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LEGEND 🖤Pairing · 📜Word Count · 🪐AU/Genre/Trope · 🚨 Warnings

🖤Lee Know x (afab) Reader x Seungmin 📜5.7k | Approx. 24-min. read 🪐Slice of life: Established relationship, Domestic BDSM relationship, Smut, Fluff 🚨Mentions of death and funerals (reader is a mortician), polyamory, kink introduction/exploration—petplay (use of 'miss', 'master', 'lapdog', 'good boy'), threesome, dom/sub dynamics (dom!Minho, sub!Seungmin, switch!reader), M/M sexual acts (kissing, blowjob), consensual filming of sexual acts, rimming, pegging, thigh riding, slight breathplay, overstimulation (m. receiving), sex toys, masturbation, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampie. 💭Reblogs & comments are always appreciated and please keep in mind they are the ultimate motivation fuel. 🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

SYNOPSIS When you know you've found the one, it doesn't take forever to tie the knot. That being said, nobody has ever told you or your other half Seungmin that it was possible to find "the two".

*I'd like to extend my special thanks to z (ipegchangbin) and alix (iwoofyoo) for their valuable insights during the creation process! I appreciate you.

This work has been created as a commission within a certain wordcount limit.

Death is inevitable, and nothing can quite prepare you for it even when you know it’s coming. 

This was the fine line of a mortician’s job description and you had come to terms with it long ago.

At the end of the day, funerals were notorious for being bleak events surrounded by hushed murmurs as people paid their last respects to the deceased. It was your job to arrange these somber gatherings and provide the bereaved with the necessary guidance and services.

Most people would not understand it maybe, but it gave you a strange sense of wholesomeness to know that everybody was one here no matter what walk of life they belonged to. Everybody was welcome regardless of their faith or the lack thereof, no matter how swollen or shrunken their bank accounts may have been once upon a time, what they looked like, where they lived, who they loved… Everybody bled the same color in the end, and that was why nothing could be fairer than death. We were all the same once our hearts stopped beating.

And you had seen so many things by then that you were convinced nothing could surprise you anymore. 

Until he walked into your office one day for his appointment at a godforsaken hour due to your crazy schedule.

“How may I help you today?”

A crisp suit. Broad shoulders. Earnest-looking. Levelheaded. But he had this somewhat of a tense aura to him because he wasn’t smiling.

Maybe it was because there was death involved.

“I uh– I don’t know how to do this,” he averted his eyes from you after sitting down, “I never had to arrange something like this before.”

“That’s why I’m here,” you reassured him, “I’ll be with you every step of the planning. I can also connect you with several grief counselors if you’d like.”

He finally held your gaze, studying your face as if he was mentally bracing himself for impact.

“You’re sure you’re not gonna judge me for what I’m about to ask you?”

“I don’t think honoring someone has rules set in stone, Mr. Kim,” you shrugged with an aloof expression.

“Please,” he creased his brows, “Mr. Kim is a fucking stressed-out lawyer. I’d like to be Seungmin here if that’s okay.”

“Duly noted, Seungmin,” you emphatically uttered his name with a warm smile.

His tense shoulders drooped with relief when you smiled at him like that. He smiled back. He looked ten times more charming when he smiled.

Then off he went with telling you about the party he wanted to throw in honor of his late friend Jiwon who was a jazz pianist. He wanted everything in the shades of midnight blue, Jiwon’s favorite color. All of Jiwon’s favorite food and drinks to be served at the reception. Jiwon’s music playing in the background at all times. And instead of a eulogy, a roast was supposed to take place because Jiwon enjoyed the crap out of insult comedy. You burst into heartfelt laughter even though you were fully aware you were in the middle of a very serious conversation, but your client didn’t seem to take any offense to that.

“Please forgive me,” you did your utmost best to kill your remaining giggles, “It’s just that I’ve never received such requests throughout my entire career!”

“Well, nobody ever thinks about a funeral as a celebration of life,” Seungmin flashed a broken smile, “And they really should.”

What a refreshing perspective that was, indeed. A funeral as a happy occasion. Would that really be the worst thing when life was already loaded with so many ugly things?

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry, I’ve been going on and on, haven’t I?” Seungmin apologetically uttered while looking at his watch, “I didn’t mean to hold you back. My apologies to your boyfriend in advance.”

“That’s cute of you to assume, but the insane hours I work don’t really allow that for the time being,” you sheepishly laughed, which seemed to confound Seungmin for some reason.

“You really have no one to go home to?” he asked with gigantic puppy eyes.

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“I… I apologize,” he full-on panicked, afraid he was coming across as rude, “I was– I was just thinking to myself there was no way you were single is all.”

He closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh as if to say Way to blow it, clearly annoyed with himself. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t even think twice before politely showing him the door, but he had this oddly charming quality to him, a certain je ne sais quoi that made you want to jump the gun. Maybe it was the inner compass you had built for yourself after dealing with massive numbers of people for years. Maybe it was the conversation you shared for the past hour or so. Maybe it was how his eyes turned into crescent moons when he laughed that was so trust-inducing.

“I was about to grab a bite. You wanna come with?” you asked without thinking, which seemed to confound Seungmin for some reason. Again.

“Reall–? I mean… Is it oka–? I wouldn’t want t—”

“It’s fine,” your smile signaled him to relax, “I could use some friendly company. Today was a long day.”

“Oh,” he lowered his gaze to the floor, “That busy, huh?”

“Yeah, some dude went on and on about a roast night he wanted to throw for his friend,” you winked at him as his face visibly flushed, “There is a 24-hour diner on the corner. That okay with you?”

“Of course!”

Once you walked into the diner, you were greeted with a surprised but knowing smile from Rose, the diner’s owner, as she’d never seen you bring someone here before, much less at that hour. After taking your orders, she brought a large pitcher of beer to your table, saying it was ‘on the house’, and you picked up your conversation with Seungmin where you left off while scarfing down your burgers.

“This is utterly fascinating,” Seungmin tilted his head with lips parted, “I mean you’re basically working in the industry of death, if there is one.”

“Didn’t you say you were an entertainment lawyer?” you pointed your fry at him, “I bet you’re seeing career suicides quite often.”

“Touché,” he chuckled and took a large gulp from his beer.

You talked each other’s ears off the entire night, about Jiwon, Seungmin’s cases, your clients, and the strangest things that happened to you both. It was around 4 AM when you left the place. 

You had your first date two weeks after your first encounter since Seungmin insisted a night at a greasy spoon could not possibly count as a date, no matter how involuntary. You shared your first kiss that very night. You invited him into your bed on your third date. You decided to move in together after six months. Seven months. Eight months. Ten months. You got to know every unnecessary detail about one another. 

Fifteen months later you were reciting your wedding vows to each other with absolute adoration beaming out of your eyes and you thought that was your fair share of happy endings.

You were spectacularly mistaken.

The loud sound of the door being slammed alerted you that Seungmin was home, causing you to violently flinch in the meantime.

“Baby?” you called out towards the entrance of your apartment, “Everything okay?”

“No.”

You paused the show you were watching to go check on him, but he had already made his way into the living room, plopping down next to you with an exasperated sigh.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you threw your arm around his shoulder, “Talk to me.”

Seungmin closed his eyes and shifted to rest his head on your lap, quite clearly not in the mood to do any kind of talking.

“Could you like… just stroke my hair for a bit?”

Why, of course you would. There were days when Seungmin came home stressed as fuck, but never to this extent. He would usually just vent for about half an hour and then calm down. You had an inkling that this may have had something to do with his recent promotion that forced him to make a bunch of tough decisions at work. 

“I’m here,” you tangled your fingers in his locks, “I’m always here, baby.”

His breathing relaxed unbeknownst to him. His eyes were still closed.

But he was feeling… something else.

“Just… Just keep doing it.”

He would love to be taken care of as if he was helpless for a change. He would love to not fucking think about anything else besides the attention he was receiving. From the only person that mattered in this world.

You.

The satisfaction he got from your innocent ministrations reached such an extreme level that he couldn’t control his urges anymore.

“Fuck me.”

“Huh?”

“Fuck me,” he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap, “Right here right now.”

This was the first time you were seeing Seungmin like this in all your time together. He attacked your lips with so much need that one would think you hadn’t fucked each other in quite a while.

“I need you bad,” he whispered against your lips, “Take care of me. Please.”

He had never been one to hand you the ropes that easily, or ask to be flat-out gratified like a pillow prince. You had known Seungmin as a man who knew exactly what he wanted. On the rougher side. Absolutely loving the way he crumbled you. But that day…

Something was different.

At first, you thought he was just getting turned on to the notion of being catered to, but the more you worked him, the more you paid attention to him, the more he was slipping into a different headspace. 

And he noticed he loved it for some reason.

He loved the way you were handling him with such care. He loved how you were reacting to his little kisses, his warm touches, his slippery marks all over your body. He loved satisfying you as you were satisfying him.

“Am I– Am I doing a good job?”

“You’re doing fucking perfect.”

“But I deserve a reward for it,” he grabbed your face in between his large hands, “Don’t you think so, too, miss?”

Good god, stop before I eat you alive.

You had never seen him act like this before, but a part of you was so so weak for it. Your other half desperately wanting to please you, asking for your validation and the praises that would spill from your lips. This perfection of a man under you hyperfixating on the one word you would utter. With those gigantic eyes. With excruciating anticipation.

“Of course. Of course, you do,” you threw your hands around his neck, “If you make me cum, I’ll make it feel so good.”

“Like you always do.”

“Like I always do.” 

You felt his slick fingers pressed against your clit rubbing you fervently, resolute to make you drip all around him. You didn’t even need to tell him how to touch you right—he knew exactly how to go about it to make you moan that loudly with his cock buried deep in you. He knew exactly how to finish you without even fucking a pump inside you. All you needed to do was look into his eyes, give in to his kisses, and let your soul be ripped apart for the umpteenth time.

“Faster. Faster!”

You let yourself cum hard, arching against his chest, pushing his head into your neck, and absolutely relishing the feeling. You melted in his arms and lips as you rode out your high and came back to your senses.

“Spread your legs for me.”

You instructed him and he simply obliged, waiting for the commands you had in store for him.

“You like the attention, don’t you?” you chuckled against his skin, “Do you like it when I shower you with love like this?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like me to drown you in it?” you obscenely kissed his thighs.

“Oh, god, YES!”

His wish was your command, of course.  Little did you know this very first encounter was going to open the door to new realms for you.

You loved Seungmin to death, but his work functions were nothing but a bore. Just all the lawyers lawyering all over the place, talking about subpoenas, due diligences, depositions and whatnot while you just stood there downing drinks after drinks just to be able to stand them. This time around, he promised a bit of fun as the reception was hosted by an entertainment company his firm was representing, and the artists of the agency were also supposed to attend the event.

“So you can play TMZ all you want. They stop watching their mouths once they start drinking,” he threw his blazer on as a finishing touch and turned to you, “How do I look?”

You lifted your head up to check out his completed look and you almost lost it. Seungmin was legitimately wearing a collar, but to an outsider, it would just look like a bold choice of a necklace. You inadvertently bit your lips.

“Is that for me?”

He mischievously nodded with sparks flying out of his eyes. You got up and slowly clasped your hands behind his nape.

“Why do I feel like you’re up to no good?” 

“Maybe I am.”

“A bit early for mischief, don’t you think?”

He didn’t say anything, just grinned at you and smudged a little bit of your lipgloss while kissing you a bit too hungrily.

Needless to say, he had it coming. He deserved to be relentlessly teased in the car all the way to the venue for making you put on a fresh coat at the last second. 

Turns out, when an entertainment company held an event like this, it was indeed much more colorful. Rather than the fancy-law-school jerks playing polo on their high horses, it was a much lighter atmosphere with chatter and laughter filling up the space.

“Wow, it’s really crowded in here,” you widened your eyes as you scanned the people with bold fashion choices all around. You and Seungmin each grabbed two glasses of vodka to chug so that this event was a little more endurable.

“I promise I’ll take you back home as soon as we can,” Seungmin subtly smacked your ass and spoke softly in a voice only audible to you, “Then we can play all night.”

“Oh, is that so?” you wrapped your hand around his waist and pulled him a little closer, “Up for a little challenge?”

“I’m listening?”

“If you can slip five ‘meong’s into your sentences while talking to these people, there will be a big treat for you when we get home.”

His lips slightly parted, knowing exactly what you were referring to.

“You mean… You mean, you’ll—”

“Mhm,” you pretended to fix his shirt and uttered nonchalantly, “I’ll suck you dry and will keep on sucking you even when you have nothing left to give me.”

Causing his brain to short-circuit like that was one of your favorite things to do, but before you could drag it on any further, someone appeared right behind Seungmin.

“Look who it is,” the man with high cheekbones and wavy bangs falling in front of his eyes threw his arm around Seungmin’s shoulder, “We don’t need a narc here tonight, man. I’ll call you when I’m being sued.”

“So like, tomorrow,” Seungmin deadpanned and the two guys broke into a laughter fit that lasted a hot minute. Then the nameless man’s gaze darted to you.

“Weren’t you married?” he asked Seungmin with his eyes still on you, “If I was your wife, I wouldn’t be that ecstatic about my husband partying with hot girls. Just saying.”

“Fine, we get it, you got game. She is my wife, dumbass,” he landed a smack on his friend’s head, “Baby, this is Minho.”

“No shit! The notorious player in the flesh,” you shook the hand of this diabolically good-looking man, “I’ve heard so much about you. Nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“So you are talking about me,” Minho seamlessly turned the handshake into a hand kiss, “May I know the context?”

“Oh, all good stuff. You’re one of the things we’re grateful for on Thanksgiving for keeping us rich.”

Minho burst into a high-pitched cackle, way too much entertained by you. Once his laughter died down, he noticed the particular accessory adorning Seungmin’s neck.

“Interesting necklace. Very tasteful,” he pointed at the collar with a knowing smile, “How come I’ve never seen you wear this to work before?”

“So? You also don’t see me coming to work in my boxers.”

A brief silence followed as Minho kept alternating between looking at you and Seungmin, and his grin grew even wider when he finally managed to connect the dots.

“Kim… fucking… Seungmin. Who knew?” Minho checked him out from head to toe, and he turned to address you directly in a lower voice, “Be honest with me. On a scale of one to ten, how much of a good boy is he being for you?”

Seungmin was quite familiar with Minho’s lack of social filters, but even then he was stunned at how straightforward he was being about this. He was nothing but composed on the outside, yet his cheeks reddening rapidly was giving him away. You, on the other hand, were just surprised Minho was able to pick up on the subtle hints this quickly.

“Eleven,” you spoke while facing Seungmin, and caressed his cheek, “He’s just the best boy. Aren’t you, baby?”

A kiss on the neck had always been Seungmin’s weakness, and you knew how his brain shut down immediately. He couldn’t even control the way he melted into your lips, more so because you were showering him with affection publicly for the first time when his head was… someplace else.

And Minho loved what he was seeing.

“I don’t mean to be bold,” he fished for something in the pocket of his leather jacket, “But if you ever want another playmate, hit me up. Seungmin knows how discreet I am.”

As he handed you a card that contained his personal number, he leaned into the small space between you and Seungmin and spoke in a hushed tone.

