugh it off as you get up from your bed to take a shower and clean yourself, however, you still felt unease at the dream you just had.

— — —

After that dream you decided to take a hot shower, and wash away all the sweat and thoughts from your head; however, the shower didn’t quite help you forget about the dream or Minho.

Suddenly your bell rang shrugging you off from your thoughts, quickly you closed your shower and wrapped yourself with your towel, you weren’t expecting any visitors since it was a Sunday night. You looked through the peephole and spotted Minho… looking a little beat up?

"Gosh, Minho what happened" you spat quickly as soon as you opened the door, distress in your tone as he falls in your arms. He was struggling to keep up with weight so you grabbed him and tried to walk him towards your couch.

"I lost my match" he groaned grabbing his head and squeezing his hair "Easy there…" You grabbed his hands stopping him from hurting himself; he gave your hands a light squeeze and sighed.

His pupils were dilated and his eyes looked rather red and watery, was he crying? Was he drunk? maybe both… you were quite confused trying to figure out his state "Were you drinking?" you questioned as you stood to pour him a glass of water.

He was silent for a bit collecting his thoughts "I usually don’t make a big deal when I lose…" he trace as he shifted on the couch, his arms and legs spreading across the couch, head falling back with a sigh. You knew this wasn’t the right moment but the sight of him manspreading in your couch with his soccer uniform was quite a view.

"But" he trailed once again before pausing "Vanessa" he sighed, the tension he was putting on his words was sending you over the edge, couldn’t he get straight to the point "She is making my life impossible" he groaned, you walked back to couch placing the cup of water in the table and sitting next to him "What’s wrong? Is she following you around again? I thought she got a boyfriend…" You were honestly startled at the mention of her name, Vanessa started dating Lucas a couple of months ago, he was the captain of the soccer team and a really handsome and extremely popular guy. "That’s the problem" he placed his hands on his face in frustration "She is only dating Lucas to be "closer" to me" he quoted the word with his hands while rolling his eyes.

"Today Lucas found a letter she was planning to give me… confessing her feelings" The more he talked the more you could sense anger in his tone "He got sooo pissed off and placed me as a sub player for today's match" he sat down and looked into your eyes in disbelief "ME A SUB PLAYER?!" He scoffed "I’m literally the star" he spat quickly grabbing the cup of water and taking a sip.

"Worst part he placed me in the last 10 minutes of the game when we were losing 1-3" he placed the cup back on the table.

"He thought I was gonna pull a hat trick of my ass and save the game, but ofc I didn’t" This time he sounded disappointed rather than mad "At the end of the game the coach scolded me for "poor performance" he quoted his words, then scoffed before leaning back against the couch.

"I felt like shit, useless" he paused "Yah Lee Minho" You grabbed his shoulder which got no reaction from him, seeing him vulnerable like this made your heart shatter in pieces. You knew how much Minho treasured soccer and the sacrifices he does for that sport, seeing him like this because of selfish people made your blood boil.

"I thought a couple shots of alcohol were going to make me feel better" he paused, silence filling the room "but it didn’t" he turned to look at you with a soft gaze, eyes threatening to shed tears as he made eye contact with yours. Soft big eyes that could hold the galaxy in them, Minho treasured them, your eyes were like the door to your soul he could tell what you were thinking by just looking at them, he admired them.

“Then I thought of you” He gave you a warm smile before softly chuckling “It instantly made me smile. So I thought I might gave you a visit” He looked around your apartment before fixing his gaze on you once again.

“It’s…” He paused choosing his words carefully “It’s been a while since I last came here” You chuckle “You are right” Deep down you knew he was trying to switch the conversation, although you wanted to comfort him you figured the best way to do it was by giving the company he needed.

“Although we don’t speak of the last time” You raised your hands in defense, it was his turn to laugh at your actions.

“Now…” You said softly “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go change. You took me by surprise” If you hadn’t pointed out that you weren’t wearing clothes but a towel Minho would’ve never noticed.

His eyes quickly glanced down, taking into his view a couple of water droplets laying down in your cleavage, your wet long hair dripping down on the couch. His eyes darkened and a shade of crimson red sparkled in his ears.

He cleared his tone “I… ummm sorry for interrupting your bath” He touch his neck in embarrassment. He opened his mouth to say something else, probably another apology so you stopped him. You placed a hand in his bicep to comfort him “Don’t worry about it, I’m here for you” You gave him the most sincere smile Minho has ever seen in his life, a shock of excitement rushing down his body to his… you know.

If you could manage to give him a boner with your smile, he can’t imagine with your body. Minho wasn’t a fan of sexualizing you, he adore you too much to not feel guilt. However he is only human after all.

“I’ll be back. Feel yourself at home” you nudge him with your elbow before getting up and disappearing to your room. He just sat there in the middle of your living room contemplating his life choices, he knew he was at a very vulnerable state, not only emotionally but also physically. He could feel the shots of vodka he took before rushing down his body. One thought let to another and that’s when he decided that if he was going to fuck it up, it was going to be tonight.

He prepared a mini speech in the back of his head, ready to blurt it out once you stepped a foot out of your room. The adrenaline sobering him up as the seconds passed by. What fell like an eternity you finally opened the door to your room, coming out in a set of black silk pijamas. He could feel his dick throbbing in his pants as he saw you walking out <Keep yourself together Minho> He mentally cursed himself.

“Sorry for the delay, I couldn’t find my fave pj’s so I had to stick with this one” you walk over to the kitchen looking for something to eat. Minho just looked at you wondering how you could be so nonchalant about it. Like it wasn’t a big deal… well… it wasn’t… but considering he was fucked up and you we wearing a set of silk pijamas the smoothly hugged your curves was making him even more insane.

“Are you craving something” You ask reaching to the top shelf in your kitchen, trying to grab your favorite snacks “I can ask delivery, I only have leftovers and-“ Your breathe hitched as you could feel his warm body behind you.

“Here” He turned you around and gave you the bag of chips you were struggling to get “T-thank you” you grabbed them and placed them in the counter next to you. However he didn’t move, your body being pressed against the counter. Although he wasn’t fully close to you, the way he looked at your lips drawn you closer to him without even noticing.

“Y/n” he placed a hand on your cheek “I… I have something I been wanting to tell you for a while now” His cheeks blushed in embarrassment, he has never confessed to anyone before and he had no idea what the outcomes could be in this situation. “I been crushing on you for a while now. I been trying to swallow my feelings but I can’t. It’s gotten to the point that I can’t look straight into your eyes cause I’m afraid I will make a mistake” He stopped to analyze your face, he looked into your eyes and found an expression he has never seen before… it was unreadable.

A knot started to form in his throat as breathing suddenly became a hard task for his body to do. You notice his body shaking and placed a hand in his chest and moved your other hand to fix his bangs “Minho… I” you laughed softly “I been feeling the same for a while now. Although I never saw you as something more than a friends, recently you been in my mind lately” The smile that adorned his face in that moment was the most stunning thing you have seen in your life. The way his eyes would wrinkle from his big grin. Minho was just to precious for you to ever harm.

Both of your bodies started to unconsciously get closer to each other like magnets, his face centimeters away from yours “Can I…” You could feel his breathe hitting your lips as he spoke, his eyes never breaking contact with yours as he placed one of his hands on your waist and the other in your hair “May I kiss you?” Something you loved about Minho was his gesture of asking for consent. You didn’t have a big dating history but the few guys you dated never asked you for permission to kiss you or anything else.

You nodded afraid that if you used your words it would expose your excitement. His lips were soft on yours, his movements delicate as if he was savoring the moment, studying every single line in your lips. A soft gasp left your lips as his tongue tapped your bottom lip asking for permission to go in.

It’s been a while since you and Minho kissed on that night, but the fact that now you were both sober… well half sober in case of Minho, however, kissing him sober felt like a whole new world. The way the butterflies erupted in your stomach and the warmth of his hand left a huge impact on your body.

As the kiss started to get more desperate more needy, Minho lifted you up and sat you on the counter, making room for his body in between your thighs. His boner slightly pressing into your pussy, A moan escape your lips in between kisses, the gripped you had in his hair tightening. He groaned as he bit your lip in lust, his eyes opening to look at your face and smile “Do you mind if I mark you” Here we go with the butterflies again, your stomach doing black flips “You can do whatever you want as long as I can do same” He smiled into your neck before biting the soft flesh, you whimper trying to hold back your moan. You were really ticklish and hated when people touched it, however, this felt different a hundred times better.

As he kept leaving wet kisses in every spot he could find. You could feel your stomach rumbling around, you tried to ignore it, however, as it progressively started to get louder you couldn’t anymore. Pushing him off slightly, cheeks burning in embarrassment “I’m hungry” you said with puppy eyes, the room bursting in laughs as his stomach proceeded to groan as well.

“Let me treat you then” He smiled as he helped you down the counter. You didn’t knew he was a great cook, the way his hands cut the vegetables in such a skillful way “You are giving Husband material right now” You joked as you continue to stare at him. He hated the way you could say such words in such a nonchalant way, not knowing the way those words impacted his body, your words going straight to his heart and down to his dick… he couldn’t help it.

He sighed as he placed the knife down looking at you, a smirk forming in his face ready to tease you “Marry me and I will show you how husband material I can be” His dark eyes never left yours, threatening you to stare away, however, you weren’t going to let him win that easily “You wish” you scoffed looking back at your phone, he chuckled “Say’s miss wet panties” You choke on your saliva at his words- how can he be this imprudent?! “Excuse me” you move your gaze back to his, the smug on his face giving you butterflies “I could feel it while we were kissing, your shorts don’t leave much to the imagination” He said as he proceeded to cut the vegetables. Your face turning crimson red as you tried to hide yourself “YAHHH” you threw a piece of potato as him, making him chuchas “Easy there princess, shouldn’t throw food at the possible father of your children” Your eyes widen… this man was really something else. You laugh “Lets not get too ahead of ourselves, you just confessed, are you still drunk?” you tease him, he hummed “I don’t know, want to test it out? See if I make any mistakes” You knew what his words meant and even though it was very tempting all you were craving right now was some good food.

The rest of the night went smoothly, both of you ate and watched shitty shows on your couch, both of your bodies cuddling under your soft blanket. Maybe this was the beginning of you adventures with Minho.

———

It’s been exactly a week since Minho asked you to be his girlfriend. It was a random Friday when you opened your locker to get your math book a letter with little cat drawings falling down to your feet. When you opened it you were greeted with Minho’s hand writing inviting you to go to the field that night.

As you walk anxiously around the field, you look around trying to spot him. Suddenly a hand grabbed yours startling you, in reflex you tried to punch whoever grabbed you but they acted on time and stopped your hand “Easy there Princess” he chuckled. Relief showered down your body as you see him laughing in front of you.

As you scolded him, he grabbed your hand and walked you through a path you have never seen before. You could see lights at the distance, curiosity rising in your head as you kept asking questions; however he never replied he just kept quiet till you reached your destination.

It was a tree house, it wasn’t too far from the field and it was hidden in the tiny forest next to the field, you have never been in one before. He grabbed your hand and told you to trust him. Once there he told you the story about the tree house and how its special to him and his family. Butterflies ran through your stomach at the thought of being the first girl he has ever brought there, it made you feel special. The house was adorned with fairy lights and comfy blankets, a bottle of wine and snacks being placed on a small table. He played your favorite movie, however, out of nowhere it started glitching and the small movie projector turned off. You sighed in disappointment, turning to see Minho. Your eyes widen and your jaw dropped as he was suddenly carrying a ring.

“M-Min… what’s this?” Your brain couldn’t process what was happening at that moment, a million thoughts running through your mind “A-“ you paused “Are you asking me to marry you?!?” Your voice increasing in a high pitch as you talk, you were scared, wasn’t it too soon?! he could see the panic in your face and decided to speak before you decided to hit and run like the first time you met.

