🗂️GENERAL MASTERLIST

This series pained me and brought me immense joy at the exact same time because I know I'll never read anything like this again. The way you know exactly what you're writing about makes it so wonderful to read. I felt so many emotions reading this but I'm so glad I took 3 hours out if my sleep schedule to. Just wow I'm so blown away by how confident your writing feels. Everything about this is perfect. Flawless ❤️

THE ZONE: Chapter 6

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“Maybe I don’t believe in soulmates, prince.”

Chapter 6: Have We Met Before? (Reprise)

[Series Finale]

🚨 Angst, alcohol consumption, themes of emotional manipulation, narcissism, revenge and retaliation, emotional turmoil, microscopic dom/sub elements, unprotected sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering, facesitting, temperature play/ice play, creampie, cumplay/cum eating, squirting

Taglist: @sai-kida134 ; @lolalee24 ; @choxcosmos ; @ughbehavior ; @anotherpinkpanda ; @mochaquokka ; @svintsandghosts

I STRONGLY urge you to loop this song in the background while reading this chapter.

“Can you get the door, baby girl?”

It was finally the first day of the spring break and everybody you knew was fucking spent because of the exam stress. Chris made it a habit to organize an annual party at his place to blow off some steam and it always ended up having hilarious stories somewhere along the way. God knows you were in dire need to unwind yourself. The guests were arriving in groups and it already looked like Chris’ entire building was in his living room because, hello, if Chris Bang was throwing a party you’d better goddamn cancel your entire life plans to be there. You made your way to the door.

You knew these girls, but you hadn’t officially met before. If you blurted out their names, it was totally going to come across as stalkerish, so you managed to pump the emergency breaks and assumed the pleasant host role.

“Welcome! Very nice meeting you, I’m Y/N.”

“Hey there, Y/N! It’s great to finally meet you.”

“Excuse me?” you smiled in surprise.

“It feels like we know you already. I’m Ryujin, by the way, and this is Chaeryeong.”

“Please, call me Chae!” she chirped, “Oh, and DON’T close the door yet, please.”

Someone else on the outside stopped the door from closing at the last second and held onto the door frame, panting.

“Made it. I fucking made it. Hey, beautiful!”

“No fucking way…”

The prince. Looking all normal and shit. At Chris’ doorstep. Super out of breath like he ran a mile. In the flesh. It had been quite a while since the last you had heard about him and got worried sick in the meantime. And now he had the fucking audacity to just show up and ‘Hey, beautiful’ you like nothing happened?

Like nothing fucking HAPPENED?

You took a step towards him and your utterly calm voice was terrifying.

“You…”

“I’m so sorry, I w-”

One more step and you nudged him on the chest, pushing him back to the hallway and slowly closing the door behind you.

“You… fucking idiot.”

“I- I can-”

One more step.

“Do you have any idea…?”

One more.

“...about the fucking concern you caused me?”

“Beautiful, I’m so s-”

One more step.

“You… absolute fucking dipshit.”

One more.

“I couldn’t fucking SLEEP because of you.”

One more.

“Now you just show up here…”

One more.

“And you say hey?”

One last push.

“YOU SAY FUCKING H-?!”

You couldn’t even finish that sentence.

Hyunjin attacked your face with aggressive kisses like he was trying to quench his thirst. So needy, so full of yearning, so full of lust. So full of him. Like he was trying to pacify you. Not until you felt his familiar texture on your skin did you realize how much you missed him. 

“God, I missed you so fucking much, beautiful.”

There were a lot of things that needed to be answered, but priorities mattered. His vanilla scent came first. His plush lips came first. Burning yourself on his skin came first. You let each other be consumed for quite some time out on that hallway before getting a grip and heading inside, completely forgetting what you were supposed to talk about. Hyunjin had his hand on the small of your back, and now that you completed the attendance check, Chris welcomed the guests from the kitchen island:

“Ladies, gentlemen, and esteemed non-binary folk, welcome to the annual Shitfaced Break Olympics™ because FUCK midterms!”

“FUCK MIDTERMS!!!!!” the crowd roared in response.

While coming back from Sydney last summer, Chris brought back a game that looked like the raunchiest version of Cranium that ever existed a.k.a the main tournament event for this year’s olympics. It was basically a drinking board game intended for eight people maximum for one round, and it involved a bunch of truth or dare prompts. The game did not give you the option to pick a category; whatever you landed on, you had to do it. The punishment of the game was the gigantic glass with measurement lines in the middle of the board: with each dice roll, everybody had to pour 5 ml of whatever they were drinking into the glass. Either when somebody failed to fulfill a prompt, or when the glass was full - whichever happened first - you had to drink that spawn of satan cocktail. If you couldn’t do it, your team lost the game. Your tournament parties involved you, Chris, his brother Felix, and Jeongyeon versus Ryujin, Chae, Hyunjin, and their friend Jisung. You were a little uncomfortable with Chae and Ryujin there considering the circumstances but did your utmost best to loosen up.

Jisung picked a card for Jeongyeon, “Name of your first head?”

“Giving or receiving?”

“Giving,” Jisung smirked.

“Uh- Whatshisname.”

“BITCH, drink!”

“But I DON’T remember his name!”

“DRINK, DRINK, DRINK!”

With cheers accompanying her, Jeongyeon’s face automatically contorted the second her tongue touched that blasphemy in the glass, “I fucking HATE y’all!”

You picked a card for Jisung, “Take off your shirt for the rest of the game.”

“Gladly,” Jisung declared and a collective oohing raised from the entire room when he flashed those biceps.

“Jesus fuck, man, your waist is like nonexistent, how the FUCK?” Felix’s jaw dropped upon seeing Jisung’s bare upper body.

“Feel free to cop a feel of the Jaist anytime,” Jisung winked and Felix legit reached out to touch him.

“GODDAMN Lix, I didn’t call you here to get corrupted!” Chris yelled.

“Too late for that, bRAH.”

Among that unison laughter, Ryujin picked a card for you, “Let the person sitting 45 degrees to the right from you touch your boobs. Under the shirt,” and she immediately placed the card in the middle of the deck.

You cocked a brow, “It really says that?”

“Yes,” Ryujin responded with a knowing smile, “Either do it, or drink. The floor is yours, Hyun.”

Hyunjin got up to get closer to you. The second you reached the hem of your shirt to pull it up, however, he grabbed your hand to stop you and pulled you in from your nape for a kiss. The entire table broke into an applause.

“A fine gentleman, indeed,” said Chris. “Now drink, you motherfucker.”

“No regrets,” Hyunjin responded and raised the glass towards you before downing it. While he was struggling to do that, Chris picked a card for him.

“The name of your most recent ex?”

Hyunjin put the glass where it belonged and answered towards Chris’ direction.

“Yeji.”

It was apparent that everyone in that table was completely flabbergasted by this declaration. Except Chae and Ryujin.

They broke up? They actually broke up?

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

Hyunjin was sitting down in Yeji’s kitchen in silence for the past half an hour or so. Yeji’s sister let him in and left upon Hyunjin’s polite request that he needed to be alone with Yeji.

“Wanted to chat a little. Coffee?” Hyunjin pointed at the fresh pot he brewed.

“Sure. Before that though,” Yeji flashed a little vial with white powdery substance in it, put it in Hyunjin’s chest pocket, and placed a kiss on his head, “happy belated birthday, handsome. I’ll be right back.”

After Yeji came back in changed clothes, it was their usual empty chitchat as if they actually cared about each other. How school was, what their folks were doing, were they going to attend that dinner on the weekend et cetera et cetera. Everything was fine. Until Hyunjin made his declaration.

“It’d be ideal if you looked for a date for the weekend because I won’t be taking you.”

“Party somewhere?” Yeji took a sip from her mug.

“No. I came here today to break up.”

Yeji’s shock was momentary. She broke into a hysterical laugh once her brain registered what came out of Hyunjin’s mouth. She found that so hilarious that she was slapping her own thighs at one point.

“Good one, Hyun. Absolutely not.”

“Look at my face and tell me if I look like I’m trying to be funny, Yeji.”

Yeji wiped the tears from her eyes and examined Hyunjin’s face. His expressionless, stoic face.

“If you think there’s not gonna be any repercussions after this, you’re fucking mistaken.”

Hyunjin calmly finished his coffee and got up to his feet, “I’m not asking for your permission. I’m telling you. We’re through.”

Then he left leaving Yeji utterly speechless. This was the first time he misbehaved after all those years.

It was only a couple of days later, though, Hyunjin found himself storming back in through Yeji’s front door. Fuming. Completely out of control. Like he was about to go on a fucking rampage.

“Missed me already?”

Hyunjin slammed the door behind him and glared at Yeji with all the menace he could possibly emit from his eyes.

“You fucking know I’m on prescription drugs. Why did you do it?”

“And? Don’t you think your father has a right to know what his precious son is doing with his life?”

Hyunjin landed a punch on the wall, almost breaking the surface in.

“Not that it’s ANY of your business, but if I’m NOT telling my OWN fucking family something, maybe it’s because I don’t wanna GODDAMN worry them. WHAT KIND OF AN EXPLANATION IS ‘YOUR SON IS ON DRUGS, I THOUGHT YOU SHOUD KNOW’??????”

Yeji broke into a satisfied smile as Hyunjin was angrily pacing in the room trying his utmost best to control himself.

“I know you think you’re all that and you’re the queen but there are lines that should never be crossed, Yeji.”

“If I’m the queen, that makes you the king. You ever thought of that?” she responded calmly. Hyunjin stopped dead in his tracks.

“Maybe I’d like to be a prince instead. If you ever fucking asked me what I wanted, you would goddamn know.”

“What the fuck has gotten into you?”

Hyunjin took quick steps towards her direction and pointed his index finger towards her.

“I’m trying really hard to be able to live with myself and do something fucking right for once. Stay away from me.”

Yeji immediately grabbed Hyunjin by the arm when he attempted to leave, “You belong to me, Hyunjin.”

“Really?” he turned around, completely outraged, “Fucking enlighten me, please.”

“It’s always been us!” Yeji yelled. “You wanna go have fun on your own? Fine, I’m not stopping you. I’ve never stopped you and I’m not about to. But at the end of the day, this is where you’re supposed to come back. You know it is.”

Hyunjin couldn’t believe it when the realization hit him. All this time he could have done it without getting blood on his hands but fucking cholera vision… He wasn’t about to lie: once you lovingly cut through his scars to force all the venom and puss to leave his body, he did experience side effects first. Hyunjin just wasn’t aware of how addictions worked. Everything was about to be okay if he could endure the initial withdrawal. 

He just didn’t wanna live like this anymore.

And this was about to get ugly.

“You didn’t even say we belong together.”

The usually intrepid Hwang Yeji was getting all flustered and it showed.

“You know what I mean, Hyun.”

“You did it once before. What’s stopping you from letting me go this time?”

Yeji looked at Hyunjin’s face to throw some snark, but she actually wished he would interject so that she didn’t have to think. Words were spectacularly failing her. Hyunjin took a step towards her.

“Because you know I’m calling your bluff.”

One more step.

“Because you know that I know better now.”

One more.

“Because deep down you know I’m not gonna come back this time around.”

And one more.

“Because you know that it finally fucking hit me that belongingness is not equal to ownership.”

“Hyunjin, look-”

“I deserve to be loved too, Yeji. Did that ever occur to you?”

Yeji was frustrated at this point, “But I do love you!”

“NO, YOU DON'T!” Hyunjin exclaimed. “YOU love the guy who plays mind games with people and fucking wins. You LOVE it when people yearn for the shiny thing in the room and you love how they fucking CRUMBLE when you show off that it’s yours. You get off on rubbing it on people’s faces that they CAN’T have it. Insert anybody else, anything else in the equation and it would still equal to the same goddamn thing. I’m just a proxy for you.”

There was an unfamiliar expression on Hyunjin’s face. It looked like a bizarre metamorphosis of anger into sadness.

“Maybe it’s not the fact that I need to be loved although I’m fucked in the head.”

Hyunjin took a deep breath mixed with a sob before he continued.

“Maybe I need to be loved because of it. Let go.”

“No.”

“I said let go.”

Hyunjin hadn’t calculated anything beforehand the day he wanted to cut this weird tether he had to Yeji. He just wanted to simply punctuate everything with a full stop, but Yeji was insisting on replacing every single attempt with semicolons and ellipses, which meant peace was not an option and she wanted problems. It would be fine and it would be a fair fight if it was just the two of them, but dragging his father into all this?

Hwang Hyunjin finally fucking snapped.

“Listen to me and listen to me well. I’m only going to say it once,” he spoke in the only language she seemed to have a proficiency in.

“As we both know, I know the actual reason why you’re not strutting your stuff on the digital realm even though you’re dying to. I know it fucking kills you. There’s nothing… absolutely nothing stopping me from letting a little bird tell on the kind of shit your father runs in his business. But as I’ve clearly said before, there are lines that are never meant to be crossed. That being said, if you insist on what you absolutely should not, I will not hesitate to ruin your fucking  life. You’ve known me all these years and you know me too damn well to be able to tell when I pass the limits of bluffing.”

Yeji froze. As much as she would like to delude herself into thinking otherwise, Hyunjin was dead serious.

“Try me, I fucking dare you. See if it will be worth it.”

Hyunjin walked towards the front door to never come back again. It didn’t have to be this way. It could have been much more amicable, much less violent. Instead of being seen off, he heard one last complaint from Yeji.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you haven’t called me beautiful in months.”

Hyunjin shrugged in response before letting himself out of that house for good, “Maybe you’re just not that beautiful.”

Towards the end of the night, you walked out the balcony to get some fresh air. All this time you had this one desire that was buried kilometers under your soul, but you had convinced yourself it was nothing more than mere wishful thinking. Although it presented itself in corporal form, threatening you that you could indeed have it, you were dead scared. None of it felt real.

“Room for some friends?”

Ryujin and Chaeryeong let themselves out on the balcony while you nodded. Chae placed her hand on your shoulder gently.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you creased your brows like you felt a headache coming on, “That was just um… A lot to process.”

“But it’s true,” Ryujin smiled. “I know you’re looking for something suspicious somewhere, but no one’s trying to set you up.”

“Even a guy like him deserves happiness if he’s that willing to turn things around, you know,” Chae tilted her head to look at you, “God knows he’s paying his dues.”

“Make no mistake, with massive number of installments yet to be fulfilled,” Ryujin highfived Chae, and the gesture made you chuckle.

You couldn’t believe how... nice these girls were being. The complete opposite of that scathing first encounter with The Prince and The Charmer.

“I’m so sorry. It’s just-” you stuttered, “Because of Hyunjin and Minho- I thought- I thought you would-“

“Also have egos the size of Mount Everest? Hard pass, girl.”

“HOW ARE YOU THIS SWEET AND STILL FRIENDS WITH THEM?”

The girls heartily laughed at your unfiltered exclamation, and Ryujin responded, “To each his own. Their life choices don't erase the memories we have shared together. We just abstain from the intense drama whenever we can, that’s all. It doesn’t change the fact that we truly want them to be happy.”

“And Hyun will be if you’re willing to indulge him,” Chae placed the stray hair clinging to your cheek behind your ear, “All I’m gonna say is maybe you shouldn’t think of this as being his new Yeji. It’s just being his Y/N. Something to think about.”

You wanted to say so much but the fear of sounding infinitely nonsensical was there. You replied with a smile instead and you three made your way back inside. You sat down on the floor in front of the couch where Hyunjin and Chris were talking.

“...so yeah, it’s tense in the Hwang household nowadays,” Hyunjin told him. Chris threw his arm around Hyunjin and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Why don’t you crash here for a couple of days, Hyun? I have a spare room.”

Hyunjin’s eyes darted at you upon the offer, but there wasn’t even the insinuation of something lewd in his gaze. He just looked at you like a puppy.

“I um- I have a favor to ask, beautiful.”

And for the first time ever, you knew he wasn’t going to ask to play with you.

“What is it?”

“Can you…” Hyunjin averted his eyes, “Can you stay here, too? If Chris is okay with it?”

You looked at Chris for some kind of a signal and he nodded with a smile.

“Of course, prince.”

And the relief that washed over Hyunjin’s face afterwards forcing him to beam was totally worth it.

You spent a couple of days being disgustingly domestic at Chris’ apartment with people coming and going every once in a while. It didn’t always include booze. Some days were just straight up regular, movie nights or just rambling with friends. You couldn’t help but notice the shadows that passed by Hyunjin’s face every now and then. He would sometimes briefly disappear to the balcony or go for a walk to recollect his thoughts. You didn’t take offense to that, though. You were being careful to not bring up any subjects yourself until he felt comfortable enough to talk about them with you.

“Is someone crying?” Jeongyeon turned her head towards the bathroom.

You perked up your ears to pick up on what Jeongyeon was referring to. You heard sniffling sounds coming from the bathroom and Hyunjin was gone. You instinctively jumped from your seat and walked into the bathroom, not having an ounce of decency to consider knocking first.

The prince. Looking all disoriented and shit. At Chris’ bathroom sink. Holding a vial with some white powdery substance in it between his long fingers. Tears running down his face.

He was doing so fucking well up till that moment.

‘Why this, prince?’ you thought to yourself.

‘Why fucking this out of everything?’

It started the second Hyunjin was coincidentally reminded of its existence while he was looking for his credit card in his jacket pockets.

For the first time ever in his life, Hyunjin felt like he didn’t have a safety net. No Plan B. Which made the dread of messing up his only shot all the more real. It seemed like his meds were starting to wear off; he was feeling constantly on edge. Your existence was massively helping, but how he wished you also possessed the skill to silence the voices in his head, constantly whispering him things. That he was gonna fail. That you were gonna leave. That he was a terrible friend. That he could never make his parents proud in whatever goddamn capacity.

Whenever he felt the onset coming on, Hyunjin would leave. For some fresh air, for a little walk to distract himself. He didn’t want you to see him like that. You didn’t deserve that see him like that. A complete dumpster fire of an inner demon forcing him to yield and get on his knees, tempting him with sweet reminders that he knew the way to soundproofing his own brain. 

He made his way to the bathroom, closed the door behind him, and reached for the vial containing his bootleg limitless catalyst. Just once. There was no harm in once.

Very rarely. There has to be a cause for celebration.

And what the FUCK was there to celebrate? His endless descent into darkness? How he was completely undeserving of a single drop of happiness because all he did was cause pain to everyone around him?

Hyunjin broke down crying, eyes still glued to the vial.

It wasn’t worth it. It was never gonna be worth it. It was time to man the fuck up for goddamn once and take the road less traveled. And experience that struggle in every single one of his cells. Revel in that pain so that the gain might be even greater. For himself. For you. For the both of you.

The door opened.

I’m not, Hyunjin wanted to scream out, but it felt like he swallowed his own tongue.

It’s not what it looks like, beautiful. I swear I’m not. Please!

Your voice came out so calm that you were in complete disbelief in your own self.

“Is there something you wanna tell me, prince?” you closed the door behind you.

Having done this way too many times than he cared to admit, Hyunjin knew what that sentence meant. That impending confrontation which may or may not result in a complete disaster. But this wasn’t a situation of the defense taking the stand. He was going to lay everything out in such clear terms that there wasn’t going to be any room for doubt.

At least that was what he initially set out to do.

But with Hyunjin’s severe disability to follow his own track of thought at that moment, it instantly devolved into something completely irrelevant since, for some reason, he felt the need to start from the Big Bang.

“The day we met…” he said. “I didn’t wanna believe it. And every single fucking day that followed, I tried resisting it with every fiber of my being, but you…” he sighed, “You were just something else, beautiful. You still are. The most mesmerizing thing that has ever happened to me.”

Then a string of brief stories followed. Like he was showing you some random pictures on his camera and telling you where he had taken them. The night you noticed the scars on his thighs. The night he left you with Minho at the bar. Chris’ birthday. His birthday. Minho’s birthday. Their face-off afterwards and how he almost shoved a fucking knife down his throat to get the truth out of him about your birthday. What he told you to get you to do things. How he played you.

Not necessarily in this order.

There was seemingly no connection between them, but when you examined Hyunjin’s face as he spoke, you could see the ghost of a desperate plea: he was handing you the pieces of a puzzle and begging you to please please piece them together as he was in no condition to do so.

And you were right. He had absolutely no right to demand anything that even reminded someone of loyalty from you. But it felt like he did. 

It still feels like it does. I’m so sorry I’m this selfish, beautiful.

“I just didn’t know any better, beautiful. You have to believe me.”

You listened, and listened, and listened. Maybe for the first time ever, Hyunjin wasn’t able to read your face.

“I just got myself out. I didn’t think you’d say yes to me right away. I thought you’d need some time to see how I can change because I know words mean nothing,” he kept silently crying throughout his entire monologue, “So that… so that you’d accept me. See that I’m worthy of you. And give me a chance.”

You heard the gentle drip of the water droplet that caused the entire glass to fucking overflow.

Snap.

“This is how you change? THIS is how you CHANGE???” you pointed at the vial.

“No, please beautiful, I wasn-”

What about all the times you felt like you were severely mistreated, huh? Like you were a nobody. What about all the times you were there for him? Whatever the fuck you shared all this time? All those nights you would slowly fall into the descent of pleasure together like you two were the only goddamn people alive? Providing each other with elaborate tactical guides to ruin one another? The day he basically tortured you with his words without a shred of mercy? 

DID HE LOSE HIS FUCKING MEMORY SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY? HE COULDN’T HAVE CONCLUDED A FUCKING YES FROM ALL THAT??? 

It felt psychotically good to vomit all the poisonous bile of dejection and resentment that had been pooling inside you for months while all Hyunjin was able to utter was a neverending ‘Please’.

“Stop looking at me like I’m the only fucking thing that matters in this world!!!!!!”

You harshly opened the door and pointed your finger at him one last time before taking off.

“I’m gonna say this once, Hyunjin. Whatever I did up to know, all that shit that endured like a goddamn lunatic was for you. Because I fucking love you!”

What did you just say to him?

Hyunjin. You called him Hyunjin. Outside of the bounds of your cocoon of lust.

Not prince.

Not your prince.

This must have been a nightmare and he desperately wanted to wake up.

“Please, beautiful,” was all he was able to whimper.

“Please, don’t go.”

It wasn’t the anger, the judgement, the chastising… You could curse him all you wanted all night long and he wouldn’t even bat an eye. God knows he wanted you to.

The thing he couldn’t endure, however, was the expression on your face that spelled utter disappointment.

“Whoa, where are you going, baby girl?”

“TO GET SOME FUCKING AIR!”

Hyunjin wanted to run after you. He did. He really did. He just couldn’t fucking move under the weight of your words. It felt like you handed him blocks after blocks of iron with every sentence. In a momentary lapse of sanity, he smashed the vial into the toilet bowl and flushed it.

Chris walked into the bathroom to witness a Hyunjin sitting on the toilet, yanking at his own hair. He kneeled down in front of him.

“Not to be that person, but you might need a miracle this time around, buddy.” Hyunjin looked at Chris with bloodshot eyes.

A miracle. He needed a miracle.

It wasn’t long before you reached the park. Or maybe it was; you couldn’t exactly track how much time passed with all the rant you were having with an imaginary Hyunjin in your head.

The selfishness. The audacity. How fucking dare you…

Yet even in a moment like this, you were trying to find solace in bits and pieces of him. It was Hyunjin’s park you instinctively retreated to so that you could hear yourself think.

How fucking pathetic were you?

Your inner rambling transformed from frantic to erratic and not so long after, it stopped. All you were left with was a very unnecessary revelation about yourself.

Loving someone so desperately shouldn’t have hurt this good.

“Hey, beautiful.”

You watched the owner of the voice that didn’t have a fragment of its usual playfulness. That was the bleakest, gloomiest ‘Hey beautiful’ ever. He kneeled down in front of the bench you were sitting on, restlessly shaking your legs. You thought you had calmed down but that sight just rekindled that fury inside of you.

“Just tell me something. What was the reason? WHAT WAS THE FUCKING REASON????”

“Hate me,” he grabbed both your wrists, “Hate me all you want. Curse me, I don’t care. I deserve it. I will endure it. But please, please, please don’t let me go.”

Let you go?

Hyunjin reached his hand and caressed your cheek, “I’m nothing without you, beautiful. Please don’t stop loving me the way you do.”

Stop loving you? Like it’s a fucking matter of free will?

“There’s nothing in this world that I want more than to be yours. I love you, beautiful. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

What did he just say to you?

“Look at me. Look into my eyes. You know I’m not lying.”

“Pr-”

“No, don’t,” Hyunjin shushed you, “Please don’t say anything for now. Just think about it until Saturday. Let it gestate at the back of your head. Meditate on it, sleep on it, I don’t care. But just don’t say anything right now. Even if it’s a good thing. I will never be able to live with myself if you made a rash decision and then resented me for it. For better or worse.”

It was maybe for the first time that Hyunjin didn’t try to coax you into whatever outcome he wanted. He was legitimately offering a choice.

“I just want you to be happy. Ideally let me make you happy, but I swear I’ll be ready for whatever you decide. I’ll accept it with open arms. I promise, beautiful.”

Yeah, I’m sure he never breaks his promises.

“Saturday, huh?” you said, remembering the day of the event you made a bet on months ago, “What makes you think I’m even gonna be able to go?”

“Because you are,” a convivial smile appeared on his face, “I know you are since the day we bet on it at The Hideout.”

You smiled back. Not because your anger automatically vanished. Not because you instantly forgave him. There were so many things Hyunjin needed to show you so that you could even begin to consider leaving the past where it belonged. But at that moment, you just smiled because seeing his crescent eyes was like watching someone yawn.

“You’ve never called it The Hideout before.”

“I am now.”

Hyunjin grabbed your hands and placed a kiss on each of them.

“I know it sounds like complete bullshit to you for now but I am willing to change things. A lot of things. You make me wanna do it, and I’ll prove it to you. In whatever way you want. Just let me. Let me and I promise it’ll be worth it.”

You know what, he actually never does. Honestly, it’s the only thing I can vouch for about the motherfucker.

Ping!

You looked at your phone expecting a whole-ass scolding from Chris for storming off like that and urging you to bring back donuts as a punishment or something. Never in a million years did you expect what you were seeing on the screen. Your eyes widened.

“No fucking way.”

Your tone immediately alerted Hyunjin, “What? Is everything okay?”

You looked at Hyunjin in complete astonishment then back to your phone, mouth still parted from shock.

‘We are pleased to inform you that…’

“I can’t fucking believe the park actually works.”

“Remember when I said our friendship with Hyunjin was based on keeping secrets?” Chris asked while buttering his toast.

“Uh huh?”

“Yeah, what the fuck was I thinking?”

You laughed. Not because you were trying to veil some awkwardness for once, but because you agreed with him with every single cell of your being.

It was finally Friday morning, D-1 until the day you were looking forward to for so long no matter how much you didn’t allow yourself to have any kind of expectation about it. Since Hyunjin’s invitation came in way earlier than yours, he had made his travel plans accordingly. His flight was scheduled for noon while yours was supposed to take off at 9 PM that evening. Ever the gentleman he was, Chris was going to take you to the airport.

Prince

Hey, beautiful!

Go to the airport.

Like, right now.

You looked at your phone while crunching the bread in your mouth. You appreciated Hyunjin’s enthusiasm, but no fucking way you were about to leave twelve hours earlier than intended.

Prince

It’s supposed to snow like hell today.

And the rest of the week.

There’s no way flights aren’t getting canceled.

I swapped my flight with an earlier one to not risk it. There’s another one in an hour.

Hurry, beautiful.

“Channie boy, move your ass.”

You and Chris dropped your toasts immediately and you got changed at lightspeed. Chris got a little carried away on the way, fully convinced he was starring in the latest Fast & Furious movie, but he managed to drop you off at your destination in one piece.

“RECORD time! I’ll be leaving a 5-star review, Chrissy.”

“Have fun, baby girl,” he gave you a quick hug before leaving, “Call me if you need me to come back and I want all the details!”

You blew him a kiss and ran to the airport dashboard, just to notice that…

Prince

I fucking MADE IT!!!

What’s your situation beautiful?

Me

I think I got some bad news for you, prince.

As you were typing to explain your situation, Hyunjin called you.

“What’s going on, beautiful? Is everything okay?”

“My flight got cancelled. So di-.”

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah, I th-”

“I’ll call you in 5. Just hang in there for me,” and Hyunjin hung up the phone.

You just stood there in front of the dashboard with your phone in your hand. You examined the entire board and noticed there were seven flights in total leaving for your destination, including the one Hyunjin managed to get in. Your originally scheduled flight was the last one, and the board already had two lines that spelled CANCELLED on it in bold, red letters. It didn’t look good, honestly.

Your phone rang again.

“Go to Counter 5.”

“Counter 5?”

“Yes. Give them the code I just sent you.”

The code you got texted contained the reservation number of a flight you must certainly had not booked yourself. You found the counter Hyunjin directed you to.

Me

Sorry, prince. This one’s canceled, too.

Prince

GodfuckingDAMMIT!

Hang tight, beautiful. I’ll fix this, I promise.

You know what, he actually never does. Honestly, it’s the only thing I can vouch for about the motherfucker.

You never wanted to believe Chris that badly before. Who gave a crap about the event? Fuck the event. There were more important things that needed to take place that day. However, the more time passed, the more you visited counters, the more your gaze was met with regretful faces, the more you started to lose hope. For a second, you caught yourself thinking whether it would be at all possible for you to drive there. Sure, whole-ass flights were getting cancelled so it would make perfect sense to fucking drive.

Get a goddamn grip, woman.

“Listen to me, beautiful. I got it,” Hyunjin spoke urgently on the phone, “The 7.30 flight. It’s supposed to carry a volleyball team, so they’re for sure flying that one out before they get snowed in. It doesn’t allow me to make a reservation from here - it has to be an in-person purchase at the counter because of the circumstances. Hurry. Please.”

Yeah, the plan seemed nice and all, but…

“Um, listen prince, not to rain on your parade or anything, but last minute plane tick-”

“I DON’T CARE!” Hyunjin yelled, “You have my credit card information. Just go!!!”

You what fucking information?

Hyunjin sounded like he was legitimately going through some kind of a panic attack at the end of the line. You attempted to diffuse the tension with a little humor, “That was a dumb move on your part, prince. You do realize I can just max this out right fucking now.”