“And I really like to watch.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that for a second. Obviously, you two weren’t the only people in this world who were into this play, but for a long while, you actually believed you were. It never came up even during the raunchiest conversations with your friends, so you really thought this was maybe a Kim-household-exclusive thing. It should have felt invasive. Crass even. You weren’t exactly sure whether it was because you were already tipsy, or because it was Minho being this forward that tickled you inside.

“And why should we hit you up if we wanted a playmate?” you tried your utmost best to keep your composure.

“Because I’m very experienced with obedience training,” he winked and turned around, “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

After Minho left, you and Seungmin stood there for a second, looking at each other with blank stares.

“Well, that was… interesting to say the least,” you raised your brows in mild surprise. Meanwhile, Seungmin examined your face through and through and popped the question without an ounce of hesitance.

“Would that be something you wanna try?”

You were sort of taken aback by how direct he was, but then again, this was your husband in question. Of course he was able to read you like an open book. You threw caution to the wind and asked him in return.

“I mean… Would you like to try?”

“I’m comfortable with it if you are, baby.”

His expression wasn’t stern at all, which came as a relief to you. It wasn’t that you needed to include someone else in your relationship—you and Seungmin were on the healthiest terms possible as you loved and respected each other very much, but you would be lying if you said the idea wasn’t even slightly intriguing. Not solely for you, but for both of you. Trusting someone to bring a bit of a different flavor into your life. The more you kept your silence, the more the temptation clawed its way into your soul.

You caved.

“One night only,” you held your husband’s hand and squeezed as if you wanted to reaffirm something to him, “If any of us are uncomfortable with anything we stop, and don’t ever bring this up again.”

Your expectations at the beginning were simple, almost non-existent. One oddinary night where you would invite a semi-stranger into your bedroom, test the waters, and probably never see him again.

Maybe you should have gotten off your high horse sooner because one night with Minho erased everything you and Seungmin thought you knew, and he landed in your lives like a meteor.

First, he only started frequenting your bedroom.

Then, he started frequenting your dinner table.

And finally, he started becoming a part of your life. He seeped through it before you knew it.

You thought it would just be an unusual fling, but neither you nor Seungmin could calculate you would form this oddly wholesome bond among you three. The more time passed by, the more it felt like Minho and his antics were the piece you didn’t know was missing. And it felt okay.

It felt right.

You were in the middle of your usual Sunday grooming session with Seungmin that morning. You had just finished blow-drying his hair in the living room and were about to start trimming his nails when you noticed a bandaid on his finger.

“Baby, did you hurt yourself?”

“It’s– it’s nothing,” he slightly flinched in his place, “I wasn’t being careful with the knives the other day.”

You looked into his big doe eyes with a smile and placed a kiss on his finger. Right when you were about to get to work, Minho’s roar echoed all the way from the bathroom.

“THE FUCK, Seungmin?!!”

You almost flatlined whereas Seungmin just let out a snort. You recognized that impish smirk instantly.

“What did you do this time?”

“I put a snail in his bathrobe,” he leisurely shrugged.

“Baby!!!”

“He had it coming! I told him to hang his towels after getting out of the shower a billion times.”

You couldn’t help the involuntary laugh yourself, either. Their cat and dog shenanigans were a routine of your household now, and you knew for a fact they would kiss and make up before noon. Seungmin couldn’t stand it when Minho dragged out the pouting.

After dinner, you all sprawled on the couch to continue binging the show Minho picked in your usual formation: Seungmin on your lap with his chest leaned against yours and his legs on Minho. It was always during these lazy evenings that you felt like you could burst with happiness.

“Stop tickling me!” Seungmin growled at Minho who had somewhat of a knowing smile on his face.

“Did you tell her yet?”

“Tell me what?” you turned your attention to them.

“What we’ve been doing behind your back,” Minho slapped an annoyingly secretive expression on his face while munching on his popcorn.

“We said we weren’t going to say anything until tonight,” Seungmin muttered between his teeth while turning into an absolute tomato.

“What’s going on?” you sat up straight, demanding an explanation from them.

Seungmin let out a resigned exhale and removed the band-aid on his ring finger. There was an abstract figure of three delicately intertwined triangles engraved on it in black ink.

“You… got a tattoo,” you stated matter-of-factly, not knowing how to properly react to this.

“It’s… It’s not just that,” he averted his eyes to his finger, “It stands for me, you, and Minho.”

You wanted to say something, but it felt like you forgot everything in your vocabulary. The only thing you could process was how overwhelmed you were with your emotions. You just smiled at him and pulled him in for a kiss, to which Minho immediately protested.

“Hey, where’s my kiss?!”

“Sorry, I don’t see any tattoos on you.”

“Oh, so that’s the entrance fee,” he put the bowl in his lap on the coffee table and wiped his hands with a tissue, “Wanna show her?”

Seungmin dragged down Minho’s bottoms just enough to expose his v-line, and you saw the identical pattern peeking right under his waistband.

“Oh, you fucking did not!”

“I want my kiss,” he pointed at his tattoo, “Right here.”

After a brief pause, you leaned over to kiss Minho’s crotch, and got your ass gently bitten by Seungmin in the meantime.

“Someone’s in heat,” Minho softly chuckled, “Why don’t you accompany her to our bedroom and I’ll be right there.”

“You heard the master,” Seungmin extended his hand to you, “Come.”

The second you walked into the bedroom, he started kissing your face off right away. You knew how he was going to start moaning when you moved to his neck, so you didn’t waste any time hearing one of your favorite sounds in the world.

“Do you even know how cute you sound like that?” you chortled against his skin.

“I don’t remember telling you you can go ahead without me without permission,” Minho appeared behind you shortly after, and you felt his breathing down your nape, “Can’t wait to have your fun for two seconds?”

He placed Seungmin’s hands on the hem of your t-shirt to signal him to take it off while he rid you of your bottoms. As Seungmin inhaled your lips and fondled your breasts, you felt how hard Minho already was behind you on your bare hips.

“Come sit on my lap,” Minho pulled you towards the bed, “Let me spoil you a little.”

You watched both men get undressed for you, and once Minho made himself comfortable against the headboard, you climbed over him.

“Slick already. Love that,” he licked his lips while caressing your pussy, “Ride it. I wanna watch you make a mess on me.”

You straddled his deliciously thick thighs and started riding him. Meanwhile, Seungmin slithered his way up to steal wet kisses from Minho. Once they broke the kiss, you felt Minho’s large hand wrapped around your throat and his grip started tightening.

“Ride it properly. No cumming for the rest of the night for you if you can’t finish yourself on my thighs,” he ordered with a firm voice and turned his attention to Seungmin again, “Let’s help her out, shall we? Be a good boy and go down for me. Show us what that mouth can do.”

You watched the way Seungmin made his way between Minho’s legs and ghosted his lips on his cock, intently watching him twitch with anticipation. Then he took his entire length into his mouth and started blowing him in earnest.

“Ah, fuck, just like that,” Minho threw his head back, one hand on your waist to support you and the other hand in Seungmin’s hair, “Fucking sloppy. Just the way I like it.”

Watching the way Seungmin was going at it stirred something inside you and you started riding Minho faster. When you picked up your pace, he channeled his attention to you again.

“You know how much he loves your taste, don’t you? We’ve recently figured out something he likes more.”

“W-what… what did y– Fuck!”

“Your taste on me,” he flashed an absolutely sinister smile, “Lay down for me, gorgeous. Give me a kiss.”

As you laid down next to Minho, Seungmin began lapping at the trail you left on his thighs like there was no tomorrow. You were allowed to watch for a little bit, but the show got cut short when Minho wanted your lips on his again. His moans in your mouth became louder when Seungmin took him down his throat, and it wasn’t long before he came hard with his breath taken away by you.

“There you go, you beautiful thing,” Minho petted Seungmin’s disheveled hair and reached for his phone on the nightstand, “You know you’ve earned yourself a huge reward now, don’t you? You know where to go.”

As Seungmin crawled between your legs, he turned on his camera and started instructing him.

“Look at her all spread out and soaking wet. Begs to be pleasured, don’t you think?” Minho placed a little kiss on his temple, “I know you’re thirsty. Lap at that pretty cunt. Show me how you lick her good.”

Going down on you himself was one thing, but Minho loved keeping a personal archive of your pussy getting eaten. He frequently filmed closeups of it, especially for when he was going to be out of town.

“Oh, fuck, that’s– That feels so good,” you pressed Seungmin’s head closer to you.

“Good boy,” Minho contently grinned, “Suck on her clit now. Get it all swollen for me.”

Seungmin followed every single instruction he received to a T, rapidly tightening the knot in the pit of your stomach with his perfect ministrations. You wanted him to snap it already, so fucking bad that you started riding his face in the exact same rhythm as he was making out with your clit.

“My perfect little lap dog. I so wanna show you off, YES!”

He didn’t stop until he extracted the last drop of cum out of you, but by the time you came down, he was in a pretty bad shape himself.

“It’s time you pay some attention to the poor thing,” Minho tutted in disapproval, “Look how much he’s leaking.”

You gestured Seungmin to come up so you could give him a much-deserved loving kiss, and shifted him under you in the meantime.

“Since you’re such a good boy tonight, I’ll let you pick your own toys this time,” you kissed his crotch, “Which one do you want me to fuck you with, baby?”

Minho opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out a bunch of options for him, and Seungmin eventually landed on his tail plug. 

“Good choice,” you grinned at him as Minho handed you the toy, “Relax for me now, okay?”

He was painfully flushed already with his precum pooling around his slit, so when you dragged your tongue on his skin, it automatically elicited a loud whine out of him. You carefully worked him from his tip to his base with wet kisses all over. Nevertheless, Seungmin had been so turned on for quite a while that he came all over himself when you barely started rimming him.

“Tsk, but that’s not very nice, is it?” Minho let out a disappointed sigh, “Do we need to go over your training again?”

“I’m– I’m sorry,” Seungmin struggled with his words in between his panting, “I’m– I didn’t mean to…”

“But why did you cum knowing full well I was just getting started, baby?” you feigned displeasure and placed a little kiss on his balls, “I think someone needs to be taught a lesson.”

You continued getting him wet all around his entrance as planned, not caring how much he was writhing under you.

“God, please, too– too sens– FUCK!!!”

“Yeah, well, you should have thought of that in the first place,” Minho started filming a new video, “Now you’re gonna sit there and let her pleasure you as much as she wants.”

“Shh, I’m here,” you intertwined your fingers with Seungmin’s as he kept whimpering, “I’m right here. Just enjoy it.”

He was absolutely relishing it, but he was dying at the same time. Seungmin’s moans climbed gradually louder when you started fucking him and they turned concerningly high-pitched when you finally took him in the wet warmth of your mouth. The sight was a little too hot for Minho to handle, so he couldn’t resist stroking himself, seeking relief a little too desperately. 

“Damn, gorgeous, I gotta have you do this to me, too, sometime.”

You arched your ass while blowing Seungmin to make yourself a little more comfortable, but that went straight to Minho’s head. After a while, he simply couldn’t contain himself any longer. Touching himself wasn’t enough; he needed to fuck you. He was dying to fill you to the brim. He threw his phone back on the nightstand and found himself crawling behind you.

“You’re asking for it,” he firmly groped your ass, “You’re begging me to fuck you. Look how wet your cunt is just knowing I’m right behind you.”

You felt him rub his tip on your soaked folds and even that much was enough to make you clench.

“FUCK, why you gotta be so fucking perfect?!!”

He rammed himself inside you with one sharp thrust, and you started moaning against Seungmin’s cock. You started fucking him faster to force him to cum in your mouth again, and the sudden vibrations on his skin worked as the perfect catalyst. The way Seungmin thrashed under you while violently cumming and the way you were desperately moaning with your mouth and cunt stuffed hit Minho like a brain freeze. He slithered his hand between your legs to rub your clit, and once you started contracting around him hard, he pushed both of you off the ledge and creampied you just the way you loved. Having the two men you loved this much spilling into you like that was the utmost form of bliss for you. 

You collapsed on top of each other to catch your breaths for a while. You were snuggling under Seungmin’s arm while Minho hugged your waist as you caressed his damp hair.

“Do you think we should get a cat?” he asked out of nowhere after some time. You were still in no position to stitch words together, so the response came from Seungmin instead.

“Why the fuck would we do that when we already have you?”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

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— horror house

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, angst, enemies to lovers. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 6.2k

summary: you’re stuck in a horror house alone—your only way out is with the guy who hates your guts. halloween themed enemies to lovers with minho. pirate!minho with a lip ring included.

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♡ fan with minho

↳ pairing: minho x reader ↳ word count: 12.5k ↳ genre: sex work!au (streamer!reader), s2l, smut ↳ summary: when a streamer that goes by the name of baby blue announces she’ll pick a random comment and invite the fan over to have sex with them, minho thinks it’s all a big scam—until he wins. ↳ warnings: 18+, minors dni! explicit content, sex work, sexual topics, discussion of sex as a subscriber award, mentions of cheating (reader/minho aren’t cheating), streaming sexual content, blowjob, fingering, protected sex, use of 'baby,' 'good girl,' and 'slut'; the mc refers to herself as 'cumdump' once for the video ↳ masterlist ♡ updates ♡ read on AO3

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! ♡

“To thank you all for your support during these past couple of months, I want to give back to you. So, I’ve decided to pick out a random tipper who leaves a comment and have some fun with that fan,” you grin at the camera, flashing your teeth to your fanbase—all 5,000 of them.

The views are low nowadays, though. You got into streaming because a girl from uni told you it was easy money. It was, but only if you went all the way and showed everything. You had no problem with your body or being sexual, but you just didn’t want to show the entire world everything for money. 

That made your streams an acquired taste. After all, your “fans” were men who didn’t have to see the inside of your cunt to get off to it, men who enjoyed the things you were saying, men who didn’t mind you having a skirt on while you rode your suction dildo. The one special thing about your streams—other than the fact that nobody’s seen your pussy up front—is how you treat your fanbase. 

Most other streamers are either being extra sweet and taking tips, babying themselves to earn more money, or they’re demeaning the guys watching them, earning in a day more than you do in a month. People love being degraded, apparently.

However, none of that is your thing. Instead, you opt for praise, telling your audience the things you would like to hear if the roles were reversed. You wouldn’t log into the site and tip some random guy who’d ask you to ‘come for daddy’ or tell you you’re disgusting for watching him. That would just make you feel gross.

No, you’d go for the nice guy who’d ask about your day, tell you he wanted to come with you, praise you for being good and touching yourself. You do all that during every stream. When you come, you ask the audience if they came too, thanking them for being there with you, wishing them a good night’s rest and sweet dreams.

The fans that do like it are loyal, praising you with comments during every stream, never missing one. However, there are some people who get bored of you. The whole shtick worked for a while until your views started dropping. 

The guys who subscribed to you either liked you for what you were or were hoping you were going to go hardcore eventually. When that didn’t happen, a lot of them stopped watching altogether, and many stopped tipping.

Because of this, you’ve now decided to pick a random commenter and fuck him on camera. It’s not a choice you’re happy about nor something you take pride in, but you need money to afford uni. Without school, you won’t be able to get a good job, and you’ll be forced to do worse things for money, even though fucking a random guy isn’t exactly ideal.

But, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, so you explain the rules. “I’ll pick a comment from the ones you’ve sent in since last Friday until next Friday, so you have ten more days to tip and leave a comment for me. The lucky winner will get to come to this room and have fun with me while the rest of you watch. If it goes well, we can think about doing it again.”