You got pulled out of your thoughts as his laugh filled the room “No silly” he grabbed your hand and placed the ring on your finger “It’s a promise ring” He placed his hand on your cheek so your gaze was fixated on his “Every time I think of my future you are in there, and its driving me crazy to the point you won’t leave my mind” The more he spoke the more embarrassed he got, you could see the way his face turned into a light shade of red and the way his voice trembled “I know I’m being too cheesy and I can guarantee you I won’t be able to sleep in peace tonight… but you know” He took a deep breath “I will be able to sleep at peace tonight knowing that you are my girlfriend” He took a second to analyze your face before speaking again “Y/n… would you be my girlfriend?” He tilted his head and smiled, the gesture reminded you of a curious kitten and it made your heart melt. You quickly squealed and wrapped your hands behind his neck stealing a kiss from him “I hope that answer your questions” You say as your lips separate from each, just to reunited a second later. Since then everything has been going smooth, however, its been just one week so you didn’t want to jinx things.

Your doorbell rang and you opened your door to find a big teddy bear behind it.

“Surpriseeee” Minho screamed as he shoved the teddy bear to your arms “Happy one week princess” He tried to kiss you but couldn’t because of the teddy bear in between your bodies “Im gonna do a mental note to buy a smaller one next time” Both of you chuckled as you placed the bear on your living room couch.

“I didn’t knew you were coming today” You softly kiss his lips smiling “My plan was actually to take you out for dinner, but I got assigned a house project” His smile slowly faded away, disappointment taking over his tone “Soo I decided to buy you a small gift” You laugh as you stare at the big ass bear sitting on your couch, you wonder if it would fit in your bed. “I’m still mad Im trapped with the project though… it was last minute too” He cried “Worst part Is that I have to work with Angie and someone else. Working with Vanessa’s minion is definitely hell” He dramatically threw himself into your couch hugging the bear.

“Angie? Damn that’s tough” you sat on his lap and planted your face on the crook of his neck “You got this though” you left a kiss on his cheek and smiled fondly at him. “You sure know how to make my day princess” He sighed “Well I gotta go, I love you so much” He gave you a peck on your lips before exiting your apartment.

— — —

It was around 4pm when your phone started exploding with messages.

Rosie <3 : Y/N

Rosie <3 : Y/NNIE~~~

Rosie <3 : MY PRECIOUS Y/N PLEASE REPLY

Rosie <3 : BITCH IF YOU DONT ANSWER THAT GOD DAMN PHONE

Rosie <3 : WHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE ONE?

What do you want? : Y/N

Rosie <3 : Would you go to Jennie’s party with me tomorrow night?!?! Pleaspkeapelaopslepalplsssss

I don’t know…. : Y/N

I made plans with Minho : Y/N

Rosie <3 : Y/N NOOOO THEY GOT YOU, I KNEW YOU ONCE YOU SHOWED ME THE RING.

Rosie <3 : BUT ITS SATURDAYYY.

Rosie <3 : ITS GIRLIES NIGHT

sigh… I will think about it : Y/N

Rosie <3 : THANK YOU LORDDD

Rosie <3 : let me know latest tomorrow afternoon

Rosie <3 : ttyl~~

Byeeeee <;3 : Y/N

You stared at your phone thinking how Minho would react if you suddenly ditch him, technically both of you planned this outing. Switching plans on him out of nowhere was definitely not looking good.

You could hear a faintly ding from your phone as you started to drift away from your sleep, eyes heavy you started to search for you phone without moving your head. You groaned as soon as you saw the time, it was already 10pm. You had no idea when you had fallen asleep, all you remembered was watching south park and eating some leftovers. As you progressively started to wake up you opened the notification that initially woke you up.

It was an unknown number and an image was attached, you raised an eyebrow in confusion as the picture started to load. Your heart dropping immediately to your stomach as you stare at the picture.

It was Minho kissing a girl. You immediately zoomed into the picture, hoping it was all a joke, however, it was not. He was wearing the same clothes he wore today, one of his hands was on the girls chest while the other grabbed her arm. You tried to figure out who was that girl in the picture, your heart dropping once again as you figure out it was Vanessa, you always thought you didn’t have to worry about her; after all Minho seemed to hate her, however, you couldn’t deny she was gorgeous. She was a straight up barbie, plus she was Minho’s ex… what if after a week of dating you he realize he loved her? that he wanted her?

Tears started falling down your cheeks, a knot forming in your throat as you desperately cried in your bed. Your phone flew away across the room as you looked at the bear he gave you “YOU TOLD ME YOU LOVED ME” you punched the bear before throwing it across the room like your phone. You honestly couldn’t believe it yet… while you were sleeping daydreaming on your next date he was kissing some other chick. You stared at your promise ring. As much as you wanted to you couldn’t take it off, you wanted all this to be a joke a set up… but the evidence was water clear. One final tear rolled down your cheek as you took the ring off your finger, you tried to throw it in your garbage but your heart wasn’t strong enough for that, so you opt out to place it in your night table.

That night you cried yourself to sleep, hoping it was all a bad dream.

———

The next morning you are woken up by the sound of your doorbell, whoever was behind that door was definitely desperate to go in. The ringing sound embedded in your head, making you annoyed.

You look through the peephole a wave of emotions attacking you as you see who was behind that door… a knot formed in your throat and tears threatened to fall. You backed away from the door as quiet as possible, trying to make no sound so he would think you weren’t home. The audacity he had to come to your house after cheating on you last night. Maybe the project thing he mentioned you was a lame excuse to go see Vanessa.

You go back to your room ignoring the continuos ringing from the doorbell. You pick up your phone from the floor to find 100+ notifications from Minho, he probably found out he got caught and tried to explain it to you. You weren’t feeling it today, you wanted to forget everything. So you texted Rosé confirming that you were going to the party, whats the best way to fix a broken heart without alcohol?

Two hours passed and Minho finally gave up trying to contact you, he called, texted, passed letters through the opening of your door. For a moment you thought he was not giving up. You knew he left once you heard Rosé’s voice on the other side of the door, you could hear her scolding Minho; telling him to leave you alone for once. He tried to explain things to Rosé, however, she never replied to anything he said.

You got startled when you heard a knocked on your door “Y/n its me~”By the tone in her voice you knew she was trying to distract you. Her voice was sweet and playful. You opened the door to find her with food in her hand “I grabbed something to eat before coming here” She lifted the bag, a big warming smile adorning her face.

Both of you were having a good time eating the food she bought and gossiping around, it was just some quality girl time, last time you had one was a couple days before you and Minho started dating. You didn’t knew how much you missed it till now.

“I don’t really wanna touch the topic between you and that asshole” She exhaled as she thought of her words carefully “But… I think you should listen to him… I mean… he looks too heartbroken for it to be something he did willingly” She finally lifted her head to look at you “His eyes looked tired, he looked like a mess… I have never seen him like this before… He definitely did not sleep last night” She laughed softly trying to lighten the situation.

“I know… I know… but I don’t know how to feel about all this, I want to hear him out but my ego won’t let me” You sighed picking up the dirty dishes “Now lets start getting ready for tonights party, I’m trying to get white girl wasted and have fun” You laughed making Rosé laugh along with you, however, She felt uneasy… she knew how much you hated parties and every single word that just came out of your mouth, wasn’t something you would say in your daily, but she is your friend and supports you 24/7, so she got up from the couch and ran out to you “WOOOO PARTY IN THE USAAA” She screamed while jumping up and down around you.

You took a long bath, it was comforting and relaxing. The way the warm water wrapped your body, you sometimes wishes you could live in your bathtub, it was just too good to be true. You got out and checked yourself in the mirror, you felt hot. Your boobs, ass, curves, everything was perfect to your eyes. You smirked thinking that this is what Minho lost, maybe and you weren’t perfect like other girls but you loved yourself and that’s what mattered.

You grabbed a purple silk dress, it wasn’t the type of dress you would wear considering how short it was and a v neckline that punctuated your cleavage. Rosé made you bought it the moment you both saw it at a store “Save it for a special night” she teased as she brainwashed you to buy it. You never expected to use it but it was too pretty to not get it.

You wore your favorite pearl dress and some sutil earrings, you wore your favorite pair of high heels and call it a day, you came out of the bathroom Rosé’s jaw dropping as she saw you.

“GIRL” She squealed “YOU ARE TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE” She started doing a happy dance “Let me do your makeup and hair and off we go to party land” The excitement in her voice made you forget everything, Rosé was the type of person that could make you feel better in no time, you were really grateful for meeting her.

The moment both of you stepped inside the party everyone’s eyes were on you. You two shared a knowing look and dashed to the bar to get some drinks, giggles and squeaks taking over your conversation as the alcohol ran through your system. Pink Whitney was your weakness, every time you drank it you couldn’t stop, it wasn’t because it was tasty even though it tasted way better than most alcohol, but it was because it made you feel sober making you drink more, but more you drink it, the more fucked up you got.

Two hours passed and you lost track of how many shots you have chugged down, you were currently playing beer pong with Jennie and other friends when you felt the urge to use the restroom. Politely you excused yourself and walked towards the bathroom. What you saw shouldn’t have hurt you the way it did. It was Minho… kissing someone but this time it wasn’t Vanessa, it was some other girl you have never seen before. The way he pinned her against the lonely hallway and placed his knee in between her tights… the sight was enough to sober you up, your heart shattering like a crystal figure that had been slammed against a wall; you were for real done with him.

“You guys lasted more than I imagined” Her voice drew shivers down your spine, you turn to face her, trying to hide your tears “Me and my girls bet that you guys would last 2 days” She laughed looking at you, you felt pathetic “Don’t feel bad though, he is a fuck boy he is meant to play with girls” She faked a pout and caressed your hair “Vanessa, I don’t know whats your deal but leave me alone” You unintentionally raised your voice catching Minho’s and the other girl attention.

“Shit” Minho mumbled under his breath “Y/n wait” he said as you started running away from there, he tried to follow behind you but was stopped by the girl he was kissing, Vanessa turned around to look at your figure disappear between all the bodies, a smirk adorning her face.

You cleaned your tears before telling Rosé that you were calling it a day, you didn’t want to ruin her fun so you didn’t mention the incident. As you walked out of the party you crashed into someone, your eyes widening.

“Mr Hyunjin?” You said in surprise, he chuckled at you “Hey y/n, leaving already?” He looked stunning, his long blond hair and casual attire gave you butterflies, you were used to see him in his typical teacher attire, at some point you thought he had no fashion taste by the way he dressed but now you understood that just his class attire. “Yeah…” You softly exhaled trying to hide your disappointment “May I ask why you are at a student party” You raised an eyebrow in curiosity, the sight making him laugh “Jennie and me went to the same high school, we are really close friends. However due to early degree, I have to keep it professionally” The smile in his face never faded away as he talked “Do you mind telling me how you got your teaching degree that fast?” He laughed again at your curiosity he find it really cute “Sure, but its a long story, why don’t we go somewhere else to talk?” That was an offer you couldn’t deny, specially tonight.

He knew he had no right to be jealous right now, but seeing you walk away with Hyunjin made his blood boil. He carefully followed you guys to a cafe. He sat far enough for you guys not to notice him but close enough to see the way you would laugh at his jokes, how you would often touch him here and there and the glances he would give your chest while you laughed.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the jealousy that ran through his body, but the moment you excused yourself to the bathroom he found himself walking towards Hyunjin.

He was sketching something on a napkin when Minho grabbed his shoulder giving it a squeeze “Took you long enough” He said nonchalantly as he kept drawing, not bothering to turn around to see Minho “You and your pretty mouth, you swear you are better than everyone” He groaned gaining a laugh from Hyunjin “I don’t think I’m better than everyone” he paused to look at Minho “I just think Im better than you” His smirk was Minho’s last stroke, he lifted his fist ready to punch him when Hyunjin catch it “I gave you time to not mess it up, but you are Lee Minho” His face didn’t have an expression at all, Minho couldn’t understand how he was so well collected while he threw poison at his face.