“I don’t care. Get yourself a private jet if you can, but just come to me, beautiful.”

You totally meant to control that tiny sob, but it escaped your throat anyway.

An infinite wait in the line accompanied by the chitchat with the volleyball ladies later, you actually saw it. The leather chair you were supposed to strap yourself on for an hour in that damn metal tube. That was supposed to take you to the prince.

Your prince.

Me

I MADE IT!

I FUCKING MADE IT!!!!!!

Prince

When you land, take the shuttle and tell them you’re gonna get off downtown.

I’m so looking forward to seeing you, beautiful.

Come to me already.

When you got off that shuttle that night, there was nothing but butterflies starting a damn riot in your stomach. Like you were going to see Hyunjin for the first time in your life. It felt like you were about to willingly assist in your own heart’s abduction. 

That entire avenue looked like one of Hyunjin’s photographs came alive. Little flickers of lights dancing everywhere, a sea of people, and a tram passing by in the middle of that road closed to any other traffic.

Then you saw him.

You saw the tall, beautiful man, blonde hair glowing under those yellow lights, walking in quick steps with hands in the pockets of his blazer.

Then he saw you. 

The second he spotted your silhouette from afar, he broke into a smile so bright that his eyes disappeared. He started running.

“You came to me, beautiful.”

His embrace.

His kiss.

Him not giving a single fuck whether people were watching.

Not because it satisfied some perversion, but genuinely because he didn’t care.

Because your existence was the only thing that mattered.

You had been to a bunch of hotel rooms with Hyunjin before. Always luxurious, elegant, making you wonder whether you can actually put a price on a good night’s sleep (or the lack thereof), but nowhere quite like this.

First and foremost the room was orange; not the usual formal, borderline clinical-looking colors. There was a coffee maker on the vanity table, the small box next to it stacked with espresso capsules. The painting right above the headboard of the bed depicted a woman walking on the beach naked. And some champagne on ice with a small bowl of strawberries resting on the right nightstand as the finishing touch. This room looked so cozy. It felt warm. It felt intimate.

It felt like home.

As Hyunjin placed your cameras on the left nightstand, you went out to the balcony to check out the view. You had never seen such a beautiful sight before. Not that it was something grandiose or anything, but the sea view in the distance with a bridge lit up in rainbow colors adorning the dark waters just looked like something Hyunjin would paint during a cool, lonely, but delightful night. It moved you.

“I say today’s triumph calls for a celebration. Champagne?”

Hyunjin handed a glass to you and extended his glass for a toast. The weather was already chilly, so when you took a sip from your glass…

“Damn, that’s cold!”

“Yeah, the bottle is on ice,” he smiled, “The best kind to be honest.”

Hyunjin fixated his gaze on the bucket for some time as if an epiphany had dawned on him.

“Actually…”

When Hyunjin took a piece of ice from the bucket, you were watching him with curious eyes. He trapped it inside his mouth as he got closer to your face. When his lips met yours, it was an automatic reflex - you had to feel his tongue on yours. The wet muscle brought even a wetter guest with it this time around. You exchanged the ice cube between your mouths like you were in a competition to see who was going to melt it faster. It was so cold, borderline numbing, but Hyunjin’s warmth was comforting you.

Hyunjin touched your torso under your shirt. His hands were wet and cold like he was trying to come home in snowy weather and that sensation immediately sent a jolt down your spine, but you allowed him to equalize the temperature of his hands with your body’s nevertheless. While he was doing that, he crushed the ice between his teeth, and a drop of cold water trickled down the corner of his mouth, immediately prompting you to lick it clean. He couldn’t help but slither his hand under your shirt again, eventually peeling it off of you.

Hyunjin guided you inside, gently laid you down on the bed, and took another frozen cube from the bucket before joining you. At a completely torturous pace, he dragged it between your bare breasts and on your nipples. You were shivering. Everywhere. Then he closed his mouth on your nipple and started drawing languid circles on it. The contrast of the ice and the warmth of his mouth peaked your sensitivity. It felt like running your hand under the shower water and thinking it was freezing cold for the first couple of seconds only to realize that it was in fact boiling hot.

Hyunjin sofly removed your pants and underwear as if he was trying not to wake you up. Zero rush. Once you were completely naked for him, he dragged the ice from your ribcage down to your crotch, licking on the wet trail the cube was leaving behind. Then he gradually guided the compressed frost to the most sensitive spot of your body.

“T- Too cold.”

“Relax for me, beautiful,” Hyunjin placed a kiss on your clit while sharply inhaling your scent, “It’s gonna feel amazing.”

He kept dragging that fucking ice cube all over your labia with such unhurried movements like he was trying to find inspiration to paint the landscape of a snowy day. The more he rubbed the cold mass on your body, the smaller it became. All your senses were on hyperdrive and when he jumped the gun by slowly pushing the remains of the ice inside your pussy, the moan that ripped from your throat was nothing less than animalistic.

“Hold my hands, beautiful.”

You were feeling the ice melt inside you slowly. It was the singular stimulant alerting your entire body until Hyunjin trapped your clit between his voluptuous lips, and it was the most exquisite of contradictions. When he started sipping on you, you squeezed both his hands out of delight. He let you tug on his slender fingers entangled in yours however harshly you wanted like all he wanted to do was to soothe you. To cater to you. To satisfy your every single need. Absolutely nothing else mattered.

“If you just let me, I can do this for hours, but I don’t want to torment you, beautiful. Just tell me when you wanna cum.”

The hardest fucking proposal of the century. You didn’t wanna cum, absolutely not. The way Hyunjin set fire to your body was way too heavenly, and you would seriously consider jumping off the balcony before letting it stop of your own volition. Just watching this beautiful fucking creature between your legs, eating you out with such hunger but still with the manners nothing short of a prince was enough to lose whatever sanity you had left. Sometimes it was incredibly unbelievable how eager he was to please you. You weren’t able to utter a single word to give him any sort of instruction, though. All that left your lips were the rapturous moans, the source of which was shifting to your diaphragm with every passing second.

“Come to think of it, you’ve never squirted for me before, have you beautiful?”

Not for him per se, you didn’t even know you were capable of doing that, period. It was another mythical phenomenon from the realm of pleasure for you. It was a rhetorical question but you were too far gone to process that, and you legitimately tried to come up with an answer for Hyunjin.

“Would you like to do it for me?”

Did he really fucking ask that? As if even the thought of him forcing you to cum all over his face was not erotic enough.

“I just happen to find that so fucking hot. Just saying.”

You wanted to say something. Signal something, but you genuinely felt like you lost the ability to speak.

“Just say the word and I’ll have you raining all over me.”

Oh, fucking hell.

“Please,” was all you were able to articulate. Hyunjin broke into a content smile.

“Your wish is my command.”

It was that exact same sentence he uttered during your first night together, but this time around it felt infinitely different. Like he actually meant it rather than just saying some random shit to turn you on.

As if you needed to be turned on more.

Hyunjin hovered over you and grabbed one of your legs to place on his shoulder. 

“Tell me when you feel the pressure, beautiful.”

He started hitting your deepest spots at the same leisurely pace, exploring them anew with a specific destination in mind.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it just… It feels…”

“Like you wanna pee?”

He smirked. You knew that mischievous smile all too well. It was the telltale sign of how proud he was of something he was able to cause in you. 

“Tell me when I hit that spot, okay?”

Hyunjin’s movements got a little rougher, but they were still in the second gear.

“There. FUCK, right there!”

"Nice and loud for me. There you go."

He leaned down to kiss you, the curvature of his cock involuntarily hitting the spot in the meantime.

“You know the drill, beautiful. I’ll hit that until you make a mess all over me.”

He calculated your coordinates in an instant and gave you a fair warning in advance.

“Can’t promise I can hold it in, though. No one told you to look like such a fucking goddess.”

And he set off. Rough. Determined. You lost your damn mind at the sensation, but Hyunjin hadn’t realized your loud moans echoing in the room would affect him so.

“Ah, fuck, I’m- Tell me you’re close. I’m begging you, beautiful, please tell me you’re close.”

Yes, he was trying to please you, but Hyunjin pleading like that was just too fucking sexy for your own good.

“Look at me.”

Hyunjin could have fucking sworn he almost blew his entire load in you upon that gaze. You were looking at him with such motive dripping in absolute lust that you didn’t need to exert a drop of effort. It would quite frankly be in vain now that Hyunjin was turned on this much.

“Cum inside, my prince.”

“Ah, beautiful, PLEASE-”

“This once you make a mess for me.”

Or maybe it wouldn’t be.

In none of your encounters up until that point had Hyunjin orgasmed that violently before, frantically spasming, strings after strings of hot liquid painting you white, inducing the strangest of serenity in you. He collapsed on your chest trying to catch his breath and basking in the utter afterglow of his orgasm.

“Fuck, I just- I don’t wanna get out.”

You smiled at him caressing his hair, “Weak already?”

He placed a kiss between your breasts, “I just don’t want my seed to leave your body. Ever.”

He slowly pulled out and propped you up signaling that you should change positions.

“It can’t go to waste, beautiful. Sit on my face. I’ll clean you up real nice.”

Did you absolutely clench around nothing when he said that? Fucking yes. You quickly made your way up to straddle his absolutely beautiful face and made yourself comfortable.

“My fucking GOD- You’re just a fucking godsend, beautiful. Ride my face, there you go.”

Then the torture began. You remembered this scene from your first night together, as well. How he locked his mouth on your entrance, gently sucked on it, and collected the dripping cum with his tongue as if he was trying to drink the last drops of a milkshake, wet thumb gently teasing your clit all the while. The point wasn’t to get you to cum; Hyunjin was doing it to indulge himself because he genuinely believed there was nothing sexier than filling you up just to empty you again. By himself. Granted when he did it the first time, you weren’t full of him, but that very incident was the ultimate reminder for him that you should always always be filled with him and him only. Not to mention this particular act had always felt intimate for Hyunjin for some reason, and he loved that feeling. Once there wasn’t even a drop of his own cum to be cleaned, he point-blank asked you:

“Tell me how you want me to finish you off, beautiful. Just say the word and I’ll do it. Anything you want.”

Anything you want?

That was way too much power to be trusted with you, especially when you considered the rap sheet of kinks you possessed. You didn’t wanna scare Hyunjin right off the bat, but on the other hand, he was offering your wildest fantasies on a goddamn silver platter. There was a more pressing matter at hand, though.

“Would you like me to keep going here, or-?

“Earlier, you didn’t- You didn’t get me to-”

“Ah, of course. And that was so fucking rude of me, wasn’t it?” Hyunjin laid you back on the bed, “Please accept my apologies, beautiful. And since I have my mind intact this time, I get to fucking ascend you.”

The way you were spread for him always did something to Hyunjin. In addition to your undeniable allure, it was the thought of you willing to be this vulnerable with him, offering yourself for him, trusting him… It was an inexplicable thing.

He really appreciated that.

“You’re a fucking goddess, beautiful.”

You were expecting him to make a move, but he reached for his camera on the nightstand instead. You chortled.

“Wanna make another sex tape or what, prince?”

Hyunjin smiled, but it wasn’t that obscene smile of his, informing you of something lewd ahead, “I just wanna capture you. This moment. Us.”

It wasn’t fair that Hyunjin was the only one to get to do it, so you reached out for your own camera as well. You realized there had only been a handful of instances where you looked at him through your viewfinder.

“God, you are so fucking beautiful, prince.”

And you also realized you had never called him beautiful to his face before. Hyunjin broke into a smile behind his camera and you captured that exact moment. Both with your lens and your heart.

“So that’s how you feel, huh beautiful? Kiss me.”

It was time to appreciate art in real-time. Hyunjin loved how you kiss, always with a couple of gentle bites on his lips. It told him volumes as to how much you desired him. He didn’t waste any more time and made his way to the coordinates of that one spot in you, completely determined to have you seeing stars for hours. The way Hyunjin moved… Oh, the way he fucking moved…

It had always been so damn delicious, but tonight the entire room was bleeding wine red, exactly in the shade of the wall behind his headboard. It was raw. It was primal. Precise. Intentional. Driving you to absolute insanity one push at a time. 

“SHIT, prince, you’re killing me with this! FUCK-”

“Claim me, beautiful. Call me yours.”

“My pr-”

“No. No, no, no,” Hyunjin squeezed his eyes while shaking his head, “Yours.”

You clung to his biceps and dug your fingers on his skin, like you were trying to mark him, and pulled him closer.

“You’re mine.”

“Yes. Fucking YES!” Hyunjin pulled you harshly into his own lips, “I’m yours. Just yours. We belong together, beautiful.”

You knew that feeling from somewhere.

Simple. No games, no calculations, no strategies. This wasn’t a chess game. 

It was affection. It was just compassion. As simple as that.

“There. There, THERE, right there FUCK, please don’t stop!”

“Gonna make a mess for me?”

“Yes, YES, please- Please, make me- mak-”

“I have a favor to ask, beautiful,” Hyunjin stopped and forced you to look at him, “Will you let me eat you out?”

The request surprised you a little, “You just… did?”

“No, not like that. I want you to lose yourself,” he stole a kiss from your ankle he was still holding onto, “I wanna make you squirt on my face.”

“Fuck, prince, you’re seriously gonna be the death of me,” you groaned. Hyunjin took that to mean you gave him permission and lowered himself between your legs.

If you got exposed to something over and over again, wouldn’t that lose all meaning? Wouldn’t you be eventually numb to the feeling?

Then how come every time Hyunjin dragged his tongue across your skin, no matter the local moisture, he always managed to make you fall into pieces? How come all his ministrations felt this delectable every single time to the point of pushing you into a state of complete frenzy? How fucking come he was the epitome of sensuality in corporal form? Just how?

Hyunjin coated your entire pussy with his saliva and started tasting you with such an appetite. It was literally the same lip movements on your clit - the exact same pattern as whenever he kissed you. Slow. Sensual.

Wet.

His long, slender middle finger came to his aid and to your eventual rescue. You leaned into that familiar hook of the finger and fucked yourself on it as Hyunjin kept licking you. You already had an inkling that this wasn’t going to last long. 

“Hold my hand, beautiful.”

Hyunjin offered his left hand for you to grab and squeeze however you wished. He wanted to be connected to you through more than one channel. The index finger of his right hand joined the middle one, both reaching that delicious spot inside you.

“Fuck me harder.”

Hyunjin smiled into your pussy, extremely delighted by your reaction. He added a third finger and started massaging that spongy spot with sheer fervor. You could feel the imminent threat of a brutal convulsion ahead.

“More. Harder.”

Hyunjin squeezed your left hand, “You’re gonna feel a lot of pressure in a second, beautiful. Don’t hesitate and let go for me, okay?”

“Please, harder, FUCK!”

You could die.

You had never been able to resist how fucking beautiful Hyunjin was. He just exuded sexiness being his normal self, but getting him between your legs like that, hungrily lapping at you, and you got to taint all his delicate features with your arousal?

You could seriously fucking die.

Hyunjin never let go of your hand while you were riding out your high, still sucking on your supple skin and placing kisses everywhere he could. Once he was convinced there wasn’t a shred of climax left he could elicit out of you, he climbed up on you to kiss you. Breathlessly. Like he just couldn’t get enough of you. You had never experienced an afterglow this warm before. Hand supporting his head, Hyunjin was turned to your side, fingers gently caressing your torso and patiently waiting for your tremors to fully recede. 

“You know what Jisung said when I told him about this morning’s action?”

“What?”

“Is she made of fucking gold?”

You laughed in response, “How did you answer?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“How FUCKING dare you, prince!!!”

You were getting ready to land a sizzling smack on Hyunjin’s waist when he trapped you in his embrace so that you couldn’t move.

“Because I’ll be damned if I call you anything less than a diamond. You’re so fucking precious to me,” he pressed his lips on your forehead.

“I love you, baby.”

You felt your entire body being electrocuted and you were sure you were beet red as if nothing remotely obscene happened between you two just about five minutes ago.

“Oh, I got an upgrade now?”

“If you’re okay with it. I’d love to hear you call me that, too.”

The look in Hyunjin's eyes, begging to be loved, begging to belong, begging to be embraced by you… It was impossible to resist. You took his lips between yours again, and his eyes automatically closed at the contact.

“I love you too, baby.”

Hyunjin smiled while caressing your hair, “If I’m completely honest, I’m actually very much inclined to call you my soulmate instead, beautiful.”

You chuckled in embarrassment, “Maybe I don’t believe in soulmates, prince.”

And that was a lie.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

*Adapted from a true story

The Zone has a very special place in my heart, and I'd like to sincerely thank you for being a part of it. If you feel like asking questions about it, as long as you're kind you're always welcome in my askbox.

I appreciate you.

- R. (CB97%)

«BACK TO GENERAL MASTERLIST»

Euphoria | Lee Minho

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Minho and you definitely do not like each other. No matter what the tabloids say. He’s your friend who argues and bickers like no other but you also crave the taste of him on your tongue. You are people who sling insults at each other from your respective stages, only to find him later painting your skin with sloppy kisses. And that's something you need to work on.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Minho x Reader (female)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 23.2K

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Actors AU, friends with benefits to lovers, explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (both male and female receiving), finger fucking, secret relationship, mentions of past relationship and cheating, angst, time jumps

𝐀/𝐍: Hello! I have no control whatsoever. It's tragic. This fic exists because I woke up at 4 in the morning and promptly died over the idea when someone mentioned 'actors' and 'smut' together. It also happened to be when I was in Minho appreciation hours, and hence this monster. Reblog and share your thoughts if you enjoyed the fic!!

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

then

J U N E

He thrusts into you at an agonising speed, all grappling hands and searing mouth, while your fingers tangle in his hair. Part of you knows that you should not be doing this, not when just seconds ago you were screaming yourselves hoarse at each other, faces hot in anger as you went along with the same old song and dance.

“But I guess things like that are beneath people like you, right, baby?”

You arch into him with a soft murmur when he bites on your bottom lip, sucking it none too gently in his mouth and soothing the sting with his tongue. It sends frissons of pleasure down your spine, and you get to taste his moan, sweet on your tongue, as you pull on his hair.

“You’re just a self serving jackass, you know that Minho?”

His hands are heavy on your hips, gripping them hard as he lets his tongue lick into your mouth, and the two of you are all heat and fire, neither willing to give an inch. You can hear your blood rushing in your ear, blocking out everything but him, the feel of him, the smell, the way he presses his mouth against yours, hard and unyielding, and you have to hold on to him tight.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

And that’s how you ended up here, backed against the cold metal wall of his trailer, because you deliberately came over to pick a fight having been too on edge all morning. Nothing calms you down like riling Minho up, but the tension that’s been coiling tighter ever since you met finally reached its breaking point today, leading to him pining you to the wall.

Or maybe you pulled him to you.

There was want echoed in both of your eyes, that’s for sure.

Either way, you were both equally as guilty even though this was wrong but you just pull him closer, let your hands run over the curves of his biceps straining against those ridiculous wizarding robes and give in, loving the way his teeth bite into your skin, the rasp of his hair on your cheeks. Minho kisses like he talks, confident, demanding and a little rough, and you might have whimpered a little bit when his hand came up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing along the ridge of your cheekbone.

One kiss flows into two, then three, never once losing its intensity, never once losing its harshness and heat and ability to suck the air straight from your lungs. Teeth clack against one another, lips pressed together with a bruising force that makes you see stars, and when he slips his tongue into your mouth it tastes a bit like war and heartbreak, and you want more.

Three turns into four, and he pulls back a little, just the barest brush of lips against yours yet it still sends your heartbeat skittering, and his hand slips to your neck, fingers pressed on your thrumming pulse. Shockwaves seem to originate from that spot, and you let your lips part, just a little bit, in a silent gasp of pleasure.

Five is a whisper of breath, shaky and deep, and you let your hands linger at the nape of his neck, lightly scratching at his scalp in a way that has his nose brushing your cheek, tender and soft. You know how to make him moan with it, how to test that bit of control he never seems to want to let up, and you do it again.

The sixth is a punctuation mark, a full stop at the end of the sentence, sweet and succinct with clumsy lips before you both pull away with wide eyes and harsh breaths.

“Fuck,” he says, running a shaky hand through his hair as he takes a step backwards. It leaves you feeling strangely cold, but you don’t pay too much attention to that, not when fuck seems like the understatement of the year for the mess you have gotten yourselves into here.

Your eyes meet his and you echo his words, because really, what else can you say.

* * *

before: 12 months ago

M A Y

“No,” you say, contemplating, smothering yourself with a pillow just to end this conversation.

On the other end of the line, Liv sighs in a way that you can tell that she’s pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Come on, Y/n. This is a good opportunity.”

“I don’t want a good opportunity,” you say, flopping onto your stomach, “I don’t want anything other than to be left alone. If I go back out there the tabloids will eat this shit up.”

“It’s been six months. Surely people aren’t going to remember that now.”

“Pretty sure people are going to have a hard time forgetting the fact that my ex boyfriend outed me on the red carpet and then broke up with me then and there. In front of the press. On the red carpet,” you emphasise. “My mascara was running down. I was turned into a meme.”

“A lot of celebrities are turned into memes,” Liv points out unhelpfully, and you pull a pillow across your face. “Look, everyone has their ups and downs in this kind of work. Get used to it.”

You scrub a weary hand down your forehead. “You should host a seminar on pep talks, Liv, I’m sure people will learn a thing or two.”

There’s a bit of shuffling around on the other end of the phone and you hear the muffled sound of a door closing. When she speaks, Liv’s voice is the softest you have ever heard it. “You need to start putting yourself back out there, Y/n. These things happen and yeah, it’s mortifying and you want to crawl under a rock, but you’re stronger than that.”

You blink several times, actually pulling your phone away to check the caller ID to make sure, yes, that is in fact Liv, your hardass manager. “That might have been the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips, “Careful, I might cry.”

“Fuck off, Y/n,” she grunts, and the smile widens. “So, will you at least give it a chance?”

Hesitating for a moment, you contemplate the idea. “I could always just move to the countryside and become a dairy farmer instead of going back to acting. I have enough money to do that. You could find a new, competent client who doesn’t have a crisis every other week,” you say slowly.

You can practically see Liv raising a single brow, a look of pure skepticism on her face. “Imagine what the tabloids would say about that,” she says, “Since that’s apparently your basis for making decisions these days.”

“They’d call me a butch, and then let me fade into obscurity with my ten cows,” you answer promptly, and receive a grudging huff of laughter in return.

“Fine, I’ll give you that one,” she says, “Now back to the point at hand, do you agree or not?”

You bite your lip, hugging the pillow close. It would be nice to get back out there, you guess. Despite all the drama, you really do love acting, and while these past few months have been a nice break, you don’t know how much longer you can go without having anything to do. Finally, with a long, drawn out exhale, you relent, “Fine. You can send me the specifics and we’ll see.”

You are not even done with your sentence before you hear the ding of your email notification and you startle out a laugh. “Jesus, were you waiting with your finger on the send button or something?”

“I was confident that I could break you,” she says, smug, and you breathe a laugh again. “It’s just the audition package, but I think you’ll really like this show. It’s a cutesy, no bullshit type sitcom.”

“You know me well.”

“Let me know by tomorrow. I’m giving you twenty four hours to make a firm decision,” she says before hanging up.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at her actions. Liv is a great manager, but she’s definitely got a flair for dramatics.

… And knows exactly what kind of role would be perfect for easing you back into the industry, you grudgingly admit.

It starts off like another one of those generic crime investigation shows where you play a damn good detective who doesn’t play well with others until she meets her new partner, an unknown actress.

Liv was right. It’s the right amount of charming while still keeping with the grittiness that comes with crime shows nowadays, and your character – as well as your yet to be known partner – shuts down at least three instances of perceived sexism in just the first episode.

And you may be reading into things, but you are pretty sure that the two detectives have a thing for each other. A subtextual thing. God, you hope it’s a thing.

It’s a really good show.

Not only is the writing well done but the characters are pretty fleshed out and developed for a pilot episode and you are already tempted to call back Liv with the affirmation that yes, you are willing to go in for the audition. The only thing that’s holding you back is the smug look that you can picture all too well on her face at the news.

You last seven hours, caving after you have had dinner and Liv sounds just as self satisfied as you imagined.

Turns out the reading is in a few days time and Liv says, “I’ll drive you up there myself. I don’t trust you to not run away because of cold feet.”

You sigh, “As always, your faith in me is astounding.”

“We’re driving up the day before and booking a hotel. Start getting your shit together, Y/n.”

And you do, unearthing whatever you think would be suitable enough for being thrown back into the spotlight. If it was up to you you would just wear sweats all day. The morning you were scheduled to leave, you are awoken by an incessant pounding on the door to your apartment at 7:30am.

Not even bothering to throw something over your night slip dress, you stomp over and yank the door open with a belligerent, “What the fuck.”

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Liv demands, placing her hands on her hips. You glare at her weakly through your post sleep haze. Of course Liv would be looking runway ready at 7:30 on a Wednesday, both hair and makeup immaculate as she judges you for looking like an overgrown sewer rat. You are only mildly upset about it.

“You do realise it only takes like two and half hours to drive up to Seoul right? And that the audition is tomorrow?”

Liv merely grunts, and shoulders past you into the living room, though not before shoving a warm thermos in your hands. “Shut up, drink this, and get dressed.”

Unscrewing the cap, you're immediately hit with the scent of fresh coffee, and a strongly brewed one at that. “Seriously?” you ask, eyeing the dark brown sludge Liv likes to drink. She goes through at least four cups a day and you aren't quite sure how she’s still living.

The other woman just gives you a shark-like smile. “Bottoms up,” she smirks as she throws herself down onto the armchair.

You grumble but do as you are told, only to gag at the first taste of it in your mouth. It’s bitter and horrible and you're pretty sure your heart stutters over itself before beating double time.

“That’s disgusting,” you wheeze, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

Liv barely glances up at her phone. “I don’t care. Get dressed.”

You briefly consider drawing out your shower, but you're fairly certain that Liv wouldn’t hesitate to barge in and drag you out herself so you keep it quick. Mostly. You probably could have spent a couple less minutes shaving your legs but oh well. What’s done is done, and Liv hasn’t expressed any desire to harm or maim you as yet so you consider it a win.

By half eight the two of you are trudging down to the carpark, your duffel bag swinging lamely between them.

“If this goes badly I’m going to go back to my original plan of rearing llamas in South America,” you warn, pulling open the door to the passenger side with far more force than necessary. You throw your duffel in the backseat, having it land haphazardly on the floor.

Liv smoothly slides into the driver’s seat and the car hums to life. “I thought you were going to be a dairy farmer?” she asks lightly, passing over one of those heavy bran muffins you like to eat. You make a face but accepts it nonetheless. Asking Liv to stop at a Starbucks to pick of breakfast will only result in a stink eye and another bran muffin thrown your way.

“I changed my mind. Llamas have more personality than cows. Plus the paparazzi will never find me as an obscure livestock owner in the Andes.”

“I’m glad you’ve thought this through,” she says wryly, and you just smile at her, taking a huge bite out of the muffin.

You regret it instantly. It tastes like sadness and despair.

You don’t do much at the hotel, getting separate rooms and Liv leaves almost immediately to… do whatever it is she does on her downtime. Probably making a necklace out of human remains or something.

You dick around for a little bit, channel surfing before landing on an old episode of Charmed and then making the decision to hesitantly open up your Twitter account to scroll through your feed. You don’t go on often, especially because of these last few months, only tweeting when Liv says you need to make sure the world knows you are not dead, and even then it’s just a retweet of something, like one of those cute kitten vines.

You go through the writers’ room account, familiarising yourself with the producer and director before you catch yourself and stop. You could not get the role. You know that this industry is more luck than talent. You shouldn’t get attached.

It doesn’t stop you from looking up the studio though, learning that they’d be shooting on the same block as several other shows including some pretty well known ones. Homeland Studios is home to shows like Star Kingdom, Reign and Rebellion, and The Wreckage, just to name a few. It’s just a subtle reminder that it’s expected to do really well, and you swallow heavily, anxiety settling in the pit of your stomach.

When it’s time for you to go to the actual audition, you are a veritable bundle of nerves, to the point where Liv has to grab you by the shoulders to take you to the studio.

“This is a bad idea,” you say, hands clenched tight enough that yor nails dig crescents in then inside of your palm. “Maybe I shouldn’t get back into this just yet. Maybe we should go back home.”

“Maybe you should shut up,” Liv says mildly, switching lanes to head for their turn off, and you just nod, meek, settling down in your seat and trying not to think of everything that could go wrong.

None of those things happen of course; in fact, the audition surprisingly goes well enough.

You somehow manage to get in the mindset of your character and deliver your lines almost flawlessly despite the fact that you felt like you just came off a rollercoaster. The executive producer, Mr. Jung, is impressed at the end of it, and the room is all smiles when you are done, stumbling back out into the arms of a waiting Liv.

“See?” she smirks, “You did just fine.”

“I’m going to throw up,” you declare, and Liv just rolls her eyes.

Later that night Liv shows up to your room, a bag of Thai takeout in hand while you are aimlessly scrolling through your phone.

“Can you believe that there are articles on this already?” you ask, glaring at the luminescent screen. “I thought this was a closed audition? How do they have pictures of me?”

“Never underestimate the power of the paparazzi,” Liv says sagely as she begins to unload containers. You eat in silence, sometimes a quip here or there about an article that popped up. The pictures are blurry at best, which many say means that it’s just a hoax. That’s a good thing, in your opinion. The last thing you want is to ease back into the water only to have a sea monster drag your down kicking and screaming.

When you’re finished, Liv puts aside her container and looks at you, determined. It’s intimidating to say the least.

“You should start looking into apartments,” she says, blunt as always.

You are taken aback. Out of all things you expected her to say, this wasn’t even on the list. “What's wrong with my apartment?” you frown, “I like it.”

The look you get in return suggests that you are stupid for asking a question like that. “Well for one it's a good three hour commute from there to the studio.”

If anything, that just makes you frown deepen. “You're acting as though I already have the part when I’ve only gone in once.”

At that, Liv is suspiciously quiet and it makes you narrow your eyes. “What? What aren't you telling me?” you demand.

Another beat of hesitation and then, “They specifically contacted me with the role. They want you to take the part.”