With that, you thank everyone for joining the stream and coming with you and end it, hoping that the ten-day deadline will incentivize more people to tip. 

“So, I’ve decided to pick out a random tipper who leaves a comment and have some fun with that fan,” you chuckled at the end of this announcement, flashing your pretty teeth.

However, Minho missed the smile because he basically stopped watching at that point, mostly because he came all over himself and the desk and was too busy cleaning up. Thankfully, none of it got onto the keyboard. 

Your little “raffle” was a scam, like everything else. There’s no way in hell a girl like you was going to select a random guy and let him come to her place and fuck her, no fucking way. It would be totally unsafe and careless, not to mention downright disgusting. Minho didn’t think of himself as a model, but he was sure there were some nasty people watching you. Would you really have the stomach to fuck some random dude on camera? He didn’t take you for that kind of a girl.

The scam was a good idea, though. The poor bastards would shower you with tip money, not realizing that you’ll show your boyfriend to them and pretend he’s a random fan. Minho can already bet the guy will be jacked, firm all over, and have a great cock that will somehow get you to come—all on the first time with a “random” fan. 

But, Minho knows he will still watch, especially if you’re going to show this guy fucking you. He’s one of your biggest fans, but not in a creepy way. He finds you comforting and pretty, even though you always have a mask that covers your eyes, nose, and most of your cheeks. You calm him down and you’re always so sweet with the things you say.

It’s not one of his proudest moments, but one time, when he got dumped and had a terrible day, he watched your stream, and you responded to a comment in a way that made him cry. A guy who tipped you earlier said he had a terrible day and felt unlovable, so you shouted him out at the end of the stream.

“And if you’ve had a bad day today, just remember it will pass. I know it’s not much comfort because good days will too, let’s be honest, but what you’re feeling now isn’t the end of the road and it’s not a permanent state. I’m happy you’re here if that means anything. You help me out through a lot, even if we don’t know each other. So, if you can make someone you don’t even know happy, imagine what you can do to someone you know in real life. No one is unlovable, no matter how real that fear seems sometimes.”

For some reason, your words got to Minho that day, maybe because he felt like he was unwanted and unlovable himself. So, he would definitely be here until the end, even if you fuck your boyfriend on stream and pretend he’s a fan. He can’t blame you for hustling like that.

You spend most of next Saturday going through the comments, trying to find one that stands out. Most of the comments came after your announcement, of course. Usually, the comments you get are “you’re so fucking hot”, “show more”, “want to fuck you”, or something along those lines. Now, they’re mostly “i want to win the raffle”, “fuck me!”, “pick me”, and the like. None of them are noteworthy.

And then, one catches your eye. 

Someone using the username Lino98 has commented the Saturday before you announced the raffle, therefore not with the goal of winning it. Because of this, you have a feeling the comment might actually be sincere. It reads:

Tip: $100

Hey, Baby Blue! I know you won’t even see this, but I wanted to thank you for all your hard work regardless. I found your stream when I was going through a rough time with a breakup. 

I had to move out, money was tight, and I felt alone, so your streams felt like I had some kind of company, especially with the way you talk to us on the other end. I know it sounds strange, but it really did help.

I’m finally doing better and have some money to spare, so I wanted to tip you as a thank you for all the times you’ve helped me without knowing. 

Like you said, if you can make a stranger this happy, imagine how you can make someone in your real life feel. So, here’s a stranger telling you you’ve made him feel less alone.

All the best!

The comment is the winning one, you just know the second you read it fully. You’ve never seen anything remotely similar to it on your channel, so you select Lino98 as the winner, deciding to announce it on stream tomorrow. The guy actually put in some effort, even if what he wrote was bullshit.

When you announce that he’s the winner on stream, you promise Lino98 you’ll DM him in a minute, after ending the stream. Of course, you instantly do it, even though you’re scared shitless. Is ‘98 his birth year? You hope so because that would mean he’s on the younger side. Selecting an old fan would be a disaster because you’d never be able to get into it.

Baby Blue: Hey, Lino98! Congrats :) Can you tell me your current location so we can arrange it?

It sounds so transactional, and you hate it, but there’s not much you can do. If you don’t go through with this, everyone will think you’ve scammed all your fans out of money. Your channel would not survive that kind of a scandal, even if you refunded everyone.

Lino98: are you messing with me?

Baby Blue: why would i do that? you won 

Lino98: uh, it’s not a prank?

Baby Blue: no! 

Lino98: i’m sorry, it just seems… strange

Baby Blue: incoming video call

Minho’s heart starts racing when he sees your username flashing across the screen. It’s the first time anyone he follows on this site called him, and he’s not sure how to react.

Clearly, you’re real and you want to show him that. He fucking won the raffle. He will get to ‘have fun’ with you, whatever that meant.

However, Minho can’t answer your video call. Or, at least, he can’t show himself on camera. You’ve just had a stream, which means his pants are around his ankles, cock softening on his cum stained stomach, his chest not fairing any better. You were super sweet today, showering them with praise, and Minho came twice. There’s no way he’s letting you see it.

So, he answers after disabling the camera option. “Hi!” he says, unsure of how else to greet someone he’s been drooling over for months, if it’s really you.

And it is. 

You show yourself on camera in the same outfit you wore minutes ago on stream, mask still hiding most of your face, but it’s unmistakably you. 

“Hey, Lino98!” you greet him sweetly, and his mind draws blanks. Baby Blue is using his username, talking to him directly. “I know it’s kind of unbelievable, so here!” With that, you grab a pen and write something down on your palm. Then you show him what you wrote, and it’s “Lino98, you won!!!”, which makes him chuckle.

“I guess you’re real after all.” His breath hitches in his throat when you giggle at his words and look to the side sheepishly.

“I guess you are too… So, can you tell me where you are? You don’t have to give the details, just the general area.”

“Sure, I’m in Seoul at the moment,” he admits, hoping you’ll say you’re in that area so you two can go through with this, even though he’s scared shitless of it.

“Great,” you say excitedly, not letting on how you really feel. You can’t be excited about meeting some random guy whose comment you may or may not have even read. “I’m… Around there too. Good. Do you maybe want to meet up tomorrow, if you don’t already have plans?”

“To-tomorrow?” Minho stutters, clearing his throat and sitting up in his chair as reality smacks him across the face. Tomorrow? He’s going to meet you tomorrow? Do you want him to come over to your place and ‘have fun’? In front of your entire audience? You look at him questioningly, so he coughs and responds, “Ah… Okay, I don’t have any plans.”

“Great! I’ll send you the address of this cafe. We can get a drink there and just talk if that’s okay with you.” And just like that, you make him feel a lot lighter. Okay, you’ll just see each other in person tomorrow and arrange for the thing then. “Is that okay?”

“Of course, sounds great,” Minho responds. “I’ll wait for your message then.”

You arrange to meet up around 3 with you promising to send him the address as soon as you get off the call. Just when you’re saying your goodbyes and about to hang up, you pause and just look at the camera.

“Sorry, can you tell me why you didn’t turn on the cam?” you ask so sweetly you have him biting his lip. Somehow, you sound even better when you’re addressing him directly.

“Can I be honest?” Minho asks, hoping you won’t take it the wrong way. When you nod, he continues. “I came all over myself earlier, so I didn’t think it would be a good look.”

His response makes you kick your head back and laugh, and it’s probably the most sincere laughter he’s ever heard from you. “It honestly sounds kind of hot,” you admit. “See you tomorrow!”

When he walks into the cafe, Minho realizes you’re a real person. Up until this point, you were just a random internet persona, someone unattainable, someone he was never even supposed to meet. 

As soon as your eyes meet, he knows it’s you, even though the mask is off. You’re even prettier without it—there’s nothing on your face you should ever hide. Surprisingly, you’re just a girl. You’re not some sex symbol he’s had in his mind all this time, not some kind of superior being, not a person that commands attention.

He’s walked in here happy that he was going to get to fuck you, but now that he sees that you’re just a person like him, Minho feels guilt wash over him. What is he doing? He came here to “collect his reward” for a $100 tip—and the reward was another person. It didn’t feel right. If you were really doing this, you needed the money badly, and he couldn’t let you go through with it just because he was horny for you.

“Hey!” He walks over to you and offers you his hand to shake, hoping he doesn’t sound cold. Minho’s just shitting bricks at this point—it’s the first time he’s meeting someone of the opposite gender for a date of sorts since his breakup, and this is the furthest thing from a date, so why are his palms sweating?

“Lino?” You cock your eyebrows up when he approaches you. When Minho nods, feeling dumb for forgetting to introduce himself, you stand up and shake his hand firmly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he says, sitting down across from you, looking around. Is he a disappointment to you? He’s not exactly tall nor buff, even though he dances a lot. None of that is visible, though, and you may be feeling let down. “Nice place.”

“It really is,” you say, looking around as well before gulping. Is it a sign of nervousness or boredom? “My first time here.”

Funny how you’re setting a boundary right from the start, showing him you don’t come to this place often in case he becomes a stalker and decides to hang around here every day in hopes of seeing you. “Mine too.”

The waiter comes to get your order, and you look at Minho instantly, expecting him to order. “Please, you go first.”

“No, no, you go!” He nods at you and finds it funny how you’re so flustered in real life. You have thousands of people watching you weekly, dying for a chance to be around you, and you’re this shy? It doesn’t make sense. Still, it eases his nerves a bit.

Once the waiter is gone, Minho clears his throat and looks at you questioningly. You call the shots here. It’s your game, your idea, and he’s just here because you asked him to be. So, he waits for you to take the lead and explain how this is going to go down. 

You open your mouth to say something but stop yourself and sigh, rubbing the corners of your eyes for a second as if you’re tired of it already. “I’m sorry, I haven’t done this before.”

“Met a stranger?” Minho asks with a smirk, knowing very well that’s not what you mean. He surprises himself by asking that since he’s no less nervous than you, fiddling with his fingers under the table, where you can’t see.

“No, met up with a guy who watches my streams,” you point out, cocking your head to the side. This time, you don’t look away—instead, you inspect his face, as if you’re now seeing him for the first time.

“Ah, I see,” is all Minho can mutter while you stare at him. So, he’s the first. Is he a disappointment?

“And the first time I’m doing the whole ‘fuck a fan’ thing,” you whisper to him, which makes his breath hitch in his throat. So it’s ‘fuck a fan’, not ‘have fun with a fan’, after all. “So I don't know how to act.”

Minho realizes you’re practically in the same boat then. “That makes two of us,” he says to comfort you, even though he has it worse. You already know he’s attracted to you, that he jerks off to you and has sent you a tip and a heartfelt comment. Minho is not that lucky—for all he knows, you might find him totally disgusting.

You smile at him weakly, but don’t say a thing for a while, and Minho realizes you’re a lot more nervous than you first seemed. You’re just a girl, after all, and you’re here because you promised him you’d fuck him in front of 5,000 people, that is all. Of course you’re having second thoughts and regretting it. A girl like you wouldn’t look give him a second glance in real life. He’s only here because he got lucky with the comment.

“Are you nervous?” Minho asks you just before the waiter brings the drinks. 

As soon as he leaves, you clear your throat and respond, “Yes. Are you?”

“Of course.” When he says it, you seem to relax a bit, enough to take a sip of your coffee and sigh deeply. As someone who’s used to seeing you all sweet and bubbly, Minho hates seeing you like this and knowing he’s the reason you feel this way. So, he decides to do what’s best for you.

“Listen, I came here with the intent of going through with this, but I…” He pauses when he realizes you’re frowning. “I don’t want you to do this if you don’t want to. I’m a stranger, so I’m pretty sure you don’t. I am down to lie to the rest of your fans and say we did it. You can send me a pic from your room and I can pretend I took it, to make it believable for them.”

Your mouth is slightly open as you stare at him, unable to say a word for a minute or so, just staring at him. Are you thinking about taking the easy way out? Minho sure hopes so. He’d hate sleeping with you and knowing you hated every second of it.

Finally, you speak, and you do so softly, voice barely audible. “I’m guessing Lino98 isn’t your real name.”

He scoffs at this, feeling a bit dumb about not even telling you his name when that was the least he could have done. “No, it’s Minho. I’m guessing Baby Blue isn’t yours either.”

Surprisingly, you give him your name, and Minho thinks it suits you the second he hears it. Before he can tell you it’s a pretty name, you continue, “Listen Minho, it’s nice of you to offer that, if you’re doing it for me. But, I am doing this because I have to. My views went down the drain and I have to do something to get them up.” 

“Why not, uh… Show more? No offense,” he adds at the end, hoping it doesn’t come off as mean or condescending. 

Minho is not judging you at all for doing what you do. After all, he watches you do it and enjoys every second of it. It’s just a thing he never understood about your streams. At the same time, it’s the thing he loves about them—he sees you get off, but never sees more than the outline of your pussy, never getting a close-up. Not everything is served to him like in porn, and he enjoys that aspect of your work.

You lick your lips and take your time with the response. “I don’t feel comfortable with that.”

“But you feel—” Minho is about to ask how you feel comfortable with fucking a stranger, but he stops himself in time. Maybe you don’t want your private parts to be out there on the internet forever. Who the fuck was he to judge?

“I know, it makes no sense!” You shake your head as if you know exactly what he was going to ask before he cut himself off with a sharp sigh. “I should be more comfortable being on my own and letting people see everything than fucking someone I don’t know. But if I fuck someone on camera, I get to control it. The viewers don’t have to see my insides to see I’m getting fucked, if that makes sense.”

“It does, it does,” Minho hums with a nod, still processing it. It does make sense. You can have softcore sex on camera too, and not have the world see into your hole. “I’m sorry to hear about the views. I think your streams are unique and no one else does it like you.”

“Thank you.” You give him a small smile and take another long sip of your drink. “I wanted to meet you just to see if it would work out. I’ve never done this before. I have to say I’m relieved you’re attractive. Is that shallow?”

“Uhm, if you’re planning on fucking me, it’s not,” Minho says, blood rushing to his cheeks at his own choice of words. You think he’s attractive, though, and he’s too busy processing that piece of information. It’s a relief, really. He clearly thinks you’re the most arousing woman he’s ever met, so you’re off to a good start if you’re planning on doing this. “What would you do if you didn’t find me attractive?”

“Call it off. Choose someone else?” you suggest, sounding unsure of the options. “I mean, if we’re going to do it on camera, it has to look good. There has to be chemistry or something. People will know if I fake it, and it would be disappointing to see something that looks forced, I think.”

That’s true. The best part about your streams is that they don’t seem fake. You’re not out there screaming like you’re getting railed by two guys at once when you touch yourself. You do it slowly, taking your time, letting out hisses and grunts here and there, moaning only when you’re close to coming, which is also when your mouth gets a bit loose and dirty, which is Minho’s favorite part. 

Because of this, he comes towards the end of your stream—if he can postpone it. He might be a creep, but there’s something really hot in hearing you tell him you want his cock inside of you instead of your fingers. You don’t mean him, of course, but when he’s watching, he pretends it all for him.

“You’re right,” he agrees with a gulp, realizing you’ve been staring at him while he thought about your last stream and how sweetly you said you need his ‘big fat cock.’ Your words, not his. “And why do it if it doesn’t work?” He shrugs. “I think people would notice something was off. I would.”

You nod, giving him yet another smile, before going on, “So, I know you were probably expecting to go to my place and do it now, but I was just hoping to get to meet you and see if you were, uh, normal and if we can talk. I feel this is better than just going straight to my place and then being extra awkward on camera.”