“I always knew about your little crush on her. I sacrificed my feelings for you, cause I’m a teacher and I need to keep things professional. However, I’m not gonna let you hurt her. I know how hard it was for her to be the person she is now, I’m not letting you ruin that” He started to squeeze his fist and aggressively moved it out of his face. Minho stood there dumbfounded at Hyunjin’s confession.

Minho and Hyunjin had a complex background story, they both met at summer dancing camp. Although both had so much in similar they never clicked, often turning everything into a competition. When he went to college and found out he was one of the architecture teachers he felt sick to his stomach. Hyunjin and him had a gap of 3 years, how come he already be a teacher when he was just starting a carrier. This only made Minho more jealous.

His thoughts were interrupted when Hyunjin spoke again “She is coming, you have the option to leave or face the reality” He smirked once again as he saw the troublesome look in his face, however what he didn’t expect was a tear to run down his cheek “Please take care of her” He said in defeat, a faint smile painted on his face.

Now this was something Hyunjin never expected from Minho, he knew him as the guy who would fight against him till the last breath, seeing him this vulnerable broke something inside him. “Sorry I took so long” You said as you sat down on your seat.

“Minho you idiot” he cursed to himself, so low you couldn’t hear it, at least you didn’t catch on it. He closed his eyes and sighed in frustration.

You were confused as to why you were walking towards the field with Hyunjin, he said he had something to show you, however, there was nothing to see when you were there. He grabbed your hand and placed it in his chest “I know I’m your teacher and this is wrong even though we both adults” He spat as he stared deeply into your eyes “But please concede me one kiss” He looked at you almost begging.

You look down at his lips, you would lie if you said it wasn’t tempting to steal a kiss from them… however it felt wrong and not because he was your teacher but because of Minho. You couldn’t believe yourself after all he did to you, but something deep inside you still believed in him.

While you seemed to be caught in thoughts, Hyunjin spotted Minho behind you staring at the two of you, no expression in his face, however his eyes were dark and his hands were pressed against each other.

Hyunjin smirked and got closer to you, Minho doing the same, Hyunjin knew what he was doing, his plan was to provoke him. Fight for you.

He wrapped a hand around your waist making you gasp in surprise “Hyunjin” you said softly “Shhh just play along” He whispered against your ear, you couldn’t tell why he was doing this until he spoke again “He is watching” You immediately understood what he was doing, you smiled at him “I will” Hyunjin was left dumbfounded at your words “I will kiss you” You finished, he looked at your eyes in panic “Y/n you don-“ His words were interrupted as you planted a kiss in his lips, they were just as soft as Minho’s but maybe a little bigger, however, the sensation didn’t even compared to Minho’s.

A hand grabbed your arm and snatched you out of his grip. “Minho” You said as you panted. “So you decided to fight” Hyunjin smiled proudly “Go ahead and don’t mess it up” He said nonchalantly as he walked away, leaving you alone in Minho’s arms.

It was a chilly night, the breeze hovering over your bodies. Both of you stood there without saying a single word to each other. His body was tense just as yours was. Should you be the first one to talk, tears starting to form in your eyes. He could hear you sniffing so he turned you around to face him.

He had an angry expression in his face which pissed you off but also made you feel guilty “I know I have no right to be jealous or mad right now” He finally spoke looking into your eyes “But I would be lying if I said im not mad or jealous right now” He got closer to you “Y/n… the picture they sent you last night was a set up…” He began to explain “I was doing the project when she came, she tricked me, I was trying to pull away but Jesus Christ she has a strong grip” You lowly chuckled at the playful tone on his last phrase “However today… I did kiss that girl willingly” Your heart once again dropping to your stomach “I was drunk, which is no excuse I know, but I was trying to forget everything. I was trying to forget the fact that I had lost you because of the plan Vanessa set up” He paused, his heart broking as he saw your eyes full of tears, your head staring down at the grass “I was on my 15th shot of the night, when the girl approached me… her scent reminded me of yours. Levanter and Vanilla” He whispered “One thing led to another… Im sorry” He started to cry “I’m so stupid… Im sorry” He kneeled in front of you crying.

You didn’t knew what to exactly do in that moment, forgive him? Comfort him? Leave him there? Screamed at him? You wanted to do all of those options but you didn’t have the heart to do any of those.

“L-let’s go to my apartment” Although you felt you were going to regret it, it was the only thing that crossed your head “Don’t think anything about it, Im just getting chilly” You extended your hand to grabbed his.

The walk to the apartment was silent from somehow comforting, you opened the door and led him inside. He sat on your couch while you brought a bottle of vodka. “You trying to poison me?” He said playfully trying to lift up the mood, however you weren’t feeling it “If we are going to talk I need to take few shots first”

———

You don’t know how you ended up in this situation “Teasing me with this little dress” He slid a hand up your dress and played with the band of your panties “You knew what you were doing every time you bend and moved sensually whenever I was near” He whispered in your ear, gently nibbling it. “Minho” You called out his name softly, his lips interrupting yours with a kiss. It was hungry and lustful, wet noises from the kiss hovering all over the room. Last thing you remembered was shoving down a shot of vodka before kissing him and now you were here.

He was on top of you in your bed, your hands pinned down as he kissed your body up an down. The faint light of your fairy lights being the only source of light in the room. His knee was firm against your pussy, your dress rolled up with all the movement. “You look so pretty” He almost moaned at the sight. Your messy hair, your legs exposed, your white panty on full display, and the way your dress struggled to cover your tits. Minho was drunk in you, he wanted to drink you dry. “We have made a lot of mistakes tonight…” he said in between kisses “Please lets make one that we won’t regret” moved to kiss your neck, softly biting it leaving faint marks in it “Fuck” you gasped in delight “Minho do whatever you want, any mistake I do with you ends up being the best” You could feel his smirk growing against your neck.

Next thing you felt was his nose pressed against your clothed clit, you moaned gripping his hair, he laughed “Patience princess, I want to take my time with you” He kissed your inner thighs up and down, kissing everywhere around but where you wanted him the most.

You felt shameless as you lifted your hips trying to find some type of friction. He just giggled before taking off your panties painfully slow. The cold breeze blew against your pussy making you whimper “Fuck I love it when you whimper” He placed his face closer to your pussy and blew gently on it, mesmerized by the way he impacted your body.

The feeling was mutual though, you could see the way his pants tighten the more he got aroused. Once his tongue was playing with your clit you lost it. It felt like you were on the clouds, his tongue was soft a warm, the slurping noises making you even more aroused. He grabbed your free hand and intertwined it with yours. His thumb caressing your hand as a gesture of comfort. You loved this man so much he didn’t understand.

With his other hand he slowly started stretching you out, one finger, two fingers, three… you gasped, body lifting up as he added a fourth finger. He kissed your cunt and your inner thighs trying to soothe you. “You got this princess” He slowly started to pump in and out of you, being as careful as he could, not wanting to hurt you in any way.

You threw your head back as you could feel your high approaching, moans getting louder and louder by the second. Minho closed his eyes and hummed in delight, his mouth attaching once again to your clit, listening to your pretty moans like it was his favorite song “Min-Minho” You breath hitched as you couldn’t hold back anymore “Go ahead Princess, show me how well I treat you” You came all over his finger and face, your face crimson red as you rode out of your high, embarrassment showering you over.

You could hear his soft chuckle as he kissed you, his tongue dancing with yours. You could savior yourself through his tongue. He sat you down as he glare at you, eyes dark in lust. A whimpered left your lips as he sucked the same fingers that were inside you, sucking them dry in front of you not breaking eye contact. “Fuck you taste so sweet” He was driving you insane. You moved towards him, taking what was left of you dress, your boobs falling free. You could see him salivate over them as he stared at them shamelessly.

“You have no idea how many times I have pictured you naked” He said groping your boob, his finger flickering your nipple. You couldn’t hold it anymore, your hand traveling to his belt, taking it out in a split of a second. Your hand unzipping his jeans as he helps you get rid of them.

You could see his dick through his boxers, a stain of pre cum visible at the tip, you leaned to his stomach and planted few kisses. His whimpers were a melody to your brain.

Removing his boxers, his dick sprung free, you leaned down to give the tip few kitten licks, teasing his slit while applying pressure to it. He groaned as he tightly tugged your hair. A moan escaping your mouth sending vibrations down his dick.

“Fuck… Princess… I don’t think I can resist if you continue” His voice was unstable as he tried to form words inside his head “Please let me fuck you” You raised your face to look at him, smiling as you kiss him wrapping your hands around his neck “I should be the one begging you” You tease, gaining a scoff from him.

He stood up to pick up his pants in search of a condom “Fuck” he closed his eyes, he gave the one he had to a friend who needed it at the party, he turned around to you disappointed “It will be another night Princess… I don’t have one on me right now” His voice was soft and filled with disappointment.

“Fuck me raw” He turned to face you, looking at your innocent face like you hadn’t just spilled one of the most lustful thing. You bat your lashes at him as you sat down like an obedient puppy in front of him. You tilted your head “If you want ofc, I’m under birth control” The way his cock throbbed at your words drove him crazy.

In a split of a second he was on top of you again, his mouth playing with your nipples as he teased the tip of his dick in your folds, he rub small circles around your clit with his tip, drops of pre cum falling down your folds. “Minho please just fuck me” You cried “I always forget you are impatient Princess” He chuckled, sending vibrations down your stomach. The pool of butterflies you were feeling at that moment. You were willing to forget everything that has happened in the past just to have him next to you every day.

He slowly started stretching your cunt with his tip, you groaned in pain, the fingers definitely did not prepared you well to take him in.

Once he was fully in he waited for your sign to keep going. A soft whimper leaving your mouth as you gave him the green light. He started slowly pumping in and out of you carefully.

As he started to feel pleasure as well he couldn’t help but fasten his pace, your eyes fully cloth as you moaned his name “Bet Hyunjin wouldn’t make you feel like this” You don’t where this is coming from but you like the way he talked dirty “Neither any other bitch could take my cock the way your cunt does” He placed his face in the crook of your neck panting. Shivers rolling down your spine “Fuck. The way your cunt squeezes my cock” He threw his head back in pleasure “Let me fuck you like you’re mine” He reposition himself, a hand next to your head while with the other he applied slight pressure on your neck.

He stopped thrusting you, gaining a moan of complain “Princess if you want me to continue I need you to look at me while I fuck you” You could feel your cheeks burn in embarrassment, although you were desperate. You nodded at his command and he continue with his task. His fast pace, the pressure on your neck and his dark eyes piercing yours, it was all too overwhelmed to handle, tears falling down your eyes as you moan.

Seeing you in this state made Minho crazy, you were like this because of him. His cock starting throbbing inside you as you started to uncontrollably squeeze him “Fuck Princess” He moved his hand from your neck “Min” You gasped for air “Im close” You cried out as you grabbed his hair and pulled him for a kiss. “Lets cum together then” he whispered in your ear, he moved his hand to your clit and started rubbing circles in it, while his pace started to move faster. You moaned in his ear as he felt your cum washing over his cock and spilling down your bed sheets. You knee he was close when his thrust became sloppy and he started to slow down, he was about to pull out to cum im your chest when you stopped him “Please breed me” You begged in his ear, he came almost automatically, his seed spreading in your inside “I hope your birth control doesn’t work” He said as he rode out of his high, his cock softening inside of you.

He wrapped you in a warm hug “I’m going to clean everything and then leave, you need space to think” You were disappointed at his words, although you did needed to think things over, you didn’t want to think now. You grabbed his arm “Please stay tonight…” you say softly afraid to be rejected “You can leave in the morning, but please don’t leave when Im sleeping” You mumbled as you cuddled on his chest. He chuckled softly while he played with your hair “If you say so… If it was up to me, I wouldn’t leave your side eve again” With that both of you closed your eyes and drifted to a peaceful sleep.