That makes you even more confused and you ask, “Why would they do that? I haven't been acting for a while and I doubt that I'm good for press at the moment.”

There's a sigh from Liv before she unwillingly says, “They cast one lead already and she specifically asked for you to be her co lead.”

“Who is it,” you ask, voice flat and eyebrows raised expectantly.

Liv lifts her chin to meet your gaze, as though squaring up for a fight. Well, it’s not necessarily out of the ballpark just yet. “Shin Ryujin,” she says at last, and you are certain you can hear the screeching of brakes as the world stops.

Neither of you speak while you digest this information until you glare at her and almost spit what you have to say, “Are you fucking kidding me? You want me to team up with my ex boyfriend’s ex? The ex who dumped me on the red carpet? What the ever living fuck, Liv?”

She sighs again before saying, “I knew you would react like this, that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

You slump backward into your pile of pillows. “The tabloids are going to come for me, you hear that? They’re going to come and ask me a million different questions and turn me into another meme. The opportunities for this are endless.”

“Relax, you’re making this worse than it needs to be.”

Your voice is muffled through the layers of pillows, but you are certain Liv can hear you when you say, “Tomorrow. I’m flying to South America tomorrow to start my yet to be named llama farm tomorrow.”

now

M A Y

A bottle of lavender and citrus shampoo has never looked that intimidating to you.

You probably spend a good five minutes under the stream of water just staring at the thing since you first noticed it. Your hair is already soaked all the way through, and the bodywash – his bodywash, the one that makes you smell like pine trees and musk – has swirled down the drain ages ago, but you can’t stop staring at the green and purple bottle sitting so innocently in the shower caddy.

It’s the exact same brand you use, the one that only the beauty store a good fifteen minutes from here sells, and you know that it’s stupid to get all worked up over a simple bottle of shampoo, but you can’t help it, not when it makes your stomach flip like that, not when you find yourself swallowing several times.

The shower door clicks open and you jump, almost slipping if it weren’t for the muscled arm that shoots out to grasp you.

“Whoa, careful,” Minho says, voice trembling with mirth as he pulls you into his chest. You feel the hotness creep up your chest, and he notices it too, dropping a finger to your breastbone, tracing it all the up your neck. “You trying to drown in here, baby?” he asks with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“Just got sidetracked,” you say sweetly, thanking every deity you can think of that your voice doesn’t shake. You smirk and let your eyes run unashamedly over his bare form, the sinews of his neck, the hard ridges of his stomach that taper into a sharp vee at his hips. You love to stare at his naked body, love how it’s a study in sharp lines and angles that you wish to trace first with your fingers and then your teeth and tongue.

Minho doesn’t miss the way you are watching him, and he steps near you under the spray of the shower with a halfway smirk, letting it flatten his sex mussed curls.

“Well,” he all but purrs, and you shiver, letting your hands trail across his broad frame. He leans in to bite your ear while his thumbs brush over the tight bud of your nipples. “How about I sidetrack you a little more?”

Your hands spasm on his shoulders at his words, nails digging into corded muscle and he drags his teeth down your jaw.

“It’s your water bill,” you breathe, already rubbing yourself against his hardening cock, and he huffs a laugh into your skin.

Placing a kiss at the hollow of your throat, he mumbles, “It’s worth it,” and the grin that was budding across your face falls flat, stomach twisting awfully again.

You grab his hand from where it’s playing around with your breasts and drag it down to the the junction of your thighs, widening your stance slightly. “Less talking and more of this,” you tell him in a no nonsense kind of voice, his fingers taking their place on your clit, “I’m not getting sidetracked as yet.”

He misses the emotions that played across your face before, for when he finally looks up, it’s to meet a challenging eyebrow and a playful glint in your eye. He laughs again, pressing his forehead against yours and lets his fingers trail across your folds, parting them and spreading your wetness around and your eyes flutter shut, head tilted back.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, and then he’s kissing you, soft and deep while his other finger drums on your clit.

You try to put all thoughts of that damned shampoo bottle out of your head, god you try, and it works for a while, letting yourself get caught up in his fingers and tongue.

His fingers dipped in your heat, collecting all the slick that had gathered there before he dragged them back to your clit, swollen and throbbing in need for him. You allowed yourself to lean into Minho as he kept you pressed close to his body, planting small kisses at the top of your head.

It was intimate enough for you to freak out, intimate enough that it shouldn't come under whatever arrangement you and Minho had. Any rationality slipped from your mind when Minho tipped your head back to capture your lips in his.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your body falling completely into his embrace. His lips felt so fucking soft, gliding against yours smoothly, a little chapped and raw, yet so fucking perfect against yours.

You sighed into the kiss and Minho’s tongue licked your lower lip, the simple sensation sent heat straight to your core when he caught them in between in his teeth, slightly nibbling on them. You craved this feeling more than anything in the world. Nothing could compare.

“Fuck” you breathed, and he bit your lower lip, tugging at it, breaking the skin hard enough to draw blood. All you could do was let out a breathy moan, which came out as more of a whine. Your fingers grazed the nape of his neck, digging crescents into the soft skin and his overwhelming scent completely indulged you.

For a moment you forgot about his fingers until he pushed you against the shower wall, plunging two fingers into your soaking, greedy cunt waiting for him, where he belonged.

"I've barely started, baby," he cooed at you, lips meeting yours again to match the intensity of his fingers.

You couldn’t feel it in yourself to be embarrassed, you just wanted him to touch you.

“Please” you whined, and he increased the intensity with which his fingers were rubbing against your walls, a delicious pace that you were far too guilty to be both indulging in and craving for.

“M-Mnho…” you spoke, faltering at your words as he explored you.

“Feels good?” He asked, out of breath, leaning to press kiss under your ear. His tongue was languidly tracing a path along the side of your neck.

“Yeah…p-please. Fuck, don’t stop…” you moaned as he fucked in and out of you with his finger. The small kisses, the way his fingers owned every inch of you, the way his thumb rubbed circles on your swollen nub, everything was too much for you to take. You threw your head back, trying to contain yourself, unsure if you will ever get enough of this, ever get enough of him.

“Fuck, you’re always so wet for me. Are you close already?” He mumbled, watching you.

“Just fuck me” you breathed, of course, Minho isn't one to make any of this easy for you.

“I know, baby. Your cunt can't be left untouched,” he chuckled.

“Go faster, please” You pleaded, leaning backwards to rest your head against the shower wall. You know for a fact that if it wasn't for his hands steadying you, you would barely be able to hold yourself up.

Minho knew how to push you to the edge, he knew how to curl his fingers just right inside you, his dark gaze on you, hot and determined. It was all too much.

“Please, don’t stop,” you said, knowing very well he won't.

“Don’t worry, baby. I'll make you feel so good,” he said, finding your mouth again with his own. You were far too fucked to kiss him back properly but that didn’t stop him. His fingers moved so fast inside you and his tongue explored your mouth at the same time. “Always so tight,” he mumbled, making you clench around him.

You didn't bother to reply, feeling the pressure finally build up, a tightening coil settling deep in your belly. You could hear how wet you were by how fast his fingers pulled in and out of you.

“Faster…I’m so close” you panted, feeling everything inside you build up and Minho listened to you, increasing his pace, fingering you at an insane speed, his fingers curling inside you so well.

He pulled you in for a kiss, and just then, you came, the knot uncoiling and you let out a loud moan, into his mouth. You came with repeated moans of his name and incorrigible words, and he helped you ride out your high, kissing your neck, his fingers still inside you as your thighs trembled.

"Fuck, Y/n, you have no idea how beautiful you are." You breathed out a laugh, your eyes fluttering close. “I could watch you come a hundred times.”

"You’re that great."

"Yeah? Let me wash all that grease from your hair."

Your stomach twists when he offers to wash your hair for you, an unsettling amount of domesticity in the suggestion, and you move to capture his mouth in a frantic kiss that catches him off guard for a second before he can say something else.

Soap gets in your mouth, but you ignore it in favour of kissing him harder, hands drifting up to grip his own hair, slippery between your fingers, and you stumble back into the wall behind him, his hands flying to grasp your hips.

The water beats down on you fully now that you have his back against the wall, and his hands squeeze your hips, fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass, causing you to groan in his mouth. The soap suds drip down your back, and you try your best to ignore it, focusing on the warmth of his mouth, the hardness of his cock trapped between your bodies, pressing against your stomach, until the water runs clean, and that’s when Minho growls, fumbling to turn off the tap and hauling you up against him, dripping wet.

You shriek a little when he lifts, carrying you the short distance to his bed and dropping you down on the edge of it only to kneel between your open thighs, shouldering them apart.

A hand darts to his hair, grasping it when he nuzzles the crease where your hip meets your thigh, stubble chafing in the most wonderful of ways against your skin, and it brings a smile to your face, all previous worries long gone because this you can do. Sex is just sex. This is what you signed up for all those months ago.

“Insatiable,” you tell him, tapping his cheek.

He noses at you again, this time dangerously close to your centre where you can feel his breath brush against your cunt and you shiver, waiting.

“Your fault,” he mumbles, too busy peppering your mound with light kisses.

“I wasn’t done in the shower,” you say, laying back with a sigh as he licks up your slit gently. “You distracted me.”

“That was my plan,” he says unabashedly, using his thumbs to hold your folds wide open in front of him, everything on display. Minho looks up at you with a boyish grin, “You’ll have plenty of time for that after,” he says, and keeps eye contact with you when he seals his mouth over your clit, and really, what can you say to that?

‘After’ turns out to be nearly an hour later, rinsing the combined stickiness off your skin while he changes the sheets. Your hair is long dried, a halo of frizz around your head, and a cloud of lavender scent following you wherever you go. It still makes you feel uneasy, the level of intimacy you are at now, far higher than when this entire thing started, but you make a gargantuan effort to push it away. You could just be overreacting. You have a tendency to do that sometimes.

You step out into the living room in just a ratty t-shirt of his to find him lounging on the couch in sweats, a documentary playing on the TV while he nibbles on a slice of pizza. His glasses sit lopsided on his nose as always, and it makes your heart swell with fondness.

“Ryujin’s tweeting about us again,” he says, without any preamble, “Apparently she thinks we are going to burn the building down if we are left unchecked.”

You immediately unlock your phone and open up the app, spotting the tweet at the top of your timeline, and you snort. “What an idiot,” you say fondly, “Although I’m somewhat offended that she thinks we’ll destroy the complex.”

“I know right? Come on Ryujin, we’re not monsters,” he says with a dramatic roll of his eyes, “Obviously if I wanted to get back at you for something I’d just trash your apartment. I’m not going to inconvenience the entire building just for our feud.”

“What a gentleman,” you say wryly, slumping down on the couch next to him, and he prods you with his toes.

“We should take a selfie,” he says after wiping the grease off his hands, “To show her that we’re definitely still alive and everything’s intact.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say to take a selfie? You with me? Minho? Please tell me you’re okay.”

“You’re a bit dramatic at times, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Only several times a day.”

He rolls his eyes again and reaches out for your phone, pulling up the camera app. “C’mere,” he tells you, sitting up so that his shoulder brushes against yours. You readily move into frame.

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this,” you say, “I feel like I should being taking a photo of you taking a selfie with me, you know, to record this historical moment-”

You only stop talking when you hear the sound of the camera going off and looks up to Minho, not even bothering to hide his smirk.

“You did not just do that,” you say, shooked just a bit, “I was talking!”

“Well if you won’t shut up and pay attention,” he teases only to have the camera go off once more.

Now it’s your turn to cackle at the look on his face, and you pat his cheek lightly. “Karma,” you say succinctly, and there’s another sound of the shutter that makes you huff. “Alright enough of that. Give me back my phone.”

He holds the phone out of your reach, grinning. “Just one more. And then you pick whichever and post it to um-” he wrinkles his nose as he tries to find the word and you can’t help but giggle.

“Instagram?” you prod him, and he makes a face, nodding in assent. “Honestly, you’re weird. Stop acting as though we would be the first actors to post a selfie together."

“Shut up,” he grumbles, knocking into you with his shoulder before lying back down on the couch. His eyes drift shut. “Just make sure that in whatever you post up, you get my good side.”

“You don’t have a good side.”

“Rude,” he says, though there’s a smile tugging at his lips that causes one to appear on your face. You never thought that the two of you’d get here, even when you started fucking, and now you did, and it leaves you warm and fuzzy inside, this friendship you have developed with him. It also fans the flames of your anxiety, wondering if you should just stop having sex entirely before it permanently screws up your friendship into something irreparable.

It doesn’t stop you from posting the picture though, turning off all notifications and throwing your phone on the coffee table before wedging yourself between the back of the couch and him to watch whatever it is he found on Netflix for them. His arm ends up around you, and you snuggle into it, perfectly content for the time being.

before: 12 months ago

M A Y

Shin Ryujin hasn’t changed since the last time you saw her.

Of course, you have only seen her twice before, once at the afterparty of an awards show where you had possibly the most uncomfortable conversation of your life, and the other time when you found her sitting on your – their? – ex boyfriend’s lap.

She is still the perfect mixture of cute and hot, all cute features and sharp edges that cut a pretty damn beautiful figure. She’s still bubbly and lively, eyes impassively trained on you for the moment you enter the room, and she still makes you feel nervous, mortified and uncomfortable all at the same time.

You get the part, to no one’s surprise, but the actual cast listing hasn’t been released yet, not until they have all gone through a table read.

Unfortunately, as if life loves playing these little, mortifying games with you, you are placed in the seat next to Ryujin and it’s awkward to say the least. It’s still early with half the cast not here as yet and there’s only so much fake texting you can pretend to do before it becomes noticeable.

Finally, you crack, turning in your seat to say, “So. This is awkward.”

She lifts a single perfectly manicured eyebrow. “What, most friendships don’t start with you realising you’re not dating the same two timing scumbag as someone else?” she asks, keeping a perfectly straight face.

“Is that what we are?” you ask, perhaps a bit too quickly, “Friends?”

Ryujin scrutinises you a little bit, as though expecting there to be some sort of alternative motive, and you wonder where all her extraversion energy has dissipated or if she was always like this. Then, Ryujin must not have found any twisted meaning behind your words because she leans back with a half a smile and says, “Yeah, Y/n. We are friends.”

You try to bite back a smile but you probably don't succeed, especially since Ryujin shoots you a sly, sidelong look and gently knocks her elbow into yours. You mimic the motion, knocking back into her in return before frowning as another question comes to mind.

“Why did you request me to be your co-star?” you ask falteringly, “We have only met twice, and one of those times happened to be with you and my ex were naked in bed together.”

“Good times that was,” she says with a wry twist of her lips. She turns so that her whole body is facing you and worries her lip between her teeth. “Honestly, I don't know. I mean, I have seen your stuff Y/n, you’re good at what you do and what happened all those months ago-” You stiffen and you know Ryujin notices as she slows her speech, “-was pretty shitty. But you can get back up again eventually and if this was the opportunity for that, then why not?”

“It was the least pretty shitty thing, it was a pretty mortifying experience,” you point out and Ryujin laughs.

“Yeah I figured. Getting outed and broken up with within the span of seven minutes? Ouch,” she winces and you are pretty sure you end up gaping at her. She leans over and taps your mouth closed with a ‘click.’ “Take it from me,” she says, resting a hand on her arm chair, “One bad experience doesn’t mean you have to hide away forever.”

You stare at her for a beat longer before a shaky smile unfurls itself across your face. “I like you, Shin Ryujin,” you declare and get a smile that’s all teeth in response.

“Good,” she nods, “Because hopefully we are gonna be seeing each other a lot for the next few months.”

And with one last shared grin, the directors and producers enter the room, the room filled with all the actors for script-writing, calling them all to silence to begin the table read.

It goes surprisingly well if you do say so. The cast is fun and quirky, each of them bringing something new to the table and there’s something about firing off quick witted banter with Ryujin, both of you smirking just a little while you do so, that just seals the deal for you. For the first time in a long you actually feel truly at home. Acting has always been something which put you at ease, and despite the bigger picture demanding more than what just interest can fulfill, the idea of associating bad memories to your passion wasn't the best.

“Hey,” Ryujin calls out when it’s all over and she’s walking over to catch a cab, “Wait up.”

You slow to a stop, turning to look at her as she catches up. “What’s up?”

She comes to a stop in front of you, shifting her weight from one leg to another and fingers the end of her ponytail. “Where are you staying?”

“Huh?”

“You’re from Busan right?” she asks, and you nod once, “So you need a place to stay while we’re filming.”

Right now you are still living out of your duffle in the single hotel room. Liv left a few days prior, once she was sure that you weren't going to run, and you have been on your own since, not even sparing a thought about your housing predicament.

“Fuck,” you groan, raking a careless hand through your hair, “I forgot about that. And we start shooting in a week, dammit.”

She smiles at you, the same sharp one as before, but you can see the nervous tightening around her eyes. “Well actually,” she begins, hesitating slightly, “I have a spare room. If you’re interested that is.”

It takes you a few seconds to realise that you’re gaping at her, mouth hanging open just a little and you hasten to shut it. “What – are you sure?” you sputter, “Because you don’t have to; it’s totally fine, I could just-”

“What?” she interrupts with a raised brow, “Live in a hotel room until you find somewhere to rent? Sounds fun.”

“Ryujin, I-” you falter searching for the right words. “Why?” is what you come up with in the end, looking up at her beseechingly.

Her face softens infinitesimally. “You look like you could use a friend,” she says, “A real friend. Someone other than your agent.”

There’s a bit of a sting hidden beneath her words, and you find yourself scuffing the loose gravel with the toe of your shoe. She’s not wrong; you have been in this industry for ages and while you have had acquaintances here and there, none of them had ever been able to quite move into the friendship category.

“You don’t even know me,” you warn, “I could be a terrible roommate.”

She shrugs. “Hey, if that idiot had the balls to date both of us and then cheat, we must have something in common, right?”

It gets a smile out of you. “I guess so.”

“So. You up for it?”

You duck your head for a moment to hide what must be a truly ridiculous grin. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m in.”

The two of you shake on it and two days later you move in with her. At least unofficially.

It’s a bit of a hassle getting everything together; you have to find your way back down to your old apartment considering Liv was the one who drove you up here in the first place, and then figure out what to pack in your car to tote back up to your new place. It’s in doing all of this that you realise the sheer amount of crap you have come to own. Really, you have no idea how your wardrobe didn’t explode before because you have a truly frightening amount of clothes.

At the end of it, everything works out for the best.

You and Ryujin spend the day before you’re scheduled to start shooting unpacking your things in the spare room and it’s… fun. You haven’t had this much fun in a long time, enthusiastically singing along to trashy pop music playing over the radio while the two of you unload box after box. It turns out Ryujin's spare room was a lab of sorts, all sorts of knickknacks and tools spread out.

“They were going to go back in storage when I started working again anyway,” she says, brushing off your concern as she dumps them into her previously empty boxes, “Relax Y/n.”

When it’s all said and done, the two of you find yourselves sprawled off on the sofa, watching some sort of mindless reality TV show while you split a pizza. As far as days go, this one is a veritable success, and, watching Ryujin trying to balance straws on her nose while they lounge around together in their pyjamas, you think that you made a good choice.

M A Y

Your first day on set is… interesting to say the least.

The couple of scenes you do go well, the cast is just as amicable as before and the crew is a riot. Not to mention you are slowly coming around making friends with a handful of other people around you. It makes you feel like you have somewhat successfully navigated your adult life.

That isn’t what makes it interesting though; no what makes it interesting is your run in with some overweening asshole while you were still in your car.

There’s a tap on the glass which causes you to jump, and when your head snaps towards the source, there is a man standing right by your door, frowning. He’s fairly handsome, with caramel skin and bedhead, extremely attractive, and you swear that you know him from somewhere but you can’t put your finger on it. You don’t dwell on it though, because he’s standing outside your car, arms crossed over his – admittedly broad – chest and looking thoroughly put out.

“Can I help you?” you ask, polite, after rolling down the window.

The man doesn’t seem to have any regards for manners however as his upper lip curls into a sneer and he says, “You’re in my parking spot, miss.”

You blink. You're fairly certain that this spot didn’t have anything labelling it as reserved when you pulled into it. So, like any person would do, you step out of the car to check. As you suspected, there’s nothing there saying that it belongs to anyone else and you whirl around to tell him as much.

He just scoffs at you in response. “Listen, I know you’re a newbie and all but that’s been my spot for the last two and a half years, so if you could kindly fuck off, it would be much appreciated.”

“Wow, a real gentleman, aren’t you?” you hiss, and then make a point about pressing the button on your keys so that your car locks with a cheery chirp. “This is the first time I’ve seen you all week so maybe you should be the one kindly fucking off.”

“All week, hmm?” he says, eyebrows raising, “Funny because in my two years of being here this is the first time I’m seeing you so.”

The way he says it makes it seem like you are the one at fault for taking an unmarked parking spot. It causes your hackles to rise and you find yourself sniping, “Well maybe if you spent less time being a diva and more time trying to be punctual, then maybe you’d have your precious parking space!”

His eyebrows seem to have disappeared up his hairline. “A diva?” he sputters, before glaring at you once more, “Please. As if you’re one to talk, miss.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you huff, before stomping your foot and saying, “And stop calling me miss, dammit! You don’t know me.”

“I know your type,” he drawls, and his lips twist into a smirk. The change in his expression is going to give you whiplash, you’re sure of it, what with the way he keeps going from angry to smug. He presses on, “Whiny girl trying to make it big. Thinks that the world has fucked her over and she’s out to show them that she’s more than just a pretty face.” You can’t help but wince as his words hit a little bit too close to home, and his smirk just widens. “If the glass slipper fits, Cinderella. Try not to break it.”

“Are you always this much of an asshole to strangers?” you fire back after a moment of hesitation, “Or am I special?”

“What do you think?”

“I think,” you sniff, hiking your bag up on your shoulder, “That you’re a dick and I hope someone spills hot coffee on that pretty face of yours.”

And with that you turn on your heel, stalking off to stage four where you are set to begin shooting today. He yells something indistinguishable from behind you and you don't even bother to turn around, just flip him off over your shoulder.

You stomp on to the set, seething over the altercation until Ryujin calls you out on it with a, “Who pissed in your coffee?”

“Haven’t had any as yet,” you reply, slamming your bag down on the table and reaching for the pot of the aforementioned drink.

“No wonder you’re glaring daggers at everything that moves. Coffee is essential, Y/n. It’s our ambrosia.”

That gets a smile out of you and you feel the tension slowly start to work its way out of your shoulders. You quickly fix your cuppa to suit – two sugars with the barest dab of milk – and take a huge sip, sighing as it washes down your throat. “I can believe that,” you say and take another sip. “But it wasn’t my caffeinated – or lack thereof – self that brought this on. Just some asshole in the car park.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I feel like I know him from somewhere so he’s probably an actor too, but god, he’s such a dick. I wanted to punch him in the face.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you. We all know you have got a mean right hook.”

You felt the heat creep up your neck and face. “I’m sorry, if that asshole had the gall to try and get back with you at your movie premier you’re telling me you wouldn’t punch him?”

“No, I’d kick him in the balls and take a picture to use as the newest reaction photo. Caption: when you get hit by the feels.”

You snort a laugh and drain the rest of your coffee. “I better head to hair and makeup. I have a feeling they are going to need some time to tame this into some form of neatness,” you say, gesturing to the tangle of your hair thrown together in a sloppy bun at the top of your head.

Ryujin nods, reaching for a peach. “I should probably do the same. After we are done we can raid craft services before Felix and Jeongin get to it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

After that, everything is smooth sailing and you easily push the incident from your mind, getting into character as you call them on set. You shoot three scenes that day, and you and Ryujin learn how to fire fake guns. It’s fun, and when you’re done, Felix suggests that they all head for celebratory pizza at Lia’s around the corner. You feel right at home with them, with all of your co-stars, as you chat and trade stories over weak beer and greasy pizza, and when you and Ryujin stumble back home later, you pretty much just collapse into bed, only toeing off your shoes.

The rest of the week goes by quickly, and on Friday you are the only one who needs to go in, leaving Ryujin at home watching cartoons curled up on their couch with a bowl of soggy cereal. It’s easier than you expected, having her as a roommate. You are both still careful around each other, but by each passing day the walls are slowly being chipped away.

“Want me to pick up anything on my way back?” you ask while slipping on your shoes.

She shakes her head. “Nah. Don’t forget though, I invited Minho over later. I can’t believe you’ve been here a week and you haven’t met him yet.”

“You mean your imaginary friend who lives down the hall?” you tease.

“He’s not imaginary,” she insists, laughter colouring her voice, “I don’t know why you keep insisting he is.”

“Probably because you keep referencing him but I’ve never seen him.”

“Because he’s working somewhere else in the meantime. He left Monday evening.”

“Uh huh,” you say, still sceptical, “Sure. I’m going now. Say hi to your other imaginary friends for me!”

You hear a loud, “He's not imaginary, dammit Y/n!” as the door shuts behind you and you can’t help but grin to yourself as you jog down the stairs.

* * *

Work is a bit boring today with most of the cast not there. You are needed for two scenes with a couple extras, one fake fight where your stunt double is doing most of the work, and then the resulting interrogation scene. It’s nice, but dull, and you take to snapchatting Ryujin various pieces of set equipment until you flip her off, not answering anymore after she presumably switches off her phone.

You get to leave early when your scenes are done, and stop off at the bakery around the corner to pick up some pastries before heading home.

Their voices can be heard through the door as you toggle the lock, and you can't help but bite back a smile when you hear Ryujin bark out a laugh.

“Honey I'm home,” you announce as you fling the door open, kicking your shoes off in the hallway.

There’s a muffled, “In here!” coming from the kitchen as well as the tantalising waft of spices that has your stomach growling.

The first thing you notice as you round the corner is the guy standing by the stove all messy yet neat hair and deliciously broad shoulders, stirring the pot while Ryujin goes on about something and your mouth waters for more than one reason. The second thing you notice when he turns a bit, giving you a glimpse of his side profile, is that he looks shockingly familiar. That one is fleeting however, only to be replaced by the third and final thing, when Ryujin finally sees you standing on the edge of the kitchen.

“Y/n!” she yells out in greeting, and when the man turns around, giving you a good look at his face, your jaw actually drops.

Because standing there in the middle of your kitchen, looking surly as ever is the parking space asshole.

Seriously, what the fuck.

“Y/n,” Ryujin says again, sliding off her perch on the counter, “This is Minho. The one who you thought were imaginary.”

“I wish he was imaginary,” you mumble under your breath.

“What was that?”

“I said we have met,” you correct yourself with a tight smile and that’s when his lips curl up in a lazy smirk.

“That we have,” he drawls, shoving his hands in his pants pocket. He nods at you in acknowledgement. “Miss.”

“Douchebag.”

Ryujin is looking between the two of you, perplexed. “How–” she falters, eyebrows creasing together.

“He's the carpark asshole,” you say, flat, and that’s when Ryujin laughs, loud and bright, bouncing off the kitchen cabinets.

“Nah,” she smirks, patting him on the shoulder, “Just a regular asshole.”

“Thanks Ryujin.”

She whirls around to face him, smacking his bicep lightly. “I can’t believe the girl you were complaining about was Y/n. And Y/n,” she says, cutting a glance back at her, “Why didn’t you tell me it was Minho? I would have helped come up with some more colourful insults for him.”

“Again, thank you Ryujin.”

You feel your cheeks get warm and you duck your head, saying sheepishly, “I uh, I didn’t exactly recognise him at first.”

You don’t have to look up to know that the pair is gaping at you. Well, Ryujin is gaping at you, that is. Minho on the other hand is still trying to be cool and pretend that he’s not bothered by your admission.

“...Seriously?”

“It’s not like I watch the show okay?” you defend yourself, “I only know about it in passing.”

“Yeah, but he was on like every news outlet for the first year of it because of his fuck ups.”

“Why am I friends with you again?” Minho asks to no one in particular and you both ignore him.

Ryujin is still frowning at you, looking at you a bit suspiciously. “You really didn’t know?”

“Trust me, if I knew who he was and that he was your friend, I wouldn’t have said half of those things,” you sigh, using both your hands to push your hair back. You look at Minho properly for the first time since you realised who he was, and he’s just as stupidly hot as before. It makes you frown. “So does being friends with my roommate mean that I’ll have to see you around here often?” you ask, and his grin turns wicked.

“Something like that,” he shrugs, being deliberately vague, and turns back to the stew bubbling away on the stove.

Next to him, Ryujin rolls her eyes and says, “He lives down the hall and he’s usually over most nights if our schedules permits it.”

You feel your eyes flicker close of their own accord. “Great,” you sigh, and then they snap open almost immediately. “Wait, he lives here?” You look between the two of them before pinching the bridge of your nose. “What, is there some sort of celebrity quota the complex needs to fill or something? Is James Franco gonna pop up downstairs while I’m getting my mail?”

“Why James Franco?” Minho butts in mildly as he turns the gas off, “Why not Dave? He’s obviously the better Franco.”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up,” grouses Ryujin, stretching up to get the bowls from the top cabinet. The floor squeaks as she moves and you all wince.

“Need wheels for walking, Ryujin?” he asks, elbowing her out of the way to grab the bowls and he starts ladling the food into them.

“Nah. I just forgot to see about it this weekend,” she says, setting the table. You remain standing there in the kitchen, awkwardly holding the box of pastries. “Got sidetracked with a new show and all, this floor is still irritating though.”

“Uh huh,” he says, before his eyes drift over to you and he lifts an eyebrow, “What, you just gonna stand there all day, sweetheart?”

You jump, startled, and throw a weak glare at him. “No. Shut up,” you reply, placing the box on the counter and grabbing the cutlery from the drawer. Ryujin pops open a bottle of wine and soon enough you are all sitting in silence, eating. You have to begrudgingly admit that whatever it is he made ('Galbi Jjim,’ he had said, and the word sounds clumsy in your mouth) tastes amazing. Of course, you’re not going to tell him that; he’s already got a big head and you don't need to feed his ego even more.

You do however need him to feed you and Ryunjin more; his cooking is leagues better than whatever you and Ryujin can manage to put together.

When dinner is over and you have suffered through the appropriate amount of smalltalk, you finally give in and ask, “So how did this,” you gesture between them, “Happen?”

Ryujin cackles and it unnerves you just a bit.