“I agree,” Minho simply says, instantly feeling bad for saying so little. The things he’s saying are only a fraction of what he’s thinking, and he wishes he had the balls to talk to you more, ask you more questions, make sure you’re fine with all of this. “I’m sorry I’m awkward, I don’t really… Go out a lot, as you know.”

“It’s fine, I don’t either.” You giggle with a shake of your head, looking just as gorgeous as you do on camera. Only this time, Minho can enjoy looking straight into your eyes, looking at your entire face, basking in how pretty you are.

“You don’t?”

“When?” You grin. “I’m either at work, at uni, studying, or streaming. So, don’t worry about being weird. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re being awkward at all. All I can think about is how weird I am being. Anyway, I thought your message was sweet.”

Now, this surprises him. Firstly, he’s taken aback by the fact that someone like you doesn’t go out. Then, he’s happy to hear you don’t find him awkward because he is—his palms are sweating, and his cock hardened a bit when you mentioned your streams. But, it’s the final part that intrigues him the most. “You read it? I thought you used one of those programs that picked for you.”

“Oh, no. I wanted to read the messages,” you start explaining, leaning back into your chair, finally looking somewhat relaxed. “Some people write really nasty things, and I didn’t want to pick one of those guys, so I read the comments myself. And yours came in before I even announced my plan, so I feel like I made a good call.”

“Thank you,” he hums appreciatively, once again disappointing himself with how untalkative he’s being. “I meant what I wrote.”

“Thank you then. It really made me happy to read it, knowing that what I’m doing is somehow useful to someone else, other than for just getting off,” you say, taking a deep breath and looking at him. He’s kind of pathetic and he knows it. You both do. “Anyway, we can just agree when you’re coming over or we can go the other route and get to know each other a bit better so it’s less awkward on stream.”

“I prefer the latter, if I’m honest,” Minho quickly responds, hoping you’ll say the same thing. He can’t imagine himself showing up at your place tomorrow and just fucking you without knowing anything about you.

“Thank God, me too!” you exclaim with a hand over your heart, shaking your head as you giggle. “I mean, taking you home now would be awkward even without the camera being there.”

Minho’s eyes widen at the mention of the camera and the implication behind it—people would be watching him and his cock try to please you. Would he perform well? “I forgot about that.”

“Is it a problem?” You lean in again, eyebrows furrowing over your face. “I do it often nowadays, so I’m used to it, but I know it’s weird if you haven’t done it before.”

“No, I guess. If it’s not for you.”

You wave it off with a smile. “It’s going to be my first time doing something like that, too, so I guess we’re in the same boat after all. I’ll give you a mask, of course, you don’t have to show your face. In fact, you don’t have to show a lot. Or anything,” you’re rambling quickly at this point, just adding more and more since Minho is not saying anything. “We can find some positions where not everything is visible if you don’t want people to see a lot. Maybe I can ride you with my skirt on.”

Before you mention that, Minho’s wondering how he’ll look on stream and if he wants people to see his dick. But, as soon as you mention you riding him, all the blood from his brain rushes down—the thought of it gets his cock hard. “We’ll… Uh, think of something, I guess. You’ll see what works best.”

“Are you nervous about it? We can do something that leaves you out of the frame almost completely or we can shoot it instead of going live if you want to be 100% sure they can’t see a thing,” you say softly, and Minho just can’t stop thinking about how cute you are, even though his heart is pounding against his rib cage and he’s sporting an erection. It’s cute that you worry about him this much.

“I am nervous because I’m uh, definitely not in the shape to be perceived by 5,000 people,” he’s quick to joke, which makes you laugh. “But, I mean, it is what it is. I’m sure you’ll think of something that shows as little of me as possible.”

The conversation flows easier after that. You and Minho discuss condoms, protection, and getting tested for STDs, which he appreciates. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, but he wants you both to be safe. So, you decide to leave the cafe and got tested at the free clinic downtown, deciding that is the easiest and least painful option. 

After Minho and you fill out the paperwork and get different samples taken, you’re asked to wait in the lobby, where you get cheap coffee from their machine and sit together in silence for a while.

You’re the first to speak, turning to face him. “Nervous about the results?” Minho knows you’re only asking because he’s been fidgeting and shaking his leg.

He doesn’t want to freak you out or come off as an irresponsible guy, but he also doesn’t want to lie. “Honestly… Kind of.”

You don’t seem shocked at all, even if you probably are. “Did you do something stupid or?”

A fair, simple question. Minho wishes the answer was simple too. Instead, it’s something that he hates talking about, that he avoids at all costs. “My ex did.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him sweetly, hand moving down to give the hand that’s resting on his thigh a gentle pat, and the contact makes him shiver. “The one you wrote to me about?”

“Yeah,” is all he tells you, realizing he has talked to you, of all people, about it. He hasn’t said much, Minho remembers, but it was enough for you to figure out it was something bad.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” you hum gently, hand still on his, now giving it a light squeeze before you pull away. “I hope it will come back clean. You don’t deserve to deal with that.”

“Me too,” Minho says, needing to change the topic. “Are you nervous?”

Minho just doesn’t want to talk about his ex and how disgusted he felt when he realized she cheated on him with multiple guys. Yes, the sex was practically nonexistent because they were no longer in the honeymoon phase, but is the right response to that staying with your boyfriend and fucking anyone who offered behind his back? It’s something that hurts to talk about, so he doesn’t. His ego took a hit, and so did his heart. 

“No.”

“Really?” Minho asks, knowing he’s sounding stupid for acting so surprised that someone’s sure they’re clean. Isn’t that how most people feel?

“Yeah, I haven’t had sex in ages,” you confess, lowering your voice. “And when I did, I used protection and got tested regularly, so I know I’m clean.”

It’s so funny, how people think less of sex workers of any kind than “regular” people. Here you are, a sex worker, not even doubting that you’re clean, while he, the guy who’s had sex with three women in his entire life, is scared shitless of finding out his ex left him with a bit more than a broken heart and an ugly breakup. 

“So if we do it, it will be the first time in a while for both of us,” he concludes, wondering if you will go through with this. He wants to, of course, but under the condition that you really want it too, that you’re not just doing this as an obligation, which is insane. You are doing this as a chore, something to revive the channel. 

Thankfully, the results shows you’re both clean, meaning you’re one step closer to Saturday, the day you’ve decided to fuck on stream.

Saturday night is here sooner than expected, and Minho doesn’t feel ready, even though he’s clean and trimmed and shaved for you. His crotch hasn’t received this much attention since his breakup because Minho just didn’t go out and pursue anyone new, not even for sex. 

On top of doing that, he’s put on his most expensive cologne and worn the best clothes he owns, but it’s not like you care about his clothes. He’s there to fuck you, that’s it.

When he enters your apartment, thankful you trust him enough to give him the address without being afraid of him stalking you, Minho is too taken aback by you to even look around. You’re wearing a teeny tiny costume like the ones you usually wear for the stream. It’s strappy, showing off a lot of your skin, and the skirt is perfect. 

When you lead the way inside, Minho realizes the bottom part of your ass cheeks is showing with every step you take, and it makes him salivate. Is he really going to get to feel you tonight? It’s surreal.

His hand is shaking when he gives you the simple flower arrangement he got for you from a lady that sells them near his place. It’s nothing fancy, but it felt weird showing up empty-handed. You seem happy with the flowers, even if they’re simple, but you notice his shaking when he hands them to you, so you grab his hand. “You good?”

“Nervous, that’s all.” Minho clears his throat, enjoying your touch. “Don’t worry.”

“Want to have a shot?” you suggest with a smirk.

Two shots later, you’re both chuckling at each other, feeling a bit more relaxed now that you know you’re both feeling nervous about it. Minho finally has time to look around and notice where you live. You probably have less money than him, which is saying a lot considering he’s barely been making ends meet for a couple of months now. The place is small, but everything is so neat and tidy, every little thing has its place. It’s charming, just like you.

“So, what do you have in mind?” he finally asks, getting some courage from the shots and the way you’re looking at him, your tits almost out for him to gawk at.

“I was thinking I can sit down and you can walk into the shot and let me suck you off,” you say as if it’s no big deal, as if it’s not a dream come true for him. “But don’t turn your back on them completely, more from the side, so they can see me do it, but they won’t see all of you. If that’s fine.”

Any idea that includes your mouth around his cock sounds perfect, but Minho has to disagree. “Hm… What do you think about me sitting and you sitting on top of me?” 

“Oh?” you cock your head to the side and look at him. “What do you mean?”

“Your plan sounds great to me, but as a watcher, I think people watch to see you have fun, not some random guy who’s just here once,” Minho explains, feeling his cheeks get red. He’s outing himself as your biggest fan here, but he wants to make this worthwhile for you. If you’re doing it to get your views up, you should do it the right way and get all the views. “If you sit on me and let me play with you, they might, uh, feel like it’s them playing with you if that makes sense. And then I can… put it in if you want that.”

“Have me ride you while you sit?” you rephrase it in a way that makes his mouth water. “I think that would work. They won’t see practically anything, right? I mean, they will see your balls and some of your dick.”

It all sounds so transactional, but the way you’re treating him tells Minho it’s not exactly that, which kind of confuses him. But, he’s there to fuck you for the stream, that’s it.

“It’s fine,” Minho shrugs. “As long as no one can see my face, I’m good.”

“Okay,” you nod, patting his hand. “So, I start the stream…”

You go on about the pose in detail, explaining what you’re going to do with yourself, when you’re going to invite him in, how he should sit, when to put the condom on, remind him to cover his balls with his fist if he doesn’t want anyone to see them, and tell him you can stop at any time.

“If I’m on top of you and can’t see you shake your head, just whisper it to me and we’re stopping, no hard feelings, okay?” you end the monologue on a sweet note, and Minho nods again, repeating the same thing. “The same goes for you.”

And then, you take him to the room where it all happens, and he finally gets to see it from another angle. It all seems the same, but smaller than it does on stream. You go to your makeup desk and put on a mask, which makes you look like the good old Baby Blue he knows—dressed to kill, straps all over your body leaving just enough for his imagination, face hidden save from that pretty mouth and gorgeous eyes. Perfect. 

You take another mask and walk over to Minho, putting it on him. When you make sure it’s on tightly, you run your hand through his hair, fixing it. “You look so pretty like this.” The compliment goes straight to his chest, and he chuckles, looking to the side.

“You do too,” Minho gulps, feeling sexual tension arise from having you so close, “but I prefer you without it.”

“I’d fuck you without it if I didn’t have to stream,” you admit before biting your lip. “Can’t let people see me, and all that.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” Minho shakes his head. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know, Minho,” you coo, patting his chest softly. “Relax… I’ll, uh, call you Lino during the stream, if that’s okay?”

“That’s perfect. I’ll, uh, be quiet?”

“No,” you say sharply before chuckling at yourself. “That sounded weird. I mean, you don’t have to. I’d love to hear you. You can call me Baby.”

“Baby it is,” he confirms, eyes focusing on how plump your lips look. 

“And please, feel free to dirty talk all you want, that’s what gets people going,” you advise. “I don’t mind it. Just no ‘daddy’ talk.”

Minho grimaces with a grunt. “I’d never,” he says, placing a hand over his heart. “I’ll, uh, do my best.”

“You’ll do just fine,” you pat his chest again. This time, your hand moves up to cup his face. “And please, call me whatever you want. Slut, whore, baby, whatever.”

“I—” his voice breaks on his tongue, unable to form a sentence at the very idea of calling you those names. He can’t call you that, even if the very idea makes his dick twitch.

“I mean, I’m doing this for the fans, and you are one, I guess, so you probably think a lot of things they think. If you say those things to me while you fuck me, it might feel more real to them.”

It makes a lot of sense when you put it like that, so Minho agrees. “How will I know I’ve taken it too far? It’s not like I can ask in front of them.”

“Maybe, uh, we pat each other’s thighs twice when we want to tone it down a bit. How does that sound?”

It’s the first time you’ve included yourself in it, made sure you have a way out too, so Minho is happy with the deal. “Sounds good,” he tells you, still focused on your lips. “I don’t want to offend you, so please stop me if I say something too explicit. I’m… I don’t do this a lot.”

“Me neither, Minho,” you whisper at him, moving in closer until your chest is practically pressed flush against his. “You can’t offend me. Call me a whore all you want. If you want to tell me I’m a slut for getting naked for all those people, do it. It’s not that far off from what I think of it, anyway.”

There’s a lot to unpack here, Minho notes, and he really wants to stop you and tell you you’re the furthest thing from that he can possibly imagine, but words don’t come easy to him. If he starts this conversation now, he’ll definitely ruin the mood before the stream, and he can’t let that happen to you. “You… I… Okay. You’re, uh, not… That.”

“It starts soon,” you quickly change the subject. “Do you want to get naked?”

“N-now?” his voice falters a bit as a lump forms in his throat. So, this is how you want to do it. Is he just going to sit around naked while you entertain your audience for a while?

“Want me to help?” you offer , fingers now grazing his clothed chest, sending shivers that end up straight in his cock. Do you really think he’s going to say no to that?

“Please,” he says simply, wanting you to do it. Maybe that will help him get out of his head. 

Minho thinks you’ll just unbuckle his belt, but you lean in instead and kiss him slowly. God, your mouth tastes like magic, and he just wants more. Somehow, he musters the courage to put a hand behind your head and touch it gently, pushing you towards his face.

At the same time, your fingers are working on the buttons of his button-up, not stopping until all of them are undone. Through it all, your lips stay against his, tongue roaming his mouth gently, the taste of cherry liquor still on it, making it even sweeter. 

Your hands push his shirt off his shoulders and Minho moves his hands to his sides to let the shirt fall on the floor. It’s then that you unbuckle his belt and undo his zipper, tongue now back inside of your mouth while your lips play with his. Minho feels your fingers sneaking under the waistband of his boxers, before you breathe the question at him, “Okay?”

“Sure,” he whispers back before leaning into the kiss again, wanting to savor the feeling of your lips on his. The next second, you’re pulling his underwear and jeans down his legs. You don’t pull them down all the way. Instead, you do it just enough for his cock to spring free and for you to wrap your hand around it. At the same time, your teeth gently sink into his bottom lip. 

Minho grunts loudly and kicks his head back—he can’t believe you are squeezing his cock, that he’s here with you, and that you want to do this with him. While he’s too busy recovering, you lean in and spit on his cock, which just makes him weak in the knees again. 

“I understand if you don’t want people to see it, trust me,” you hum the words as your mouth makes its way up his neck to his jaw, his head still leaning back as he grunts, “but you have such a pretty cock.”

This is honestly the first time Minho’s received this specific compliment, and it warms his heart despite being so vulgar. It’s cute at the same time, which is exactly what he expects of you. “You’re pretty,” he finally says something, and it makes you chuckle and kiss him again.

Now, your hand is moving up and down his cock, tugging at it gently. “You’ll do just fine, don’t worry, okay?”

Your words are comforting, so he hums. “You will too,” he tells you, remembering you’re nervous about it too. 

“Let’s get you naked,” you suggest and crouch down so you can pull his clothes down his legs and throw them on your bed where you previously discarded the shirt. You stay in the same position, looking up at him, his cock getting in the way as it stands upright, completely hard for you already. It’s embarrassing, really. “Pretty,” you giggle and lean in. “Can I?”