———

A month passed and you and Minho were keeping things as friends. After all the drama that happened both of you agreed to be friends again before trying things out again. Although it was hard to keep things friendly when you had a bunch of friends who would constantly tease you. At parties they would put both of you in situations were you had to kiss each other for a dare or go in a small closet for 7 minutes. Childish games that you never thought you would be playing in college. Everything seemed to be good, Minho got a restraining order for Vanessa, she had no other choice but to transfer colleges. The pissed off face she had the day you said bye to her was definitely the highlight of the year. Although her friends apologized to you, you didn’t want to know anything about them so you agree with them to forget about each others existence.

As to Hyunjin, he started dating Rosé, it was the biggest plot twist of you life “The moment I saw him at the party I was on my knees” She squealed as she hugged a pillow “And he is a teacher…” You widen your eyes <It can’t be…> You thought as you waited for her to spill the name “Mr Hwang Hyunjin” She moaned taking you by surprise “SO HOT” She pretended to faint dramatically in your bed, making you die of laughter. Gosh you loved that woman so much.

Life was good although it felt incomplete, yeah Minho was your friend but you wanted him to be more than that, however, you didn’t want to rush things so you decided to give it time. Wait for the perfect timing to come.

———

“Nice game Lee Minho” You tease as you hug him “Thank you thank you miss y/n” He chuckled “I scored all my goals in your name, so we can say this was a two person job” You laugh at his words “How considerate of you” You faked an awe face and laughed. It was the end of the autumn sports season, Minho and his team won states and everyone was celebrating “Shouldn’t you be there celebrating? you were the mvp” You raised an eyebrow looking at him “Nah… I rather stay here and watch the sunset with you” You looked at him in admiration, even though he was all sweaty and messy you couldn’t help but find him hot “I love this field” You say out of nowhere. He turned to face you, intrigued by your words.

“Most of our adventures occurred here” You laugh at your cheesy words cringing at yourself, however, to Minho your words got to him, his eyes fixated on your smile as you stare vaguely at the sunset.

His lips soft against yours, his hand on your waist while the other is in your hair “Min-” you said surprised as you broke the kiss “Is it too soon if I ask you if I can be your boyfriend” Butterflies rushed to your stomach at his words, your cheeks matching the pink tone on his.

You kissed him and smiled through the kiss, breaking the kiss once again to stare into his brown eyes “I hope that answers your question” You both smile and stay there in silence appreciating each others company while the sun slowly disappeared through the landscape of the field.

——————————————————————

Authors Note: Let me know if you guys find any typos, I didn’t spell check most of the fic and I wrote most of it at 2am, Also suggestions are appreciated 🙏

Hope you guys enjoyed~

[skzoolandia]

Late nights 🌃 | LMH

WARNING ⊂✦⊃ This story contains suggestive content, minor injuries, swearing as well as slut shaming (fluff?); minors please don’t interact, please beware of what you consume online.

Genre: Enemies to lovers

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: Who would say that after years of despising his existence he would end up in your bed.

Authors note: I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers. (Also I was lazy to spell check srry T-T)

. • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚⛓ . • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

It was around 3am on a Saturday morning, the dim lights of the city illuminating your room, the light sound of the rain hitting your window, it was the perfect set up to cuddle with your cat while you watched kdramas on your bed.

Your eyes felt heavy, your body was comfortable in the coziness of your bed, slowly closing them you felt how you drifted to a slumber sleep.

Maybe it was the loud thunder or the cries of you cat, but you jumped out of your bed, annoyed and scared as you heard your doorbell ringing nonstop. You walked towards the door slowly trying to make no sound.

Stumbling through the darkness you grabbed an umbrella, just in case you had to defend yourself— your mouth was slightly parted as you spotted the brun haired boy standing in front of your apartment door. His face had few bruises and scratches, seems like he got into a fight. He kept ringing the doorbell, you brain trying to decide whether you should open it or not.

You met Minho at a club about two years ago, he was a mutual friend— however, you two never seemed to click, always getting on each others neck; you didn’t really considered him a friend but he was always around cause he was part of your friend group.

The sudden silence that echoed your apartment made you snap out of your thoughts, peeping again through the peephole you spotted him with a concerned face as he stared to his side, panic filling his eyes.

In that moment you knew he was in desperate need of help, you snatched open your door and pulled him in, locking your door and hoping whatever was after him didn’t notice he went inside your apartment.

“Took you long enough” He scoffed, carefully touching his busted lips. You looked at him up and down annoyed, some of his wounds were dripping blood and his cloth were dirty “Don’t make me snitch on you” He smirked as he leaned forward “I know you are an asshole but you would never” He said with his raspy voice— You simply rolled your eyes at him, looking at him from head to toes once again.

“Why are you here?” You questioned him, arms wrapping in front of you chest— you looked pissed “None of your business” he spat, making you scoff once again “It is when you come to my house beaten up at 3am” You said in disbelief.

A small smile adorned his face as he looked at you mischievously, he always loved pushing your buttons, it gave him some sort of satisfaction “You won’t like the real reason of why I’m here. So lets pretend am being chased by a thief” Your eyes widen in disbelief “A thief chasing you?!? And you brought him to my apartment building? You want to get me killed or something? He shrugged and looked at you “maybe? It was the first place that came to mind”

You seriously couldn’t stand him, how dare he come to your apartment this late all beaten up and with a criminal chasing after him. It was also the audacity he had to talk about it like it wasn’t a big deal.

“You are seriously going to kill me someday” You sighed as you grabbed his arm and walked him to your bathroom “What are you doing” You signaled him to sat on the toilet “Isn’t it obvious?” You said annoyed as you searched for a first aid kit in the bathroom drawer.

He looked at you as you grabbed a towel and poured some hydrogen peroxide. You were wearing your silk pijama dress, it looked as delicate as you, your puffy eyes and messy hair gave him a hint that you were probably sleeping before he came to interrupt.

You walked towards him and kneeled in front of him, snapping him out of his thoughts once you carefully tapped the towel on his face. He hissed at the contact, the hydrogen peroxide burning his skin “Fuck” he yelp “Don’t be a bitch be gentle” he spat as he grabbed the counter besides him.

You laughed at his squirming “Stop being a baby” You teased— He straighten his body and looked deeply into your eyes “Im not a baby” He scoffed, swallowing his pain. It was quiet for a second, his heartbeat and breathing being audible, for some reason it brought you some kind of comfort.

“You need to stop staying too late at clubs” you mumbled while continuing to clean his wounds. He rolled his eyes “Aweee you care about me??” He said in a playful tone while tilting his head, a smug adorning his face.

You shook your head “Don’t make this about yourself, I’m just saying so you never come back to my house at this hours” He doesn’t know why but your words sting his heart, He doesn’t want to admit it but it does.

He scoffed “Says the slut that always passes out at the clubs” You stop cleaning him and looked at him, anger filling your eyes “What did you say?” He leaned closer to your face “I’m pretty sure you heard me loud and clear” He gave you a thin smile.

You never knew why Minho was like this, always defensive. No matter the situation— he always had something to say about you “I don’t get why you are being so defensive right now” You say softly as your gaze moves back to his scratches, this time pressing the towel hard on his wounds. He hisses and throws his head back.

“You did that on purpose” He groans, his eyes tight shut “Did I? I’m sorry” You proceed to press even harder, liquid dripping from the towel to his wounds. He moves one of his hands to grabs yours, both of you forcing against each other.

“Let go” You hissed, trying to remove your hand from his strong grip, however, he wouldn’t budge “I’m tired of you” He said out of nowhere, you stop forcing and looked at him confused. “Excuse me? You tired of me? You are the one interrupting my sleep” At this point you thought Minho was a social experiment to test how long it would take for you to reach your limit.

It was quiet for a minute until he started talking “You are always batting your pretty lashes at anyone who walks your way” He probably noticed by your face that you were confused as hell in that moment, he scoffed “Now you are pretending you don’t know” You tilted your head to lock eyes with his “I know what you mean, I’m aware of my actions, however I don’t get how that involves you” He took a deep breath and mumbled something you didn’t quite catch.

“Oh c’mon, let’s be for real” He doesn’t really know why this conversation is frustrating him so much, its not like he cared or at least thats what he told himself “I was at our usual club making out with this hot chick when I heard the people besides us talking about you” He stopped his words, his hands turning into fists

“They were talking some nasty shit about you” He scoffed leaning his face closer to yours “Now don’t get me wrong, It’s not like I care about you, but the way they see you as a dirty little slut pissed me off” Minho didn’t realize he was still holding your arm until you squirmed at his grip, he let you go and gave you apologetic eyes before continuing “I stood up and next thing I know I was fighting against 5 guys, funny thing is not the first time I defend you like that”

You were aware of your flirty persona, always giving men false hopes in exchange of free drinks, however, you never expected for people to gather around and slut shame you. You have never slept with someone after a clubbing night, you were disgusted and uncomfortable, you didn’t like the image that was going on around about you.

Your gaze moved back to Minho’s he had a face of disgust, you were unsure if his expression was like that because of you or because of what those guys were doing, either way it didn’t feel nice.

Seeing that no words were coming out of your mouth he continued talking “Im so tired of protecting you behind your back” He sighed “I’m always getting in trouble because you can’t keep your cunt dry” Although you appreciate his gesture of protecting you— it pisses you off the way he is talking to you, personally you believe theres better ways to say this type of things.

“Well I never asked for your help did I?” You threw the towel to the side and stood up, his body mimicking yours and following you to the kitchen. You grabbed a cup of water and took a sip of it “So what? Should I just sit there and hear how they treat you like a slut?” He scoffed. Those words marked you limit, your body automatically throwing the cup of water to his face, your face was red in anger.

His laugh echoed in your head like an annoying fly, he tried drying his face as you stood up there looking how he laugh uncontrollably. You hated the way he could make you feel like nothing in matter of seconds, tears threaten to fall from your eyes but you refused to let him see you cry.

“I’m sorry” he chuckled “Im aware I crossed the line, however…” He walked closer to you, making you stumble as you take few steps back until your back hit the counter “You seriously need to stop giving me troubles, I just know they banned me from that club” He sighed frustrated, you look at him for a second noticing a drop of blood rolling down his chin from his lip.

Gently you swiped the blood away with your finger “Let me get you a band aid” The atmosphere felt dense, it was awkward. He genuinely felt bad for crossing the line, however, he wasn’t good with words so he had no clue how to apologize.

You took him again to the bathroom finishing to clean his wounds, as you finished up by putting a band aid on the corner of his lip you spoke “You should stay for the night” You spoke softly looking at his eyes “But… I took my couch to the dry clean so… you can stay on my bed” His initial answer was to reject the offer and walk home, however, he felt like he was under a spell as you spoke to him so softly so… caring.

He cursed under his breath, eyes looking at you unsure “Are you sure you are comfortable with that?” He questioned afraid this was some type of prank— You slightly nodded “Knowing the type of crybaby you are I can’t make you walk home covered in wounds, I just know you will accuse me with Jisung” You scoff, cleaning up the area. He chuckled “You have a good point right there”

. • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚⛓ . • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

It was around 6am you could feel the light sunlight creeping in your curtains, you groan your eyes slowly opening. You tried to move, however, you couldn’t— you look down to see what was stopping you, your breath hitching as you see Minho’s arm wrapped around your waist. That’s when it hit you. The soft breath hitting your neck, he was cuddling you in his sleep.

You tried to ignore it, his arm around your waist, his warm breath hitting your neck, the way your pajama dress rolled up to your mid ass. But there was one thing you couldn’t ignore. His morning wood, the way it was pressed against your almost bare ass.

You closed your eyes shut trying to think on other things, get some distraction. You hated to admit you were getting turned on by the second. Your body froze as you felt him shifting on the bed, his body only pressing closer towards yours, he snuggled his head on the crook of your neck.

He mumbled softly “Are you awake?” His words tickled your neck, slightly squirming under him. You nodded, you couldn’t dare and use your words, afraid your voice might sound shaky or unstable. He hummed at your response “Im sorry…” He lightly rubbed your belly with his thumb “I can’t control it” He said embarrassed, slowly moving away from your body.