“We hooked up after the incident,” Ryujin shrugs unashamedly. Minho shrugs but you notice a hint of redness creeping up his neck. “I woke up to this asshole sitting in my kitchen drinking my coffee–”

“Your shitty coffee,” he interjects and she elbows him in the stomach.

“–going through my apartment plans–”

“She wanted to move to the south side,” he snorts derisively, “Can you imagine? She wouldn't survive a week down there with the health junkies.”

“This is my story shut up,” Ryujin says without any heat behind her words, “But yeah, there we were, the random guy I hooked up with giving me real estate advice while he stood half naked in my kitchen, and the next thing I knew, I was signing the lease and he was helping me move in here..”

“Do all your friendships begin this weird?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to hide an amused smile.

She winks at you. “Only the good ones,” she says, and that gets a laugh out of you.

You offer to do the dishes after while they set up shop in the living room, bickering goodnaturedly over whose turn it is to pick something to watch on Netflix. You can’t stop your eyes from straying though, looking over at him ever so often for some strange reason.

* * *

Minho is an enigma.

On one hand, he seems like the type of person you wouldn’t mind having as a friend. His humour isn’t quite as dark as Ryujin’s but it’s drier, and he says almost everything with his lips curled up in a smirk, not to mention they have most of the same views on certain topics. That doesn’t stop the two of you from arguing all the time though; at the studio, at the apartment, it doesn’t matter where, you always find something to disagree over.

“You guys are ridiculous,” Ryujin says, rolling her eyes. You were running through lines on your break when Minho appeared, immediately throwing himself on the couch next to you, despite the fact that there were several other seats available.

“You are ridiculous,” you sulk, jabbing him in the ribs with your elbow just because.

Minho reacts like the mature adult he is by sticking his tongue out at you and swatting your thigh easily. “I’m just here to say hi to my friend Ryujin while I’m on lunch,” he says, loosening his tie, “Dunno what the princess’ reason is though.”

“I work here,” you reply, flat. “You’re literally on set where I work. Where else would I be?”

“Jesus, you guys are a headache,” sighs Ryujin when you and Minho start bickering once more, although you can hear the love peeking through. Somewhat.

“It’s his fault,” you mumble, and he tugs on your hair.

Ryujin groans again, swatting you both with her rolled up script. “The two of you are children,” she announces, ignoring your indignant yelps of pain.

It doesn’t help that Minho always seems to be around. He spends most of his lunch breaks on your set, dragging Hyunjin over with him, and then spends most of that time antagonising you. When you’re not filming, he’s over on your couch, needling them into watching the most boring movies ever, and you’re certain that the only reason Ryujin hasn’t kicked him out yet is because he makes them dinner most nights.

“Don’t you have your own apartment?” you somewhat grouse as soon as you spot him lounging on the couch one Sunday morning. You have just woken up, still squinting suspiciously at everything, and it’s not fair that he still manages to look so good that early in the morning. It accounts for about 30% of your bad mood.

Minho just gives you a quick up down, a hint of smirk making itself known and you refuse to fidget, refuse to pull down the shorts you know are riding high on your thigh, refuse to brush back the tangled snarl of hair partially obscuring your vision. “But if I was in my apartment then how would I see your beautiful face, sunshine?”

You don't even dignify that with a response, just trudging your way across the room into the kitchen where Ryujin is already sitting at the table, gulping down coffee like it’s her job.

“Does he ever go home?” you ask, rummaging around the fridge for some milk. “How’d you even put up with him before?”

She just shrugs. “He’s been around more often now that you’re here” she says offhand, and you glance sidelong at her, stopping mid stretch for the cereal box.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs, but she can’t quite hide the smug little smile pulling at her mouth. “Nothing at all.”

You are fairly certain that it’s something, so you press on, “Come on. Obviously you meant something with it. What aren’t you telling me?”

Ryujin slumps back in her chair with a roll of her eyes and pitches her voice low so that it doesn't carry. “Look, he used to visit before, yeah, but since you’re living here now, he’s coming over every day and actually leaving his set to come to ours. What do you think might have caused the change of heart.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “What are you insinuating, Ryujin?”

“You know damn well what I’m insinuating, Y/n.”

“I know that it sounds like a load of bullshit because-”

“Because it’s so implausible that Minho might like you?” she cuts in with a raised eyebrow, “I’ve known that boy for a while. There’s something going on with him. There’s something going on with both of you, and when it finally happens, I’m going to say I told you so.”

“Please,” you scoff as you drown your cereal in milk, “Nothing is going to happen between us.”

J U N E

“Fuck,” he says stumbling back. His eyes are wide and frenzied, lips red, and you're fairly certain you look the same way.

You run a shaky hand through your hair, possibly making it even messier but you don’t really care, not when you have bigger things to worry about like the fact that you just kissed Lee Minho while in the middle of arguing with him.

“Fuck.”

He breathes out a shaky laugh, fidgeting with the tie around his neck. “Pretty sure I just said that.”

“It deserves to be said again because – fuck.”

“Eloquent aren’t you?” he mutters, looking everywhere in the room but at you and you feel a frown tugging down the corners of your mouth.

“This never happened,” you tell him, taking a step closer and forcing him to look at you. “And this is never going to happen again. Got it?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw, eyes hard when he finally meets your gaze. “Whatever the hell you want, Y/n,” he says with abit of an edge, and you nod once before stalking out.

It’s only once you’re out of sight- of him, the trailer and everything else – tucked away in a dusty corridor that leads between studios, do you lean against the wall, breathing shakily as you brush the pads of your fingers across your lips, still tingling.

“Never again,” you mutter, already feeling the migraine building at the base of your skull.

now

M A Y

There’s sunlight streaming through the blinds, and you groan, throwing an arm over your eyes as you move further away from Minho. It’s warm, even with the air conditioner on full blast, and your body is sticky with sweat underneath the light linen blanket. You kick it off with a huff, hoping that maybe you can finally lapse back into a state of blissful unconsciousness, but it’s to no avail.

The bed vibrates with unheard chuckles and you crane your neck to throw a glare at him from over your shoulder.

“Shut up,” you groan. He's ridiculous, lying spread out on the bed without a stitch of clothing to his name, skin all pale and carmel smooth while his hair is a tousled mess. It's upsetting how good he looks, and you shove your face in your pillow so that you don't have to watch him a moment longer.

He just laughs again, this time louder and shuffles closer, ignoring your mewl of displeasure as he pulls his body flush against yours. “Good morning baby,” the coos in your ear before placing a line of sloppy kisses down the side of your neck.

You squirm in his arms, trying in vain to bat him away, but he just laughs again, letting his hair chafe against your skin as he grabs both your wrists and pins your hands above your head, sending a pang of want through you.

“Asshole,” you mutter, even as you tilt your head back to let him suck softly on your pulse point. The hand holding your wrists together applies a bit more pressure to them and he presses more firmly against you until you whine. “It’s hot,” you complain.

His teeth grazes your earlobe when he shifts, and you sigh, relaxing into him. “Mmm, that you are,” he says into your skin, free hand moving to palm your breast. Your lips part in a silent moan when he squeezes it, thumb flicking over your nipple, and he ruts against your ass, letting you feel him, already hard and hot.

“I’m all sweaty and sticky,” you warn, though your protests are getting more and more feeble by the minute, especially when he nips at your jaw gently, hand leaving your chest and moving south to brush across your clit.

His responding hum reverberates through you and you whimper as his fingers tease your cunt. “Well, let’s see if we could make you sweatier and stickier,” he says, and you have to huff out a laugh, startled and bright, because he’s ridiculous .

“What an – oh,” the rest of your sentence is replaced by a moan when he easily lifts your leg, hitching it over his hip, and slides in, all hot and heavy and perfect.

You whimper again when he grunts into your neck as he bottoms out, and you stay like that for a moment, just basking in the feel of each other before he finally starts to move.

He can only give you short, shallow thrusts like this, but more than makes up for it by using the pad of his thumb to rub gentle circles on your clit. You grind back against him, wrists straining against his hands, but he doesn’t let up, no matter how much you ask.

Then he’s hitching your leg up higher, changing the angle inside of you that has you seeing white, almost choking on your tongue as you spasm against him, wanting him to reach you deeper.

“Fuck, Minho, right there,” you beg, turning your head blindly in search of his lips, and he obliges you, giving you a kiss that’s more tooth than lip, but you still whimper, teetering on the edge.

Sweat gathers across your bodies, and you can feel your hair sticking to your temples, to the back of your neck, and he makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat when you inadvertently clench down on him. He finally lets go of your hands, only grabbing hold of your thigh, keeping it in place as he repeats the motion from before that has you seeing stars.

“Better?” he asks, voice strained, and all you can do is nod, too busy panting to string actual words together. You clutch on to the pillow when he does it a third time, free hand darting back down to pinch your clit, needing something to anchor you to reality.

“I’m so- I’m so,” you almost sob, thrashing, and his laugh is low and gravelly behind you, lips fastening to your pulse point and causing you to cry out. “Minho.”

He soothes you with sweet nothings muttered in your ear, but it does nothing to quelch the burning need inside you. Only when his fingers bear down on your clit too, thrusting in as deep as he can go, do you keen loudly, walls fluttering around him as you come.

It takes both of you by surprise, the sheer intensity of it, and for one brilliant, mind numbing moment, everything goes blank, and you just feel as though you're blissfully floating in space, electricity pulsing beneath your skin.

You come back slowly, your harsh breaths mingling with his as he softens inside of you, and he squeezes the fleshy part of your stomach gently before rolling onto his back. You go with him, twisting so that you now lie on his chest, sweat soaked skin sticking together, too lazy to actually go and clean up.

Minho pets the hair away from your face and pecks you on nose, laughing when you wrinkle it in response. “Morning,” he drawls again, hand trailing up your spine. “We should probably get up.”

You hum noncommittally, letting your head droop forward on his chest with a sigh. “I’m not moving for at least another hour,” you tell him, and he chuckles again, brushing his lips across the crown of your head. “Don’t let it get to your head” you tack on when you notice him crowing, and he pinches your thigh in response.

* * *

It’s Friday.

You have spent almost an entire week at his apartment, shirking your responsibilities in favour of playing house with Minho.

The intimacy should be too much: staying several nights in a row, cuddling with him after sex while he does things like that, but you can’t find it in you to muster up the energy to care, not when your blood is still roaring in your eyes and sheets have yet to cool.

“We've got time,” you think you hear him say through the fog settling in your mind, squeezing your hand, before you finally drift off.

before: 10 months ago

J U L Y

You get a late invite to the Seasonal Con.

Only Ryujin and you are going, along with the producer, and it’s not even a real panel, just a screening of the pilot episode to a group of maybe fifty people, and then fielding whatever questions the crowd might have.

It’s your first major event ever since you stumbled back on the scene two months ago and you're equal parts excited and terrified.

“Hey,” says Ryujin, nudging you gently as you turn out the sheets. You are both staying at your apartment instead of renting a hotel, since it’s only a half an hour drive from the convention centre. “Relax,” she says, “It’s not like we are going to be dealing with a lot of press or anything. Just smile and look pretty.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mumble under your breath, and this time there’s nothing gentle in the way Ryujin elbows you.

* * *

The morning that you are scheduled to go to the Seasonal Con, you are mostly fine. You get up and help Ryujin make pancakes for breakfast, then you shower and do your makeup, donning a cute sundress, and even going as far as to make sure your hair is in some semblance of order and that your makeup perfectly suits your dress.

You are fine.

Ryujin has to press her hand against your thigh to stop you from shaking your leg.

You throw her a thin smile in return. “What, you’re not gonna buy me dinner first?” you try to joke, but even you can hear how weak it sounds, and Ryujin gives you a meaningful squeeze.

“You got this.”

And she’s right. Mostly.

The screening is fine, the audience seems to be genuinely interested in the show, and they even garner more than a few laughs which probably made you disproportionately happy, but whatever. You are glad people are liking something that you helped to make. You do get asked a few questions later on, just a handful of things about the show that your producer answers mostly, and afterwards, a couple fans ask for pictures and autographs.

It’s all very textbook, but you breathe a sigh of relief once it’s all over, wringing out your shoulders.

“See?” says Ryujin with a grin as you walk out of the hall. The adjacent hallway is mercifully empty, free of any onlookers for a few moments. “You made it through.” You have got the rest of the day to yourselves and while you would rather go home immediately, Ryujin convinced you to stay a little while, just an hour or so.

“I guess it wasn’t that bad,” you concede, and Ryujin nudges you until you duck your head in a grin. “Fine, okay, it was fun. Jeez, you have pointy elbows.”

She just smiles angelically at you, and ducks out of the way before you can tug on her ponytail. “Everything’s better with Shin Ryujin around,” she announces.

“That is your new tagline, Ryujin?” a voice drawls from behind the two of you and both of you come to a stop.

You immediately recognise the speaker and your eyes fall shut as you take a calming breath, tilting your head heavenwards. You do not need this right now, especially not when your day was actually starting to look up. Ryujin on the other hand has no qualms about whipping around with a grin, saying a cheery, “Hey Minho,” in greeting.

He nods in acknowledgement before sidling alongside you, and you still have your eyes wrenched shut. “Y/n,” he says, lightly hip checking you.

That’s when you open your eyes, giving him a clinical up and down. He looks good as always, wearing a leather jacket over a soft tee with a faded Hogwarts insignia on it, and his cap is lurched lopsided in a way that is certainly not adorable. You think it might be a Pokemon one, but you don't want to spare him the extra thought.

You purse your lips. “Asshole.”

Minho chuckles, holding the door open for you as you enter the main part of the convention centre. People are swarming all over the place and while no one outright stares at them, you begin to feel the anxiety creeping back up your spine and quicken your pace, Ryujin right at your side.

“Hey, I’m just being nice,” he says, jogging to catch up with them.

“Fuck your nice.”

“Someone’s hostile today,” he frowns, staring down at you. His eyes flit over to Ryujin and he asks, “What’s up with her?”

“I’m right here you know,” you snap, “You don’t need to ask other people when I’m literally standing right in front of you.”

“Easy baby,” he soothes, a hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. There’s still a dip between his eyebrows as he appraises you carefully, and you look away, feeling a flush of hotness creep up the back of your neck. Behind you, you can feel Ryujin shaking with silent laughter.

“Leave me alone,” you say, shrugging off his arm and stalking off. You don’t get very far before the other two catch up to you, Minho catching you by your wrist this time.

He opens his mouth to say something – no doubt another snide jab at you – but is interrupted by a girl, clutching her phone tightly and staring at him in wide eyed amazement.

“I’m sorry, but can I get a quick photo please?” she says in a rush, “I’m a huge fan of your show!”

He presses his lips together in a line, giving you one last look, before turning to the girl with a charming smile. “Sure,” he says, posing for the selfie, and the next thing he knows, there’s a whole crowd around them, asking for autographs and pictures, blocking them in.

Honestly, the only thing that stops you from taking off then and there is Ryujin’s hand resting on the crook of your elbow through the entire ordeal. Besides, almost all of them are for Minho anyway. Hardly anyone spares them a second glance.

They must have been standing there for over five minutes before he says, loud and clear, “Sorry guys, I have to get to lunch, but I’ll be doing a signing at two if you want to come over.”

There’s general murmurs of disappointment from the crowd and they start to thin out. But, before they leave completely, Minho curls his arm around your shoulders with a, “Come on, love,” that sends a hushed whispers throughout the crowd and the tingle that was prickling under your skin moments before slams back into you, full force, no doubt faltering your public image.

Ryujin is all out cackling behind them and the moment you are all out of the public eye, you plan on ripping her a new one for her betrayal.

“You’re such a dick,” you hiss at Minho, trying to escape his hold. He just pulls you even further into his side and ducks his head to whisper,

“I’m doing you a favour.”

You try to ignore how warm and solid he is, how he smells like cinnamon and pine trees, but it’s proving to be difficult. “Yeah, well, you can shove your favour up your ass,” you mutter, and he throws his head back, barking out a laugh.

“You’ve got a real gratitude problem, you know that?” he says, almost bitterly.

“No, just a you-problem,” you retort in a saccharine voice.

“Easy kids,” says Ryujin , not even bothering to hide her smirk. “Be careful. You never know what this is going to look like to the outside eye.”

“There’s only one way murder can look to the outside eye, Ryujin,” you say, and he just scoffs.

“I try to do one nice thing for you and what do I get?” he says, mostly to himself, finally letting his arm slip off your shoulders as you near the end of this hall. “Not even a thank you. Last time I will try to help you.”

“Good I don’t want your help,” you snap, pretending that you don’t miss the heat and heaviness of his arm around you. Your fingers brush together when you walk though, and neither of you make any attempt to create some space between yourselves.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Oh my god, you’re like an old married couple,” says Ryujin exasperatedly and you both turn to glare at her.

“Shut up, Ryujin,” both of you chorus before snapping your glares over each other.

“Jesus,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes. “I’m just saying, keep acting like that and people are going to assume things.”

Minho makes a derisive sound in the back of his throat. “Please,” he says, leading them down the corridor, presumably where the rest of his cast is hanging out, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

* * *

Your phone barely even rings once before you’re swiping accept, not even sparing a glance at the caller ID. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she deadpans, voice scratchy with disuse.

On the other end of the phone, Liv sighs, a common reaction to dealing with your mishaps. “What happened yesterday?” she asks again, already sounding tired. That’s how you know this is a big problem, because Liv never sounds tired in the morning.

“Nothing!” you say, flailing wildly, “Seriously, we were arguing as usual. That’s it. Nothing about that screams romance.”

“So he didn’t call you ‘love’?” she asks dubiously.

You hesitate, biting your lip. “Well, yes,” you relent, “But he always calls me something ridiculous. It’s meant as an insult not a pet name!”

Liv seems to ignore you. “And did he put his arm around you?”

You hesitate again. “...Yes.”

There’s another sigh coming from her end of the phone, and you screw your eyes shut as you wait for the verbal smackdown.

“Come on Y/n,” Liv starts, “You’ve been in this business long enough, you know how the public perceives things. Especially things like this.”

You swipe a hand through your tangle of hair – damaged from all that damn hairspray – and toss it up in a slipshod bun. “Can’t you skew it?” you ask, “I’m not involved with him, I do not want to be involved with him. At all. Forever. Never in my life.”

There’s silence on the other end for almost a full minute before she says slowly, “We could just let it all blow over. Dating rumours crop up everyday.”

You lift your eyebrows. “Are you suggesting that we just leave it alone?”

“It should disappear by itself. After all, this is the first time someone alluded to your relationship with Minho as anything but professional. A lot of people are probably going to flat out deny it,” she tells you. “Let the internet work it out for itself. You’ll be old news by yesterday.”

“One can only hope,” you say, shoulders slumping. “Why did I come back to this hell hole? Why didn’t I start my hopefully lucrative llama farm?”

“Goodbye Yn.”

The phone goes dead and you pull it away to glare at it. “See, my llamas would put up with my bullshit Liv. They wouldn’t abandon me because of it.”

It’s only a few minutes to eight, but you can’t go back to sleep so with a disgruntled full bodied sigh, you roll out of bed to get started on breakfast. They have only been here for three days so far, driving back up tomorrow, so you are fully aware that the fridge is woefully scant, even with the groceries they picked up on the way. There are some eggs left over though, so you scramble them, and makes some toast to go with it.

You have given into temptation, scrolling through your Twitter feed as you wait for Ryujin to wake up, sipping on your coffee. It’s not terribly bad; it’s the most notifications you have had in a long while, and most of them happen to be the same question repeated over and over in a multitude of ways: Is there something going on between you and Minho?

Your fingers itch to answer them, or maybe even just vaguely tweet something but you resist, thinking of what Liv would say if you somehow made matters worse. You are saved from being a torment to yourself only a few moments later when Ryujin stumbles in the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee pot.

“What?” she asks once she’s inhaled half a cup and is now awake enough to notice you glaring at her.

You just groan and slide your phone across the table to her, before dropping your head onto your arms. When Ryujin reads the headline she snickers, absolutely delighted.

“You called this upon me,” you say, your words muffled by the tabletop. “You fucking called this on me.”

Ryujin pets your hair aimlessly, doing more harm than good. “Look on the bright side; it’s Dispatch. No one takes it seriously.”

“My Twitter feed is like 99 per cent of people asking me if Minho and I are dating. Or having hate sex.”

“Obviously it’s the latter.”

“Obviously it’s neither.”

“Oh come on,” she says, throwing her hands up, “You’re telling me that a little bit of hate fucking isn’t going to fix this-” she makes some sort of weird gesture with her hand that you can’t even begin to comprehend, “-this whatever it is going on between you two?”

Your traitorous mind jumps to the kiss, the way he felt so hot and solid beneath your hands as he pushed you against the wall, the way you let your fingers tangle in his hair, and a shiver runs down your spine.

Never one to miss anything, Ryujin narrows her eyes at you. “Unless you already did that,” she says slowly, taking in every bit of emotion that flits across your face.

“I didn’t,” you say, dropping your gaze to the worn and scarred tabletop. “But I did kiss him.”

“I knew it!”

“It was a one time thing that we both agreed to ignore,” you’re quick to point out, and Ryujin just snorts.

“Yeah. Right. Okay,” she says, “You can miss me with that ‘one time’ bullshit.”

“Ryujin!”

“What?” she shrugs, “It’s true. There’s obviously something there.”

“There’s nothing but hate and animosity there.”

“Again, I point you towards hate sex.”

“How about I point you towards the door instead. God, you’re worse than the internet.”

Ryujin holds her hands up in surrender. “Alright, let’s not get too crazy,” she says, although her smile is still far too smug. She takes another sip of her coffee. “But, just let it be known that I still reserve the right to say I told you so when it does actually happen.”

You just groan, letting your head fall against the table.

A U G U S T

Still though, you can’t help but think about Ryujin's words.

It’s not your fault okay? Ryujin just managed to make your mind conjure up some very…interesting scenarios for you over the last couple of weeks.

You can no longer look at Minho for, every time you do so, you can only picture the feel of his mouth on yours and wonder if it’s just as good at other things as it is as kissing, can only wonder what else those hands of his can do, can only wonder if he is as good as Ryujin slyly told you he was.

It’s turning you into a mess to be honest, which is why, a few weeks after they returned from Season Con, you find yourself blurting out, “Ryujin thinks we should fuck,” as soon as you are left alone in your trailer with him.

You wait until he’s taken a sip of water to say it, and you’re rewarded by him hacking his lungs out.

“Pray tell,” he wheezes, “Why does Ryujin think we should fuck?”

You shrug. “She says that it will help us get along better. You know, once we get rid of all that unwanted sexual tension. Purely platonic fucking and we can actually stand to be in the same room as each other.”

“Right,” he says, and there’s something a bit off to his voice. You look up almost immediately, frowning, and catch the tail end of some unknown emotion flitting across his face. He hitches an eyebrow when he catches you looking. “And what do you think?”

“What do you mean ‘what do I think’?”

He shrugs. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

You don’t understand how he can be so blasé about discussing it, not when you are already three steps closer to looking like an alarmed porcupine.

“I think it could be worth a shot,” you say, as casually as possible with your chin held high.

Across from you his mouth curves into the most sinful of smiles and he looks at you through hooded eyes. “You wanna fuck me, Y/n?” he murmurs, voice dropping several octaves, and it’s all you can do to not squirm in your seat, warmth settling heavy and wonderful in your stomach.

“It’s just a thought, okay? Ryujin might have definitely been onto something and who knows maybe it could work if we just fucked once and got it out of our systems I mean-”

“Hey Y/n?” he says, interrupting your steady stream of nonsensical babble, and you exhale shakily.

“Yeah?” He’s much closer than you remember him being, and when you look up, almost to the point where you can count each individual eyelash, you look elsewhere.

“Shut up,” he murmurs, and then his hand is wrapping around your jaw, bridging the gap between the two of you.

His mouth is just as you remembered, hard and warm, tongue flickering against yours as he pulls your body to him. You make a soft sound of surprise in the back of your throat, and your hands immediately dart to his hair, feeling the silky strands sift through your fingers. His thumb traces your cheekbone as he sucks on your bottom lip, and when your nails scratch at his scalp, he lets it go with a soft sigh of pleasure, kissing you even harder.

“Just to be sure,” you pant once you break apart and he starts sucking kisses down the column of your throat, “We’re doing this right?”

“If science says it’ll work then there’s no harm in giving it a shot,” he rasps against your skin, moaning a little when you pull on his hair.

“Ryujin said it, not science.”

He mutters something too low for you to hear as he kisses his way down to your cleavage. “Ryujin is basically science,” he tells you, looking up from your chest, “I’m taking this off,” he tugs at your camisole.

“I’d be more pissed if you didn’t,” you say, helping him pull it off. You arch up into him with a whimper when he suckles your breast through your bra. “Fuck, Minho,” you moan as you reach behind you to undo the clasp, needing to feel his mouth against your skin now.

His other hand skims across waist, leaving a trail of warmth in its path as it heads towards the snap on your jeans, and he deftly opens it with a twist of his fingers, wriggling his hand inside. “Hope this is alright,” he says, fingertips just ghosting across your underwear as he leans down to swirl his tongue around your nipple.

It takes you three tries to formulate words in your head, and even then all you manage to say is, “Very alright,” trying to tilt your hips to get more friction, feeling the heat of his palm through the thin scrap of fabric.

Only once you have said so does he dive right in, fingers slipping beneath the flimsy material of your underwear to stroke you and you both swear.

“Fuck Y/n,” he swears, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses from one breast to the other as his fingers trace up your slit, “You’re dripping. How long have you been thinking about this?”

He sinks blunt teeth into your sternum until you whine. “A – a while. Ever since Ryujin brought it up the first time. And then you show up today – fuck ,” you cry, hips jerking up when his index circles your clit, “Do that again. Please Minho.”

He chuckles, pressing a smacking kiss to the outside of your breast, and repeats the motion, rubbing his thumb on your clit until you whine again.

“You have been thinking about this for what? The past half an hour while I have been sitting right next to you?” he asks, accidentally butting you in the chin as he tries to bite at your collarbone. “Shit babe,” he flicks your clit again, “Bet you’re all worked up, huh?”

“Minho, please.”

“Were you thinking about this the whole time?” he presses, rising up so he can get a good look at your face, your mouth just slightly parted while your eyes keep on fluttering, struggling to stay open. He slows his motions until you make a soft plaintive sound in the back of your throat and he can’t help but bend down to kiss you, sweet. “Come on, Y/n, tell me what you were thinking about,” he lets his teeth graze over her earlobe, “I wanna know, baby.”

“Your hands,” you whine, trying to get him moving again. He has to pin your hips to the couch to stop you from wiggling all over the place and it sends another flare of want through you. “I was thinking about your hands and – and–”

“And what?” he coaxes, letting his fingers ghost across your entrance. You jerk with it, pleasure curling at the base of your spine. “And what else Y/n?”

“Mouth. Your mouth, Minho.”

His lips curl up in a halfway smirk, pleased, and he presses a single finger into you, just barely. “You want my mouth on you, baby?” he asks, “You want my mouth on your sweet pussy?”

You clench down hard at his words, eyes screwed shut, and you feel the warmth flood your face as he laughs lowly.

“Please,” you murmur, and you feel his lips just barely brush across yours before pressing down more firmly in a soft exploratory kiss. He removes his hands, and you whine at the loss of contact, until he breaks the kiss, sinking to his knees before you.

“Whatever the hell you want, baby,” he says as he slowly peels your jeans off. He litters featherlight kisses up your leg, mouthing his way across the crease where your leg meets your hip. And then, without warning, he leans forward, nuzzling his face against your lace covered pussy, and you squeak in surprise. His hands come up to grab your hips, steadying you, and he repeats the motion, this time letting his teeth graze against your clit through the pathetic excuse for underwear, letting you moan.

“So fucking wet,” he mutters again, a hint of awe colouring his voice, and you flush hot, trying to get him to put his mouth on you for real.

He does away with your underwear quick enough, leaving them in a sad little crumpled heap on the table next to the couch, before ducking back down to lick a fat stripe straight up your centre that sends your pulse skittering.

One of your legs hooks behind his shoulder as he steadies himself, and the hands pinning your hips flex, lifting you closer to his mouth as he laps at you with long licks, making an enthusiastic sound in the back of his throat. There’s nothing slow and gentle about it, very little finesse to be found, but it still has you curling your toes and keening loudly, especially when he slips one, then two fingers in, scissoring you wide open so he can truly fuck you with his tongue.

It doesn’t help that Minho seems just as into it as you are, low groans pressing into your flesh, the vibrations of it doing all sorts of things to your body.

His mouth is even better than you thought, and within minutes, you’re pulling on his hair when he sucks your clit in his mouth, high pitched whimpers crawling out of your throat as you clench down hard on his fingers, coming with a broken gasp of his name that has him grunting into the side of your thigh.

He groans when you pull him up, and you lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth while tugging on his stupid robes. He’s still fully dressed in costume while you are laid out wantonly before him.

“Off,” you command, nibbling on his lip.

Minho pushes you away gently, stealing one last kiss before starting to undo the million and one clasp that holds his costume in place. “Condom?” he asks, voice pitched low in a way that makes you shiver. He can’t seem to look away from you, eyes dark with want and you bite your lip.

“I’m supposed to have one in my bag,” you say, stretching for it, “Hurry up."

“You always this bossy?”

“You always this slow?”

Your fingers quickly find the foil packet, and you rip it open as fast as you can. He’s finally naked by the time you turn back around, and you push him down roughly on the couch, climbing onto his lap. He’s all lean muscle, broad and firm beneath you, and you can’t help but run an appreciative hand down his chest as you fix him to your liking.

Minho chuckles, palming your ass as you settle on him. “You are bossy, huh?”

You smile at him sweetly, wrapping your fingers around his cock and feeling him twitch in your palm. “I just know what I want.”

There’s a muscle ticking in his jaw that you just want to bite into as he nods, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Then by all means, Y/n.”

In another time you would taste him, drop to your knees and take him in your mouth, but right now you just want him, already too keyed up from before to do nothing else besides give him one last squeeze and then roll the condom on, quickly sliding onto him in way that has you both groaning.

“God, Y/n,” he shudders, already sounding wrecked. He squeezes your hips again, leaning up to mouth at your breast, and you gasp, rocking down on him.