Minho nods, unsure of what you’re even asking, but he knows it’s going to bring him pleasure. The second he feels your mouth wrap around the head of his cock, he feels like he’s in heaven. When you suck it in and tease it with your tongue, Minho’s hands fly down to cup your face, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. “You’re so fucking good,” he tells you weakly. “Fuck.”

You must like him, right? There’s no way you’d be sucking him off now, off-camera. There’s seemingly no other reason for you to do it other than to bring him pleasure, and that’s not a part of the deal. When you hum around his dick, Minho’s hips thrust into your face involuntarily, so you chuckle and pull away gently. A string of saliva connects your lips with his dick, and Minho wants to fuck you right away, kiss you all over. 

“Can’t get too carried away just yet,” you chuckle as you speak, standing up on your feet and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Now you’re good and ready for the stream. Sure you want to do it?”

“Positive,” Minho nods, hands moving to your hips without asking. “Sure you want it?”

You hum in agreement and peck his lips. “You’re the best possible choice for this, it turns out. If you change your mind, just shake your head at me and I’m canceling it, before or during it, I don’t care, okay?”

“Same goes for you then,” Minho adds, wanting you to be on the same level. He then calls your name, remembering that he didn’t check some of the basics. “How do you, uh, like it?”

“Like what? Sex?”

“Being touched,” he breathes the words, the implication that he is going to touch you making him feel dizzy. “If we’ll start with me doing that, I’d like to make you feel good.”

“Uhm,” you sigh, taking a second to think before you continue, “You can touch me wherever you want, just be gentle at first. I mean, don’t try to shove fingers in if I’m not wet, but I’m thinking you already know that.”

“Yeah, of course,” he nods, hoping there aren’t guys out there who actually do that type of thing to women. “I know you usually touch yourself and use a vibrator at the same time, but you’re alone then. Do you want me to do both at the same time?”

“You can progress to that,” you agree with a smile. “If you want to.”

“And then, you’ll, uh, sit on me?” His cock twitches at the question, and you notice it—your gaze flies down and you smirk. 

“Yes. If you want to change the position, we can move the chair to the side and you can bend me over it so that I’m facing the camera. I think they’ll get to see my face and you fucking me.”

His cock twitches again and Minho hopes he’ll be able to get this right for you.

And then, the show starts, and your bubbly persona is on. It’s not that you’re not really sweet off-camera, but you’re too sweet in front of it. He prefers the real you now that he knows you.

“Hey everyone! I’m happy you’re all here today,” you start, staring at the camera, aware of Minho’s presence next to the desk. “I have a special guest for a change. It’s Lino98 who won the comment game. I have to tell you guys he’s a lot more handsome than I hoped for. I guess I have some really hot people watching.”

Minho enjoys watching you do this even in person, even if you’re talking about him, which makes the tips of his ears turn red. You’re just saying these things for the stream, he knows, gassing it up so people would enjoy it more.

Then, you answer a couple of questions from tippers, as always, and lean back into the chair, your core still covered with the strappy underwear you have on, even though your legs are spread. At this point, Lino98 would start touching himself back home, but only lightly, tugging at his cock here and there while staring at your covered crotch and imagining he was there with you.

Well, now he is, and he resists the urge to jerk his cock even once. While you’re answering questions, you touch yourself, pinching your nipple here and there, pressing your fingers into your clit, and Minho notices the way your gaze flies to him as you buck your hips into your hand. Are you checking what he’s doing or do you want to look at him when you’re touching yourself?

His resolution is broken not even two minutes in—he spits in his palm and starts tugging at his cock while looking at you, just like he does back at home. But it’s real this time, and you’re right in front of him. Your fingers slide under the straps covering your crotch and one disappears inside of you as you answer a question about tonight. “Am I looking forward to it? Fuck yes,” you breathe out, looking at him. “I’ve been thinking about fucking Lino all day today. Even tasted his cock before we started, but I wanted to leave the rest of it for the stream.”

Minho can’t believe you’ve just admitted that to thousands of people. What’s even less believable is you thinking about fucking him all day. You did, however, take his cock into your mouth earlier, even if he didn’t ask you to. Did you really find him hot? 

It all happens pretty fast, you calling him over, him sitting on the chair and you getting on top of him, spreading your legs and letting them flail on each side of his thighs, as if you’re forfeiting all control, like a doll in his hands. “Lino, handsome, you can touch,” you instruct him, moving one of your hands to the back to grab his neck gently from behind.

As if he’s been waiting for this moment forever—and sometimes, it does feel like forever—Minho grabs your tits, starting to squeeze them with shaky hands. They feel just as supple as he imagined, and his heart starts racing at the contact of your warm skin with his.

You roll your hips over his dick, moaning in response, as if he’s doing a great job. “Doesn’t he have nice hands? Can’t wait to feel them all over me,” you say, staring right at the camera, which makes him grunt. You’re too good at this. If he was watching this, he’d be eating you right up.

Minho looks at the camera himself, and then his gaze flies to the screen in front of you, where all the comments are moving fast, but not fast enough for him not to read some. “Bet he has a small dick”, “If this dude doesn’t come 10 seconds in, I’ll cut my dick off”, “Can he, like, do something,” “Boooooring”, “Not you fake moaning already” are some of the ones that catch his eye, and he regrets ever looking at the screen. 

“You’re doing good, Lino,” you tell him softly, turning your head to the side so you can whisper at him, show him you’re still here with him. “Minho, forget about them. Just think about me, okay? I really want to fuck you.”

Those seem to be the magic words he needs to hear to start groping your breasts harder, pulling the nipples before rubbing them, giving your tits a light smack between gropes. “Fuck,” you mutter, but don’t pat his thigh, which means you like it. You don’t want him to stop. “Touch me.”

Minho doesn’t need to be told twice—his fingers are under the straps that cover your cunt before you can even react, and he’s surprised to find you soaking, your slit wet and soft, ready for him. 

“So wet for me already,” he gets balls to say out loud, knowing people can hear him. He’d like to hear the same thing if he was watching some lucky bastard fuck you. Besides, it’s true. “Did you get this wet just because I touched you for a second there? Slut.”

The nickname makes you grunt and arch your back into his chest, legs spreading wider, still handing over his thighs. He’s rubbing your clit now, and even if the audience can’t exactly see it, they can clearly see his fingers moving under the straps of the underwear and can probably notice how the light red strap that covers your slit slowly becomes dark red as it gets soaked because of him. 

“Want to taste you so bad,” he hisses at you, and your hand flies up to his mouth, finger that was in your cunt a minute ago now tapping against his lips, and it’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever done to him.

Without any shame, Minho sucks your middle finger into his mouth and licks it clean, overwhelmed by your taste and smell. “So fucking tasty,” he mumbles when your finger leaves his mouth. “Want to eat you out all night.”

“I want that too, baby,” you tell him sweetly, hips rolling in circles as he rubs your clit with the pads of his fingers. “You guys like that, huh?” you ask the audience, spreading your legs even more. “Lino’s being so good to me… Touching me just right.”

“Want me to be better?” he asks softly, and you nod, enjoying the way he’s nuzzled up to your neck now and pressing kisses to it as if you’re somewhere all alone and he’s taking his sweet time with you. 

The next second, his finger is inside of you, and your hips buck into him instinctively, a grunt leaving your mouth. He’s no expert, but he feels like his finger is filling you up nicely—your walls feel tight around it, lubed up enough for him to move around without hurting or scratching you. “Good, Baby?” Minho asks you through clenched teeth, feeling his cock leak precum, stuck between your back and his stomach. 

“Perfect, Lino”, you say loudly, looking at him instead of at the camera, just for a second. “Want you so bad. Want it all.”

“Let me make you feel good then,” Minho suggests, voice sounding a lot more confident now when he realizes you’re actually enjoying it.

While keeping his finger inside of you, he moves his other hand from your tit down to your clit and starts rubbing it. This way, he has a lot more control of you, especially since you hold onto his biceps and let him do whatever he wants for thousands of people to see. The view from his position is amazing—he sees your tits and hard nipples, the curve of your stomach, and your strap-covered crotch, both his hands under the straps, bringing you pleasure.

“God!” you grunt, jerking your hips into his hands. “So fucking good! More, please.”

“More what, Baby?” Minho snickers, feeling proud of himself. If you’re faking, you’re a pro at it—his finger is soaked, and he’s sure the strap is completely wet with your juices by now, and that the viewers can see it too.

“Fingers, Lino, please,” you beg, nails digging into his biceps as you whine. “Please, I need it, don’t tease me.”

His gaze flies to the comment screen as he pulls out his finger and circles your entrance with two of them now, getting them both wet. People are saying you’re acting like a needy slut for him, commenting on how hot you look when someone's making you feel good, some telling him he should go harder on you. 

Someone writes that Lino98 should slap you around and show you your place, which annoys him to no end. Nobody should talk about you that way. Instead of doing what the commenter asked, Minho leans in and peppers kisses along your jawline while adding another finger, two of them now filling your pussy right. 

“Good, Baby?” he asks but doesn’t need to—you’ve let out such a satisfied moan, mouth fully open, eyebrows furrowing over your eyes, that it’s pretty clear you love having him in you. “I want you badly too, but we need to stretch you out first, hm…”

You moan back, rolling your hips in circles, getting a bit lost in pleasure. “You’re so good, Lino, so fucking good with your hands… I told you guys I like his hands right away. He knows how to use them too. Feel your fingers filling me up, feel it so well, baby…”

“Good, you should,” Minho moans in response, getting even more turned on now that you’re so pliant and needy. “Want you to feel all of it.”

Slowly but surely, Minho stretches your cunt open. One finger, two, three, until you’re throwing your hips down onto his, fucking yourself against them with your head kicked back, feet propped up on his knees. 

The fingers fit just right, and your walls wrap around them hungrily, making him imagine what it will feel like to have them around his cock. Minho’s hands are over your cunt, so no one can see it, just like you asked him to.

“Like that, hm?” he asks you, wondering if you can hear him over the moaning he hopes isn’t fake. “Like having a cunt full of fingers?”

“Full of you, baby,” you moan back, rolling your hips. Every time Minho talks dirty to you, you clench around him as if you’re rewarding him for giving you what you need. “Can you give me your dick now? I want to feel it.”

“Whatever you want, Baby,” Minho tells you sweetly, sad to separate from your cunt even for a second. 

However, you quickly place your feet on the floor and lift yourself up, putting the condom on his dick while explaining to your audience how hard it feels, praising his length and girth even though Minho knows he’s not the biggest out there. 

“He’s pretty all over,” you tell them with your hand around the base of his condom-clad cock, giving it a light squeeze. “And such a fucking sweet guy. But he has a bit of a dirty mouth. He should speak more? Someone said that, Lino. Speak more for them. Tell me what all of them on the other side would tell me.”

“Okay,” Minho agrees with a shaky voice because he’s too busy internally screaming over the fact that you’ve just sunk down on his cock fully and moaned so hard he thinks he’s hurt you. Did he not stretch you well beforehand? God, you’re so tight around him. “All good, Baby?”

“The real thing feels so much better,” you say, breathing out slowly. “But so much bigger too. I’ll go slow.”

With that, you start moving, and it all becomes a blur for the next five minutes. He almost comes three times and whispers that at you so you can slow down and pretend you’re reading the comments. 

All Minho tells you during those long, hard minutes are “fuck”, “just like that,” “so tight, so wet”, and different variations of the same thing—his pleasure increasing with every movement of your hips. It’s hard to look at the comments or you because all of it makes Minho want to blow, so he kicks his head back and touches your clit while you ride him. 

Just a week ago, you were something unattainable, a secret pastime he never spoke about, his little secret. Now, he was quite literally inside of you, your body pressed into his chest as your hips slammed into his, his fingers rubbing your clit to make you feel good. After all, that’s all he’s thought about since he started watching you—how he’d please you if he were there with you.

Well, now’s his chance, and Minho has to stop focusing on his own pleasure and think about yours. So, he just thinks about his fingers and how he’s pressed them into your clit and moving them up and down, hopefully getting you as much friction as you need. He misses everything you say during the next couple of minutes, too busy focusing on your clit. However, Minho realizes you’re talking to the audience and just dirty talking.

“Fuck, Lino, there,” you suddenly hiss at him and he realizes that he’s getting you close. “Just like that, baby, make me come for them.”

Minho doesn’t want to make you come for them at all—he wants you to do it all for him. Still, he plays along, his orgasm now forgotten, “Ah, slut wants people to see her come all over a dick? Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Lino, please,” you fall into his chest, hips still smacking into his, hands holding onto the arm rest for support. “Make me come, I want it so bad.”

“I know,” he hums and kisses your neck, showing you he has a soft spot for you once again. It’s not exactly something Minho can hide, but he can mask it by giving you what you said you wanted. “You want all these men to watch you… Turns you on, right? Being slutty for so many guys. You’re so horny for us you asked me to come here so I can fuck your brains out for everyone to watch.”

You whine and nod, your body stiffening as your legs spread and clench together, your hips moving into and then away from his hand, body nearing release. “Good little slut… Maybe the rest of them will get this lucky too… Get to fill you with cock,” he goes on even when your voice gets louder and when you are just grunting and hissing and moaning, losing the ability to speak coherently. “I hope they can all see how well you’re riding me, getting me all wet, taking all of it.”

He’s not sure how long he talks dirty to you for and he can’t even remember everything he’s said—Minho gets lost in it too, especially since you sound so pretty as your body shudders on top of his. What Minho knows is that he stops it when he realizes you’re coming. Suddenly, he changes the tone he uses with you, lowering it, coaxing you sweetly, “Yeah, that’s right, come all over it for me, baby, show me how much you like it in you.”

It seems like his words turn you on even more because you speed your hips up instead of slowing down, head turning to the side so you can look right at him. Dark masks are covering both of your faces, but you still manage to look gorgeous like this. “Good girl,” he whispers. “You ride dick so well. Look so pretty doing it.”

“Fuck, you’re good,” you hiss back, eyes meeting his lips, which he takes as an invite to kiss you.

You two didn’t exactly discuss kissing, but you’ve kissed earlier off-camera, so Minho thinks it’s okay. While he’s being sweet to you with his mouth, Minho smacks your clit a couple of times, getting your hips to jerk up. “See?” he chuckles into the kiss. “Such an eager slut, Baby… Want it again?”

“Yes, Lino, please, more,” you plead before kissing him almost desperately, lips crashing, tongues clashing, moans getting muffled by his mouth. “Give it to me.”

Minho’s eyes shift to the screen and he reads some of the comments. He’s there for you, to help you get those views up, to entertain people, make them tip you. So, he has to play the part. “You guys want to know if she feels good?” he asks after realizing there are many comments asking the same thing. To be fair, he’d probably want to know the same thing if he was at home jerking off to the sight of you fucking yourself against someone’s dick. “She has the perfect cunt. Really tight and wet, clenches so hard when you touch her clit… Perfect. Wish I could show you.”

You stiffen at his words, which Minho instantly feels against his body, so he whispers, “Don’t worry, Baby, I would never do it.” You’re clearly afraid he’ll just pull out, which would probably let people see at least half of your slit, and that’s what you want to avoid.

“Mhm,” you hum, hand moving up to his face so you can cup it, thumb running along his jawline as you stare at the camera. “Maybe you guys will get to see one day. Maybe Lino will fuck me senseless and I’ll forget all about being a good girl and not showing you everything.”