“Do you mind if I use your shower?” He asked his eyes wide open looking at the ceiling “Sure” You said nonchalantly, slightly disappointed at the lack of his body warmth. He stood up and left to the shower, after that you two shared breakfast. It was rather silent as you both drank your coffee, no one knew what to say or what to do…

The moment he left your apartment you felt a weight leaving your shoulders— you could finally breathe in peace, you look down to stare at the kitty rubbing against your legs, “What am I going to do” You squirmed running to your bedroom. Once there you threw yourself on your bed, kicking your feet and screaming on the pillow replaying the moment in your head. You grabbed your phone to call your best friend asap.

You hoped she would kick some sense into you… however, she left you feeling even more confused about Minho, her words being “Maybe you too should have sex to break the tension” The thought of having sex with Minho made you wanna puke, not in a bad way but in a way you can’t really describe.

. • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚⛓ . • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Literally what the hell is wrong with you” You snatched your arm from his grip. You where at a frat party with your friends, you were hooking up with someone when Minho basically dragged you to an empty room.

“What’s wrong with me? More like whats wrong with you” He snarked back, his eyes looking like big dark orbs. “Well I was having some fun until you came” You said at him annoyed, you have no idea what his business was here but it was pissing you off.

He chuckled, his laugh echoing in the whole room “If by having fun you mean sleeping with anyone, then go ahead” He gesture his hands towards the exit. His attitude make you confused and mad, your eyes rolling as he kept his gaze focus on yours.

“Look Minho” You took a deep breath trying to keep yourself well collected “I don’t know what your business is right now but maybe and Yeji was right when she said to fuck you to break the tension” You spat at him, your body straightened and arms crossed over your chest. He took a moment to process your words, his mouth slightly parting to say something when you spoke again.

“You are literally so annoying, always treating me like a god damn child, also picking up a fight with me, like get a damn lif-” Your words were interrupted as his lips crashed on yours, his body pushing you towards the door.

His lips felt soft and smooth against yours, his gentle touch on your face felt angelical. A moan escaped your lips as you felt his tongue touching the bottom of your lip as for asking permission to enter. The more passionate the kiss got the wetter and messy it got. Whimpers and kissing sounds lingered around the room, the back ground music from the party adding to the vibe.

The whole situation was a mess, two people that didn’t like each other craving for each other touch— its funny how unexpected life is… isn’t it?

He sat you on his lap, your hips grinding on his thigh begging for friction. He caressed your body so gently, god damn he was driving you insane. He was trying to engrave every sensation into his brain, taking in your scent, your vanilla perfumed combined with the intoxicating smell of tequila. He gasped in delight, slowly pecking your neck and nibbling your ear.

“I hate you” He groaned as you moved your hand down to touch his boner, you chuckled “Always had an impact on me like you put me on some type of smell” He whispered against your ear as he placed his hands on yours hips to help you get some friction.

You threw your head back and moaned slightly “I hate that you are not mine” He said softly, his words making you stop to look at him. His look. In that moment you felt like you were the most gorgeous woman in this earth.

The way he looked softly at you with his eyes. Minho was bad with feelings but his eyes never lie. You took a moment to process the situation, your neck felt sore, probably adorned with a couple hickeys. Your lips were plumped. The man you were sitting on had a lipstick trail from his face to his chest. His white shirt was unbuttoned, his hair was messy.

Was this a dream? You confirmed it wasn’t when he kissed you again this time, slowly more passionate… it felt intimate yet slutty. That kiss unveiled a thousand feelings that were trapped in a jar of hate. “God damn I can’t let go” He said in between kisses while groaning.

You were both getting drunk on each other, it was a passionate feeling you have never experienced before, the fact he was someone you thought you hated with your whole soul made it more intriguing… more risky.

You two were so captive by the moment that the laugh echoing behind you was ignored by your brain until a bright light illuminated the room. Both of you jumping off each other to stare as Jisung and Yeji who were laughing their asses off.

Yeji stopped laughing to groan at Jisung “Guess I owe you $50 now” She rolled her eyes handing the money to Jisung, who kissed the money and placed it on his pocket. Jisung giggled, slowly walking out with Yeji “You too keep doing your lovers thing” He teased before closing the door.

Minho and you shared an embarrassed look before laughing “Why don’t we move this matter to my house?” You said in a mischievous tone “I don’t know what you are talking about” He teased, while buttoning his shirt “But I would love to” He smiled at you genuinely before reaching to grab your hand and walk out of the party.

[skzoolandia]

A Love Letter I wish It Didn’t Exist 💌

A/N: I been doubting to post this, since this story is an adaptation on a real letter I made about my first love. Hope you guys enjoy! (This is also written in first person)

Genre: Romantic, First love, Angst, Suggestive

Word count: 5k

Reading Time: Approx 18 min

Pairing: Reader x Minho

Warnings: Mentions of substance, Reader can’t express emotions, some suggestive content nothing too explicit, happy ending? is as happy as real life can get.

Do you ever wish to fall in love? Hold someone’s hand in the cold breeze of autumn as the leaves fall. Be someone’s lover as the flowers bloom in spring. Be someone’s warmth during the freezing temperatures of winter? Be someone’s shadow on the strong sun rays of summer?

Yeah, well this doesn’t work for me.

Why you may ask, Ever since I was a child I was spoiled with love from my family and friends, growing up I wondered what I did in my past life to deserve such love.

As I went through my teens I started to despise such attention, why? I wish I knew. Growing up I didn’t have any crushes at all, just people I admired. I would often hear my friends babble about boys, fantasies I wished I never heard, and rant about their love life.

Though I never understood why, why couldn’t I be like them? Feel such a desire to love someone and have that feeling reciprocated.

Faking crushes became part of my life during middle school and high school, I felt like an outcast whenever my friends spoke about love, they were all experienced, yet I barely knew how to love myself.

I started dating a boy, not because I was in love but because I felt I had to, everyone I knew was experienced, yet I kept turning down boys.

I craved to get that tingly feeling my friends always talked about. I wanted to know what was the big deal about, and why people found it so addictive.

What is wrong with me?

This is the phrase that would haunt my mind every time I stared at couples walking on the cold breeze of autumn. ———

My high school years felt like something experimental, I went to parties, drank alcohol, did some weed, and hooked up… not because I was into those things but because I wanted to feel. I wanted to care about something. Yet I never felt anything but regret.

Why can’t I express my emotions? I know they are there. It’s as if they are locked up in a box inside of me.

On the first day of college, I was in a room filled with strangers, not a single familiar face, I felt like an outcast. Everyone is sitting next to someone but me.

As I sat at the back of the class next to a window, my eyes followed the leaves that fell from the trees announcing the beginning of fall.

My mind drifted into a peaceful scenario, everyone’s voices being muted by my brain as I took in such a beautiful scene. My chest felt heavy with emptiness, I would usually have a friend to share this moment with, yet here I sat alone.

I must have been too distracted cause I didn’t notice when he sat next to me, my body slightly jumping at the sudden appearance of the boy who sat next to me.

He was rather handsome, sharp nose, cat-like eyes, dark brown hair, and plump lips. He didn’t say a word though I know he must have felt my eyes on him, maybe he was trying to not embarrass me or maybe he was waiting for me to say something, yet I didn’t.

Once I was done staring I went back to stare at my window, noticing him shifting to look at it too, I couldn’t help but feel some warmth.

Why did I feel like that? He is just a stranger looking at the window… but why out of all these strangers he somehow make me feel at ease?

Freshmen year of college passed by, and I didn’t talk to this man, god knows what’s his name, but for some reason, he felt familiar, as if we had some type of bond. Maybe I’m crazy.

Our interactions that year went from walking to class together to sharing a couple of words when needed during class, it wasn’t until the last marking period that I realized I spent most of my time with him yet we were never close enough.

I felt weird. It felt weird.

Like imagine spending 70% of your day with the same guy for an entire school year and yet you don’t know his name or talk to him at all.

What’s crazier to me is that I feel like I got to know him through that silence… is this feeling what my friends call delusional? Is this real at all? Is it all my head? Can he feel it too?

Summer depression hit me like a truck, I’m not a sad person why do I feel this way? Empty… it’s like my body is craving something yet I don’t know what. I started getting frustrated, I thought spending time with friends and family would fix it, yet it didn’t… I’m missing a part… something.

During summer I went to a bunch of places, all of them filled with hundreds of people, yet my mind seemed to look for one each time… is it… him? ———

Sophomore year of college… I was too excited for my liking, I am usually terrified of new school years, afraid for what awaits me, but today my heart seems to beat faster than usual and it's not because I am nervous, it feels as if I'm waiting for something and I can’t wait to see it.

My day went by pretty fast, I went to my first two classes my heart filling with disappointment each time I scanned the room. At that moment I didn’t exactly know what I was looking for, I never really felt that way before.

The cold breeze was hitting my face as I sat in my business class, my mind focused on whatever I was working on.

“Is this seat taken?”

His voice sent shivers down my body, and my ears immediately recognized his soothing voice.

I look up to glare at him, the breeze coming from the window slightly moving his hair. I could feel my heart beating fast, my tummy doing backflips in excitement… I felt happy… but why?

“No, you can have it” I could feel my voice trembling as I spoke. As soon as he sat down I could only think of one thing.

Should I talk to him? What if I annoy him?

These thoughts consumed my head until the slight shift of his gaze moved toward me, my head immediately snapped to look at him.

“It's been a while,” He said softly with a thin smile on his face, I am not quite sure how I looked at that moment but I felt so self-conscious as I could see his eyes looking at me.

I nodded in response not quite sure what to say to that, I had a million thoughts running through my head, why do I feel this way around him?

“Minho” He continued, it must have been the way my eyes blinked in confusion as he slightly laughed “I figured you didn’t know my name, since we never really introduced ourselves last year” He explained. I wish the earth could eat me whole at this moment, I’m being too awkward. Say something y/n. SAY SOMETHING.

“uh oh,” I chuckled nervously, jesus christ why do I feel like imma puke right here “I’m y/n” I smiled, my gaze moving back to my computer. I was not too fond of the way I was feeling, It felt unknown and that scared me a lot.

Like why am I craving his attention but at the same time I wished he could disappear and leave me alone?

From that day on we became good friends, We would often greet each other and have casual conversations during class.

How much I loved your attention Lee Minho, yet you were clueless about it. If I had to name something I loved about him, I would stay and talk for hours.

“Y/n you are clearly in love” Those words repeated over and over in my head as my friend's voice muffled in the background. Love? “Y/n?” Is this how love feels like? “Y/N!”

I turn to look at my friend as she nudged my shoulder “All you talk about recently is about that damn boy, maybe you are finally catching feelings”

That night I stared at my ceiling, my eyes feeling heavy. Even when I was half asleep I would think of him. It wasn’t until I was almost asleep that I realized I was smiling hard at the thought of seeing him tomorrow.

I quickly sat on my bed, the darkness of my room surrounding me. Is this what love feels like? On one side I felt warm, but on the other side, I felt cold and afraid… what if he doesn’t like me? what if he does? Am I confused? Do I like him? Why him out of everyone? Why now and not before?

The next day I was so excited to see him, waking up a little earlier than usual to look good for him. I made my way through the lengthy hallways of our college when I spotted him. I felt nervous as I walked up to him, my heart falling to my stomach as I spotted him next to this beautiful girl.

She had long black straight hair, she was short and had a fit body, her curves were out of this world… and her face… don’t get me started.

I turned around with heavy feet, immediately searching for a bathroom.

I locked myself into a stall, it was 8:36 am.

Rule #3 don’t cry. Ever since I was a child I learned that crying doesn’t solve anything and that crying makes things worse, therefore I always hold my tears no matter how big the urge to cry.

In all my years of living, I never felt such an urge to cry as I did at that moment. I sat on the toilet concentrating on my breathing. The number of thoughts filling my mind was suffocating, I needed fresh air. Why do I feel like this? Why does my heart feel so heavy?