It takes you a few moments to find the rhythm, and even then it’s still sloppy and hot and oh so good in a way that you find yourself digging your nails into his shoulders. He keeps his mouth on your breasts, and each tug of your nipple sends a shock wave of pleasure directly to your cunt, and you throw your head back with it, moaning.

As you both near climax, your moves get more and more frantic until Minho grabs hold of your hips, pulling you down forcefully, your clit catching on the bump of his pelvis each time, and you come with a broken moan, slumping against him. It triggers his own release, and he thrusts up into you, once, then twice, before tensing up beneath you, coming with a low growl as he sags into the couch.

For a moment there’s nothing but the sound of your harsh breathing, and you sigh into his neck as the sweat cools on your skin.

“We should probably clean up,” he mumbles, eyes still closed and you nod, slowly sliding off of his dick, moaning a little when your cunt gives a feeble little flutter. He just groans unashamedly, staying right there slumped on your couch, arm thrown over his eyes, until you throw his pants at him.

“Get dressed,” you tell him, slipping into your bathroom to clean up. Your skin is coated with a thin layer of sweat and he made a total mess of your hair, but you pay no attention to it, giving yourself a perfunctory rub down with a washcloth before slipping back into your clothes.

When you return, he’s almost ready, fidgeting with his tie. He didn’t bother to do anything with his hair, but it’s not like anyone would be able to tell the difference.

You take a deep breath. “So.”

“So.”

“Think we got it out of our systems?’

He shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. Only time will tell I guess.”

“Right.”

You stand there awkwardly for a moment, neither of you willing to meet the other’s eye until Minho blurts out, “I feel like I’m supposed to shake your hand or something. You know, properly close the deal.”

It gets a giggle out of you. “Didn’t realise we were making a business deal here.”

“Well, you never know,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets with the barest glimmer of a smile. “The handshake makes sure you know that it’s one and done.”

“Oh, of course it does.”

Another bout of silence falls over the two of you during which you just stand there, smiling at each other like a pair of loons until Minho clears his throat.

“I should, uh, probably get going,” he says, raking a hand through his curls as he squeezes past you to get to the door, and you nod.

“Right.”

“Right.”

He turns around just before he leaves, mouth open to say something else, but he ends up just shaking his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “See you around, Y/n.”

now

M A Y

You should have left already. Instead you are lying on the couch, spooning with one Lee Minho as some mindless cop drama plays out on TV. It’s becoming a habit.

“Can you do that with your gun?” he asks, voice dripping onto your skin like honey. One of his hands has found its way under the sweatshirt you stole from him, resting heavily on your stomach.

You barely even glance at the screen. “I can barely even keep a good grip on my gun,” you confess. “It’s always falling all over the place.”

He hums in response before you lapse back into comfortable silence for the rest of the show. You are more than content to lay there, feeling his warmth all around you, his breath stirring your hair, his heart beating against your back.

It’s nice.

Eventually you do have to leave, glancing at the clock on the wall before saying, “I should probably go. It’s getting late.”

Minho makes a soft, plaintive sound in the back of his throat and pulls you closer. “Or you could stay. Ryujin’s flight doesn’t get in for another three hours. You have some time to kill.” His hand skims across your stomach, light, and you actually find yourself considering it.

With a shake of your head you sigh, “No, I really need to get going. I still need to pick up dinner before you get here. And make it look like I was actually living in the apartment these past few weeks.”

He chuckles at that, nosing the nape of your neck. “Point,” he says, even as he tightens his hold on you, reluctant to see you go. “Or we could take a nap, order pizza and forget about cleaning in the first place. You know, like what we’ve been doing everyday for the past week and a half.”

You snort, batting his hands away and finally sitting up. “Right. And then what will I tell Ryujin when she asks why the apartment’s been abandoned for a month?”

He’s silent, causing you to glance at him while you stretch out your arms. Minho is never one to shy away from telling you what he really thinks, and his sudden apprehension has you tilting your head quizzically. Eventually he looks back up at you for a brief second, and then sets his jaw, fingers trailing across your skin distractedly.

“You could always tell her the truth,” he hedges, hand tightening on your waist and you freeze mid stretch.

“Why?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

Minho shrugs, still overly casual and unable to meet your gaze. “I mean, we’ve been sneaking around for a while now. Aren’t you tired of it?”

“No,” you say, slowly, “Because we both said that this was a one time thing, and when it wasn’t, we both agreed not to mention it to anyone. For both our sakes.”

“Well, things have changed now, haven’t they?” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, “We’ve been doing this for nine months, Y/n.”

“We’ve been doing this on and off for nine months, Minho.”

He ignores you, pressing on, “You can’t tell me everything's the same, especially not after December,” and when he finally looks up at you, your stomach drops.

Ever so slowly, you stand up, stepping away from the couch and out of his reach. The TV is nothing more than white noise in the background.

“Actually, I can,” you say, voice brittle, and he freezes.

You never used to hook up at home, you never used to stay over, you never used to share inside jokes and smiles, tweeting and subtweeting each other, posting selfies together for the world to see.

“Because this has been kept separate from the rest of our lives in a neat little box.”

He sneaks kisses from you sometimes when he comes over to spend the evening with you and Ryujin, holding your hand under the table. You get asked questions about each other at cons, and you distinctly remember that one time he told a fan that you were ‘only a fucking amazing and a phenomenal actress who he’s glad to know.’ You have a drawer of your clothes in his wardrobe, but you still choose to steal his.

“Nothing has changed, Minho, not for me. Not between now and last fucking August.”

You think about the shampoo bottle he keeps in his shower for you, the herbal tea he stocks in his cupboards. You think about how you have memorised his favourite songs, can rattle off his favourite passages from any book to the way he won’t eat ice cream unless it’s in a cup with the cone crumbled into it.

Minho sits on the couch, unmoving except for the clench of his jaw that has the muscle popping. “So I guess that’s that then?” he asks quietly, looking up at you, face blank.

You nod once, your chest feeling too tight. “Yes,” you reply, just as quiet and weak as before, and then turn on your heel to leave. He doesn’t say another word, not even when you shove your feet in your shoes and walk out, the door closing behind you with a soft snick.

You fumble with the key to your own apartment, the too long sleeves getting in the way and you end up swiping furiously at the frustrated tears that have inexplicably gathered in your eyes. Once inside, you brace yourself on the counter, taking deep breaths as your vision blurs for one startling moment, trying to ease the pain in your chest.

Your eyes are still too bright when you pull away, but you steady yourself, pulling off his sweatshirt and throwing it in the dark recess of your closet before starting to clean, trying to get your mind off of things.

It works, somewhat, but later, once Ryujin is home and safely bundled in bed, you sit with your phone in your lap. Minho is the second person in your inbox, right under Ryujin’s flight confirmation, sending you a stupid pick up line a few hours ago. You open up the chat and slowly types out your message with shaking fingers.

Y/n: i think we should stop seeing each other

His response comes seconds later.

Minho: fine.

The words from before have left a bitter taste in your mouth that, no matter how hard you try, you can’t get rid of it. It’s the taste of a lie and heartbreak all rolled up in one, and this time you can’t rid of the tears with just a few swipes.

before: 5 months ago

D E C E M B E R

“What,” you say flatly, still staring at Ryujin, with your arms crossed.

The other girl just smiles at you. “You heard me.”

“What I heard was that you want me to take your place at the award show next week because your dislocated disc is giving you trouble. The very same award show that you were attending with Minho,” you say, still terribly unimpressed, “Surely I heard wrong.”

“No, you heard correct. And I already cleared it with Liv. She thinks it’s a good idea, especially since the show is doing so well.”

“You talked to Liv ?” you sputter, “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Ryujin shrugs, looking entirely too innocent from where she’s laid spread out across your couch. “Because I know that you wouldn’t do it if I didn’t bring in the big guns. I’m covering all my bases.”

“Goddammit Ryujin.” You scrubbed a weary hand across your face.

“So is that a yes?” she asked, phone already in hand, “Because I can’t wait to let the internet know about this. Your shipper fans are going to lose their minds.”

You can just imagine, and you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. Liv’s solution of ‘letting things blow over’ had backfired stupendously and you are certain that at this point everyone and their mother wanted to see you date Lee Minho.

“I fucking hate you.”

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

* * *

That’s how you find yourself a week later, being ambushed by a team of make up artists as they help get you ready for the night while Ryujin sits off to the side with an oversized bag of crisps, flat out cackling at you.

“I really fucking hate you,” you grit out, trying to at eye her while one of the make up hands fix your eyebrows.

Ryujin just laughs again, wincing a bit as she shifts herself on the chair. On one hand, you know that her back has been giving her trouble these past few days, especially because of the cold weather and shooting, but on the other, you really hate her for making you do this.

“You should see your timeline right now,” she snorts, “Everyone is so frenzied.”

“I’m going to beat you to death with a curling iron.”

She just blows a kiss at you, continuing to chortle while you scroll through your phone. “The general consensus is that you’re either going to tell the world you’re finally dating, or let everyone know that you’re pregnant and Minho’s the baby daddy.”

“The only thing keeping me sane right now is picturing stabbing you multiple times with a mascara wand,” you hiss, yelping when someone pulls on your hair a bit too roughly.

“Look on the bright side,” says Ryujin , “At least you too get along now. Somewhat. And I can promise that Minho is an absolute joy to be around during these things. He’s almost better than a hip flask.”

You’re glad that Ryujin’s not paying attention to you, for she would have caught how you can’t maintain an eye contact at the mention of Minho and your relationship.

Turns out that sleeping with Minho couldn’t be a one time thing.

Who knew?

It’s not a regular thing, but you still do it often enough that you’re no longer snapping each other’s heads off, but instead engaging in playful banter.

It’s nice. Somewhat.

You would just like everyone to know that it only started up because he’s just really, really good with his hands.

And mouth.

And…everything else.

You are jerked out of your reverie by a knock on the door, and Ryujin practically flounces over to open it, a massive shiteating grin spread across her face as she does so.

“Minho!” you hear her say, bright and happy, “Come in. She's still not ready yet; give her a couple more minutes.”

“You’re awfully perky for someone who claimed to be in debilitating pain,” he says, sounding suspicious.

“It’s the painkillers. Come sit!”

You catch a glimpse of him as he passes in front of your door and well. Your jaw doesn’t quite drop, but it certainly comes close to doing that, and your cheeks just heat even further.

Minho looks really good in a suit.

Like insanely good.

Ryujin darts back into the room, and, after taking one look at you, she bursts out laughing again, even as she throws herself on the bed. She’s having far too much fun with this, and you kind of want to throw something at him.

“You so want to hit that,” Ryujin whispers, smug.

I am already hitting that, you almost say, the words on the tip of your tongue, but you easily swallow it down, schooling your face into a scowl.

“If you mean take a frying pan to his face then yes,” you nod, and then wince again as a hair pin digs into your scalp.

“All done,” says the girl, before spritzing perfume on you. You almost choke on a cherry blossom scented cloud, and when it passes, Ryujin is standing by the door, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. You may or may not have deliberately stepped on her good foot.

“Come on Cinderella,” she says, linking your arm through yours once you stand up, “Let’s get you to the ball.”

“I hope a spider crawls in your mouth when you’re sleeping tonight.”

You do manage to school your face in a pretty neutral expression when you enter the living room, and it seems as though Minho was preparing himself beforehand, as he barely reacts to your appearance, only giving you a cursory look up and down. The only tell is the bob of his adam’s apple when he swallows, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from looking too smug.

“Do I meet your standards?” you can’t help tease him, and his eyes snap up to yours, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I guess you’ll do,” he sighs dramatically, and offers you his arm.

“Have her home no later than eleven, Minho!” Ryujin calls out as you are both walking out the door.

He flips you off behind his back. “Fuck off, Ryujin,” he bites out, succinct.

Her laughter follows you all the way down the hallway and you grumble, “She’s a goddamn menace,” while hiking up your dress to walk down the stairs.

“That she is,” he nods before looking sidelong at you. “You look nice.”

Your heart picks up pace on its own accord. “Thanks. So do you.”

“Thanks,” he says, and you can’t mistake the the humour in his voice. You elbow him in the rib and he laughs. “What? What did I say?”

“You’re a dick,” you huff, still trying to calm your traitorous heart, and that just makes him laugh louder.

“The car should be here in a moment,” he tells you as you come to a stop in the empty lobby. You just hum in response, glancing around aimlessly until he says, “Hey, Y/n?”

Before you can turn to look at him, he’s cupping your jaw, pushing you up against the wall and kissing you sweetly. You make a sound of surprise in the back of your throat, but then you’re kissing him back, just as slow, one hand tangling in the hair at the base of his neck, while the other fingers his tie, and he breathes a soft sigh of relief, pulling you flush against him.

When you pull apart, he rubs his nose against your cheek gently, mumbling, “You look really nice,” and swipes a quick peck to your cheek before pulling away, slipping his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels.

You are fairly certain the whole neighborhood can hear your heart stammering at this point, but you still reach out for his arm, looping yours through it as you say, “You look really nice too, Minho.”

The boyish grin he gives you makes your heart stutter in your chest, and then he glances at his phone. “Come on; car’s here.”

He helps you into the backseat before slipping in himself, and then lets his arm rest on the small area of your back the entire drive there. You take advantage of it, leaning into his warmth, and you feel him trace mindless patterns on your waist in response.

“You have some lipstick,” you say, noticing the smudge of it on his mouth. He swipes at it with his hand, but misses the spot completely and you reaches up, thumb rubbing the corner of his mouth. “I got it,” you mutter, getting it out completely, and he presses a kiss to your temple in turn.

“Thanks love,” he says, looking at you impossibly soft and you feel warm all over, very different from the first time he called you "love".

You don’t have time to dwell on it though, because soon enough you are pulling up to the venue where the event is being hosted and you are being blinded by the flash of cameras.

The whole walk down the red carpet is a blur in your mind, filled with cameras and questions and the warmth of his arm hooked around yours as he leads you through. You stop only once or twice for pictures, and you paste on a wide grin for those, posing next to him until his arm hooks through yours again, pulling you inside.

The awards themselves are boring, intended mostly for crew members, but Minho keeps you from nodding off with his hand on your thigh the entire time, tracing maddening patterns that you feel even through your layers of skirts.

“Stop that,” you hiss while Chan continues to drone on onstage. You catch his wrist and he flips his hand over, linking your fingers together.

“If we sneak out no one is going to notice,” he mumbles under his breath, “This thing is boring at fuck, and I haven’t had you in over two weeks.”

Despite the flash of heat his words send through you, you say, “And who’s fault is that?”

“Hey, what am I supposed to do? Tell them not to shoot offset because then I wouldn’t get to fuck you?”

“Don’t be crass.”

“It’s true,” he mutters, glaring up at the stage. “Chan doesn’t know when to shut up. I could make it worth your while instead.”

“You know, Ryujin told me that you made these things fun and I needn’t bring a flask, but I’m starting to think that I should have smuggled it in anyway.”

Even in the dim light you can see the shine of his teeth as he grins. “Hey, I’m offering to make things fun and you’re turning me down.”

You turn to run a critical eye over him and he stares back, unflinchingly, his irises more black than brown, and positively irradiating lust. “Hmm. Fine, maybe later. Now behave,” you hiss.

The grin just widens and he leans in close, letting you feel the warmth of his thigh as it presses against yours. “Oh baby,” he sighs, untangling your hands, so that he can go back to teasing you. You manage to repress a shudder when his fingers press against the dip between your thighs through your dress. “You don’t want that.”

Miraculously, you manage to get through the entire programme without drawing too much attention to yourselves, though you do go through quite a few glasses of champagne, especially when you show him that two can play at that game, palming him through his slacks in a way that almost made him choke the first time.

You get out of there as soon as it’s done, escaping fairly unnoticed through the throngs of people, and he goes down on you, quick and messy, in a cramped utility closet, far enough from the hall that you can be as loud as you want. After you repay the favour, giving him a lazy handjob before switching to your mouth when you realise that you have nothing to clean up with.

Neither of you remember to stagger your entrances back into the hall, and slip in with your fingers still tangled together, your dress obviously crumpled and a telltale redness blooming on the apples of Minho's cheeks. To anyone paying attention, it would be clear as day what you were up to, but you are lucky enough that you only garner one or two looks in passing. Minho stays glued to your side, hand heavy on your hip the rest of the night, and when it’s time to leave, he slings it around your waist, keeping you close.

You make out for a while, trading soft sloppy kisses in the back of the car all the way home. He tastes a little bit like champagne, all bubbly and sweet, and you melt into him, carding your fingers through his unruly hair.

“Had fun?” he mumbles against your cheek, exhaling heavily when you bite his jaw. He gropes you in retaliation, and you squeak.

You pull back far enough so he can see your truly outrageous smile. “I guess you made it worth my while after all,” you muse, and he chuckles, pulling your mouth back to his.

He walks you up, arm slung around your shoulders, holding your heels in the other, and you bury your nose in his bicep breathing him in. When you reach your door, Minho lets his arm fall, reluctantly, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. It’s chaste and sweet, and starkly different from any other kisses that you have shared these past few months during your on and off hook ups, and even though you’re somewhat drunk, it still feels like a turning point.

“See you later, Y/n,” he says, with a slight wave of his hand and by the time you gather your bearings to tell him the same, he’s already clicking his door shut.

Ryujin is still up when you walk in, face illuminated by the blue light of her phone screen, and she grins like a shark that’s caught blood.

“Don’t,” you say, slumping against the door. You try to tamp down on the giddiness to avoid suspicion, but Minho left you feeling like you are floating on air.

Her grin just widens and she turns the phone towards you. “There is going to be so much fanfiction written about you two tonight,” she snickers, “You two have been trending on Twitter for almost an hour now,” and you just flip her off, heading to your room.

You throw yourself on the bed with a contented sigh, grinning into your pillow.

later

J U N E

Despite being back in the spotlight for well over a year, you still don’t do very well with interviews.

Most of those in the beginning were what you expected: what happened between you and your ex boyfriend, where did you go for six months, and are you sure you are not in any relationship right now?

Then Minho started getting incorporated into your interviews as well.

If you had a nickle for how many times you have been asked if you were dating, you’d have enough money to buy a small island where you might be able to escape him once and for all. If you wanted to, that is.

It took you a while, but eventually you managed to accept interviews, no longer panicking at the sight of one, but for some reason today you’re on edge, trying not to fidget as you sit on the lime green sofa opposite an annoyingly peppy interviewer.

When she deviates from the script however, you realise that you have had good reason to have been tense all morning.

“So what’s happening with you and Lee Minho? It’s been quite a while since we have seen any interactions between you two.”

It’s been four weeks and three days to be exact, the numbers jumping to the forefront of your mind almost immediately.

Next to you, Ryujin stiffens, all but baring her teeth at the interviewer in a snarl, vastly different from the times when she used to kill herself laughing.

You don’t know exactly what happened between you and him, but you figured out enough when Minho stopped coming around as much, and you started making excuses to avoid seeing him.

You take a shaky breath and flash the peppy woman a tight smile, the closest to a ‘fuck you’ you can give and says, “We’re just friends, that’s all. And we’ve been busy these past few weeks. Not as busy as Ryujin though. She just did this amazing movie…”

Thankfully no one questions your completely unsubtle segue and Ryujin is more than happy to take the pressure off of you.

What’s happening between you and Minho? Well, you still have his sweatshirt crumpled into a ball and hidden in your closet. You have exchanged maybe five words a piece at most, and he still has a drawer filled with your things over at his place. You ran into each other on the last day of filming, your cars parked next to each other, and it reminds you of that first day when you almost had a yelling match right there in the parking lot. Instead, he just nods and gives you a wide enough berth so you wouldn’t even brush against each other as he gets in his car.

You miss him, something which shocked you to the very core when you realised it a few weeks back, and you have never wanted to kick yourself as much as you did then for throwing everything away.

What’s happening between you and Minho?

Who knows; you fucked it up.

later

J U L Y

This year, Seasonal Con is more eventful for two reasons.

The first being that your show has an actual fandom now – a real, honest to god following, larger than you would have thought possible, who are so involved with the show that it’s both amazing and a tad bit scary. Not to mention those who want your character and Ryujin’s to get together.

“We have shippers,” Ryujin had informed you gleefully one night, and you distinctly remember groaning out loud before cursing to high heaven because you have had enough shipper madness to last a lifetime. Possibly even two lifetimes.

The second reason is a bit of a harder pill to swallow.

You got invited to the fan favourite panel on the last day.

And so did Minho.

Who the event supervisors thought would be nice to put next to you for an hour in front of hundreds.

If you get out of this weekend alive, you are going to thank every god and deity you can think of.

Ryujin is understandably worried once you get the news, immediately coming up with a variety of ways to get out of it. “You could fake sick, or pretend to lose your voice,” she rattles off, “Or maybe you fell down in the shower the night before and broke your hip-”

“It’s fine,” you interject, squaring your shoulders. You try to smile at her but you are pretty sure it falls flat. “What’s the worse that can happen?”

She doesn't seem impressed by that answer because she replies, “You and Minho air your dirty laundry for the entire world to see.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you say resolutely.

“At this point I don’t put anything past you two,” she mutters, and you nudge her with your toes.

* * *

The day of the actual panel, you take Liv’s advice and try to meditate in the morning in hopes of calming yourself. It helps a bit; you are not quite as jumpy as you could be, but you are still definitely on edge, clutching your purse like a lifeline as you navigate the halls on your own.

The waiting room is mostly empty, with just a few people here, but that’s not what you pay attention to, eyes immediately landing on Minho, hunched over his phone in the corner.

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

You really, really miss him, didn’t realise just how much of an impact his presence alone has on you.

Before you know it, your feet are taking you to him, and you carefully sit next to him on the loveseat, wiping your palms on your skirt several times.

He doesn’t notice you until you clear your throat, to which he stiffens, very slowly looking up, eyes guarded.

“Hi,” you say, quiet, tucking an errant curl behind your ear.

“Y/n,” he nods, impassive as ever and you feel your throat clog up.

You worry your bottom lip for a moment and see his hand twitch, as though he was about to pull it free. “I, um – can we talk?”

Minho just stares at you for a good minute or so, to the point where you’re struggling not to fidget. Finally he just scrubs a hand down his face and hisses, “Now? You want to talk?”

“I-”

“It’s been an entire month, Y/n,” he says bitterly, shifting away from you, “What could you possibly have to say after an entire month, that we won't work out anything that was between us?”

Your eyes burn and you stare at your hands clenched tightly in your lap. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice catching on the end of it. You can feel him staring at the side of your head, and you press on. “I’m sorry I was so abrupt with everything, and I… I miss you, Minho.”

When you finally muster up the courage to look back at him, his eyes are squeezed shut, pained.

“Don’t,” he manages to croak out and you jerk back as though you have been hit.

“Min-”

“We’re gonna talk about this later,” he tells you after taking a deep breath, “You don’t get to do this right before we do a panel together.”

You nod meekly. “Okay.”

The next hour is the longest hour of your life. You slip on your public persona mask easily enough, smiling and laughing, and answering your questions as coyly as possible, but on the inside you are a mess. A shaking, confused mess.

After the panel is over and all requisite photos have been taken, Minho grabs hold of your wrist and pulls you along behind him. You follow without a word, barely sparing a thought for the shutters you hear going off as you weave through the crowd. That’s a bridge you will cross when you get there. Or you might just avoid it all together. What’s one more thing to the whole ‘Y/n and Minho’ story, right?

Only when you end up outside at the pick up area do you ask, “Where are we going?”

Minho doesn’t even glance over at you. “My hotel I'm staying at. It’s only five minutes away, and a lot more private than a spare room at a convention centre.”

You stare down at your feet, “Okay,” you say, and then follow him in the cab that pulls up.

The short ride to the hotel is tense, and you find yourself biting on the inside of your cheek to keep from speaking after firing off a quick text to Ryujin. Minho still doesn’t look your way, choosing to glare at the window instead, jaw clenched tight, even when you are dropped off, he just jerks his head in the general direction with a gruff, “Follow me.”

Once the door to his room has clicked shut, he turns to look at you, face impassive and arms crossed. “You wanted to talk? Then talk.”

You take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry about before,” you start, “I – you’re one of my best friends here, Minho, one of my only friends here besides Ryujin, and I was so fucking scared when you – I don’t have the best track record when it comes to relationships, and you – you’re too important to me to lose, so I’m sorry, and it was my fault we got in this whole mess in the first place, and if you forgive me, can we still be friends at least? I miss you.”

You say all of it in one go, and by the time you are through, you're heaving. Still, when he opens his mouth to speak, you hold a palm up and continue, voice wavering, “I just- I really fucking miss you and I’m so, so sorry.”

The words just hang there for a moment while you lean against the wall.

“You through?” he asks with a quirk of an eyebrow. When you nod, he says, “You’re a pain in the ass–”

“Charming.”

“–who’ll argue with me about every fucking thing under the sun no matter what-”

“Oh stop it, I’m swooning, Minho.”

“You gonna be a little shit the whole time, or can I say my piece?” he asks mildly, and you feel stupid. When he’s certain you are no longer going to interrupt, he throws himself back on the bed with a groan, throwing an arm over his face. After a few seconds of silence, he confesses, “Ryujin called me out in like two weeks,” voice slightly muffled by his bicep, “Apparently my crush on you was painfully obvious.”

What?

You must have said it outloud because then he’s craning his neck slightly to glance at you, and you just feel like a dense idiot even more, picking your jaw up off the ground. “But you,” you sputter, “You were such a dick!”

He’s groaning again, hiding his face, but if you look closely you can see the tips of his ears tinged red. “I was into you. Am. And terribly so.”

“You never said anything.”

“I didn’t want to fuck it up. Which, I realise is what I might have done the moment we agreed to continue having sex with each other, but I was just…so eager to have you in any way I could, even if it meant pretending that I wasn’t pinning away.”

“But…why?”

“Why what?”

You bite her lip, scuffing the toe of your sandal against the carpet. “Why me?”

Minho just gives you a little shrug, smiling helplessly. “Because you are you,” he says, easy as nothing, and those four little words make all the air in your lungs leave with a whoosh, causing you to stumble back against the wall in order to stay upright. “You had me on my ass within seconds with your no bullshit type attitude and I just…I don't know. You threw me for a loop.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he says, messing with his hair. “You – God, Y/n, didn’t you realise? You had me. Every single thing you did just bewitched me, I couldn’t look away, and then I started to get to know you, all of you; the bossy little you who likes to order me around and sleep until noon, and prefers green tea to black, and I…I fell in love with you,” he breathes, tearing his eyes away from yours to stare up at the ceiling, “I don’t know how, or when, but I just- I’m in love with you.”

If his previous statement made the air leave you, then this one makes you feel lightheaded and faint hearted all at the same time. The word ‘love’ echoes throughout your head and you feel a bubble of happiness growing in your chest, and you slip down the wall a little as you try to make sense of the rest of his words.

He chuckles nervously when a few moments pass and you haven’t said anything as yet. “Please tell me if I just fucked up this whole new ‘friendship’ thing so I can take it back. Five second rule applies here, right?”

It startles a faint laugh out of you. “It’s been more than five seconds.”

“Five minute rule then?” And you laugh again, this time louder, and then you are crossing the room to meet him, clumsily climbing on top of him and bracing your hands on his chest.

“You goddamn idiot,” you huff as he grabs your hips, steadying you, “I’m in love with you too.”

The smile that unfurls across his face could crack it in two, absolutely blinding, and you shriek when he sits up suddenly, one hand moving up to cup the back of your neck while the other pulls you into his chest, lips ghosting across yours.

Then he’s kissing you soundly, lips chapped and eager, and it’s messy, the two of you grinning far too widely to make anything work.

“Oh, thank god,” he rasps into your skin, forehead pressed against yours, and then he’s kissing you again, slower this time, and deep, and you just hug him tighter, licking the joy from his tongue, or maybe having yours intermingle with his because you are just so fucking happy, you feel like you are going to float away.

“Hey,” he mumbles against your lips, caressing your cheekbones when you make a move to get you and him to lie horizontal, “Slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

You squeeze his forearm. “I know, I just,” you drop your head in the crook of his neck, and he pets you, letting his fingers tangle in your hair. “I just missed you a lot, that’s all.”

His responding smile is achingly soft, and a little shy, and he slowly presses you into the bed, kissing you sweet once more.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs again, and your heart is bursting at the seams at this point.

“Good,” you sigh happily, trailing a hand down his back, feeling the movement of his muscles as they tense and flex beneath his shirt. You hold his face between two palms and look him dead in the eye when you say, “I’m not going anywhere either.”

Minho grins, soft, and when he leans back down to kiss you, you can feel the love bursting from every cell in your body, flooding you with warmth and sunshine from the inside out, making your toes curl.

You are in love with him, and he with you, and nothing on this earth could ever top that.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jisung using your body to feel good just like you've asked him to<3

It makes me laugh when people who preach about not thinking about idols sexually interact with my posts💀💀💀 LIKE MINE ARE SO SEXUAL LITERAL LINKS OF PRN. YALL HYPOCRITES FRRRRR BUT YOU DO YOU BOO.

Reblog if Chan has saved you in some way 🖤

bestie i am asking very politely for minho links 👉🏼👈🏼

Since you asked so nicely ❤️😚

MINHO LINKS :))

Minho giving you a much needed fill up ;)

Minho taking you from behind because of your cute socks<3

Minho cumming on you only to push it into you anyway

Minho fucking you while you make your friend cum with a vibrator:0

Netflix and chill with Minho gone right?

Hope you like these ;)

wedding season ♡ the unplanned activity

The day at the pool is a planned activity, but Minho and you find something better to do.

⇢ pairing: minho x fem!reader ⇢ word count: 7.1k ⇢ genre: smut, angst, non-idol!au, fake dating!au, exes to lovers!au, unrequited love, love triangle, exboyfriend!minho, ex!best friend chan ⇢ warnings: 18+, minors dni! mentions of a group of people being immature pricks, fear of water; drinking, drunk sex, smut [groping, handjob, fingering, tit sucking, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), protected sex, use of the word slut (the mc uses it for both of them), one tit smack, cum on body] ⇢ masterlist ♡ series masterpost ♡ updates ♡ read on AO3 ⇢ reblogs and feedback are always motivating and appreciated! ♡

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

When you thought about what the trip will be like, never once did it occur to you that you’d find yourself in the pool with Minho, surrounded by people, and see him not care about anyone or anything else. You didn’t think he’d go swimming, period, let alone look this relaxed doing it.