The comment section suddenly start cheering for him, asking him to give it to you good, treat you like a slut. His hands start touching you all over, cock still inside of you, twitching with every grunt you make as you talk to the audience about how it feels to get fucked after a long time.

Minho just focuses on playing with your perfect tits, rubbing the nipples, while he gently rolls his hips, causing at least some friction between his insanely hard cock and your walls. 

And then, you turn to him again, this time smiling sweetly. “They want you to fuck me like you mean it, Lino,” you tell him with a chuckle. “They want to see me ruined.”

“Do you want that, Baby?” Minho checks, not wanting to make any sudden moves unless he’s sure you’re all for it. Fuck what the audience wants.

Instead of answering, you lean back into his chest even more and throw each leg over the armrests, fully spread for the viewers. But, his cock is in you, and the straps are still all over your crotch, so they can see some parts of it, but not all, and definitely not the inside. Still, Minho is a bit shocked that you’re risking it all like this. Do you really like his cock that much?

And then, Minho decides to surprise you, for a change. His hands move under you, grabbing your ass from below and slightly lifting you, but not enough for his cock to fall out. “Ready?” he asks gently, and you almost melt in his arms. So, his sweet thing is not just a facade, he is like that even when he’s balls deep inside of you. “Give it to me,” you hiss at him, and the next second, you feel like you’re ascending. Minho is pumping you full of cock from below, bottoming out with each hard thrust. You want to respond to the comments, you want to put on a show, but you can’t. 

“Want to fuck you dumb, Baby,” he grunts at you, low enough just for you to hear, and you melt again.

Your mind’s blank save for the waves of pleasure he’s causing to ripple through your body. The sex is so fucking good, and you can’t believe a guy who’s touching you for the first time can do it this well. It just doesn’t happen. “Ah fuck, Lino, just like that!”

He’s told you he’s had sex with three women before you, and it made you think Minho wasn’t going to be that good. But, since they’ve all been longer relationships, he’s clearly had more practice than you thought. You’ve never had a guy do this to you, fuck you stupid like this, make you forget all about your own rules for streaming and about the stream itself.

At this point, if Minho pushes the straps to side and exposes your cunt to the world, you probably won’t even register it, just because he’s pistoning into you from below, turning your brain and legs into mush.

“Taking it so fucking well,” he groans as he fucks you, completely lost in pleasure, thighs smacking into yours harshly. The pain is minimal in comparison to what his dick is making you feel, so you let him fuck you like that. “Taking all of me on camera, hm…”

“Lino, fuck, fuck, fuck!” There’s not much you can tell him, even though you should be focusing on putting on a show and talking dirty and telling people how good it feels to fuck a fan. The truth is, it feels a bit too good.

Minho speeds up and moans so loudly you think he’s coming. At this point, you won’t even mind—you’ve put on a show already, you came with a dick in you, and if Minho comes, the deed is done.

However, he doesn't let himself come this time. He slows down and lets your ass fall back on his hips again, hands wrapping around you tight as his mouth latches onto your neck. “Your tight pussy is swallowing me, fuck,” Minho mumbles into your skin, his warm scent engulfing you. “Almost came.”

“You can do it whenever you want to, handsome,” you whisper, turning your attention to the camera to stop gawking at the man.

The comments are asking him to give it to you rough and leave you full of cum, as expected. “You guys are really nasty tonight,” you say teasingly, fingernails grazing his thigh. “Want Lino to use me as a cumdump the first time he’s fucking me, huh?” 

His cock twitches inside of you at the thought, even though it’s not happening, and you both know it. “I’ll fill all your holes tonight, Baby.”

“I know you will,” you play along, clenching around him hard. “Why don’t you give it to me from the back?” 

It all goes as planned, him behind you, fucking you until his dick goes numb because he focuses on the comments and can’t possibly come when so many people are cheering for him or saying they could do it better. How do you even do this? He'd go crazy just watching people write all sort of nasty things, some very dirty, others very cruel.

Minho thinks you notice that he’s not saying much and is just staring at the place where his body meets yours, cock disappearing between your wet folds, reappearing even wetter. 

He thinks so because you turn your head back and whisper, “Can’t do it?” You don't look disappointed or annoyed—you looked genuinely worried, and it kind of warms his heart.

“I, I can,” he grunts back, keeping his voice down so the entire world doesn’t realize he’s struggling to come after putting it off for so long. “Just need to stop thinking.”

“Fuck me harder then,” you say loudly now, giving him a wink. “Want to feel you deep.”

Minho does, but he’s no closer to coming than he was before, even though he’s enjoying every second of this. It’s slowly turning into overstimulation, so he’s hissing after every couple of thrusts, dying to come. Somehow, you know what’s going on, so you whisper at him, “Blowjob?”

“Please,” he begs, not even able to feel bad about it. 

The next second, you push the chair away and let him pull out of you slowly, let him cover his dick with his hands so not everyone sees it. You walk over to the camera and grin. “I think I’ll do something special tonight, something you don’t always see from me. What do you think, does Lino deserve to come in my mouth?”

The comments, of course, agree, and so does Minho. You turn around and look at him questioningly, as if you’re checking if it’s okay with him, so he simply nods. And then, magic happens.

You walk up to him and gently push him backwards until his back meets the wall. Then, you get down on your knees and stick your ass out so people get a good view of your barely-covered crotch while you suck his cock, which is exactly what you do immediately after.

You take all of him so well on the first go, gagging around it while looking up at Minho, and he can’t say anything. He can’t tell the audience your mouth feels perfect, which it does, he can’t call you a slut, or tell you you’re acting needy. All he can do is gulp and cup your face, tangling the fingers of one hand in your hair and gently caressing your scalp, enjoying the way you feel under his fingertips.

That, paired with the feeling of your warm mouth around him and your tear-filled eyes looking up at him is enough to make Minho forget where he is for a while. It helps that he’s far away from the computer and can’t see any negative or nasty comments. All he sees is you, and it seems like he’s all you’re thinking about because you’re not even blinking at this point, even though tears are streaming down your face as you struggle to deepthroat him. It gets wetter by the second and Minho feels his balls tighten.

“Baby, I’ll come,” he warns you with a hiss. “Can I—fuck, where?”

You hum gently, nodding your head before continuing to suck on his cock and bobbing your head on it so he moan and kicks his head back, gently pushing his hips into you as cum spurts into your tight throat. You keep going until the very last drop is out and then you let his cock fall out of your mouth.

However, you don’t move away from him and let people see his now practically flaccid cock. Instead, you grab both his hands and pull them down to motion for him to cover himself, a gesture Minho appreciates. He would have forgotten it in all the bliss he’s feeling. 

And then, you stand up and open your mouth slightly, letting some of his cum slip out of your mouth, over your bottom lip, onto your chin. You go to the camera and show it to the audience, opening your mouth to show some of the cum still pooling around it before you swallow loudly. Minho thinks he will lose his mind because of you—he’s standing on the side watching you in awe. You’ve never discussed sucking him off or swallowing his cum, so now that he’s watching you do it, he feels amazed.

Once you’ve swallowed it all, you stick your tongue out and lap at the remnants of it on your chin, humming in the process. “Sweet, just as Lino. Thanks for visiting tonight, I hope you’ve had as much fun as I have. Sorry for going a bit quiet on you, it’s hard to think straight when you’re getting rammed like that. A huge thank you to Lino for being here and for being this amazing. I see you guys liked him too. Thanks once again for being here, and have a great night! Sweet dreams!”

You log off and turn to face him with a sigh. “Well… That was something.”

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! ♡

DON'T THEY KNOW IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD?

PART I

Lee know x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II

Synopsis: Making a contact with an ancient object, you meet a demon who takes form of the man you desired and forces you to commit terrible acts to stop the world from ending. (14k words)

Author's note: I indulge myself with a spooky fic and demon Minho in it. Read with cautions and enjoy x

Based on an episode of Black Mirror. Content warnings: Violence, gore, mentions of abuse, assaults and graphic imagery. Reader's discretion is advised!

"Carving is easy. You just go down to the skin and stop." - Michelangelo

-

Oh, no! You're doing it again.

When you think you're talking in your head, you're actually talking loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. It's even worse that your voice is echoing in the big chamber of the empty gallery.

They seem to not care about it or pretend to because Kim has just walked in to check everyone's work. She's your friend from art school turns an art dealer and she has a way to control everyone around her.

"I told you to let us do it for you," she says, clicking her tongue at you and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

The gallery is having some of your pieces of art displayed for the exhibition tonight and you want to make sure that they're presented the way you envisioned it.

You carefully step down the ladder and stand next to Kim, looking at the sculpture you made of a man holding an arrow with an apple stuck at the end of the arrow.

You hear Kim dreamily sigh then look at you, "You're going to sell..." She pauses to emphasize the word she's going to say next, "Big!"

Money isn't the reason why you create these sculptures but you need it in order to keep being able to do this. You have no idea how expensive a block of stone is!

The reason why you made these sculptures is because this is what you love doing: envision your imagination onto a block of stone and you carve it to bring it to life.

Why did you choose stone as the medium? Because they're durable, stubborn yet resilient. It takes time to create one sculpture but once you've seen the result, you forget about the hard work behind it.

Kim puts her hand on your shoulder and snaps you out of your reverie, "Stop worrying about your sculptures," she says.

She turns you around to force you to face her and puts her other hand on your shoulder, "Go home. Get dressed. Put some color on those cheeks. Have a pre-party with a glass of wine or two."

Dressing up sounds like a lot of work, you'd rather stay in your dungarees and striped top, "Can I just wear these?"

It's like she has just heard someone dies, Kim's hand flies to her temple and screws her eyes shut for a second, "Trust me when I say that the people coming tonight wouldn't expect the artist behind these magnificent sculptures to look like Chucky," she says with a sneering smile.

She squeezes your shoulder and tilts her head to the side, "And that's me putting it the nicest way possible because you're my friend."

It's still a mystery how you ended up friends with someone like Kim, she's the opposite of what you are, an extrovert, a tolerable narcissist, she likes attention and is forthright to the point it's borderline insolent. You're so used to her audacious way of treating you and the blunt words that come out of her red-lipped mouth.

She's been like this even before you met her and you are the friend who likes to suffer in silence, you think that's why you became friends. Nevertheless, Kim treats you better than she treats anyone else for that matter.

That explains why the gallery staff are so afraid of her. It's always best to get out of her way unless she wants you to be there. You pick up your bag from the floor along with your jacket.

"I'll go then," you meekly say.

She grabs your elbow before leaving, "Go home," she says with a glare.

"Home. Not your studio," she says again, making it clear to you.

She knows you well enough to know that you like spending your days in your studio instead of your apartment. You sling the strap of your bag on one shoulder, "Go home. Get dressed. Come to the exhibition late," you repeat the things she wanted you to do.

Kim smiles and gently cups your cheek, "Good girl. Now go!"

Once you get home though, you spend hours just sitting in the emptiness that lingers in your apartment that is too big for one person to live in it.

This is why you prefer to stay in your studio, you like to keep your head occupied rather than being alone with your thoughts like this.

And your thoughts, they're mostly of unkind things and...

Your phone rings from inside your bag and steers your mind back to your head. Without having to look at it, you can tell who it is. There are no other people who call you daily except, well, if it's an emergency call.

"Are you getting ready yet?" Kim goes straight to the point.

"Uh... yeah, I just showered, I—" you jolt awake from lying down on the sofa.

"I'm having problems picking what to wear," you add a laugh in the hope of sounding convincing.

There's a wave of laughter from her end of the phone call before Kim talks to the phone, "Stop joking. Do you like it?"

You get completely confused because she suddenly compliments herself out of the blue, "Huh? What?"

You can hear her dramatic, low sigh and you can imagine her subtle eye roll as she's doing it, "The dress. The one I hung in your closet," she tells you.

You quietly trudge your way to the closet and open it to find the said dress.

"Yes, it's beautiful!" You hurriedly say, not wanting to let her get suspicious as she waits for a response.

"Aren't you lucky to have me as your friend?" she exclaims, sounding so confident with her words.

"I am the luckiest," you tell her as you observe the dress and already regretting hastily approving the dress as you notice it has a plunging neckline.

"I know," she brags and her smirk flashes through your head.

In the background, you hear something is calling her and Kim answers with a shout, "I'm coming."

She dramatically sighs before talking to you, "Work is calling. I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, see you tonight!" You're more than relieved to end the phone call with her.

It's too early to celebrate as she hasn't ended the call yet and she always ends the call first. You have an inkling that she'll call your name.

Indeed, she is.

"Hey, don't forget to take your meds, okay?" She says.

That's probably the only yet the most endearing thing she does to you and what makes her your friend.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," you tell her.

It's time to fully assess the dress and you're in awe of how much skin you'll show if you're wearing this. Of course, you have the option not to wear but it all comes down to wearing the dress or facing Kim's wrath.

The former seems to be the safer choice and also because you're not a confrontational person, you like to avoid conflict.

Not wearing the dress means you're going straight into conflict and you don't want that.

With a defeated spirit, you put the dress on even though you have no idea how to move in such a tight dress. You summon up your below-average make-up skill for tonight and put some colors on you.

Not forgetting Kim's words, you take your medicine and wash it down with a long gulp of water. You give yourself a few minutes as you wait for the medicine to work while you sit on the couch holding a glass of water in both hands, staring out at the view from your apartment.

Kim insisted you take this apartment when you're okay with living in the studio. Not only that it's too expensive of a place to live on your own but a big place only makes you inexplicably lonely.

However, after seeing the view from up here, you feel like you're not part of this world in the most humbling way. Seeing the city and the buildings look like pieces of block makes you realize that they don't matter that much. They're all just... material things.

You sigh as you get hit by a wave of melancholia and you take it that the medicine is working.

-

Uncomfortable walking out of your apartment in your dress, you put on a coat as you leave the apartment with the sounds of your heels clicking against the floor.

The owner of the building passed away yesterday, there are so many guests visiting the penthouse where he lived. The first elevator that arrives on your floor is crowded so you skip on getting on that one. You patiently wait for the next one to arrive while clutching your purse in front of you.

A minute later, the other elevator arrives and the doors slide open, you see there's someone else inside. You believe he's been from the penthouse from how he dressed in all black.

You look down to avoid eye contact and step inside, standing at the back of the limited space while trying not to look at the man's face on the reflection from the mirror that walled the elevator.

Arrived in the main lobby, the elevator dings open and the man doesn't waste time but walks out with hands shoved inside his coat pocket.

You fix your coat before stepping out and you feel your feet kicking on something, it's clattering across the floor. You bend down to pick it up, something that you guess is a pocket watch.

Your first thought is that it belongs to the man and you look around to see if he's still around to give it to him, but he's nowhere. It's as if he's gone with the wind.

"Miss, your driver has been waiting outside!" The concierge informs you from behind his desk the second he sees you.

"Yes. I'm coming!" You hurriedly shove the pocket watch inside your purse.

As Kim instructed, you come late to the exhibition and it's already filled with people dressed so impeccably for the occasion. You take a deep breath before entering the scene that is the least you wanted to be.

You take your coat off and hand it to the girl handling the coat check, along with your purse. You feel naked even though you're not, but it's not just the dress, being in the crowd is not your forte.

The first thing to do in a situation like this is to find Kim. You avoid making contact with everyone you're walking past as you look for her in the crowd. It's not hard to spot her when she's always the center of attention anywhere she is.

"There she is!" She gasps the moment she sees you're coming her way.