I left the stall to go to my business class, seeing him that day felt different, I was mad at him for some reason. Why? Is it because of the girl? He can have friends, is not like we are something, I remind myself.

That day I rushed to get home, the intrigue to know who this girl was, eating me alive.

I should have stayed curious.

Jasmine Kim, president of the architecture club, Asian student union, business manager of the robotics club, Academic weapon, and athletic.

How come have I never seen her before?

“ouuuu seems someone is jealous” My friend teased me through the phone, making me even more mad. I called her seeking help not to be made fun of. Ever since I did an FBI-type research on this girl I can’t help but compare myself to her. I never knew how to love myself, and this… this brought me to my lowest.

I hate feeling this way. I wouldn't say I like it. But no matter how mad I was, I couldn’t hate him.

Sophomore year went flying by, Minho seemed to grow close to Jasmine, and as much I wish I could say that didn’t affect me… it did. I decided to distance myself, after all, it was all a one-sided thing and it was for my well-being… right?

He had no clue about my feelings, so it wouldn’t matter if I suddenly disappeared from his life.

I felt selfish during this time, selfish of the way I treated him, I would ignore him during class or even his texts and he wouldn’t know why. He didn’t deserve this treatment, he didn’t deserve to be affected by my own emotions. ———

It’s the last summer days of 2023. Junior year started and it feels like it’s about to end. This year I haven’t seen Minho at all, my heart dies to see him but we have no classes together and my tight schedule keeps me busy from thinking of him.

“Remember Minho, The guy you had a crush on” My friend spoke on the the phone as I was too concentrated doing homework “What about him” I asked as I felt a knot forming in my stomach. I hated the way his name could get under my skin.

“He just joined my division in the robotics club and let me tell you that man is a complete dickhead” For some reason I felt the urge to fight back, defend him, and ask for an explanation; but I was too embarrassed for feeling this way I ignored her words “He is a man after all” Is all I managed to say, the curiosity eating me alive as I tried to not seem interested on what he could do to upset my friend.

After I found out about him being on the robotics club, I found myself going to the club often, I wasn’t part of it but I would make excuses to go and get glimpses of him.

The way he looked with his goggles on and thin layers of sweat on his skin. That man was dreamy no matter what he did.

No matter what I did to forget him, he would always be on my mind. In every room with hundreds of people, he would be the one I would look for.

“Excuse me” I raised my gaze to be met with a blond guy, he was the opposite of Minho, blond hair, a soft innocent face, freckles, and light brown eyes.

He was indeed pretty, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in knowing who this man was “I’m Felix” He said cheerfully.

I couldn’t help but compare him with Minho, unlike Minho he was friendly and straightforward “I’ve seen you around and I would like to get to know you”

To this day I feel so selfish for what I did. I thought that having someone's attention would make me forget you, yet you would still live rent-free on my head 24/7. I would often catch myself thinking about you. How was your day? Why do you look tired? Did you eat anything?

How much I wished I could get you out of my mind Lee Minho.

Putting him to the side, I and Felix spent a lot of time together, we had an art history class together, so we often met at the library to finish our projects.

“Would you like to go out for some beers with me and my friends?”

How much I wish I would of said no that day, maybe, just maybe that would have changed the track of things now. ———

I showed up, wearing my favorite cargo pants and a cute lace top, I had my favorite jewelry on and I went for a half-up hairstyle. I didn’t wanna go full-on dress up but I wanted to look classy and comfy at the same time.

How much I wish I would have worn something else.

I could feel my heart dropping to my stomach as the first person I spotted was him.

There are at least 100 people in this bar, yet there he is, sitting under the dim neon lights of the bar, he is wearing a full-on black outfit, his shirt unbuttoned showing a bit of his chest.

Talk about a man whore.

I jolt as I feel the warmth of a hand on my waist, turning around to be met with Felix. To this day I remember all this crystal clear, detail to detail.

I could tell he already had a couple of shots by the way he would slur his words.

“This is my homie Minho” He patted his back as he introduced me to him “We have known each other since high school, he can be our best man at our wedding”

I tried my best to not scoff at his words, wedding? We not even dating. I can tell Minho didn’t like this comment either by the way his posture became stiff and sat properly.

“Damn Felix, already feeling drunk,” He said in a tone that I can’t decipher to this day. It sounded annoyed but at the same time playful.

Minho stood from his chair and let Felix take it, he ordered him another drink and took me to another table.

“So you and Felix huh?” He sounded annoyed. At that moment I felt like I had to give him an explanation “We are not dating” I said briefly, why did I say that? That’s not his business.

“I see,” he said shortly. I remember the way my heart would pound, my hands were sweaty and I could feel my stomach doing backflips. I have never been so nervous around him till this day.

Maybe it was because it was our first time alone outside of school hours… or the shot of tequila I had was hitting.

As we both sat at a table away from our friends I could feel the way his eyes would travel around my body, I felt self-conscious.

The way his eyes would burn my skin is a feeling I miss with my whole heart. The chokehold you have on me Lee Minho.

“I love your necklace” He leaned to take a better look, his hand hesitating to grab the little Swarovski swan that hung on my neck.

His breath tickled my neck and I could feel myself shiver. I'm not sure if he was doing this on purpose but he was driving me crazy.

“Thank you, It’s my first ever expensive necklace,” I said as I tried to ignore the warmth of his breath on my neck “I bought it for myself on my birthday” I smiled as his gaze moved to look at my eyes.

“You gifted it to yourself?” I nodded “It’s expensive, I didn’t expect someone else to get it for me” I’m not sure if I was tripping but by the look on his face I could tell he wasn’t pleased with my answer.

His eyes looked at me with a million expressions written in them, the soft neon lights of the bar shone like a galaxy in them.

“I would treat you like a princess if you were mine”

I hate you.

How can you say that to me and then leave Lee Minho?

To this day I can hear your voice saying those words to me at night. It’s like if you engraved it on my brain so that every time I'm about to go to sleep I can hear it.

After he told me those words, I felt him getting closer, his hand on my hand as his eyes begged me for permission.

“May I?” His voice was as soft as the singing of an angel. Next thing I remember his plump lips were against mine. It was a sincere kiss.

There was no way he liked me back… I mean… I saw the way he treated Jasmine. This had to be a sick joke. I gently pushed him away, his face pouting as my lips left his.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped” He backed away, as he was getting ready to leave. I panicked. I didn’t want him to leave.

I grabbed his wrist out of instinct “What’s your relationship with Jasmine?” My impulsive thoughts got the best of me. He looked at me with a puzzled look “Jasmine?” He chuckled.

“Answer me,” I said coldly, no expression on my face. I was trying to not crack in front of him. I wanted to hear the answer I craved for months.

“She is a mutual childhood friend, she is captain of my robotics subdivision, so we keep in contact” His words lingered in the air as I tried to fit the pieces together in my brain.

Does that mean he likes me? Why he kissed me?

“Is that why you pulled away?” He asked softly as if he was trying not to scare me away. On the other hand, I was embarrassed, I didn’t have the guts to say yes so I simply nodded.

He chuckled one more time.

If he only knew how much I adored his laugh, the way it would fill my heart with joy. His laugh was like listening to my favorite song for the first time. How much I miss it.

He sat down again and leaned closer, his hand cupping my cheek as he stared at me with soft eyes. How much I wanted to kill him in that moment, why would he ever look at me with such a gaze?

“That was my first kiss” My world stopped. What? No way… he was playing games with me.

Before I could even talk he stood up from his chair and offered me a hand.

“Would you dance with me?”

That night we danced under the neon lights of the bar, without a single worry of the world. I was shy but with him, I felt like the most confident person in the room.

This was the beginning of an intoxicating relationship. ———

Maybe our story didn’t last long but the time we spent together is something I will treasure my whole life.

Dating Minho was like walking by the shore late at night. It was peaceful, too good to be true. I was too drunk on his love I wished it would never fade away.

I'm grateful for the amazing experience he gave me those years we dated. I learned to love, but most importantly I learned to love myself.

“You look beautiful” I opened my eyes to see him laying next to me, eyes in awe as he moved my hair away from my face. “Ur lying” I giggled trying to cover myself from his gaze. It was 8am, this man was definitely blind in love if he thought I looked beautiful in the morning.

That day something felt off, he was not the type to speak his mind, he talked through gestures not words. Yet today he was too talkative. Complimented me every chance he got.

It was around 7pm, he was in the kitchen cooking dinner while I was in our bed scrolling through TikTok mindlessly. I heard a notification coming off from his phone. Im not the type to check my boyfriend’s phone but the notifications weren’t stopping.

I stood up to pick it up from his desk and go leave it to him, whoever was texting definitely had something to say; however as I saw who was texting him, I couldn’t help myself but take a peek.

‘Minho you need to tell her now’

‘Don’t make this harder for yourself’

‘Think about her happiness’

I was puzzled as I read the texts, it was Jasmine who was sending them… what she meant by that… I was startle when he called me name “y/n dinner is ready”

I placed his phone down. Anxiety consuming me, tears threatening to fall, thoughts suffocating my mind.

As I sat in the dining table I contemplated whether I should confront him or not, he looked happy. What was he hiding.

“If someone ever asked me what I love the most about you” His words brought me back from my thoughts. I looked at him, my face had no expression, I didn’t know how to feel. “I would say your eyes” I could see the way his face lit as he spoke about me, his cheeks flushing as he giggled like a teenage girl in love.

I couldn’t help but smile, this was something I loved about him, he always knew how to make me smile. “What is this compliment for?” I knew he had something to say, I looked directly into his eyes, trying to make him crack. Reveal his secret.

“Nothing special, I have always loved your eyes but I was too shy to say it” He said vaguely while he ate his pasta “And why say it now?” I never took my eyes off him, I saw the way his eyes looked at me nervously, he was definitely hiding something.

He didn’t answer my question, he just smiled “Would you love me even if we were kilometers far away?” His tone was serious, I felt shivers running down my spine as I felt the coldness from the question.

“Of course I would silly, why?” I said trying to kill the tension that suddenly sparked in the room. He remained quiet but then he shook it off and offered me a smile, though there was something off about it.

We were preparing to go to bed, I was already changed into my nightgown while I brushed my teeth. Minho was taking a quick shower before bed, although he was taking longer than usual, so I decided to wait for him in bed.

About an hour had passed my eyes felt heavy, debating whether I should check on him or try to sleep, His behavior today kept worrying me, he was acting weird and he wasn’t getting off the shower. I didn’t like the tension that has been lingering since dinner.

I entered the bathroom, the shower was still on, the hot water causing the mirror to fog “Honey?” I said softly, the water turning off at the sound of my voice. He took his towel and dry himself vaguely, wrapping it around his waist.

He stood in front of me, hair wet, eyes glossy and lips parted. Im not quite sure if it was steam trapped in the bathroom or his breath taking appearance that made it hard to breathe.

Without notice he kissed my lips, his body pushing me towards the counter, I gasped as he picked me up so I would sat on the counter, he kept kissing me, so desperate so passionate. Something was off.

Minho was the type to take things slow yet today he was kissing me like it was his last time. That’s when my stomach dropped, the texts flashed in my head, his glossy eyes, the long shower, his question during dinner.

He was leaving me.

I placed my hands on his shoulder, gently pushing him, my heart shattering into pieces as I saw his tears rolling down his cheeks. I was quiet. Should I say something? Should I let him talk first?

He just stood in front of me, his gaze on my chest. I took a deep breath, a breath that held back my emotions, I know Minho and the last thing he would want to see is me crying for him.

I gently placed a hand on his cheek, ever so lightly like I was touching his fragile soul, and slowly I leaned to kiss his lips.

“I love you” I muttered in his lips, his hands moving to wrap me into a tight hug. This was the first time in three years of our relationship I ever said ‘I love you’ ———

The next morning I was cradled in his arms, my fingertips gently rubbing the scratch marks I left from last night.

I looked up to see him in a peaceful slumber. I looked at his plump lips I was busy kissing last night, I heard his stable heartbeat that brought peace to my mind, and I felt his warm skin touching mine. I wish I could capture all this in time. In all our years of knowing each other, that day felt like we truly got to know each other.