But then again, you two have been flirting for a while now, joking around and pretending other people exist, so him forgetting about his fear doesn’t surprise you at all. 

Out of the blue, some of Chris’s friends start swimming around you, spraying each other with water and trying to hold each other’s heads underwater. It’s a stupid, childish thing, and you can’t believe grown men are acting this way and getting everyone else around them wet.

Chris soon joins them, and it seems like they’re drunk because they’re spraying water everywhere and getting other people involved, laughing as they do. It could be fun, maybe, but it’s not fun when you worry about Minho and his fear of water.

Even poor Sunyoung gets her head underwater, but she emerges laughing and spraying her soon-to-be husband. “Screw you, guys!” she shouts, and you almost laugh at them being idiots, but then you remember this is Minho’s worst fear.

Judging by the small group’s moving pattern, they’ll soon reach your part of the pool and probably won’t even ask before deciding to have “fun” with the two of you.

“Minho, it’s time to get wet!” Chris jokingly shouts, still too far away to notice how Minho frantically grabs your hand underwater and intertwines his fingers with yours, holding onto you tight. 

“Don’t think so!” you shout back and stand right in front of Minho, wrapping your arms around his neck so you can jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. The very next second, you’re in his arms and he’s helping hold you up, the water doing most of the work.

Your ex is surprised by you climbing on top of him but can’t even express it out of fear—you can read it all on his face. It’s been years, but you still know how Minho feels just by looking at him. The fact that he’s doing this for you even though he’s scared just reminds you of the things Jisung told you, and you instantly feel like the worst person out there. This guy shouldn’t be out here in fear just to indulge your stupid little whim.

“It's fine,” you whisper at Minho, which makes him look at your lips and close his eyes for a second as if he's trying to agree with you without saying a word. “I promise.”

Your ex hums and opens his eyes, sighing loudly. His arms hold onto you tight, fingers digging into the skin of your thighs as he holds you up.

Chris shouts something at you in return, but you’re too busy looking into Minho’s eyes to even register it, and you don’t care about their childish game enough to turn around and face the groom. “Maybe later,” you say, raising your voice just a little bit. “We’re busy now.”

Minho doesn’t say a thing for a while, focused solely on your eyes, even though his gaze does fly over your shoulder here and there to check where the group is and whether anyone's coming over to try to pull you two below the surface.

“What are you doing?” Minho asks as soon as the three men move back to their side of the pool. “You’re supposed to be convincing the guy you’re miserable with me, not the opposite.”

You chuckle, throwing your head back, your limbs still wrapped around his body tightly. It’s a relief that he’s not angry or scared—after everything, he’s here worrying about your plan. “I kind of enjoy being carried around. Plus, this is a good workout for you.”

“You do know you’re a lot lighter in the water, right?” Minho reminds you and grimaces at you, but you laugh that off, too.

“I know. I’m saving you from people and letting you enjoy your pool time,” you whisper, leaning in. You feel your lips brush against his ear in the process, and your core clenches at the touch for some reason, even though the moment isn’t intimate. “You don’t have to carry me, though, that part is a joke.”

“No, it’s fine,” Minho tells you, grabbing your thighs to lift you a bit before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his frame. You’re now so close your noses are practically touching, and you haven’t been in a position like this since the last time you two kissed. “Fewer people will bother us if they think we’re a couple doing coupley things.”

“I’m sorry about this,” you tell him, ignoring the last part. You don’t want to think about all the things that come up in your mind when he says that. “I didn’t think they’re such kids.”

“Pretty, weren’t they always?” Minho squints his eyes and glares at you, knowing he has a point. “You’re always surprised when your man acts childish like he hasn’t been that way since you met him.”

“You… Actually have a point,” you admit with a shrug. “You’re right.”

“God, I love hearing you say that,” Minho says with a loud groan, similar to the ones he lets out when he’s coming—and if anyone knows what that sounds like, it’s you. Why you’re thinking about that, you have no idea.

“Let’s have another drink,” you suggest, hoping that will take your mind off of things you shouldn’t be thinking about while you’re in his arms.

When Minho agrees, you two wave a waiter over and soon get the drinks that you gulp down almost instantly. It’s because you need courage if you’re going to make the trip worth his while. Jisung has made a good job of getting inside your head and making you question your relationship with his friend.

Throughout the whole thing, you stay in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, drink in hand. Minho and you talk and giggle, tease each other constantly, and you enjoy every second of it. Being around him is so easy when you’re not putting up a fight or overthinking things, and today just reminds you of that. He carries you around while you drink, and everyone leaves you two be, which is how you prefer it.

“You should drink more often,” Minho suggests with a grin, downing the shot he ordered with the latest round of cocktails. It has to be the last one because you will pass out if you have any more drinks other than the one already in your hand.

“Why, because I’m on you when I do?” You down your drink and place the glass on the edge of the pool, arms once again free to wrap around his shoulders.

Your ex stops moving and looks at you for a second or two, inspecting your face thoroughly. Then, he smiles. “No, because you laugh loudly and smile all the time, and you’re even prettier then, pretty.”

“Aw, are you getting soft on me?” You fake pout and pinch his cheeks, to which he scoffs and puts his shot glass down by the edge of the pool.

“Trust me, there’s nothing soft about me right now,” he says teasingly and tongues his cheek, and you know exactly what Minho means. “I’m not saying it because of that, though, but because you need to be more confident.”

“I’m way more confident now than I was back then,” you point out, happy with your progress. You’re never going to be on Minho’s level of confidence, you’re sure of that, but you feel better about yourself than you did back in college, and that's something.

“The only reason you weren’t confident back then was that asshole,” Minho mumbles and glares at Chris, who is jumping in at the other side of the pool, far away from you in Minho’s arms.

“What do you mean?” You laugh at the very idea of Chris having anything to do with your low self-esteem back then. The truth is, you’d been single for a long time and you thought your value as a person was low because you couldn’t find a great person to date. Of course, when you grew a bit older—and wiser, you like to think—you realized that being single had nothing to do with someone not being good enough. Chris had nothing to do with your distorted sense of self.

“I mean… He made you think you weren’t good enough,” Minho says, sounding fully convinced in the truthfulness of his statement. “And you were even more than that.”

You have to disagree with him. “He didn’t say anything like that…”

Minho shakes his head and pulls you in closer, so close your chests are now touching. “Really? Chris didn’t constantly remind you that I fucked around before we got together, that I had a lot of experience you didn’t? He didn’t warn you about me, telling you to be careful because so many,” he rolls his eyes while he mutters, “women wanted me and I had never been in a relationship before, and I could easily fuck one of them when you weren't around?”

When he says these things, you get taken back to the past and realize Minho is right—Chris did say them, but he was just trying to warn you. He didn’t want you to get hurt, and that was your biggest fear. After all, you knew Minho was way out of your league. You looked okay, weren’t stupid, could be fun, but he was gorgeous, smart, funny, and had such charisma that people just flocked to him, even back then.

Before you two got together, Minho had never been in a real relationship, never wanted to settle down with someone, so it surprised you that he wanted you two to try it. You knew he fucked more girls than you could count and they were all probably more experienced than you, better than you. These things weighed over you all the time, but you couldn’t really blame Chris, even if he pointed them out often. “It’s my fault for believing these things.”

“If Jisung was dating a girl he thought was too good for him, I’d tell him no one was too good for him because he’s a great fucking guy,” Minho tells you with a smile, and you know he means it. “I wouldn’t tell him she slept around before him and that she’ll probably do that again because so many hot guys want her. I wouldn't try to make him doubt himself so he could break things off with her. You wouldn't say that to a friend either. You should have listened to me instead.”

You should have. 

Being with Minho—physically—was always great for your self-esteem. Despite all the teasing and playfulness, you always got more compliments than you needed, and Minho made sure you knew he found you pretty and attractive and funny and interesting. That’s why he called you pretty in the first place—the first time he called you that, you were so moved you kissed him and said it was the sweetest thing anyone had told you. After that, it became like a new name to you, at least in his book.

“You’re right about that,” you agree with him, even if you think Chris didn’t have bad intentions. “But I’m over most of those problems now, anyway.”

“I can see,” he looks down at the way you’re wrapped around him, “and you should be. If you weren’t pretending you were with me, trust me, all these guys would try something. You’re too good for them, though.”

You scoff at that, even if you think everything he is saying is sweet and caused by the alcohol rushing through his system, plus the adrenaline of being in the water. “Really? Is it because I’m such a moral person?”

It’s Minho’s turn to laugh heartily. “You’re not in it to hurt other people, and that’s what’s important.”

Are you? You think about it for a second, but the last thing you want is to see Sunyoung or Chris hurt. You wanted to hate her, but it’s hard when she’s such a sweet, nice person. You’ve met her last night, even danced with her, and she gushed all about her love for Chris. You couldn’t hate her if you tried, that much was clear. Besides, your plan was fucked from the beginning.

“I guess I’m softer than I thought,” you admit, not wanting to talk about Chris when you’re so confused about Minho to even think about the other dude. So, you change the topic back to something lighter and say, “Unlike you.”

“I thought you couldn't feel it,” Minho says and throws you towards the surface, enough for your crotch to move away from his erection and get pressed into his stomach instead. “My bad.”

“You thought I wouldn’t feel a dick that hard between my legs?” You look at him questioningly before smirking. “How drunk are you, Minho?”

“Not as drunk as the girl that’s secretly been enjoying having my dick against her pussy for the last ten minutes,” he quips and downs the rest of his cocktail, even if he’s just had a shot. You're always surprised by how he can say the crudest things with the straightest face in public. “Is that what you’ve been doing?”

“I’m in your arms, it’s right there, things happen…” You shrug and lean backward, letting your back rest on the water while Minho holds you by the waist. “I didn’t mind it.”

“Don’t do this to me if you don’t want to get fucked,” he hisses out a warning and chuckles. 

That’s when you realize the position is extremely sexual for two people who have had sex a million times before—your legs around him, your crotch against his, his hands on your waist, holding you pressed into him while your upper body floats. You hate sex in water, but if all these people weren’t around, you’re sure Minho would make even that feel good.

“Maybe I do,” you say with a chuckle and open your eyes again to look up at Minho. It’s up to him now. “So what?”

With one quick move of his hands, Minho gets you to sit up and straighten your back, his arms once again around you, lips next to yours. “What are you doing, pretty?”

“Offering you sex, if you’re interested,” you respond and lean in to press your lips against his. You're at the pool and most of the wedding guests are there too, but you can't get yourself to care. For all they know—including Chris—you two are a couple. You kiss and fuck and love each other, so this shouldn’t be surprising.

Minho kisses you back, not letting himself get carried away before he pulls away and inspects your face from up close. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been hard for a long time and it’s making me want to fuck you right here,” you admit, leaning in and biting on his lower lip. You'll never be immune to Minho, no matter how hard you try. Besides, why should you try? You want him, he's clearly horny—what's stopping you? “We’re both single, and you fuck so well, so…”

Instead of saying something to your offer, your ex kisses you, this time using his tongue. The more it swirls inside of your mouth, the wetter you get, and the more you enjoy having him between your legs, long and hard, reminding you of what’s to come if Minho is willing. You don't care about your surroundings and who can see you—all you're focused on is reciprocating the kiss and enjoying every second of it.

Minho grunts into your mouth and pushes his hips into yours, and you feel like you could come any second even if he hasn’t even touched you yet. Fucking Minho and his perfect tongue and taste and smell and the way he touches you and how attractive his moans are and how well you know he fuc—

“Get a room!” one of the guys screams jokingly and sprays you two with water, but neither one of you moves.

Minho breaks the kiss and pulls away just enough for your lips to part, but you feel his breath on your face and see him looking at you with lust written all over his face. The guy is so pretty you can’t stop staring, and he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Shall we?” you feel confident enough to suggest, even though he could turn you down easily.

“What?” Minho asks, even though you’re sure he knows what you mean. He's looking at you like he knows, and his fingers are once again holding your thighs from below, even if they are practically resting on your ass.

Still, you indulge him and say it out loud. “Get a room.”

“Is that my reward?” your ex suggests, the grin wiped off his face for some reason, jaw clenching.

You shake your head at the suggestion. “No. I just want us to fuck. No rewards, no games.”

“In that case, your room or mine?”

Ten minutes later, still wet from the pool, you're in Minho's room, pushed against the door while he kisses you, his hand roughly groping your tit before moving down to do the same with your ass. You're wearing a bikini, but his hands manage to get under it with ease and touch whatever part he wants.

“Fuck, you're hard,” you mumble with both hands wrapped around his cock, which is leaking precum already. You swipe your thumb over the tip, making Minho hiss and bite into your shoulder, and it turns you on that he's so quick to show how much he likes your touch.

“See what you do to me?” Minho grunts into your skin, and the words make you get wetter instantly. “See how fucking hard you get me?”

You fucking love vocal men, and he's the one to blame for that. You enjoy hearing how horny you get someone and you bask in the sounds you get them to make all thanks to Minho and his filthy mouth which is currently kissing its way down your body. 

He pushes your swimsuit to the side to get your tit out. Once Minho does that, his tongue starts swirling around it, and all you can do is pump your hands faster and moan for him. “Suck harder,” you tell him, squeezing the tip of his swollen cock. “Want your mouth on me.”

Minho chuckles and does as asked, sucking your nipple into his mouth, biting the flesh around it. When he lets go of it with a pop, you think you'll come right then and there because of the sight of his wet swollen lips right next to your nipple. “Pretty, let's go get a condom,” he suggests, and you nod, even if you want to keep touching him for hours.

You follow him to the bed, sad that you two have to part while he looks for a condom in his drawer. But, while Minho is standing next to the bed and shuffling through the drawer, you drop down to your knees and pull his swim trunks down his thighs, taking his cock into your mouth, which stops him from moving.

He grunts and kicks his head back, hands grabbing your head and pushing it towards him, making you take all of him. When you do, you swallow on purpose, and he moans. “You really want me to blow before I get to fuck you,” he mutters happily and continues searching for the condom. “Not gonna happen because I want to be in you so bad.”

You keep sucking but are pulled up on your feet and thrown on the bed a second later. When you get on all fours, Minho pulls your swimming suit down your ass, exposing your soaking cunt to him. “So fucking horny today,” he mumbles, sticking a finger inside of you, both of you hissing when it just slides in. It gets drenched on the first try, and you can almost hear it move. “Aw, did Chris turn you on that much?”

“Stop talking about him,” you tell the man who now has two fingers up your pussy and is scissoring you open with them. “He didn't have his dick between my legs for half of the day, did he?”

Minho chuckles and puts the condom on. While he does that, he leans in and starts licking you up and down, careful to suck and slurp and make as much noise as possible to get you to moan and melt. “Minho, please,” is all you need to say to get him to pull away and put his dick in you.

You moan when you feel the stretch, the familiar burn of the dick you know every inch of, the slight stinging and overwhelming feeling of relief when something hard finally touches your walls. “Minho!”

“Finally,” he grunts to himself and starts moving, hips smacking into yours from the get-go. “So good—”

Minho keeps fucking you roughly, both of you unable to speak. There's not much you can tell him when he's giving you exactly what you want—good sex, the type that leaves you breathless. Each thrust fills you up with pleasure, makes your toes curl, makes you moan and grunt. Even though he seems to be more put together than you, Minho is grunting just as much. “So tight,” he tells you in between thrusts. “Tight little cunt… Wet just for me.”

“Yes, Minho… Fuck… Just for you.”

You've missed fucking him this way, missed having his hands on you like this, grabbing any body part they can reach while his hips push into yours from behind roughly. Minho still knows just how much you can take without it getting painful.

You're tipsy and horny, which means you are more than fine with rough sex, and he's delivering—every move is sharp and quick, cock buried inside of you deeply, thighs smacking into yours.

Being emotional all day made you drink, and that made you want to be close to Minho, which is why you're now fully enjoying the experience. “Harder, Minho, please!”

“Harder?” He giggles, sounding out of breath. “You really need a good fuck, huh?”

“Just had one recently,” you manage to mumble, still not over the sex you two had before coming here, the time that made you think of him more.

Minho laughs happily and smacks your ass. “Sure you can take it harder?” he checks again, hands now on your waist.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I can't think of anything else.” A simple plea, one that he's heard from you many times before and always managed to deliver. “I don't want to think… Just want you.”

It's true. Right now, you don't care about Chris or the wedding or Jisung or anyone else—all you want is to get these frustrations out through sex with Minho. You wish he was on top of you so you could look at him, kiss him, so he could see what he's doing to you.

“Then get comfortable and hold on tight,” your ex instructs you gently and waits for you to grip the sheets and spread your legs to find a stable position, one that won't have you lurching forward with every thrust.

When you do, his cock makes you see stars. It's kind of funny how Minho's cock isn't anything special, technically speaking. There are bigger, longer, thicker dicks out there, yet his always manages to rub your g-spot, always makes your eyes water because it feels so deep, always pries your walls open, no matter how much they clench around it.

“Fuck yes, just like that,” he hums to himself, probably enjoying the view on top of the feeling of being in you. 

He pushes into you hard with a loud smack which almost throws you forward and onto the bed. But, Minho's strong hands are holding you just below the waist, fingers digging into the skin, so he pulls you back onto his cock instantly. It's just back and forth, his dick rubbing your walls quickly, beautifully.

“Mhm, baby.” A smack of his hips makes you moan. “Such a good dick.” Smack. Your toes curl, pussy dripping for him. “Want to have it all the time.” Smack, smack, smack.

“Yeah? Want to let me fuck whenever?” Minho's voice is so low you just know he's seconds away from grunting and coming if he lets himself.

You hum again, trying to clench around him, but it's hard to do that when he's pistoning into you. Smack, smack, smack, the sound so delicious you want your ex to keep going forever.

“Yeah, just you—” Smack, smack. “It's your pussy anyway.” 

Smack, smack, smack until you can't say a thing anymore because you're too busy crying out from pleasure, all because you've told him something he loves hearing. Minho has never been jealous or possessive—you've found out to what extent just recently—but when you two slept together or fooled around, he loved hearing you say that you were his, that your body was his, that he could have it whenever he felt like it. If the timing was right, hearing you were his could make him blow unexpectedly.

You know these little things about him just like he does about you. So, you're not surprised in the slightest that he knows exactly how to move to make you scream. You're not surprised by your constant moaning, by the fact your mouth is open and you're drooling over his bed, by the fact you're dripping wet. The whole hotel can probably hear you getting fucked stupid, but you don't care about any of that.

“Take dick so well,” you hear him mutter, voice laced with pleasure, “my sweet little pussy… Mine,” smack, “mine,” smack, “mine! Right?”

“Yes! Yours, baby—”

“Only I get to make a mess out of it, hm?”

Everything he says goes straight to your head, makes you moan louder, makes you relax your muscles and enjoy the throbbing cock inside of you. You feel wet and swollen but so satisfied at the same time, even if you haven't come yet—it's fast approaching, your abs clenching and releasing.

“Yes, Minho, only you,” you agree, nodding even though your head is pressed into the mattress and he can't even see it. “Please, don't stop, baby— Please, just—fuck!—keep going!”

Minho knows you well so he recognizes all the signs of you getting fucked out of your mind, of you getting lost in pleasure, on the brink of coming.

“You're gonna come like this, pretty?” Minho sounds surprised because you find it easier to come with clitoral stimulation. Today, it doesn't seem necessary.

“Yes, yes, just move—”

He hums happily, clearly happy about the fact you’re enjoying this more than he expected you to. Minho recovers quickly and keeps muttering at you, hissing every now and then,“Let me feel you come, come on. Show me how much you wanted this dick…”

It's stupid that those are the words that get you going, but that's what happens. You come around Minho’s cock, letting your shoulders collapse on the mattress, fingers gnawing at the sheets while he keeps pistoning into you. 

“Yeah, baby, just like that, squeeze it hard,” he tells you through hard thrusts and gritted teeth. “Never want to pull out.”

While you are trying to calm down, Minho keeps fucking you, but his hand reaches for you and pets your head as he leans over so he can look at you. “Good fucking girl… So good. Came so hard for me, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hum in agreement, practically purring with pleasure—his cock is so satisfying, but his touch is making you want to melt. You're not sure how he manages to fuck so hard and be so gentle at the same time, but that's just a Minho thing, one that other men in your life haven't been able to figure out. “Just for you. You make me come so hard every time, Minho…”

You suddenly realize that you want to look at him. Sex is great either way—at least with Minho—but looking at him makes it even better. So, you tell him to stop which makes him freeze in place and stay buried inside of you. You shimmy your hips until his cock falls out of you and then you turn around to face him, still on your knees. “Lie down, handsome.”

“What for?” Minho asks, grinning at you as you lean in and wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a long, wet, horny kiss.

“Let me fuck you,” you say sweetly, pulling him onto the bed.

Minho lets you push him around, make him lie on the bed, and straddle him—all with a smirk on his face. The smirk turns into a pleasure-filled frown when you sit down on his cock and clamp around it hard, fingers dragging across his chest, leaving red marks in their wake. “Want to see all the pretty faces this pussy makes you pull,” you tell him teasingly, knowing it will fuck with him. “So fucking pretty.”

Minho groans loudly and spreads his legs, allowing you to sit onto his cock comfortably and start moving forward and back, gently swaying your hips. “I love it when you act like that…”

“Like what?” you ask even though you know what he means. You reach back and grab his balls, squeezing and rolling them around your palm, which makes Minho’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Like you know how fucking good you are at this, pretty,” he suggests, licking his lips, and his words make you ride him harder, make you want to rub all over him until he comes hard for you. “Because you really are.”

“Maybe I do,” you tease, biting your lip and starting to move even faster, acting like you're in a porn video made just for the guy lying under you. You know what he likes and have no problem giving it to him.

Minho groans and asks, “Do you say things like that to other men?” His hands move to your tits and squeeze them, but his eyes stay focused on your face.

You grimace at the idea of being this open with anyone else and start moving your hips in circles instead, getting to feel him rub you in a new way.

“Didn't think so,” your ex grins, realizing he still knows you well.

“I can't be this open with anyone… That's why I love fucking you, Minho.” By this point, you're moving faster, squeezing him with every circle of your hips. 

This keeps him grunting, and he closes his eyes, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. “Why is that?”

“You've fucked me more times than I can count… You've licked and sucked every inch of me.” You mean every word of it. You two have done it all and there’s just no shame involved, no embarrassment about asking for something you want—things just happen, and nothing seems out of place.

Minho's eyes snap open and he smirks at you. “And I'd do it again. Want you to sit on my face for hours.”

You giggle, starting to move up and down while your hand moves to his lips. A finger pushes inside his mouth, and Minho lets you run it across his tongue. “See? You're a slut for me, so I don't mind being one for you. In fact, I love that I can act as slutty as I want just for you. I can tell you all the nasty things you need to hear to blow your load, baby.”

His hips jolt upwards into you, making you hiss. You pull your finger out of his mouth and bring it down to your nipple, wetting it, enjoying the way his eyes follow your every move.

“Oh my God, keep going,” Minho urges, hands grabbing your ass, eyes looking up at you. “You just get hotter and hotter. When we first met, you couldn't even say cunt without blushing.”

You laugh at that, even though you'd still have a hard time saying it in front of some guy you barely know. Minho is a whole different story—he taught you everything, anyway. “That's true… But now I can tell you I want your tongue up my cunt before you fuck it hard and shoot your load into it.” Minho moans so loud and long you think he's filling the condom up. “You like me better that way, don't you?”

Minho smacks your tit before he pinches your nipple somewhat softly. “I like you either way, pretty. Liked you when you needed the lights turned off to fuck me, like you now that you can ride me completely naked in broad daylight and act like a dirty slut.”

You think you could come just from the things he's saying and the way he's looking at you, but you're focused on his pleasure alone, which is why you're moving fast, careful to sit on his cock fully. “That's because in either case, I end up fucking you.”

Minho nods happily, his face getting sweaty and red, and you think he’s never looked hotter than he does now. “More than that, but that will do,” he says, not caring to explain further. “Just a bit more, pretty… I’m close.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle and start moving faster, happy to hear Minho is enjoying it as much as you are. “Gonna come for me, baby?”

You know the pet name does things to him. Even if you didn’t, it would be obvious from the way his hands squeeze your tits or how his eyes squint as he smirks. “Mhm… Wish I could do it in you.”

“I know you do,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him, sticking your tongue out to tease his lips. It gets Minho to chase you, which makes you giggle again, hips still smacking onto his. “You wish you could finish inside me every time.”

His compliments and looks are getting to your head, making you feel overly confident, making you feel like you're both crazy about each other, which is why you’re saying all these things. You don’t know if Minho wishes he could come inside of you today, let alone every time, but you’re not thinking straight.

However, your ex seems to be on the same page because he agrees with you. “That's because I know you get a little stupid when someone makes you come hard. You'd let me do whatever I wanted after a good fuck,” he says, making a good point. You were always so whipped for the guy, willing to try whatever he wanted after he’d make you come time and time again. “You’d definitely let me fill you up.”

“So confident,” you chuckle and lean in again, whispering, “I mean, you have every reason to be, but still… Confident.”

Minho scoffs and grabs your waist, pulls you onto his torso. Then, he flips over with you on top of him, getting you on your back with his dick still in you. The sudden change makes you even hornier, especially since he is taking control and getting on top and putting an end to your teasing, which means he is almost ready to come. 

“Do I need to teach you a lesson again?” Minho grunts against your lips but doesn’t give you the kiss you lean in for. “Is that what you want?”

Your pussy clenches at the idea of Minho's lessons—they always ended with both of you satisfied in every way possible. “No. Just want to see you come for me… Want to make you feel good, baby… Show you how much I like you fucking me.”

Your admission makes Minho go hard on you, hips moving back and slamming into you, cock entering you fully, pussy squelching with every thrust. “Yeah? Whose is it?”

You wrap your arms and legs around your ex and pull him into your frame, his hips still crashing into yours. “It’s your pussy, Minho, just yours—”

“Just mine, hm?” He sounds elated when he whispers the words, eyes zeroing in on your expression as you grimace and grunt. He’s fucking you so hard you can’t even tease anymore, even though you want to. Minho always enjoys teasing, but you’re too fucking horny for it.

“Only you get to fuck it like this.” It's not a lie—you never have sex like this, never have this much fun, never want to let a man do whatever he wants to you—unless you're with him.

“Shit, pretty, you're so fucking hot,” he mumbles before burying his head in the crook of your neck, and you realize he’s done for. “I want to fill up your cunt just once… Show you it's really mine.”

The idea sounds so good you want to let him do it. If there's a guy you trust completely, it's Minho. But, not today. “Maybe I'll let you sometime… After you fuck me stupid,” you suggest, to which he nods against your skin and keeps grunting lowly, cock still entering you at a steady pace. “You're right, you're so good I’d let you do whatever, baby, you have no idea…”

At this point, his thrusts are shallow, and you know he's about to come. Instead of filling the condom up, Minho pulls out while panting a hasty, “Can I do it all over you?” The condom gets thrown to the side.

You nod and spread your legs wide while grabbing your tits for him, sticking your tongue out. It's definitely one of your sluttiest moments, but it's also one of the hottest ones. Having a guy as handsome as Minho kneel over you with his thick dick in hand, jerking himself off for you, is a whole experience in itself. “Pretty, fuck!” he moans, eyes rolling back, lip caught between his teeth. “Fuck, I’ll—ahhh!”

Suddenly, cum sprays all over you, from pubic bone to neck, and you keep talking for him, knowing that’s what Minho needs. “Yeah, baby, give it to me… Want your cum all over me. Show me whose is it.”

You're bucking your hips into nothing, moaning while you watch him jerk off onto you, and you kind of don’t want it to end. Eventually, it does, when there’s nothing he can squeeze out of his dick, when all the cum has landed on your body, painting it white. When he's done, Minho collapses next to you, head sweaty, hair stuck to his face, breathing heavily.

You lie there for a while, not feeling strong enough to get up and clean yourself up—your entire body is still sore and turned on, buzzing with pleasure, your mind processing what has just happened. Minho seems to be on the same wavelength, except his hand is on you and he's rubbing cum all over your tits and stomach, playing with it absentmindedly. It all feels so warm and welcoming, familiar, and you wonder why.

So, you ask, “Minho, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot, pretty,” he says, sounding half asleep, as always after an orgasm. His eyes are closed, but he’s still touching you softly.

“Why did you decide to date me back then? You never— You didn't date that much before me.” You’re not sure why this is important to you, but you want to know. All the talk about your past made you wonder about that too, about how you never quite understood why he chose you, about how he was always a bit too good for you.

“Uhm…” Your ex hums while he thinks about your question, pointer finger dragging his cum over your nipple, making it pebble again. “I did date before you, but never like that. I guess you made me feel things other people didn't.”

“Like what?” Your voice quivers for no reason—you’re not afraid or nervous or tired. Maybe it’s the old insecurities creeping back up now that you’re talking about you two, about the only real relationship you’ve had. He’s definitely the only man you’ve loved like that.

“Like… You cared about me. I fucked around a lot, but I never really had someone who cared the way you did, checked up on me, was gentle with me. So I started caring for you and there was no way back, I guess.” Minho makes it sound so easy, as always, and it sounds natural. You two just cared for each other, and that made him want to be with you.

“I did care about you a lot,” you admit, years too late.

“I know you did,” he says and gives your tit a light squeeze, which would make you chuckle if you weren’t lost in all the thoughts about your relationship. “I did too.”

You don’t say anything for a while, but a question has been bothering you ever since you reconnected with Minho, ever since he walked into that bar and made you think of all the good times. “Do you think it's normal to have these feelings years after it ended?”

“Are you talking about Chr—”

You cut him off quickly, not even wanting to think about the guy while you’re lying in your ex’s bed naked, covered in his cum, which he’s dragging around your tits with his fingers. Not a good time for thoughts about the groom. “Us. Me.”

Minho sighs and rolls over on his back, joining you in staring at the ceiling. You miss the warmth of his hand on your chest but don’t say a thing. “I… I don't know. Do other people go through it?”