She puts away her champagne flute and walks up to you, embracing you like the trophy you are, "My rising star!"

Kim puts her hand on the small of your back and smiles brightly while discreetly judging your look.

"Isn't she amazing?" She brags you off to the group of people she's talking to.

You can only sheepishly smile next to her and avoid everyone's eyes.

"She is the artist behind those magnificent sculptures," she adds with that saccharine smile of hers.

They're starting to throw praises at you and you can hear all of them talking at once, making you more uncomfortable staying in there.

You take a step back but Kim's hand does not allow you to escape, she glances at you and takes the cue.

"Excuse us," Kim says to everyone, "Enjoy the exhibition!"

Kim steers you away and pulls you aside, before you can comment on her choice of dress, she snatches the chance from you.

"You could've picked nicker shoes," she whispers through her gritted teeth at you.

You automatically look down to see your heeled shoes which you think match the dress you're wearing.

"I–I think it's—"

She cuts through your words, not giving you a chance to explain. She grabs you by the elbow, "We have no time to change it," she says, then steers you somewhere.

As Kim continues to brag you around like you're the art piece instead of the artist, you start to get that feeling that she's using you.

As a matter of fact, she used you to propel her career as an art dealer. Ever since you agreed to let her sell your art for you, her career took off.

You're more than happy to be of help but she does everything extra and she's been taking you to meet a lot of people that their faces started to blur and it's getting overwhelming that you need to get out of it.

"I'll just—" You barely finish your sentence when you walk away and find somewhere to gain some composure.

You keep walking until you find the restroom and push yourself inside, lock yourself in one of the stalls just sit on the toilet, and just breathe.

You hear the ruckus outside the stall and someone probably needs to use the toilet, you reluctantly get up to start heading outside.

The plan to leave unnoticed comes to a failure when Kim is already there right outside the restroom, "Where have you been?"

You take a deep breath to calm yourself and try to explain, "Kim, I don't think I can do this anymore. I—"

Then again, she never let you finish your sentence, "One more. I need you to meet your new potential buyer."

You grip the side of your dress and you feel like tearing it apart, "No, Kim. You know how I do with people, I don't— I just want to go home," you desperately tell her just to let you go when you're an adult and can do whatever you want.

Kim lets out an exaggerated huff and sends her fringe flying off her forehead, crossing her arms in front of her and you know what's coming for you.

"You think I'm doing this for me?" She asks.

Actually, yes. The initial plan is to sell your art but in the end, she makes it all about her.

"I'm doing it for you!" She says, turning it all on to you. She always finds a way to turn it all on to you, making you feel guilty and defeated.

Talking back to her means that you're saying yes to war and you don't want to fight a losing fight. You fist the fabric of your dress trying to suppress the anger brewing inside you.

"Just one more person," you meekly say.

Her face softens at the sign that you're once again giving her the power, "That's right. Just one more and I'll let you go."

You finally let go of your dress and you wipe your sweaty palm down the back of your dress as she guides you back to the gallery.

"All you have to do is stand next to me, smiling and explaining your art to people," Kim instructed like that wasn't what you've been doing all night.

Except that she forgot that you need to fake all of that.

Kim takes you to one of your sculpture displays and three people in suits have been waiting, talking with drinks in their hands.

"Hello, gentlemen," Kim says with an extra polite voice that makes you shudder at how fake she sounded.

"Heard you're looking for the amazing artist behind these beautiful sculptures?" She continues, presenting you like you're the one who's about to get sold, not the sculpture.

One of the three seems to be the one in charge with a stance that oozes confidence and power, a smirk that only someone who grew up with a silver spoon stuck to his mouth can master. He looks years older than you but his face shows no fine lines but that's just because he never had to frown in his life.

"I adore your art so much," he praises with a teeth-baring smile.

Kim turns at you and introduces him, "This is Nicholas de Ville from the de Ville family."

The way she enunciated his last name only means that this person holds importance and she expects you to impress him.

He holds his hand out next with an expensive, shining wristwatch decorated his wrist, "I'm Nicholas de Ville. You can call me Nick."

He may seem nice and polite because all privileged people learn manners but they only apply that lesson in real life occasionally.

You take his hand or else Kim will force you to do it. You shake his hand for a while and accidentally meet his gaze as you try to take your hand back.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. de Ville!" You say as politely as you can.

"Nick, please!" He insists with a smile.

"And the pleasure is all mine." He adds with a smile that says so many things and they send a chill down your spine.

Kim lets go of her hand and lightly touches you on your arm, "Mr. de Ville wants to know more about your sculptures so..." she quietly pushes you his way.

Nick courteously laughs and says, "Would you be kind enough to give me the tour?"

You consider it for a moment but seeing Kim's glare, you know you have no option.

"Yes, sure, I would love to," you answer with a strained smile.

"Great! Please, lead the way!" Nick says.

When you think the other two are coming with you, it's just you and Nick, walking through your sculptures and you explain each one without trying to bore him like Kim has taught you a few times.

"... it's inspired by the Greek mythology. The apple in the arrow means that when it comes to love, we know no rules, we follow our desires—"

Nick is too busy looking at you instead of looking at the sculpture you're tirelessly explaining to him. Guessing that he isn't interested, you stop talking altogether.

"I'm sorry if I'm rambling," you sheepishly say to him and keep looking at the sculpture.

"No, no, that's okay," Nick says with a smile and takes a stand close to you, also looking at the sculpture.

"Your art is as beautiful as you," he says.

You're getting uncomfortable at how close he is with his elbow brushing yours. You nervously swallow air and lowly mutter, "Thank you."

Nick takes it the wrong way. He takes it that you're replying to his flirtation when you thought he was earnestly complimenting you, he starts to place his hand on your shoulder.

You reflexively shrug his hand away but that only sends his hand down to your back where he can touch your exposed skin. As his fingers make contact with your skin, you take a step back until his hand drops.

"I'm sorry," you regret apologizing for something that you didn't do wrong.

He looks at you as if he didn't just do something wrong or touch you without your consent. You feel repulsed by yourself and take another step back, "I'm sorry, I just need to—"

You keep walking away, away and never looking back.

-

The musty smell and dust that hang in the air welcome you to the studio.

You take your dress off the first thing you do when you get there and put on any clothes you can find in the dresser, a black T-shirt and worn-out jeans.

You put your earrings inside your purse and the pocket watch you collected earlier spills out of it, falling onto the couch.

You're intrigued to see inside the locket to get a hint on who the owner is, you're trying so hard to open it with the strength you have but it won't budge.

Exhausted from trying to open the antique-looking object, you give up and walk over to the sculpture you're working on. You put the pocket watch down on the table next to your carving tools, then pick up a chisel and a hammer.

For every hit of the hammer, you feel like unleashing something that makes you feel lighter and lighter and makes you hit the chisel harder and harder.

You eventually get exhausted and take a step back, leaning against the table while looking at the unshapen block of stone in front of you.

You grope around for a bottle of water and take a sip, putting it down as you wipe your mouth after. Your fingers nudge something as you place your hand on the table, it's the pocket watch blinking under the fluorescent light.

It seems to be calling for you, inviting you to try and uncover the mystery inside.

Looking at the small chisel next to it, you decide to give it another try by prying it open with the chisel. You slip the sharp end in the crack and use your strength to push it open only for the chisel to slide to the slide, cutting the side of your finger.

You drop the pocket watch as blood drops from the wound onto the table. It's not the first time you injured yourself, you know what to do. You go to the bathroom, wash your finger under the running water then grab your first aid kit from the drawer.

After tending to your small injury, you decide to not continue working when you're angry. You take another sip of water and lie down on the couch.

With the quiet that hangs in the room, you slowly drift into sleep.

-

SEVEN DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD.

The darkness greets you even though you have opened your eyes.

Pretty sure you kept one of the lights on when you went to sleep but it's all dark now in the room, you can't see anything but lights that shine through the cracks of the blinds.

You slowly get up from the couch to turn the light on, carefully walking to where the switch is, and once you flip it, lights flood the room.

The first thing you see is the pocket watch that is now open, you walk over to the table and pick it up to see inside that it's just a normal watch but it doesn't have numbers on it like all watches have.

You close it and see that your blood tainted the lid, this time, you can easily open it without a hassle.

"Hello!" A voice says.

Surprised to hear a voice coming from it, you drop it back onto the table. A moment later, you laugh it off, thinking that you misheard it considering that you just woke up from sleep.

With hesitancy, you pick the pocket watch again and look at it. Your thumb wipes the glass cover of the watch.

"Hi, Hello, I'm Minho. I'm a demon. You anointed this talisman with your blood so now we're bound together and—"

It speaks again and in response, you hurl it across the room until it hits the wall and drops onto the floor. You stand there, frozen on your feet, and wonder...

"Look, I've got a whole introductory speech here," the voice says again, coming from the part of the room where the pocket watch is.

For protection, you stand behind the open bathroom door and look at the pocket watch talking like a lunatic you are.

"We got to work together," it says.

You whimper hearing the voice again and you know that it's real, you're not making this up.

"Can you pick me up? Just pick me up. Come on, pick me up! Please?" It demands.

You take cautious steps to get to where the pocket watch lies on the floor.

"That's it, come on. Come on. I won't bite, I promise. Come on," it says as if it could see that you're coming to pick it up.

You swallow air and slowly bend down to pick it up from the floor, holding the pocket watch in your hand.

"As I was saying, you anointed the talisman and the rules are you've got to carry out three human sacrifices over the next seven days or else the world is going to end," it speaks again.

That's a lot of information to take in, not to mention that you're already having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that the pocket watch is talking to you.

"W-what?" You breathlessly say.

"If you want me to help you, you need to permit me entry."

Entry? That sounds like a bad idea. You just stand there and look at the pocket watch.

"Do you permit me entry? Yes or no?" It asks.

You shake your head and convince yourself that maybe it is not real.

"You have to say yes. Just say the word yes."

This is not real, you tell yourself out loud.

"Or let's do this, if you say yes, I'll... I'll stop, okay? I'll go away. You'll never hear from me again like this didn't happen." It persuades.

This is not real, this is not real, you chant in your head.

"Just say yes. Say it! Say it. Say it. Say it," it chants louder and it starts to fill your head, endlessly echoing.

You want it to stop so you impulsively say, "Yes."

The chants stop and the light flickers off, filling the room with darkness again. You whimper in fear as the pocket watch starts ticking in your hand.

You hear something deeply breathing a few feet from behind you. Curious, you spin around on your feet to see what it is, but you can't see it as it's lurking in the dark

However, you feel good about not being able to see it as fear creeping up inside you. You walk backward until you hit the wall behind you.

"Hey, come on, what's the matter?" The thing says as he takes a step forward, revealing his form to you.

The first thing you can make out the shape of that thing is two long horns on his head and two red eyes.

"All right. I lied about going away," he says in a deep, growling voice.

"My regular appearance is a bit too much for this realm."

He takes a step back and disappears in the dark. After a while, he takes another step to the front and has already taken a different shape. He looks normal now, as in looking like a human and not just any human, he looks like...

"I peered into your soul and apparently, this is a physical look you find appealing so..." he says with his arms spread out and a proud grin on his face.

"I don't know. Let me have a look!" He walks over to the mirror hung on the wall next to you.

He looks just like the sculpture you made, he has a sharp nose, chiseled jaws, and a hair color as intense as red roses go. You feel a mix of fear, awe, and confusion inside and it's getting overwhelming.

He leans close to the mirror and fixes his hair, "Wow!"

He seems impressed by how he looks, "Okay, isn't it what you want?" He turns to you.

Not getting an answer from you, he smiles, then says, "Uh... I mean, I can work with this."

You can only whimper with your mouth parted open, having a hard time wrapping your head around this situation. If it's happening or not, is he real or not, did you take your meds or not?

"You have to calm down so we can talk. Just talk to me!" Minho says, noticing that you're in a state of panic.

For a split second, you see his eyes flash like those belonging to feline creatures, gleaming like two marbles in the dark. You can feel cold sweat on your back as you slump down against the wall until you're sitting down on the floor.

He squats down in front of you and reaches for your head but you're quick to dodge away from it.

"You know, we have got to work together," he assures you.

It's not fair that he has a face that came from your imagination, it gives you a sense of familiarity that lures you to give in. However, you're not sure if you should be giving in to him.

You bang the back of your head to the wall, close your eyes, and repeatedly chant like it's a mantra, "You're not real. You're not real. You're not real."

But that is not enough to expel him. You open your eyes and still find him there. hand and a grin.

"Like I said, we have got to work together," he tells you again.

To give you the space to gather your thoughts, he walks around the studio while talking, "You marked the talisman. I don't make the rules."

With the lights turning back on, your eyes can easily follow his figure going around the room and looking at the sculpture you're working on.

His fingers slowly graze the rough surface of the carved stone and then he turns his head at you.

"Basically, we need to deliver three human sacrifices by next Friday or else it's..." he informs you again as if you haven't heard him the first time, "burning skies time."

You can feel anxiety rising inside you and your throat is closing up, making it harder for you to breathe.

"I sense you need convincing. Uh..." Minho walks up to you again and offers his hands to you.

You look at his hands for a moment before letting him help you to get up from the floor. You imagine your hands reaching for fragments of your imagination but instead of that, you feel his warm skin and firm grip as he hoists you up until you're standing on your feet.

If he's not real then how can you hold him?

He looks at you for a second to make sure you're okay then nods, "Let me show you how this will play out, alright? What will happen if we don't succeed," he says.

He walks to stand behind you and puts a hand in front of your eyes, "You ready?" He asks, his hot breath fans your neck as he speaks.

You're not sure what he's asking you to get ready for. You're not even sure if you're living the reality right now.

"Ready?" He asks again and once again his breath tickles your ear.

"3, 2, 1!"

As if you're being transported to another time and place, you open your eyes to see fire. It's the studio but it is on fire.

"This is what we're dealing with!" Minho says but you can't see him anywhere.

Fire is everywhere and you can feel the heat of it burning your skin and thick smoke filling your lungs that you start coughing, retching for air.

"Scorching wall of flame. It's agonizing death for all and so on," he continues.

You're flailing around to get air, walking to the window to open it only to find it hot to touch and you see that the whole city burns with you. You hear people screaming and sirens blaring everywhere but anywhere you look, it's just blazing fire.

You get away from the window until your back hits the table behind you and snaps you back to reality. Your head turns to the side and see Minho there, leaning against the table next to you.

"See, burning people they smell like... a burnt slice of meat on a griddle. It's better if you dissociate from it," he coyly says.

The images are so vivid that you feel the need to escape it, run away from here and so you do. You make a run to the door and he's already standing there next to it.

"If we're being honest, I don't want the apocalypse to come about any more than you do," he says.

You turn the knob and open it, running through the hall that leads to the exit door. Yet Minho is already there too.

"So let's stop it happening, you and me, mmh?" He says to you.

"All we have to do is deliver three sacrifices in seven days," he pops at the end of the hall.

You yank the door open and find him standing outside the door.

"It's only three killings," he says with a malicious laugh.

You rush to climb down the steps trying to escape what you know is like trying to get out of your head, it's inescapable.

"Animals don't count. You have to do humans," Minho informs at the base of the stairs.

You hurriedly unlock the iron gate and pull it open, running into the street in the middle of the night but of course, he's already there too.

"We can do like one kill a day but I'm good with one kill in two days and—"

You decide to go the other way from where Minho is standing and just aimlessly walking to avoid him. You know the neighborhood but not as good as when it's at night.