“I’m leaving to study abroad” My heart stopped. His words repeated in my head, tears threatening to fall “I’ll go wherever you go” My body betrayed me as tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Y/N” He hugged me as I tried to push him away “Your life is here, you can’t just abandon everything for me” He started crying as he hugged me tighter. I kept fighting back I wanted to push him away and look him in the eyes.

“You are my everything Minho” I screamed into his chest, my words being muffled. I could hear his heart-stopping, and that’s when I realized he was equally heartbroken as me.

I stopped fighting to hug him back, breaking into an inconsolable crying, he cried with me, our bodies dropping to the floor as we never separated from each other.

I had to let go. ———

A year passed after our break up, our memories playing vividly every time I walked by our favorite restaurant or the park he took me on our first date.

It was a cold day in the fall of 2023, I was making my way into the subway. I was listening to our shared playlist. I always listen to it when I have a bad day, it brings me comfort, and our memories warm my heart.

That’s when I saw him. My eyes must have been playing with my heart, I didn’t have time to process it when I found myself running towards him.

“Minho..” I said shyly, I hadn’t seen him in a year and now he dared to appear. His expression when he saw me copied mine. We were both equally stunned to see each other.

He hugged me without saying a single word, though I’m not surprised he spoke through actions, not words.

However, this is not a Disney fairytale where everything has a happy ending. We caught up with each other’s life, we had a great time together, and our connection didn’t fade away although we spent a year with no communication; however, it was time to say goodbye again.

It’s up to fate if our future is meant to be together, but something we both left clear is that we will always love each other.

So in conclusion. Lee Minho I hate you for stealing my heart but at the same time the love I profound you is a light in my heart that will never turn off no matter what the Universe has planned for us.

A love letter I wish it didn’t exist.

The end

A/N: The amount of tears I shed writing this is astonishing- anyway hope y’all liked it, the timeline in this is very inaccurate and my brain kept messing up, so if something looks off please tell me. Thank you <3

[skzoolandia]

A Mistake I Will Never Regret ❄️

WARNING ⊂✦⊃ This story contains suggestive / nsfw content. Minors please don’t interact, beware of the content you consume online.

Genre: Friends to lovers, comedy, romantic, college AU.

Word count: 4.8k

Reading time: 18 minutes

“Making this plan was a mistake but I don’t regret the outcome”

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ

The cold breeze of January made your body shiver as you waited patiently for your best friend to arrive. You paced in circles, pointer finger stuck in between your teeth as you bit it anxiously.

This was a bad idea. You told yourself, you don’t even recognize yourself for what you are about to do.

A loud thump and the cold sensation in your neck made you turn around quickly. He was here. There was no turning back.

His soft laugh embraced your ears as you rolled your eyes annoyingly “You are so annoying, you know that” You glared at the boy that had literal tears forming in his eyes.

“Hey!” He snapped back “Says the girl that texted me in the middle of the night to meet up in the park on a snowy day” He mocked you, making you cringe at yourself as you remember why you are here.

“Right….” You mumbled, He noticed the shift in your mood and looked at you concerned “What is it?” He questioned you. Shit. You took a deep breath preparing yourself for what you’re about to request.

“How much do you love me?” Looking at him with puppy eyes making him scoff “I don’t have money if that’s what you want” You snort looking at him in disbelief “I don’t need money”

He tilted his head confused “Are you in trouble?” “No” “Are you in your death bed?” “No” “Are you leaving?” “No.” He stopped questioning you to think.

“Will you let me-” He cut you off “OMG ARE YOU PREGNANT?” This man can never be serious “You know I had my doubts, ever since I saw you looking at the baby clothes at target” You bend to grab a snowball and threw it at his face.

“Hey!” He yelled as he cleaned the snow in his face “Im not pregnant! And can you blame me? That tiny dinosaur pj was hella cute” You scoff.

“Well if you are not pregnant then what is it?” The way he looked at you made it a hundred times more difficult to say.

“I need you to pretend to be in love with me” You cringe at your words as he stood there with a straight face.

A minute passed no words just intense eye contact “Say something” You practically begged. His body falling to the ground as he frantically started laughing.

“C’mon Minho I’m serious!!” You grabbed his hood to pull him back to his feet. “Damn late hours in the night really do wonders to people” He teased making you regret for even suggesting him.

“Pleaseee” You throw yourself to your knees and begged him grabbing his leg “I will never ever ask you for another favor” You look up at him with puppy eyes making him roll his eyes.

“Ok but like for what? Girl I need more details” You stood up happy that he accepted, you pulled him into a hug. “I will tell you more in the morning, Im freezing to death right now” You said as you started running away like a child who just got in their way.

“Wait y/n!!” He started chasing after you.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ

“Ok so let me get this straight” Your best friend traced as he took a sip of his hot chocolate.

“You like Hyunjin.” He looked up as to see if he understood everything you just told him “But he only likes girls that are hard to get, so you want me to pretend like im one of your hoes… to make him jealous?” He squinted his eyes as he spoke.

“You make it sound dumb but yeah that’s the plan” You grin at him as you offered him a piece of your chocolate croissant which he accepted.

He laughed “What are we high schoolers?” He teased gaining a glare from you “I know it’s childish, but what’s life without drama?” You say gaining a preach gesture from Minho.

“You got a point, so when are we starting” He said vaguely as he grabbed his phone. “As soon as possible, but remember! You are the one that needs to pretend like you want me.” You grabbed his phone so he would look at you.

“Yeah, yeah I know” He said rolling his eyes “But what’s in for me?” He questioned making you scrunch your face, you didn’t thought about that. After all he is indeed helping you.

“I mean you might get laid from this plan, so what do I get in return?” He raised an eyebrow as you looked deep in thought. “Umm… Remember Clarissa from our sociology class? I will get you a date with her” You said hoping he would accept that deal, although convincing her was going to be rather hard.

“Im not really into her but she is hot so… deal” He said stretching his arm towards you. You giggled at the gesture you loved how he was always there for you.

“It’s a pleasure making business with you Lee Minho” You took his hand and shook it before both of you bursted out laughing.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ

But sometimes things don’t always go as planned.

At least you never expected to see your best friend in between your legs as an outcome of this plan.

What started as a ‘How to turn on a man’ lesson end up in a rather heated…whatever situation this is.

It’s been around a month since Minho and you agreed to play this little “Lets make Hyunjin jealous” game. And to your surprise it worked perfectly. After days of Minho giving you the princess treatment during school hours, Hyunjin started getting a little annoyed and decided to ask you out on a date.

“So once he is in between your legs, he should leave wet pecks all over your thighs” His cold finger pads traveling along your burning skin, indicating where ‘Hyunjin’ should kiss you.

In this moment you aren’t sure if he still has Hyunjin in mind. At least you don’t.

You called him to visit your dorm because Hyunjin invited you to a date. And you being the virgin you are, you needed help to know what to do in a heated situation.

The night started normally, just two best friends gossiping and giggling about the situation in hand. He looked genuinely happy for you though he was feeling a little feisty today.

“Just cause he asked you out doesn’t mean he wants to kiss you” He said as he laid down on your bed, his face snuggling against your favorite plushy.

“Ouch” You said as you joined him in bed “But what if~” You trace shaking his body to get his attention. Then suddenly out of nowhere he unattached from your plushy and pushed you on the bed to pin you down. You did not see that coming.

“Then, welcome to ‘How to turn on a man 101” He teased as he moved away from you and stood up. You were about to stand up but he was quick to sit you down on the edge of the bed.

“Tsk Tsk Tsk” He moved his finger in a no manner “You will remain seated like the good student you are” He patted your head “Yes Professor Minho” You said in annoyance at his little game. “There you go, good girl” Those words shouldn’t have made you feel butterflies in your tummy.

“Ok so” He sat next to you “Lets pretend I’m Hyunjin, we are watching a movie” He began explaining the plot of the fictional situation.

“I’m gonna wrapped my arm around the back of your shoulder” He said as he did the action, pulling you closer to his body, making you stiff “Now don’t do that” He turned to look at you “If you stiffen your body he will think you don’t want that and will give you space” He explained “We are trying to get you laid not respected” He then stopped as he processed his words.

“I mean. I don’t want you to get disrespected, the moment he does something you don’t like you call me and I will beat hi-” You chuckle lightly “I get what you mean Minho” He smiled warmly “Good”

“So try to relax yourself” You do as he says gaining a satisfactory smile from him. “Now consider this as his move, in order for something to happen there should be a balance, show you interest” He looked at you waiting for you to do something.

“This is not going to work… Im too awkward- what am I supposed to do” You said frustrated, making him pinch the bridge of his nose.

“It has to be something smooth… maybe try grabbing my hand that’s on your shoulder and play with my fingers” You listen to him like an eager puppy that’s willing to learn few tricks to get a treat.

You do as he said, lightly touching his hands, your fingers intertwining with his as you opted to rest your head on his shoulder.

He looked at you with a bright smile “Look at my pupil” She patted your head “Such a fast learner” You giggle at the compliment, you always loved how he would always encourage you whenever you did something that was new to you.

After that, the hours seemed blurry, you can’t quite recall how he ended up in between your legs. It all started in an innocent way. How did we get here.

You are both fully clothed though the bulge in his grey sweatpants is hard to miss. You low-key regret wearing shorts, cause the way he was tracing his fingers in your legs shouldn’t be this delightful.

It felt like if someone was teasing you with a feather, it was taking you a lot of self determination to not react to his touch. Him on the other hand was shameless; he had no intentions to hide how much he was enjoying this, lust written in those chocolate eyes of him.

“Though” This was the first word you heard in a while, breaking the intoxicating tension in the silent room “I doubt he will enjoy this as much as I am right now” He moved to look directly into your eyes a teasing smug on his face.

You scoff “You pervert” You sat down to hit his shoulder, His laugh erupting in the room. “You asked for my help, I gave you a tiny preview of what could happen” You rolled your eyes.

“It’s too late, are you not sleeping over?” You remarked as he stood up to grab his jacket “Honey after this I’m afraid I can’t stay over” You knew what he meant, his erection was too obvious and probably painful as well.

You just hummed in understanding and walked him to the door. You were already beginning to regret this plan. As you closed the door you stood there for a couple seconds hoping he would knock and stay the night with you.

Yet it didn’t happen. You curse yourself for wanting something else to happen, he was your best friend he was just helping you for your date tomorrow. Though you wondered if he felt something… maybe a spark… something… anything.

You yeeted yourself to your bed, trying to drown the craving you had to feel his lips in yours or in any other part of your body. Taking a few deep breaths you were able to fall asleep. Oh the adventure that awaits you.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ

“phewww” Minho whistled as you entered your bedroom, You were wearing a black dress that screamed slut me out. You found it quite odd that Hyunjin invited you to a party on your first date.

You would be lying if you say you weren’t expecting something more intimate, more romantic at least. But you won’t complain, parties are the perfect place to get laid and when your date is Hwang Hyunjin you won’t miss the chance.

“Look at you” Minho said as he stood up from your bed and made his way to you. You could feel his presence behind you as you tried to wear your necklace.

Both of you made eye contact through the mirror as he touched your hand for you to give him the necklace. While you grabbed your hair, he gently helped you put it in.

“I wonder who gave you such beautiful necklace” He teased making you laugh. He gifted it to you for your 19th Birthday a year ago and since then he always expects you to credit him every time you wore it. But can you blame him? It was a Swarovski necklace he bought with his hourly shift job when he was 20. Now that’s a friend to keep.

“At this point Im going to engrave a ‘Gifted by Minho’ on the necklace so everyone knows” You teased back making his chuckle.

“Are you ready for the party?” He said looking at you from the mirror, you nodded simply “Are you going too?” You questioned as you saw his outfit.

“Yeah, I’m trying to see if I get lucky and bring someone back to my dorm” He smirked making you snort in disgust “Too much info Minho!” You shook your head trying to erase the picture your brain created of him with someone else in bed.