“Do you?” That’s what you’re more interested in here—fuck other people and how they feel.

“Me? Of course I do. You— I… I do, with you.” 

You turn to the side to face Minho because you can’t not look at him after he’s admitted to that. He looks almost angelic with his hair all wet from sweat, his cheeks flushed with color, plush lips slightly open.

When you two look at each other, your ex smiles. “Pretty, you're drunk and sad that he's getting married, and we've just had some… fucking amazing sex. You'll feel a lot of things. Don't get carried away.”

It's a warning that says don't care about me, we're just exes who are fucking. And it’s true. One ex is here to win someone else over and the other has never gotten closure, which led you to his bed. That's all there is to it, and Minho has spelled it out for you.

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

NO. I DO NOT YOU BETTER NOT😩🍬

GENRE ⭑ SMUT ! FLUFF ! ANGST !

warnings — mentions of cheating, alcohol, swearing.

WC ☆ 4k+

Teaser

"Are you telling me I'm blind? You saw the picture, Yeonjun. Are you going to try to tell me any different?" you weren't shouting, you sounded simply defeated, eyes puffy from crying. Ignoring your bleeding heart, you refused to shed any more tears. He flinched at your harsh words. You never called him that, it's only ever been 'Junnie'. But you had to be harsh. If you didn't put up this cold façade you would fall into pieces on the floor, unable to pick yourself up.

xxx

He couldn't answer, it was true. Horrified, he watched you zip up your black duffel that you had hastily packed with some of your belongings.

"That's what I thought.", you laughed in disbelief, grabbing the bag off the bed you shared with him for the past year of your three long years together. He followed you out of the bedroom, trying to stammer out some sort of rebuttal.

"I was black-out drunk, y/n. I don't even fucking remember it! Okay, look, I know that's not an excuse. I fucked up. Please, baby, let's talk through this. I can't lose you..", he darted past you trying to keep you from getting any closer to that front door. If you reached the door... he didn't even want to think about the end of "us".

"Don't you dare call me 'baby'! You should have thought of that before putting yourself in a situation where you ended up plowing some bitch the moment she came onto you!", you sighed, you had let yourself get worked up again. It was laughable, about the most cliche thing you'd ever heard. Who hasn't been drunkenly cheated on? Taken aback, by the entirety of it, you never thought this would happen to you. Yeonjun wasn't perfect, yet you could have easily said he'd never cheat before today.

"Yeonjun, even if I stayed. How am I supposed to forgive you? How am I supposed to forget? These hickies on your neck? I didn't make them, someone else did. The humiliation I'll face if I stay with you? I love you, Yeonjun, but I can't. Taehyun will be here for my things.", you stepped around him, not meeting his eyes. You didn't need to, you could hear his crying loud and clear.

"Y/n, please. You don't need to send your brother, you can just... please. I'm begging you..", you heard the thud of his knees as they hit the floor and you halted in your place. Because you would never forget, you couldn't turn around. Because you would never forget, you couldn't look at him. It takes everything not to give in, holding back your own dejected tears.

The notification of a new message; a photo. Tranquil, you slid the lock across your phone screen on the new notification bar. Heart in your throat as you took in the image, your mind was cracking at the edges. Surely it wasn't real. How could it not be? The dumb bitch sent you a selfie of your one and only Yeonjun laying naked, passed out on her bare chest. Hickies adorned over both of them. It was indisputable. She finally got what she wanted.

For the past year, after she transferred in her third year of university, she had her eye on your boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. It wasn't that she liked him. It has been irrefutable that THE Choi Yeonjun was far out of her grasp and she was the type to want something she couldn't have. Something you thought she couldn't have. Somehow, merely one frat party was all it took for her to pulverize everything. The dreadful remembrance overcame the wall that had barely begun to form around your heart. Bitterly, you laughed as your ceaseless tears fell to the floor with each step, leaving everything behind you.

A few somber months passed. Though it took two separate invitations and rejections, you were invited out for coffee with Yeonjun's "ex" best friend, Soobin. Needless to say, you had gotten to know the timid giant over the past few years and still held a good amount of trust in him. It was wrong to punish him for something he had no involvement in: he didn't gain any knowledge on what happened until after you had left. Soobin had been a good friend to you and it was just coffee.

As kind and gentle as ever, he paid for your drinks and pastries, bringing them to a table in the less populated area of the café. Somehow the meek bunny of a man easily drew out laughter and endless chatter from your battered heart. This was the most you've spoken since before.

Halfway through your chocolate-filled croissant, A broad figure stopped at your table, trapping you in.

You'd recognize your ex-boyfriend of three years anywhere. For lack of better words, he looked terrible. Purple dark circles grimly signified just how little he was sleeping. His cheeks had little color and seemed hollowed. He had lost so much weight, anyone else wouldn't have recognized him. You ignored the pang in your chest and the care you felt for him as a wave of furious anger boiled from inside.

"Soobin, what in the actual fuck?! Are you fucking kidding me??!", you scowled at the bunny you had defended in your head.

"No, y/n, don't blame him. I made him do this. Please, I just want to talk.", Yeonjun quickly intervened, preventing you from any further tearing into Soobin, who squinted his eyes shut tightly to brace himself for your rage.

"Get out of my way, I'm leaving." You stood, just about chest to chest with the man who had been the love of your life, looking up at him as if you were deciding whether to slap him or just decapitate him. He felt, either way, he deserved it.

"Please, give me 20 minutes, if after that you don't want to see me ever again I will respect your wishes.", Yeonjun pleaded, you could vaguely see the tears starting to pool, glossing over his eyes deep brown eyes that had lost nearly all their color.

"You have 15.", you hugged and sat back down in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. Soobin took that as his queue to get out of dodge, bowing in apology before scurrying away so Yeonjun could take his seat.

"I've missed you so much, y/n.", he spoke almost in a whisper. You opened your mouth to cut him off but he quickly interjected, voice soft as ever.

"Please, for now, just listen?", he looked at you through his lashes, eyelids, all of him fatigued from fighting each passing day. Nodding, you agreed, avoiding eye contact so you didn't have to feel guilty, seeing how ruined he was. You could see his fingers playing with each other from the corner of your eye as he fidgeted nervously.

"I know what I did was so incredibly fucked up and I would spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. But you're my other half, I need you.

You don't have to accept right now, I'll give you as much time as you need. I'll never stop waiting for you. I beg you to think about it, y/n. Give us another chance. We can start over, yea? We had over three incredible years together and I fucked it up after I let myself have too much to drink. I will never allow myself to be in a situation like that ever again. I know I don't deserve another chance, yet here I am being selfish. Dragging my friends down with me just to get my sorry ass another shot with the best thing that ever happened to me." He grew silent, gaze caught on the table, tears incessantly streaming down his face.

Your heart throbbed. Never had you stopped loving him. However, while it had healed some, you still had an open wound on your heart that just wouldn't go away. Looking at the broken man in front of you, you yearned to tell him then and there that you felt the same. You may not look it but life without him wasn't life at all.

Thanks to the benevolence of your brother, Taehyun, and your best friend, Beomgyu, you had survived. Even so, there wasn't a day that went by without even the most minute thing reminding you of your lost soulmate.

Maybe the time apart was what you needed to be able to try again. If you were being honest, if he had come to you a week earlier, even. You would have still been too hurt to consider.

However, this was now. In life, you only get one soulmate and he was yours. You retrieved your phone from your purse, pulling up his contact and unblocking him.

He looked absolutely baffled as you typed at your phone for a moment without answering. Was there something on that phone that was more important? He lowered his head once more, heart laying in pieces once again after he had collected each scattered piece to bear to you only minutes ago.

The time you stopped typing matched with the ding he received on his phone, the only reason he'd have pulled it out at a time like this. He sniffled, wiping his nose on the back of his wrist, and pulled out his phone to see you had texted him.

"I need a little more time, Junnie.", read the text. Unable to ignore the flutter of hope in his heart, a faint blush appeared over his cheeks, barely distinguishable from the redness that was already there due to his crying session not long ago.

"I understand." He nodded and wiped away the rest of his tears, caring very little at the few stares they were still receiving. He stood and fixed himself up a bit before turning around to leave. Maybe it was too early to have hope but if space was what you needed to be able to possibly make that decision, by god he'd give it to you.

"Junnie?", the desperation in your voice caught his ears and he swiftly turned back around, the gnawing at his heart almost agonizing as he heard you say his name, his nickname.

In the spur of the moment, no longer holding back from the feelings you tried so hard to hide, you threw yourself into your ex-lover's arms. he stumbled back, stunned by the sudden impact, feeling his body tense as you enclose your arms around his middle. the feeling of your body against his a familiar and welcome embrace but one he had not felt in months. Still, it wasn't long until his body relaxed, heart softening and his own arms naturally wrapping around you tightly, not ever wanting to let go.

Yeonjun, to your surprise, was the first to pull away. It was nearly too much for him, fresh tears pouring from his eyes. You blinked back your own tears, taking a step back, your eyes falling to the floor. Embarrassed, you tried to collect your composure but ended up standing there, rubbing your arm awkwardly.

"I'll give you as much time as you need, y/n", he nodded voice coming out broken before backing away gradually, turning on his heel and leaving through the café door, it ringing before he disappeared from your sights.

It took you exactly a week to call him. Only because Beomgyu and Taehyun refused to let you call him that very same night. They were less ready to forgive him than you were and they didn't understand that at first. Watching you experience that heartbreak firsthand, it would take a lot longer to gain their trust back.

"Take me on a date." You had said when he picked up the phone. It was hard to hold back your laughter after hearing the panicked tone in his voice as he said your name, wanting to make sure you had meant to call him. 'Endearing' is the word you would always use to describe him, and it still stuck, even now.

You turned into teenagers in love again. Going on dates until late at night, taking a million silly couples photos for Instagram, getting nervous at each touch of each other's hands and standing at the door when he dropped you off each time, not wanting the night to end. Part of you felt you shouldn't give in so easily, but it seemed like it would be so easy to pick up right where you left off. It wasn't as hard to forgive him and regain trust with one another than you thought it would be.

Eventually, you were letting him pick you up after class again, all was going fine and well until a certain girl took notice.

"I heard you and Junnie are back together, you don't deserve someone as delicious as him." the girl spat, cornering you into the wall next to the girl's bathroom; which you had just exited a few moments ago.

"And you do?" you said back, although it ended up coming out less harsh than you had hoped for.

"Pfft pathetic, do you really think he cares for you ?! When he so easily gave in to his desires and fucked me at the first chance he got?", knowing exactly the right words to get on your nerves. You felt a sharp needle pierce straight through your heart. But you had no time to worry about that, only needing a way to get out. 'Where is he..' you thought, Yeonjun had walked you to the bathroom, so he shouldn't be that far away?

She hadn't taken that into account; wherever you were, Yeonjun was not far behind. Her back blocking your view, you didn't notice that your savior was already coming down the corridor, it didn't take long for him to speed up his pace once he saw what was going on.

"I wouldn't call that desire but a mistake.", he tapped the girl's shoulder politely. When she snapped around, hearing the new voice entering the space, he gave her the biggest, most insincere smile he could muster along with a wave of his hand as rage started bubbling deep inside him.

"See, I can only imagine what fuckery you're spouting to my baby, but I didn't think you'd have the guts to come around after you jumped my bones while I was intoxicated, knowing it was the only way you could ever get to me after all the times I've turned you down.", the man waved his hands around in exasperation. Only then did his sarcastic smile fall.

"I don't deserve to be with HER. And YOU don't deserve to be in her presence so I'd like you to take whatever ever bitchy bullshit agenda you have and crawl back into whatever disgusting hole you came out of like the naked mole-rat that you are. You have nothing on her. Come on, y/n", he wrapped an arm over your shoulder, His glare livid as a supervolcano about to erupt, his actions unpredictable, any wrong move, and he could blow up and take the world out with him. He was pissed. at her. And most importantly at himself. She was a reminder of what he did, what he allowed to happen, that ultimately ruptured your relationship.

"I'm sorry she's still bothering you. I can promise you that she'll have nothing to do with us ever again.", he lowered his arm after turning the corner, praying he didn't make you uncomfortable. Consequently, you were still a little shaken, only nodding in response. He slowed his pace, giving you a moment to ground yourself.

"Is it okay if I hold your hand?", he rubbed both his sweaty palms against his dark-wash jeans anticipating your answer. Appreciating how he cared enough to ask, you nodded and held out your hand so he could intertwine his fingers with yours.

The interaction made anxiety burst out of your chest, moving hastily throughout the whole of your body, only settled by the way Yeonjun stood up for you; like he always had. a reminder that he always loved you, back then and now. He could be a ruinous wildfire to the world, but for you, a soft, warm breeze passing through a meadow filled with flowers of blues and pinks, a trickle of cool brook a delightful sound to your own ears, a safe place for you and your heart.

Both of you itched as you awaited your fourth date, he picked you up after your last class of the day, whisking you away in a taxi to the little mom and pop restaurant that had been both yours and Yeonjun's favorite all that time you lived together.

A fleeting thought; you remembered how the apartment you shared so many memories in was only minutes away. You stayed late talking to the owner, and Yeonjun denied a drink when offered a complimentary soju bottle. He didn't drink anymore. By the time the two of you were leaving, scattered drops of rain grew into a steady downpour.

"Do you remember the first time I said 'I love you?", he turned to you as you looked out into the heavy sheets of rain, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear and letting out a soft chuckle.

Unintentionally, he had blurted it out first. He didn't know when he started feeling that way but now, for weeks, every time you spoke he could feel the words on the tip of his tongue.

Five months into your relationship, he walked you home from a much-needed, stress-relieving evening out.

Haplessly, it had started raining. Your brother's place was in running distance, but it started pouring so abruptly. There was no choice but to take shelter underneath (something). Howbeit, you still ended up soaked from head to toe, feet squishing in your shoes, marinated in rainwater.

Through laughter, chaste kisses, and shared eye contact, he drank in every little feature of your face and it slipped.

You nodded, reminiscing along with him for a moment, the sugary taste of nostalgia coated your mind until you noticed the distance closing between you and the 181.5 cm, fox-eyed man. The curve of his plush lips continuously held your attention and he took notice.

"Can I kiss you?", he whispered softly, if it hadn't been for his face merely inches from yours, you might have missed it. Another nod was all he needed to take your lips in his own in the tenderest of embraces. A quiet sob escaped your lips but he took it all for you, tears now falling like raindrops on stained glass, mixing with his. Callused thumb gently brushing away a freshly rolled set of tears, whilst he brought his other hand to the side of your face to cup your right cheek.

And with that, you gave in. Letting him take you home. His hands were gentle, treating you as if you were the most delicate bubble ever blown. Any harsh moves and you would pop in front of him at any second. So you kissed him harder, showing him you were okay, that you wouldn't break.

After not being intimate in months you were completely parched, you thirsted for his love, his touch, more than ever much like the dry valleys of Antarctica thirsted for a single drop of water, kept from them for nearly 2 million years. Yet, he was still timid, removing your drenched clothes piece by piece and lowering you back onto the bed you once shared. Admiring you as if you were a hand-painted portrait, he took his time leaving the lightest kisses on every inch of your body. Flowering them all over your collarbones, and trailing softly down the valley of your chest, only stopping at your tummy to press his forehead against it.

"You are so goddam beautiful, my love" he murmured into your body. He was finally feeling your skin again. If he thought about it anymore he'd surely cry, and now wasn't the time for that so he made his way further down past your hips, ghosting a kiss over your heat. His breath made you shiver, made all the thoughts you once had disappear, replaced by overwhelming need. Was he seriously teasing you right now?

"Junnie, please.", not caring how needy you sounded, you pleaded with him, needing to feel him, taste him, smell him, breathe him.

The sound of desperation in your voice, all for him, finally sent him over. Gentleness shrunk away, as he pulled you by your thighs to the edge of the bed. Kneeling on the hard floor, he threw your legs over his shoulders, diving hungrily into your wetness. Looking up at you with piercing eyes as he licked voraciously at your swollen clit, lapping up your dripping cunt. He loved tasting you but he never seemed this desperate to take you in the taste of your arousal before now. Your hands found their way into his hair gripping tightly as he sucked and licked at your cunt.

"J-junnie. Want you inside...", whining, you failed to push his head away, not wanting to wait another minute.

He moaned into your wetness kissing your pulsing clit before pulling away. His hand moved, thumb gathering your slick and rubbing it over your clit at a frustratingly slow pace, your eyes glossy as you quivered. Your head fell back, wet hair fanning over the sheets.

"You want me, baby? What do you say??" He spoke in a low alluring tone, his voice teasing you like sweet honey, licking your lips, you craved for him.

"Yeonieee, please...", he stood, wordlessly stripping himself of his underwear, his hard dick slapping against his stomach. He pulled you closer with one arm, his other hand taking his cock and pressing his head to your slit, pushing it up and down to coat it in your arousal, making you whine. Leaning down he placed wet open-mouthed kisses from your jaw down to your neck, leaving you completely breathless.

"Good girl." He whispered, as he slowly pushed himself into you until you met his hips, the both of you moaning in pleasure. Filling you up nicely, you could feel his cock touching the sides of your inner walls, you moan as you shut your eyes tightly, even now you still weren't used to his size. He started slow, rocking his hips into you, allowing your body to accommodate him, and watching as his cock disappears inside you and returns coated in your slick. Reveling in your warm tightness wrapped around him so nicely, he put one hand in your hair, leaning down to kiss you deeply.

Kissing back passionately, his lips tasted of cherry, oh how you missed these heated moments where nothing else in the world mattered apart from how he was making you feel. Breaking away the kiss, "Ahh... J-junnie." you felt around frantically for one of his hands, him taking it into his own, and intertwining your fingers. While leaning his body over you, pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder. Your arms wrapped around his neck in an attempt to feel his body even closer. 

"Junnie... please." his low thrusts coming to a halt. 

"Please, what, baby girl?" he asked, teasing you. "Please fuck me" and that's all he needed to hear from you, "Anything for you, baby." moaning against your neck, as he slid his cock out, the tip brushing against your g-spot, before pushing in again. Building up pace little by little, you could feel him twitch inside you.

He slid his cock out, the tip brushing against your g-spot, before pushing in again, taking his time to fuck you slowly, building up a pace little by little. Reveling in your warm tightness wrapped around him so nicely, he put one hand in your hair, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You turned your head slightly to pull away.

"Junnie, please go faster." You begged, he smirked at your desperate pleas, more than happy to comply. He followed your request, snapping his hips into you roughly, slamming past your g-spot and into your cervix repeatedly. Making you cry out, you were seeing white.

"So deep..." you whimpered. He growled in response, leaning back, gripping both of your hips tightly letting his nails dig into your skin as he pulled you to meet each uneven thrust. Skin slapping wetly as he fucked you harder, you dragged your nails down his biceps making him hiss out lightly.

"Baby, you feel so.... so fucking good. I love you....love you so much." He groaned, running his hand up your body and firmly grasping your breast as his gaze full of fervor locked with yours,  "so beautiful..."

"L-love you, Junnie. Love you... gonna cum. Junnie I'm gonna cum."

He reached to rub over your clit, sending your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you moaned loudly.

"That's a good girl. Cum on my cock, baby." He could feel you cumming around him, squeezing him tightly.

Rubbing your thigh softly, he rutted into you with jagged thrusts as he came deep inside, cum spilling out onto the sheets with each slowing thrust. He leaned over you, head falling into the crook of your neck.  Both of you breathed heavily, coming down from euphoria. This bliss with him was saccharine, it was healing. He was healing.

He stood, grabbing his discarded shirt, and started to work on cleaning you up. His touch was gentle once again as he wanted nothing more but to cherish you.

"Stay tonight?", he asked still a little breathless, only making fleeting eye contact as he tried to hide how badly he hoped for a yes to pass your lips.

"Yeah... I'll stay."

𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐒 — banner made for “I’ll Stay” by @kuroppiz all rights reserved to them. "I'll stay" written by myself, do not copy, repost, translate, or moderate any of my works. Editor; @kuroppiz I sincerely couldn’t have done this without you, babe! I love you and your amazing brain!

TAGLIST ⭑ @kuroppiz @junnieboyo @sweetiehyuka @yjs6x @bakubae000 @yakusoku0 @billiondollarworth @imanerdychubbyqueen @hwxngjins @sweetiehyuka @chaemoa

I'll keep an eye out! Super excited ☺️

INNINGS.

PART I

Seungmin x reader. (s,f)

Chapters: Part II / Part III

Author's note: I'm in the mood for a fluff, this is actually the most sfw fic I've ever written. Part 2 will be out next Sunday!

"I have written down all the ideas, and you can start by trying to develop each one into a story," you pushed the note to him and showed him the things you jotted down during the brainstorming you did a while ago.

Seungmin nodded as you gave him detailed instructions cause it was his turn to continue working on the group project of writing a piece of fiction for the creative writing class.

You gave up guessing why he took the class in the first place because his major is Management, plus, he's a star of our baseball team, you don't see why he needs to work this hard because he's already earned his place.

"I will try my best," he said to you and took the note from you.

You gathered all of your things from the table and stuffed them into your bag.

"You got any other plans for today?" He asked, pushing his hair to the back, and it only made his hair messy, but the attractive kind of messy.

You shook your head, "I don't make plans on the weekend. I usually just stay at home and eat and sleep," you winced, regretting that you gave him too much information that he didn't need to hear.

"I don't have any plans as well," he said, slinging his backpack on his shoulder, "I was thinking if we can go somewhere together?"

You looked at him, and he looked at you with a glint of anticipation, waiting for your answer.

"Only if you want to, of course," he immediately added.

It was only 5 in the afternoon, and there was no harm in going somewhere with him, and who knows, you might enjoy spending your weekend not cooped out in your small rented studio.

You nodded, "Yeah, sure, why not?" And tried to sound coy when you gave your answer.

He beamed a smile at you, he stood from his chair, "shall we go now?" He asked.

"Do you have any ideas on where to go?" You asked him once both of you exited the library. The sun was still shining, and it felt nice to feel the warm glow of it after spending hours in the library.

"I have a place to go to have some fun," he said, fixing up the collar of his varsity jacket that he always wears almost every day, and when he is not wearing it, he carries it around by hanging it on the strap of his backpack.

You have no idea what kind of fun he has in mind, but you got curious to find out what kind of person he is outside the campus.

"Oh, that sounds nice," you responded with a smile.

It was hard to catch up on his walk because his stride is wide, and you had to walk a little faster to match your pace with him.

He was aware of it too, he suppressed a laugh when he realized you were half-jogging rather than walking, then decided to slow down, taking smaller steps as you both made your way through the crowded streets.

Seungmin took you somewhere that somehow looked like a parking lot, but once you entered the place and the constant thumping sounds you heard from the inside, you recognized that it is a batting cage.

"So, this is your idea of fun?" You asked him with eyes widened in disbelief, "more baseball?"

He nodded while grinning.

"I mean, you practice baseball all week long, and you play some more baseball to have fun?" You asked again since his first answer didn't satisfy you.

He nodded again, "this is fun," he assured you, then went checked in. The man at the front desk showed him the available slot among the row of cages.

"Come on!" He told you, and you followed him from behind. Your eyes lingered on the broad of his shoulders from the back, and his varsity jacket does nothing but accentuate it.

He opened the door to the batting cage, took a bat, and practiced a few swings before the machine started shooting balls in his direction. You winced every time Seungmin hit the ball right with the bat and made a loud popping sound.

And this is why he's the baseball star, he nailed every throw pitched at him, you knew it wasn't the same with the real game but still, watching him doing what he's good at is another level of attractive.

He lightly panted, then put down the baseball bat, opened the door, and held out his hand at you.

"It's your turn now!" He announced, stepping down a stair still with his hand held out at you.

You looked down at his hand with veins coiling on the back of his hand and down to his long, slender fingers.

"Huh?" Your eyes widen, nonplussed, "I'm not playing," you meekly said.

"I'll teach you," he said with a smile.

You shook your head, "No, no, no," you kindly refused his offer, "I'll stay here and cheer you up,"

He rolled his eyes, "my hand is getting tired here," his eyes motioned to his still outstretched hand at you.

You grimaced but caved in at the end, you took his hand, and he helped you climb the stairs into the cage.

"Just a warning, I'm so bad at sports," you whined, almost like a fussy toddler.

Seungmin handed you a wooden bat, "that's why I'm here,"

You reluctantly took the baseball bat from him, "I-"

Seungmin grabbed you by your waist and positioned yourself in front of him, facing to the side.

He placed his hands on your shoulders next, "first, line up your shoulders with your legs,"

You stood up straighter and did what he told you to do.

Seungmin looked down at your feet, "spread your legs wider," he ordered.

"Oh, wow, and you didn't even buy me dinner first," you joked and regretted saying it once it got out of your mouth.

Seungmin softly chuckled with his cheeks blushing profusely.

He cleared his throat, then put his hands on the small of your back, "keep your knees bend," he ordered.

You obeyed and bent your knees, awkwardly.

"Don't crouch or stoop," he warned, he grabbed your waist and swayed your body side to side, "it's important to have a steady and grounded stance," he added.

"Now, let me see how you hold the bat," he commanded.

You lifted the baseball bat and held it the way you know how to hold it.

"Is it right?" You asked him.

He put his hands on yours, "Don't hold the bat in the palms, it won't allow you to flex your wrist," he commented, then helped you wrap your fingers around the bat.

He traced your knuckles with his fingers, "see this?" He asked you.

You nodded.

"You should line up your knuckles," he said, so attentive as if he was training you to be a player.

When he was sure you gripped the bat the correct way, he showed you how to take a good swing. He practiced with you a few times as he whispered instructions so close to your ear.

"Keep your body in a straight line and keep your eyes on the ball," he instructed, again practicing another swing along with you.

"Relax your muscles and be ready," he finished but with his body pushed so close behind you only makes it harder for you to relax.

He put his hands away from yours and stepped back, "I think you're ready," he announced with a grin.

You suddenly felt so self-conscious that he left you on your own, "what if I'm not hitting any ball?" You asked him.

"We can always play another round," he casually said.

You roughly wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans before gripping the bat again, "what if the ball hit me in the face?"

Seungmin burst out laughing, "that won't happen," he assured you, then got out of the cage to watch you behind the chain-linked fence.

You let out a long sigh as the machine signaled that it was ready to pitch the ball, you repeated the instructions Seungmin gave you earlier in your head.

"Keep your eyes on the ball," you repeatedly said.

With a loud pop, the ball shot in your direction, and instead of swinging your bat, you dodged it.

"What am I doing??" You frantically shouted at yourself, then uneasily glanced at Seungmin.

"It's okay, just keep your eyes on the ball!" He instructed again.

You quickly got ahold of yourself, then gripped the bat so tight, you shifted your focus back ahead.

"Keep your eyes on the ball," you repeatedly said to yourself like it was a scared prayer.

When the ball came at you, you held up your bat over your shoulder just like how you practiced, then when the ball was close enough, you began to swing it, and there was a loud bang.

You successfully hit the ball with the bat, your mouth agape in surprise, then looked at Seungmin in awe.

"I did that?!" You asked him for confirmation.

He nodded while grinning from ear to ear, "look straight ahead! The next one is about to come!" He reminded you.

You succeeded in batting 6 out 10 and insisted on going for another round to make a better record.

"Not going to lie, that was so much fun!" You exclaimed with a stupid grin on your face.

Seungmin held out his hand to help you get down the stairs but ended up lifting you by your waist to get you off since you were too ecstatic to watch your steps.

"I'm glad you had fun!" He sincerely said, then put a cold canned drink in your hand, "here's to soothe your hand"

You looked at the inside of your hands and winced, "ouch!"

You didn't realize your palms were red and raw from gripping the bat too hard, you squeezed the canned drink and let the cold seep in.

"Your turn now!" You said to him.

"You want me to go again?"

You nodded, "yes," you replied while wrapping both of your hands around the cold canned drink.

"Okay then, I'll go," he said then got into the cage.

You watched as he took his stance and swung the bat over his shoulder like it was a natural thing to do, many people had been saying he looked so attractive when he plays, and that was when you knew what the fuzz is all about.

"Do you think I can make it into the team?" You half-heartedly asked him as you dipped your French fry into ketchup.

Maybe because you weren't used to using your body for sports that you got so hungry and finished the burger in under a few minutes.

"Maybe," he replied, after a moment of hard thinking.

You chuckled and dipped another fry into the ketchup then shoved it into your mouth.

"You got something..." he said to you, gesturing to your mouth.

You quickly wiped whatever was on your mouth.

He shook his head, "I'm sorry, but I have to invade your private space," he said to you before reaching up and wiping a drop of ketchup on the corner of your mouth with a tissue.

You hurriedly took the tissue from him and wiped it yourself, "thanks," you muttered and roughly wiped all over your mouth, just in case.

You looked down to avoid his gaze that somehow made you flustered. You never felt like this for a long time, the butterflies, the heart flips, and whatever it is that made the cold of your heart slowly melt. Actually, you never let yourself feel all of these things because they were all trivial and always led you to disappointment.

But something about him made your heart shift, all of these times, you thought of him as not more than just a popular guy on the campus, and that he'd act like an actual jock.

You smiled because he isn't so bad, maybe you shouldn't trust your prejudice in the first place.

"How're your hands?" He asked you.

You held out your hands with your palms up, "it wasn't as hurt," you answered.

He leaned forward to look at your hands, and his fingers trailed the bumps on your palms, "apply some ointment when you get home," he suggested.

"Can I see your hands?" You asked him, out of curiosity.

He held out his hands at you on the table.

You saw how his hands are calloused and rough, from years and years of training and holding a bat, you traced the bumps on his palm and cooed.

When you looked up, his face was so close to yours, and you could see the shine of his dark hair and imagined how soft it would feel in your hands.

He lifted his head, and his eyes met yours, you retracted yourself immediately, feeling flustered.

"My friend always said I don't have a knack for sports. I can't wait to tell her about today," you said with a grin on your face.

Seungmin softly laughed, his hand wrapped around his cup of soda.

"So, how long you've been friends with Kim?" He suddenly asked.

You got taken aback by his question but gave him the benefit of the doubt, he probably had seen you around with Kim on the campus.

"We're friends since junior high school," you answered, then reclined on your seat.

"She is quite something," Seungmin said with a snicker.