“You imagined it didn’t you” Oh god how much you would love to erase that stupid smug off his face. “You are so annoying you know that?” He laughed “I wonder how many more times Im going to hear that from you” He tilted his head to look at you closer “Till I die” You said before going to get your phone which was ringing for the couple last minutes.

“It’s time for me to go” You announced as you re entered the room to get your purse “please-" He cut you off to finish your sentence “Lock the door when I leave, I know” He said with a soft tone and a smile.

You couldn’t help but reciprocate the smile “I will tell you all the deets later, bye!” You said closing the door to meet with your date, leaving Minho alone in your dorm.

“Of course you will” He said sitting down on your bed quietly. He would be lying if he said he is not excited for you, but deep down he wanted to be selfish and pull you back from Hyunjin.

When he accepted this plan he hoped some spark would light up on you and realize he likes you, however it never did and what pisses him off is that the plan worked just how you said it would.

How could you be so blind with his feelings? He sighed before standing up to leave your dorm, locking the door as you commanded.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ

“Ummm Hyunjin…” You said uncomfortably, you been in this frat party for God knows how long. The beginning was perfect, you and Hyunjin had so much fun, even made out for a couple of minutes, however as the alcohol progressively started to take over his brain he began to lose interest in you.

“What?” He said, his tone sounding more aggressively than he wanted to “I’m sorry” He slurred “What’s wrong?” He asked again this time sounding more concerned “I umm I want to leave” You said softly a little ashamed that you are basically taking him out of the party.

“Ok bye” He pecked your lips before returning to talk to his friends, you tilted your head taken aback, you tapped his shoulder to get his attention again “You are not leaving with me?” You questioned him once he turned to look at you again “Pfft Fuck no” He said as his friends next to him began to laugh.

oh.

You needed some air.

You walked to the bathroom to get away from all that noise, you tried your best to swallow your tears. Everything was going so perfect… when did everything went down. Did he not like the way you kissed him? Maybe the dress was too much… makeup maybe?

You sighed as you made your way out of the bathroom, walking back to the spot you were with Hyunjin to get your purse. Even when the lights were dim and your vision was blurry you could see his figure kissing someone else, you were about to take another step when someone grabbed your waist and stopped you.

“I have your purse let’s go” Minho said worried “No.” You tried to escape his embrace to see it closely. Maybe your eyes were playing a trick on you. You needed to confirm it.

“Y/n” He said softly making you look up at him “Let’s go baby” He pouted making you sighed, swallowing your tears again. You couldn’t let anyone else see you cry.

The car ride was silent, Minho played few of your favorite songs to cheer you up, yet nothing could drown the embarrassment and humiliation you felt at that moment. He walked you to your apartment. He hoped to hear a word from you, yet it didn’t happen.

You were about to close the door without saying a single thanks, this pissed him off. He stopped you before you could close the door, it startled you by the loud bang of his hand against the door.

“I won’t let you go without even hearing a single word from you” He said looking intensely at you. That’s when you broke down, tears streaming down your face, your head down. “I- I thought he might be the one” You began crying. The alcohol in your system making you spill everything you been keeping.

“Im about to turn 21 next year and yet I have never ever dated anyone” You slurred, Minho didn’t know what to do exactly at that moment, he was taken aback by your sudden meltdown.

He stepped inside your dorm and closed the door behind him, locking it before helping you reach your bed. You sat down on your bed as you kept yapping about how you craved to be loved by someone special, Minho just looked at you as he stood in-front of you.

Cursing you in his head as he has been there this whole time dying to get a chance.

“Minho do you think Im pretty” You raised your head to look at him, your doe eyes shining like the stars. Minho looked at your face, your mascara ruined from your tears, and your plump lips formed in a pout. If he were to make you cry it would be for another reason, cause fuck. You looked hot in his eyes. He shook his head trying to erase that thought from his mind. Not the moment Minho. Maybe those shots got into his brain.

When you saw him shaking his head tears began to shred like there wasn’t a tomorrow, Minho panicked as he saw the way you misunderstood his actions. If only you knew what he was thinking about.

“I- No y/n” He crouched to be eye level with you “I didn’t mean that” He said with eyes filled with panic “Liar!” You hit his shoulder as you kept crying.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or your tears or maybe he was just too desperate, however never in a million years he thought he would be brave enough to kiss you.

He didn’t even notice he was kissing you until you accidentally moaned in his lips. He separated off you as quick as he was to kiss you.

“Shit y/n… I’m sorry- I had too many vodka sh-” This time he was the one to accidentally slip a moan as your lips crashed on his.

You flung your arms around his neck and you pulled him to the bed with you. They say love is a weird emotion, it surges from tiny actions and it vanishes when its not the right person. How does someone’s heart know who is the right one though?

That’s the funny part. It doesn’t. Love is like a russian roulette, it comes and goes, however with Minho, it was always there. It never vanished no matter how annoying he got at times. You just were too blind to accept your feelings. Maybe afraid of the rejection that could have come with confessing.

When humans are in love they rather live their lives filled with ‘what if’s’ than being rejected by those who their heart choose. That’s why people say Love is a coward emotion, because only those who are brave enough are capable of experiencing it.

“Y/n shit” He cursed as you involuntarily grinded on his crotch as he kissed you “I- I can’t do this, not when you are-” You stopped his sentence to peck his cheek “just the tip?” You said in an innocent voice.

And that’s how only three words could break down his moral of never fucking a drunk girl, specially you. He wanted the moment to be special but how could he resist when you were practically begging him.

Let this be a mistake he will regret in the morning. Cause fuck it he won’t hold back. “Just the tip” He grunted as he kissed your neck, his hands groping your ass and thighs.

He was about to slip his hand under your dress to touch your pussy when he remembered something important. At least to him. You were a virgin.

“Fuck I can’t do this” He sat up leaving you dumbfounded “Why?” You protested “You kissed me first so I thought you would” He was quick to stop your words “It’s not that… I do want you, Fuck I been dying for this the moment I met you, I have even daydreamed about fucking a child inside of you the moment I saw you in the child section at target” He started rambling nonsense he doesn’t even know where it was coming from.

His words sent a million butterflies rushing to your tummy, your legs pressing against each other “But…” You trace tilting your head waiting for him to continue “but… you are a virgin and I want you to be a hundred percent sure that you want me to be the one” You chuckle lightly.

“I am sure though” You said moving to sit on his lap and kiss his neck slowly “No… you are drunk” He said caving into your kisses. “I promise you that I only had 2 mimosas and that was hours ago” You said trying to convince him you were pretty much sober by now which was indeed true.

“What’s 8 x 8” Here it was the stupid mathematical questions he would always pull on you to see how coherent you were “64” You rolled your eyes “Square root of 12?” “144, c’mon give me something hard” You said annoyed waiting for him to believe you.

“You are sitting on it” It took you a moment to process what he meant, your cheeks flushing as you felt it. You hit his shoulder and hid your face with your hands “You are so annoying y-” “I know that” He teased as he grabbed you to lay you down on the bed, his body pinning yours.

His smirk sends tremors through your knees. "You wanna know a secret...?" You hold your breath as he leers closer, allowing you to better see the lust flickering through his umber eyes. "I been holding back to just bend you down ever since we started this little plan, I hope you turn into little slut for my cock..."

Holy shit. Who would say you would hear those words coming out of his mouth.

The wave of wetness that pools between your thighs immediately soaks your underwear. It takes every bit of your lingering self control to not grind your best friend's crotch like a horny rabbit.

Even so, you find it more and more difficult to repress your dirty desires as Minho trails his hands up your legs, pausing to lift and wrap your knee around his hips. So this is what heaven feels like. You nearly moan as you feel his erection pushing against your pelvis.

"Oh fuck—" Your brain completely short circuits, unable to stop your desperate moans. Yours and his moans bleed into one another as your clothed cores come into contact. Minho's fingers tighten on your leg-just shy of bruising.

“Please just the tip” You begged as you seek to make eye contact with him.

You wonder if he can feel the extent of your wetness against the front of his jeans, but all thoughts are chased away when he dragged his finger on top of your swelling folds.

"Fucking hell" He hisses, his hand beside your head tightening into a fist- "You are so wet for me… it feels like dream” You chuckle at him, too drunk on the sensation.

“I'm not gonna I-last if you are this wet for me..." His words only motivate your intentions, thrusting your hips into his fingers, desperate to feel his. Seeking more leverage, you wind your arms around his waist and tug him even closer against your body. His face seeks refuge in the crook of your neck as you continue, further fueled by the hot breathe caressing your collarbones.

"Fine. I’ll give you what you want” He said breathlessly as he sat to take his pants off and raised your dress enough to let him see your wet panties. He wanted to let you keep some modesty and you were grateful for that.

You silently agree with your companion to keep your top clothes on, gasping loudly when his tip tap on your cunt. He moved it up and down your arousal to wet him a little bit. You both breathed heavily at the sensation. Just the tip. Just the tip. He kept remind himself as his tip slowly made his way inside your cunt.

He made sure to go as slow as possible to not make you uncomfortable, he wished you would have let him eat you out before stretching you, but Mrs little impatient didn’t let him.

The way your warm cunt clenched on his tip was making it hard to focus on the task in hand, which was not enter you fully. But how could he restrain himself when your hand is playing with clit in front of him. It was like you were taunting him. Speak of the devil cause you might be the temptation in person.

And oh god you were indeed the devil cause if it wasn’t for the way you desperately asked him for more he would’ve just done the tip. However someone was greedy and the next time he knew he was fully inside you trusting his cock deep inside you.

The lewd sounds embraced the room, the sloppy sound of your arousal and the thump of his pelvis hitting yours turning both of you even more.

His lips never left your body, he was either leaving love bites in your chest or kissing your mouth like it was your last day.

Although everything felt so sudden, it felt right. The passion the lust everything. It felt like the best timing.

It wasn’t until his kisses got sloppier that you knew he was close to cum, you grabbed his hair and squeezed it tightly as he switched your position, placing couple pillows under you so he could have better access to your cunt.

If you thought he couldn’t go any deeper you were wrong. His dick rubbing that spot that’s been getting teased for a while now. He pressed his hand on your stomach just so he could see how deep his dick was inside you. And oh lord that drove him to the edge. You both cling to one another as your climaxes approach one after another.

Minho's guttural groan triggered a release that spills white-hot bliss through your veins. You can feel your cunt pulsating as you fight to catch your breath. It's not until post nut clarity hits you that you realize what was going on.

"Did we just?” You asked embarrassed as the man cling into you hummed happily, his hot breath hitting your neck.

"You were the one begging for it you better not regret it" He teased as he hugged you even more tightly, if this was a dream he hoped he would never wake up.

You shove Minho with a newfound adrenaline, staring at his confused expression “You are annoying. I really hope you know that.” He began to frantically laugh as he pecked your lips “And you love that charm of mine, I know that”

The rest of the night was spent in kisses and chuckles, until you both finally drifted into a slumber sleep. This whole plan was a mistake you will never regret.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ

A/N: Sorry I made Hyunjin the bad guy, this character indeed does not fit his personality but as always remember that my fics never correlate to any of the idols real image, its all pure fiction. Also I didn’t proofread this, as I rushed to finish it on a school night, let me know of there’s any typos. Hope y’all enjoy! <;3

[skzoolandia]

Poisonous tears

Word Count: 20k

Reading Time: 40 Minutes aprox

WARNING ⊂✦⊃ This story contains NSFW / suggestive & angst content and mentions of infertility, alcohol & cigarettes. Minors please don’t interact, please beware of the content you consume online.

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May 8th 2021,

They say that when cats are about to die they run away from their home so that their owners won’t see them die.

In this case, no one is dying, though every day you notice a black stain growing on Minho’s love— as harsh as it sounds.

APRIL FOOLS 😍

But in all seriousness, Fic dropping this Thursday/Friday (Depending on your time zone), let's gooo!!!!!