That was when the smile on your face slowly fades, not again, you said to yourself.

"She has a lot of fireworks in her," he added.

You scoffed and laughed to yourself, "yeah, she is," you half-heartedly added.

You refused Seungmin’s offer to drive you home and took the bus home instead, you felt the urge to be alone and be in your own space.

Arrived in your cramped, small studio, you face-planted onto your bed and just let your thoughts drown you in like usual.

You thought about how Seungmin almost got you with your guard down only to find out he was just like another guy who tried to get close to you, with the ultimate intention to get close to your best friend, Kim.

Kim is undeniably attractive, but apart from her physical appearance, she is the kind of person who got everything that comes easy for her and is good at everything. She knows how to get around people, in conclusion, she's everything you are not. She's always been the center of attention the moment you became friends with her, and you have always been there by her side, as the sidekick, the less attractive of the two, and last but not least, a quick gateway if anyone wanted to get close to her.

It had happened more than a handful of times already, some guys approached you only to ask you about Kim. You reminded yourself that it's not her fault, she didn't ask to be born that attractive the same as you didn't ask to be born less attractive than her.

You never felt bothered by it but sometimes, sometimes you just got so tired of explaining yourself to people that you are more than just Kim's best friend.

The next time you met Seungmin to work on your project, you worked in silence and only talked when you needed to. The silence became so deafening that Seungmin sensed something was slightly amiss.

"Are you okay?" He asked you while shuffling the papers in his hands.

"Yes," you shortly replied without looking away from the screen of your laptop.

You both continued working with the dead air hung in the space between you and him, it wasn't easy for you too but you swore to yourself never to let your guard down again.

Once you were done typing everything on your laptop, you shut it down and closed it.

"I think we're done," you informed him, gathering your notes on the table and putting your pens back into the case.

"I can do the final editing," Seungmin offered, but with the unpleasant look you gave him, he retreated himself.

"If you let me, of course," he quickly added.

You put your things back inside your tote bag, "It's okay, I can do it for us," you kindly refused.

Seungmin smiled back, "To be honest, you'll do a better job than me," he weakly said.

You felt bad for being so sour when all he did was being good to you, you forced a smile and said, "I'll email you the final edit, and you can tell me if there's something you want to change," you said to him.

He smiled back at you, and somehow it made you feel so warm inside.

"Can I treat you dinner?" He asked, scratching the back of his neck as he did.

You hummed for a while before coming up with an answer, "what about I treat you tonight?" You offered.

Seungmin got slightly surprised by the turn of the event and that he thought things were coming back to normal between you two.

"Only if you let me treat you dinner the next time," he said with an eyebrow raised.

You shrugged in defeat, "sure!" You replied, then got up from your seat.

You settled on your favorite pizza place that serves the most delicious cheese pizza, but that night you ordered half cheese and half pepperoni in large size.

"I don't think the two of us can finish this," Seungmin said when he looked down at the steaming pizza with cheese bubbling on top, the smell of it was almost aphrodisiac.

You pushed his cup of drink to the front of him on the table, "someone will be joining us soon," you told him.

And just like she was being summoned, Kim came through the door and shot you a teeth-baring smile the moment he spotted you.

You waved at her, and she half-jogged to your table, "oh my God, the pizza is here already!" She exclaimed.

She quickly sat down on the empty chair between you and Seungmin, she didn't waste time to take a slice and bit on it.

With her mouth busy chewing the food, she turned her head and jolted on her seat, "Oh, Seungmin!" She exclaimed.

You handed her your cup of drink, and she quickly swallowed her food to take a sip, "did you guys just work on that project together?" She asked.

Your eyebrows were raised in question because you never told her about it, well, you told her about the project but not about who your partner is.

You stifled a nod, "Yes, but how-"

"Always a pleasure to meet you, Kim," Seungmin cut in, then bit into his pizza.

Kim nodded in acknowledgment. So they have talked to each other before? It was obvious now because they didn't seem awkward toward each other.

"Seungmin, are you even allowed to eat pizza? Aren't you suppose to be on a strict diet?" Kim teased as she shove a piece of pizza crust into her mouth.

Seungmin snickered, "Only if you don't tell, Kim,"

"Are you aware that you'll not be 22 forever?" She asked him, taking another slice and tearing a piece.

"Yes, but I don't see how is that related to pizza," he replied.

You watched their conversation intently like watching a tennis match, Kim turned her head at you and laughed.

"Oh, have I told you that Seungmin and I went to the same kindergarten," she explained and tore another piece of pizza.

You gasped at the newfound revelation.

"Our moms are sort of besties," Kim explained more.

It was getting more obvious that they are close, closer than you thought. You nodded along and felt your appetite dissipate as you watched them talking and how good they looked together. And you saw the bigger picture, that maybe it wasn't a bad idea for them to be together and maybe they're meant to be, you never know but it was time for you to be out of that picture.

You dropped your unfinished slice of pizza and got up from your seat,

"I'm sorry, guys, but I have to go," you informed and hastily gathered all of your things, "I forgot that I have something to do with my mom and that I-" you blabbered, "I need to clean my room or else she'd give me hell," you sighed from excessive explanation you did.

"But you haven't finished your pizza yet, it's your favorite cheese pizza!" Kim said, getting up from her seat, but you pushed her back down onto her seat.

"I'm in a hurry, you know my mom," you came up with a false excuse.

"I'll go with you then," Kim offered.

"No, no, please stay," you refused and took a step back from the table,

"Stay and eat the pizza. It's my treat," you convinced her and put on a smile, "I'll be taking the bus, do not worry," you added.

"I can drive you if you're in a hurry," Seungmin offered.

You shook your head, "No, no, no, it's okay," you quickly refused.

You slowly retreated from the table, "I'll get going now, bye everyone!" You waved your hand at them then walked out of the door. You resisted the urge to look back and kept on walking.

Later at night, Kim came knocking on your door and barged in the second you opened the door.

"I know there's something wrong," she exclaimed as she plopped down on the love seat. She looked around your small studio and sighed, "you would have cleaned your desk if your mom really is coming," she said, looking up at you with squinted eyes.

"Your mom's favorite drama is playing every Saturday night, and on Sunday morning, she has that volunteer work at the nursing home," she elaborated as she put up her legs on the seat.

You probably shouldn't have lied to your friend, especially the one that had known you for years and knew every detail of your life

There was no way to escape this but to come out clean. You sighed then sat next to her, "Seungmin likes you, and I think," you paused and tried to ignore the twinge in your heart when you mentioned his name, "he's a good guy, and I think you look good together,"

Kim burst out laughing and reached for the snack you always stored under the table, opened a pack of chips, and began munching.

"I'm just trying to set you guys," you weakly said.

"You sound like a total dumbass right now," she said with her mouth full of food.

"I am not going to take that personally," you sneered at her.

Kim sat up straighter and scooted closer to you, "Listen," she began, "what I'm about to say to you is a hundred percent confidential, but since you got your panties in a twist, I have to intervene here,"

You looked at her rather confused and wide-eyed, "what are you talking about?"

She stopped munching and put down the bag of chips on the table, "Seungmin likes you," she said.

Your heart skipped a beat, "what?"

"He likes you," she repeated, "at the beginning of the term, he asked what classes you took, and you think he took a creative writing class for the grade, no honey, he did all that for you," she explained with her index finger pointed at you.

But the more she explained, the more confused you got, "wait, what?"

Kim heavily sighed, "he did all that to get close to you! that's how much he likes you,"

"But I thought he likes you," you stuttered and froze on your seat, learning the newfound truth about his real intention to you.

Kim rolled her eyes, "please, I've seen him piss his pants during a school trip, and he has seen my face got swollen from my allergy. We disgusted each other enough to have a romantic feeling," she groaned.

You stifled a laugh, surprisingly feeling so relieved that it was just a misunderstanding and also felt bad for being unpleasant to him, or worst, he thought that you didn't have the same feeling for him.

"I think I just blew my chance," you sadly declared.

Kim patted your shoulder a few times, "Hey, I never said it's too late to get him now,"

You glanced at her, "you knew?"

"Of course, I know you like him," she said as if it was obvious to her, then took the bag of chips back on her lap and started munching again.

It had been days since the last time you met after that little mishap in the pizza place, you saw him around the campus but never could get yourself to, at least, say hi to him.

Plus, the piling assignments didn't help and kept you occupied the whole week. It took its peak when you got called to your professor's office.

Your heart beating out of control as you stood in front of the door of his office, you took a deep breath before finally knocking on his door.

"Come in!" You faintly heard the voice from inside the office.

You swung the door open and saw your professor was talking to another student in his office, only when you got closer did you realize it was Seungmin.

"I called you both to let you know that I really like your writing," your professor told you both as you stood there facing his desk.

You sighed in relief and felt the knot in your stomach loosen, you glanced at Seungmin and smiled at him, glad to see him again than hearing the praises from your lecturer.

When the appreciation speech ended, and he let you both be on your way, you sighed the second you closed the door behind you.

Seungmin stood there next to you, "I think we make a good team," he said to you.

You smiled because the first thing he said to you after that unfortunate day was a positive thing.

"Yeah, I think we did," you agreed.

There was a silence awkward after all, but you quickly came up with something from letting the silence go on, "I think we should celebrate it," you said to him.

Seungmin nodded, "I'd love that,"

You thought of a place you can go to later when you are both done with your classes, "I think we can go to that cafe we-"

"But I can't, I have practice today," Seungmin added.

You closed your mouth and stopped talking, "oh," you tried not to sound sad but failed.

Seungmin pushed his hair to the back and always looked attractive doing so, "what about tomorrow?"

"Yes, sure," you immediately answered and winced for answering it too quickly.

Seungmin softly laughed, his eyes crinkled under the sunny afternoon light. He looked down at his phone screen to check the time, "I'll text you for tomorrow, I have to go now," he said, hoisting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder.

You nodded in acknowledgment, "yeah, you better get going," you said to him.

He flashed a smile that melts you from the inside, "I'll see you," he said with so much hope to see you again.

"Trust me, even though he didn't say it's a date, it is a date!" Kim said through your speakerphone.

You didn't know how long you had been trying out on some outfits for today, no matter how embarrassing it was to call your friend to help you pick on an outfit to hang out with a guy, you were just that desperate.

You slumped on the couch, "I don't think it's too late to bail on him,"

"Don't you dare!!!" Kim barked, "Put that outfit on and get your ass out there," she instructed, you could imagine her saying that while rolling her eyes.

"Then what?"

"Just be you," she said, "it sounds so cliche, but he likes you way before all this, so there's nothing to worry about," she convinced you, "and I have to go because my mom needs my help in the kitchen, good luck and bye!" She quickly ended the phone call.

You entered the cafe clutching the side of your skirt out of nerves, you spotted him right away on the table you both once worked your project on.

With hesitant steps, you walked up to him as your heart beat faster and faster.

His head tilted up when he realized you were coming his way, a bright smile rose on his face.

"Hey, you came," he said as soon as you were closing into his table.

"Yes, why wouldn't I?" You said back, you fought the urge to slap your mouth for saying it.

Seungmin chuckled, he got used to you blurting out whatever was inside your head.

"I was about to text you that I have to go somewhere," he said to you when you were already seated across the table from him.

"Huh? What?" You asked him, just in case you misheard him.

"My friends insisted on going to his party, and he won't stop until I really came," he explained.

You looked down at your lap, at your choice of skirt that took you hours to pick, and said, "oh," again, failing to not sound disappointed.

"I mean, would you come with me?" Seungmin asked again, rephrasing what he was trying to say to you.

"Going to the party with you?" you asked him in disbelief.

He nodded.

It wasn't like you never heard of a party before or had never been in one, but to be seen together with him at a party was a big deal.

"We don't have to go if you don't want to," Seungmin added with a reassuring smile.

But of course, you didn't want to disappoint him, maybe it was a party of a friend that is not from the campus. You braved yourself and nodded, "it's just a party, I say let's go," you said with such coy.

Being in a car with Seungmin and seeing him driving was something you never thought you would ever witness. But here you were, sitting on the passenger's side and stealing a few glances at him as he drove with his eyes focused on the road ahead.

You let yourself look at him for a while and saw that he is wearing a blue sky shirt underneath his varsity jacket with his hair is neatly styled and parted in the middle. Your eyes lowered to where his hands gripped the steering wheel that made the veins on his hands prominent.

You looked away when he was about to look your way, you were glad he was playing music, or else, he would hear the noises you made when he was about to catch you looking at him.

Forget about staying invisible at the party, everyone recognized you the moment you got out of Seungmin’s car and got so self-conscious, you thought of fleeing the scene and start running back home.

"We don't have to stay long," Seungmin said, he sensed that you were nervous being there with him, " I'll just say hi, and we can be on our way," he added.

His words didn't quite calm you down, but something about the way he inserted the word we as if it was something as natural. We and that we mean, you and him.

You shot a thin smile at him, "I'm alright, just take your time," you convinced.

Seungmin didn't bother to introduce you to anyone since you were already well acquainted with everyone, which is a perk from having a popular friend. You ignored the curious eyes on you and went on your way, but you decided that maybe Seungmin wouldn't like having you following him around like a puppy so you let him socialize with his peers that are mostly his baseball teammates.

But when you were about to leave his side, he grabbed you by your wrist, "I want you to meet my friends," he said to you.

You blinked a few times at him, not sure if you heard him right.

Seungmin introduced you to his friends, and you shook hands with each one of them, they didn't look as bitter as you think they would, they looked alright and welcoming instead.

"Let me get you a drink," one of his friends offered.

You kindly refused him, you knew the drink was spiked with alcohol, and you are not good at drinking.

When his friend handed you a drink, someone nudged your back and sent you tripped forward, the drink sloshing all over your white blouse.

Your mouth hung open, looked down at your blouse with a red stain on it and reeked of alcohol.

"I am so sorry," his friend quickly apologized.

You slightly shook your head at him, "it's fine, I'll excuse myself to the bathroom," you said to him and quickly made your way out of sight, out of Seungmin’s sight especially.

"It's the second door on the left," he shouted the direction to you then broke into a run.

You locked the bathroom door and hoped no one would come banging on it since you would be likely staying in there for a long time, at least until you washed off the stain on your blouse. And that too, only if you succeeded washing it off.

When you saw your reflection in the mirror, you got hopeless. The night had just started yet you were already a mess, and there was no way you could get rid of the stain on your blouse, you almost broke down crying when you heard a knock on the door, “A moment, please!” you shouted to whoever behind the door.

“It’s me,”

You recognized Seungmin’s voice right away, you reluctantly opened the door, just slightly ajar, and peeked out, “Hey, I’ll be out in a moment,” you immediately told him.

He didn’t say anything but handed you his jacket through the door, “Here, use my jacket,” he told you.

You took it from him.

“I’ll wait for you here,” he said again.

You nodded, “Okay,” then closed the door.

You stared at the varsity jacket that he always wears, draped around your hand, and hesitated to wear this saintly piece of clothing.

You reminded yourself that you have no choice but to wear it, and since there was no way for you to salvage the blouse, you threw it into the trash bin. You washed your hands, wiped the sticky juice with a wet cloth then put on Seungmin’s jacket next. It was too big that you pulled the sleeves up to not let your whole arms hands engulfed by it and buttoned the jacket since you were wearing nothing but your plain white bra underneath.

You fixed your hair and fixed your make-up, it was the least you could do to look presentable. You gained your composure back and opened the door, found Seungmin leaning against the wall waiting for you.

You smiled awkwardly at him, not feeling confident in his jacket and definitely not looking as good as him in it.

Just like he could see right through your mind, he said, “It looks good on you!”

“Thanks,” you shyly muttered to him.

“Shall we go now and continue our date?” he asked.

Your heart flipped at the word date, so Kim was right, it was a date after all. You nodded at him and began following him as he parted the sea of people filling in the place, your feet were on the floor, but you felt like you were floating.

“I’m sorry that we can’t have proper dinner meals,” he said to you as the both of you sat on the cap of the car with burgers and fries you bought from the drive-thru, looking out at the city view from the top of the parking building.

You smiled at him, “it’s more than alright! I love burgers!” you said to him with such enthusiasm.

Seungmin bit into his burger, “I’m sorry about your blouse,”

You swallowed the food in your mouth, “No worries. It’s just a blouse!”

When both of you were done with the food, you stared out at the view and enjoyed the pleasant night, despite the cold air kept blowing in your way, you were glad you were wearing his jacket.

“Kim said you were a quiet kid in kindergarten,” you told him.

“I still am,” he responded with a low chuckle.

“I’m not sure about that, you are a different kind of quiet,” you said, you shoved your hands into the pockets of the jacket.

“Yeah?” he asked, “What kind of quiet?”

You hummed, “The kind of quiet that is not because you don’t have anything to say, it’s actually the opposite, you have so many things to say but decide to only say things that people could perceive,”

Seungmin got quiet because he felt like you just saw through him.

You turned your head at him, “It’s okay to talk your thoughts out, you know, who knows you might find someone that understands you,” you finished with a smile.

Seungmin intently looked into your eyes and smiled, “I think I already did,” he said.

He was slowly leaning in at you when raindrops suddenly came pouring down on you, your hands covering your head, while Seungmin grabbed your hand and took you back into the car.

He opened the backseat door, and you hurried into the car so he could get in after you, you wiped the drops of water on his jacket with your hands and from your face, afraid that it ruined your make-up.

"I didn't know that it will rain today," he said as soon as closed the car door.

"I think it's the spring rain," you crooned and hugged yourself.

When it got quiet, the limited space of the car got a lot smaller by the second and none of you wanted to break it.

Seungmin cleared his throat and broke the heightened tension, "You know, Kim and I, we're just friends," he uttered out of the blue.

You already knew that he would say something about it at one point in the evening but didn't know he would choose this moment, were you both in the car and surrounded by the pattering of the rain.

"Yeah, I know," you told him, you shoved your hands into the jacket pockets, mostly to avoid the urge to touch him since his knee is only inches away from yours.

Seungmin got quiet again and shifted on his seat, "but you did think that I like Kim?"

You stifled a nod, "I got so used to being Kim's wingman," you joked.

Seungmin scooted closer to you on the seat, "Can I tell you something?" He asked.

You turned your head at him, "yes,"

"I like you," he said with eyes unwavering, looking deep into yours, "I like you a lot," he emphasized the last word to let you know how much feeling he has for you.

You smiled at him despite the burning feeling of blurting out how you felt about him to the tiniest details, but for now, you settled with, "I like you too," you said back, "a lot,"

A smile rose on his face, ever so softly, so gently as the sun rises. He leaned in so close, and you closed your eyes, soon after, you felt the plush of his lips on you.

Your heart palpitation and hands balled into fists inside the jacket pockets when he put his hand on your jaw. He opened his mouth and captured your lips between his, brushing his lips over yours like he was savoring a cone of ice cream.

He used his tongue to pry open your mouth until you gave in yourself, opening your mouth to him with a delightful sigh.

He didn't waste any time to taste you, invading your mouth with his tongue and twirling it with yours.

The kiss was slippery and hot, his fingers wrapped around the side of your jaw while his thumb steadily pulled your mouth down to keep it open.

You reclined on the seat and let him deepen the kiss, finally braved yourself to get your hands out of your pocket and tangled them in the soft of his hair.

The sounds of the rain hitting the roof of the car drowned out the smooching sound of your kisses and the occasional sighs you let out against his lips.

He pulled away slowly, swiped his thumb over your swollen, red lips, glistening wet with a mix of his saliva and yours.

His hand traced down your neck and stopped at the base of your throat, to where the top button of your jacket rested.

You gave him a nod of permission, and he acknowledged it, he began working to open it one by one. His eyes followed to where his hand worked while you were watching his face with his mouth slightly open.

Seungmin swallowed once he was done unbuttoning your jacket, he sighed when he put his hand underneath and slowly revealed your skin inch by inch, parting the jacket open and sliding it off one shoulder.

He whimpered as his fingers trailed your collarbone and the skin under your bra strap, "you're so soft," he softly muttered.

You bit your lower lip to fight the urge to kiss him and failed, you pulled him by the collar of his shirt then crashed your lips on his.

While your lips were connected in a long, passionate kiss, Seungmin ran his hand down your chest then gripped your waist to hoist you up onto his lap.

You gasped when your mouths unattached and straddled him with your legs on each side of his, your face hovered only inches away from each other. He reclined on the seat, with his head tilted up at you. You looked into his eyes, clouded with lust and intensely staring at you.

He placed his hands on your waist, and you shuddered when his hands moved to the small of your back, roaming on the skin, and you could feel the roughness of his fingerpads.

He withdrew one hand and reached up to cup your cheek, "you're so beautiful," he said to you, swiping his thumb over your lower lip.

You smiled at his praise, shyly looked down at his chest, that even with his clothes still on, you could feel the firm of his muscles under your touch. You put your hands on his shoulders and traced the broad of his shoulders, your breath quickened since it was something you badly wanted to do.

Seungmin slowly pulled you by your chin to plant a soft kiss on your lips, a kiss that escalated things where both of your bodies pressed close together.

Your hands were in his hair while his hands were all over your body, he dragged his lips down to your neck and began kissing the thin, sensitive skin making you softly moan into his hair.

He slid the jacket down your shoulder, slipping his finger under the strap of your bra then placed a tender kiss on your collarbone.

You put your hands around his neck as he made a trail of kisses across your chest, tilting your head up and pressing your lips together to muffle your moans.

The rain has turned into a drizzle, but the window started to fog, the space inside the car shrunken by the seconds, and all you did was pull him closer and closer until there was no gap left between your bodies.

Seungmin sank his mouth on the skin between your breasts with his hands wrapped you tightly in his embrace.

When he looked up at you, you smiled at him then gave his lips a quick peck.

Seungmin lifted his head to capture your lips into a kiss again, and you softly laughed against his lips.

For a moment, you were so caught in the moment you didn't realize your phone was ringing, and you tried to ignore it, but it kept on ringing.

You winced, "I'm really sorry," you said to him, then got off of his to get your phone from inside your purse on the front seat, you quickly punched the accept call button.

"How was it? How was the date? Where did he take you?" Kim shot you questions the second you picked up the phone, you glanced at Seungmin in unease, afraid he could hear her through the phone.

"Kim, I'll call you later," you quickly replied.

"What? Why? Don't tell me you're making out right now? Holy sh-"

You abruptly ended the call and put your phone back in the car, you sat back next to him again in the backseat.

It was so quiet and dark in the car, beads of water rolling down the car window.

Seungmin took your hand in his and held it, "I'm sorry that I couldn't take you on a proper date," he said to you.

You turned your head at him, "I like it. I like the elements of surprise," you playfully commented.

"I'm glad," he said with a low laugh.

Even in the dim light, you could see his eyes crinkled as he looked at you.

"Ready to go home?" He asked.

Deep down, you just wanted to stay with him a little longer or if you could, spend as much time with him as possible yet you nodded at him, "yes," you answered.

Seungmin reached for your jacket and pulled it close, you began buttoning them yourself. Seungmin helped you fix your hair by putting strands of hair behind your ears, "you're so beautiful," he murmured, it felt nice to hear the praise again, and you could tell that it was sincere.

When you were about to say something but his lips were already got ahead of you, kissing you briefly to leave a taste of his lips before letting it go with a sweet smile.

Arrived in front of your apartment building, Seungmin parked his car in the parking lot. He immediately got out of the car to open your car door, and it took you by surprise that something like this happen to you.

Seungmin walked you to the entrance of the building but did not get in.

You turned around to face him, "thank you for today," you said to him.

He grabbed your hand and clasped it with his, "no, thank you for not running away from the date," he joked.

You laughed, "I had a great time,"

"Me too," he said back, squeezing your hand then rubbing the skin on the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Your jacket," you jolted when you remembered you were still wearing his jacket, "if you don't mind waiting, I'll change my clothes and give it to you,"

He shook his head, "you can give it back to me tomorrow,"

"Okay," you responded.

You didn't know how long you stood there facing each other, looking at each other’s eyes, and was not quite ready to part for the day.

"I should go," he said, but his feet nailed to the ground.

"Okay,"

"Okay," he said back.

You giggled at how adorable he looked, you initiated first, stood on your tiptoe, and kissed him on the mouth.

"Goodnight!" you said to him and slowly let go of his hands.

Seungmin shyly smiled then said, "Goodnight!"

You waved your hands at him before starting climbing the stairs to get to your studio, and once again felt like you were walking on clouds.

We have to talk!

Seungmin said in his text.

You knew that nothing good ever comes out of those words, and it was the first text Seungmin sent to you that day. You got fidgety in your seat during the first class, couldn't focus on whatever the lecturer was saying at the front of the class.

Is there something wrong?

You typed a reply with your phone under the desk.

Meet me in the library after class

The class will end in fifteen minutes, and your feet bounce in anxiety under the table, counting down the seconds that lead to it. All kinds of thoughts rushed through your head, and none of them helped to calm you down. Because all you think about was if Seungmin has a second thought about dating you. When the class ended, you still couldn’t decide whether you should be excited or scared.

taglist: @lolalee24 @a-hyunjinshairband

I love it when writers can manage to write a intimate scene that is so sweet without having to overly explain that they are being sweet to each other. And this one does that SO WELL. This is so cute and i loved it<3

stray kids fic-mas: day 8

pairing: minho x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff, 18+ (minors dni)

summary: you have a cozy christmas morning with minho.

length: 1.1k

warnings: food mention, christmas mention, profanity, suggestive/sexual content, no sub/dom dynamic, grinding, unprotected sex (please wrap before you tap), cream pie, praise, pet names, afab reader, nsfw 18+ (minors dni)

ficmas 2022 masterlist

you stir awake when you feel a soft a kiss on your temple. your eyes slowly blink open and get adjusted to the dim morning light coming in through the window. breathing in, you take in the smell of a candle that smells like pine trees. but there's something else. maple? vanilla? coffee?

once your eyes are fully acclimated, you see minho sitting on the edge of the bed next to you, hands slowly running through your hair.

“merry christmas,” he says before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“mmmm…merry christmas,” you say with a stretch and smile, voice still grumbly from sleep.

“i made us some breakfast. wanna have breakfast in bed? then we can open our presents for each other a little later?” he asks as he glances at the nightstand.

you follow his eyes, and you realize that’s where that wonderful smell is coming from. sitting next to you are two plates with snowflake shaped pancakes and two mugs of coffee.

you sit up excitedly with a grin as you pat the bed next to you. this is all the answer minho needs to grab the tray with the plates and mugs and carefully make his way into bed next to you.

you finish up eating and decide you're not quite ready to get out of the comfort of the bed just yet, so you both decide to snuggle up under the covers to cuddle for a little while. you're laying with your head on his chest as he traces small designs along your back, and you just chitchat.

when there's a break in conversation you shimmy yourself up a little bit so you’re eye level with him. you place a soft kiss on his cheek.

“thank you,” you say sweetly.

“i’ll always make breakfast for you, baby,” he replies with a little laugh.

“i don't mean breakfast,” you nudge him playfully. “well, yes, thank you for breakfast, but thank you for everything you do for me. you make everyday feel like christmas. but especially christmas day."

“it’s my pleasure,” he responds with a kiss to your cheek. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

your lips gently crash onto his. they move together slowly and sensually. he teases the seam of your lips with his tongue before you grant him access, allowing your tongues to move together in perfect harmony. without ever breaking contact, you roll around so you're underneath him on your back while he rests his body between your legs, warm blankets still draped over both of you.

you continue making out for what feels like an eternity while his hands softly run along every part of your body, feeling every part of you. your fingers tangle in his dark hair. though you want to stay like this forever, you feel yourself growing wetter and more needy by the second. you rub your hips up into him, and the obvious bulge in his pants tells you he wants you just as bad. you both continue in the same motions that you have been for a while, but you each begin to slowly grind against each other, breathy moans escaping each of you during the brief moments that your lips separate.

“min,” you plead softly, craving more.

he lifts his face away from yours for a brief moment to look into your eyes, silently ask permission.

you nod to him reassuringly. “please.”

with that he carefully rids you of your clothes before following suit with his. he settles back down between your legs after he drapes the blankets back over the top of the two of you.

he peppers soft kisses all along your jawline and neck while you both start to grind into each other again, your hands softly dancing across his back. you mewl as his hard cock rubs up and down between your dripping wet folds, reveling in the way it feels as it gently rubs your clit. you feel yourself clench around nothing as he lets out a low groan against your skin when he feels out wet you are, how you're coating him in your juices. he keeps a steady rhythm for a while, gradually building both of you closer to your climax.

“min,” you interject softly, almost a whisper.

he kisses the sensitive skin just below your ear. “yes, baby?”

“feels so good…but i want you inside,” you moan quietly.

“you're ready?” he double checks, looking at your face to make sure.

“i'm ready,” you nod.

he carefully lines his cock up with your pussy before pushing into you slowly. you both moan when he bottoms out.

“fuck, you feel amazing,” he coos, barely above a whisper.

you each take a second to get adjusted before he starts his movements again, thrusting in and out of you at a slow and steady pace. his lips find their way back to yours, and your mouths move together rhythmically while he pumps into you. moans and whimpers threaten to escape from both of you if it weren't for your lips glued together. everything is slow and lazy but still so comfortable and full of passion. when minho feels you clench around him, he doesn't do anything to change his pace. instead he snakes a hand in between your bodies to rub methodical circles on your clit. with this new addition, not even a minute later, your orgasm comes washing over. your legs shake as your pussy flutters around him, fingers scraping lightly down his back. you moan against his mouth. he follows suit not long after, hips stuttering against you as he spills himself against your walls, a groan resonating from his throat. he grinds in and out of a few more times to milk your bodies of every last ounce of pleasure they have left before he pulls himself out, plopping down onto the bed next to you. he takes you in his arms and pulls you close to him, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“i love you so much,” he states.

“i love you more,” you say with a soft smile before kissing his jaw.

you lay in his arms for a while, relishing in how warm and safe it feels to be with him.

after a little time has passed, you break the silence with a grin. “so…what do you say we get cleaned up and open presents?”

he scoffs jokingly. “was all of this that just happened not enough of a gift?”

you both laugh.

“while i will admit that was a lovely gift,” you begin. “i do believe there are some more presents underneath the tree that are calling our names.”

“will those ones be naked too?” he jokes, eyebrow raised. you roll your eyes and shove him playfully.