You walk down the stairs that lead to the riverbank, feeling more afraid of Minho instead of being mugged at night.

"That is fewer people than die falling off ladders in the same time period," Minho magically appears on the stairs, leaning against the railing.

"You'd be less lethal than a ladder," he adds with a sly smirk.

Your eyes are watery either from the cold wind or the anxiety taking over you. You sniffle before talking to him, "If I talk to you, you're real so I'm not going—"

You walk away before you can finish your sentence and walk along the riverbank, hugging yourself.

"Well, we started conversing already so that ship has sailed."

You can't believe that he's still following you when he knows exactly why you are trying to get away.

"No, it hasn't," you persist when you know he's right.

"Oh, oh yes it has," he talks back with a mocking tone.

You stop on your track and grunt in frustration, bending down to pick whatever is close to you.

Minho stops walking as well and says, "Don't worry. We're a team. I'm on your side, you know?"

He takes a step forward and keeps talking, ignoring that he's the reason why you're so frustrated.

"Let's just get kill number one under your belt, mmh?" He says in a softer tone.

You turn at him, your finger pointing right at his sharp nose and sternly tell him, "You can stop it because I am not killing anyone!"

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and try to face him again, "You're not real so I don't why you keep talking to me," you snarl.

Minho coyly smiles at you and calmly responds, "That's what I'm here for. Moral support!"

He takes even a closer step to you and lowers his voice, "So, just hold on to that rock and hit someone with it!"

You get confused by what he said, "What rock?"

He eyes your hand on your side, "The one in your hand, love!" He answers.

You don't even realize you've been holding it until he pointed it out. The moment you know, you can feel its weight in your hand.

You gasp in surprise and glare at Minho, "I'm not doing what you say."

You hear footsteps coming from under the bridge and turn around to see a middle-aged man, "Are you alright, Miss?"

But Minho sees it as an opportunity, he stands and looms behind you, whispering evil things into your head.

"Mmmh... yeah," he hums in victory.

"He's perfect. No witnesses. Talk about beginner's luck," he whispers to you so close that it feels like he's living inside your head.

You feel his hand resting on your shoulder as he further persuades you, "Just one quick pop to the head and you're done."

For a second, you wanted to do what he said just so he could stop bothering you. However, the conscience in you is talking you out of it.

You walk toward the man and try to seek help from him, "Please, make him stop!" You say, gesturing to Minho who's standing right next to you.

The man looks confused by what you said and asks, "Make who stop?"

Disoriented by what's real or not, you keep looking back at Minho, then at the man, getting pushed to where you hit your limit.

The man walks up to you, feeling more concerned for you that he asks again, "Is everything alright?"

The relentless demon he is, Minho stands close next to you and whispers, "Would it help if I told you I can see into this man's soul and he absolutely deserves to die?"

This time you know it's his way to get what he wants, to get you to do the deed. You look away and hastily shout, "Shut up!"

Yet Minho keeps talking about the man as he's giving you a stare, one that you're way too familiar with, and convinces you that he thinks you're crazy.

"He has a wife and a daughter, you want to know what he does to them?" Minho's words hold intense hatred in them like you can feel the bitterness of it on your tongue.

You look at him to see if he's just tricking you to kill the man, "Don't trust me? Well, get a load of this!"

Minho covers your eyes with his hand again and this time, images of the man abusing his wife and daughter over and over again that you can't bear to watch anymore.

He snaps you back to reality again and says, "You'll save them both from years of pain, shame, and guilt."

Fueled by the rage from what you've seen through Minho's vision, you launch yourself at the man and hit him hard on the head, sending him tumbling to the side and into the river.

You stand there watching his body sinking into the water until the air stops bubbling to the surface of water and that's when you're certain that he's dead.

The man is dead.

Despite the shock, you manage to walk away while still carrying the rock in your hand, and once you realize you've been holding to it long enough. You throw it into the river then break into a run back to the studio.

You vomit everything into the toilet bowl once you're back in the studio, retching nothing but saliva and air.

Minho is standing at the doorway of the bathroom as he says, "It takes some used to but a couple more of that and I'll be out of your hair," he says.

You flush the toilet and sit on the bathroom floor, looking at him with teary eyes and the shock that hasn't left your body yet.

He pulls out the pocket watch and shows you that the Roman number written inside has gone one line, "See? One line has gone which means one sacrifice registered. Two to go."

You get up from the floor and drag yourself to the couch, feeling so drained by whatever has driven you to do unimaginable things, one that you thought you'd never done in your life.

-

Morning has passed but you can't find the energy to live for the day.

You're lying down on the couch watching the sky turn brighter with every hour passed. It hasn't sunk in yet what you did last night. It feels like a dream but at the same time, you can still feel the weight of the rock in your hand.

Minho has been quiet but you know he's lurking in the room and he decides to interfere by standing in front of you.

He tips his head to the side and asks, "How long are you going to stay like this?"

He then sits on the other end of the couch and says, "Well, you have to, at least, do whatever it is you do as a sculptor. You can't have people getting suspicious."

How come he takes it lightly? How did he get so calm after telling you to kill a man and watch you doing it?

"Fucking shut up!" You shout at him.

Talking to him makes everything unbearably real and it makes you recollect what happened last night. The guilt, the disgust you feel for yourself, the blood on your hands, you can see everything now under the daylight.

"I killed a man," you croak, saying it hurts that tears start to crawl out of you.

"I've killed someone," you meekly say with a tear rolling down from the corner of your eyes.

"Yeah, but that was hours ago," Minho nonchalantly says.

"I keep feeling the crack of his skull on the rock," you pause to sniffle and turn to look at Minho, "I did that."

But he wouldn't get what you feel because he's not a human in the first place. Minho is a demon.

"It's your fault. You're not even—" You stop talking because it's no use to talk to an entity that knows no compassion.

You brush your hair to the back and deeply sigh. Turning your head at Minho again to ask, "Why is this happening to me?"

You use the heel of your hand to press on your eye to stop crying, "I'm not a bad person."

"No, no, no," Minho quickly denies.

He moves to stand behind the couch and leans close to you, "It wouldn't work if you were. It has to be someone corruptible," he explains.

Your forehead wrinkles and forms a questioning look on your face, trying to make sense of what he said.

"If you think about it, what's happening here, it reflects really well on your character," he says with a smile.

What he said only assures you that you are a bad person. What you did is the reflection of what you truly are, a bad person.

You nod and wipe your wet cheek with the back of your hand. You get up to sit on the couch and grab your purse, rummaging inside to pull out your phone.

"What are you doing?" Minho asks with a panicked voice.

You dial the police line on your phone and show it to him, "Calling the police."

He jolts on his feet and sits next to you on the couch as you hit the call button.

"But why?" He asks.

You can hear the dialing tone ringing so close to your ear, "So they'll arrest me," you simply answer.

Minho nervously chuckles, "Then you won't be able to do the other sacrifices," he reminds you to rethink your choices.

"Good!" You shortly respond, trying to stay in your right mind this time.

"Then the Apocalypse will happen and billions will die. I know, I know, I get it. You don't want blood on your hand but if it saves billions..." He's babbling, desperately trying to stop you from turning yourself in.

The way he puts it that way, he makes you choose the lesser between the two evils. 

"Hello, police department, may I help you?" The operator speaks on the phone.

Kill three people who deserve it or save billions of innocent people?

You find yourself hanging up the call and putting your phone away, once again failing to do the right thing.

"See? You're a good person!" Minho says as he exhales in relief.

To be honest, you don't know what's good or bad, right or wrong anymore. It's one big blur to you.

You feel frustrated once again, you feel like a failure but on the bigger picture, you're trying to stop the world from ending.

But can you really save everyone?

-

You can't wait to dwell on everything in the comfort of your apartment. Before you can do all that, you need to set boundaries with him. You face him and look him right in the eyes, "I have six days to kill two more so please, give me a break for now."

Minho gets quiet for a moment before nodding in agreement, "That's fair."

Feeling the need to wash yourself from whatever it is clinging to your body, you get a shower and take your meds to help you decompress while sitting on the end of your bed in your bathrobe.

"I don't know why you take those pills," Minho says as he enters your room.

You quietly sigh at him and say, "Can you at least give me a few minutes until it's working?"

"Want to wash it down with wine?" He offers, showing the bottle of red in his hand.

You shake your head, "I can't drink alcohol after taking antidepressants," you answer, not sure why bother answering him.

"That sucks!" He says and puts the wine bottle down on top of your dresser, "I was thinking we could celebrate our first kill."

You feel a little faint at the mention of the word kill and celebrate being put in one sentence. You climb onto the bed and pull your duvet, "I need to rest."

Minho appears at the end of your bed, looking down at you with his dark, wide eyes, "That's right. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

"Can you turn the lights out for me?"

"Certainly."

The room turns dark but you get a newfound comfort in it.

"Goodnight," Minho's voice caresses your ears like a spring breeze.

You don't want to get used to this but you feel inexplicably at ease that there's someone else with you in this vast emptiness.

"Goodnight, Minho."

-

SIX DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD

You jolt awake to the sounds of your phone ringing on your bedside table and you know who it is without having to look at the contact name. Your fingers are tapping the phone screen as you squint your eyes to make sure you hit the accept call button.

"Yeah?" You ask as you put the phone on the side of your face while you're lying on your side with your eyes closed.

"You're still sleeping?" Kim asks, noticing the sleep in your voice.

"Mm-mmh," you hum in answer.

"You know what time it is?"

"I don't know. Nine or ten?" You wildly guess by how badly you want to go back to sleep.

You hear her sighing from the other line of the call, "It's almost 2 in the afternoon," she says.

You force your eyes to open to check the time yourself and see that it is indeed two in the afternoon.

"Oh?" You innocently gasp.

Realizing that may piss her off, you hurried to shift the conversation elsewhere, "Yeah, uh... why are you calling again?"

You fear that she's going to be mad about you abruptly leaving the exhibition or worse if she knew about Nick. You hold your breath, anticipating her answer.

"Oh, yes, I have good news," she says with a smile that you can feel from your end of the line.

"You sold four sculptures, darling!" She squeals.

That's exciting news but you don't have it in you to participate in that excitement, yet you feel relieved you can properly breathe at ease.

"That's... That's great!" You meekly say while raking your hair to the back with your fingers.

"I've been calling you since yesterday, you know that?"

"Oh? I, uhm..." You take a moment to think of an answer.

Summoned a demon? Found out that you have seven days to the end of the world? Killed someone to stop it?

"I needed—"

"Never mind!" She rudely cuts you off, "Guessing from how tired you sounded, you must be going straight back to work, huh?"

The sculpture is still a chunk of unshapen stone but yeah, you worked on it just a bit. Well, a work is a work.

"Yeah, I-I did," you sputter your answer yet thankful that all of her guesses are off the mark.

"I'll come with the paperwork tomorrow. For now, you can rest now or work some more, knock yourself out," she says, couldn't care less about what you're doing now that you've made money and she got to feed on a few percent of it.

"Thanks, Kim!" You say, because it's better to always be on her good side.

"Oh, come on! We both working hard," she kindly refuses but you know she feels entitled to this.

"Let's have a dinner to celebrate," she suggests.

"Yeah, yeah," you half-heartedly answer.

"Talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay."

"Bye!"

You don't even bother to say it back knowing that she'll hang up right after she said her bye. Since you've woken up already, you sit up on the bed and pull your knees up, hugging your feet as you gather your thoughts.

In your peripheral vision, you see a flash of red from the doorway of your room. You turn to look and see Minho standing with the side of his body leaning against the doorframe.

The all-black outfit he's wearing makes his honey skin glow and his hair look like a blazing fire under the sunlight. He smiles once he notices your eyes are on him.

"Morning, sunshine!" He sweetly greets you with a smile that is a little unsettling but a whole lot attractive.

He crosses his arms in front of him, exposing the veins coiling his forearms, "Oh, wait, it's way past noon," he says with a grin.

Looking at him only reminds you of the responsibility you're carrying on your shoulders: saving billions of people from being incinerated.

"Are you always like this or...?" Minho asks, breaking the silence that hung in the room as you think of the dire situation you're in.

Minho approaches you and stands at the end of the bed, "You can't stay in all day. We only have five and a half days left," he reminds you of the time-sensitive quest you're in.

The only way to save those billions is by killing three people. That's the only thing on the pro list, there are just too many cons, mainly on the killing part. The only good thing that comes out of it so far is that you only need to do two more killings.

God! What have you become?

"What should I do?" You hopelessly ask him even though it's a bad idea to ask a demon such a question.

"Just carry on as usual so the people around you don't get spooked," he answers.

It's you and him, him and you, there's no one else you can seek help from.

Minho is right. You can't just sit here and watch the day goes by or else the thing you've done would come to a waste.

You slowly scoot over to sit on the edge of the bed and rub the sleep of your eyes, not ready to face the day when you know you only have six days left to stop the end of the world.

"And while we're going on about the day we can decide who to kill next," Minho adds.

The devilish grin looks beautiful on his sculpted face but everything he says sending a chill down your spine.

-

"Oh, an old lady!" Minho exclaims as an elderly lady enters the elevator.

You silently watch as he scoots closer to her and smells her head, "She smells like... oh! She's sweet."

You silently groan in the corner watching what he's doing.

He places his hand on the lady's shoulder and says, "She can't stop thinking about the end though. She can't wait for it to come."

He looks at you with that wild grin plastered on his face, "You'd be doing her a favor."

You lightly shake your head at him to make him stop playing around the poor lady but he doesn't get the clues.

"She dreams of death. Even now—"

"Shut up!" You say through your gritted teeth.

The old lady turns to look at you, "What is it, my dear?"

You quickly put on a smile for her, "Oh, nothing," you politely say.

Minho walks up to stand next to you again and whispers in your ear, "Just do it. No one will miss her."

"Shut up!" You whisper back while throwing daggers with your eyes at him.

"She's nearly dead already!"

Thankfully, the elevator dings open and shoots his idea down as you step out of the elevator.

"We need to start to pick someone!" He persists as he follows you walking in the lobby.

Minho is such a nuisance.

It's hard to ignore him when he keeps talking, making remarks about everyone he sees, and constantly around you the whole time.

It's when you're working on your sculpture that you get to immerse yourself in your work and disassociate from reality.

All you hear is the slamming sound of your hammer on the chisel and pieces of stone falling onto the floor. Looking down at the mess you made, you spot one particular piece of stone lying close to your feet. You stare at it for too long you get the recollection of that night.

The weight of the rock in your hand, how you bashed someone's head with it, and the splashing sound of the man falling into the water, all of that vividly playing in the back of your head.

You stagger backward and drop your chisel onto the floor, the clattering sound echoing in the spacious studio.

"I've been meaning to tell you this," Minho appears from behind the sculpture, startling you.

"We should order food," he suggests.

You put away your hammer and take off your mask, walking to the mini fridge to get a bottle of water.

"You're a demon. You feed on..." You think for a moment to finish your sentence as you unscrew the cap of the bottle.

He snatches the flyer stuck to the fridge door and asks, "Pizza?"

You close the fridge and walk over to the couch, plopping yourself down before chugging some water into your system.

"You need to eat so you can—"

"Kill?" You finish his sentence.

Minho scrunches his nose and sits on the armrest of the couch next to you, "I was about to say think but yeah, that too," he says.

You untie your pinafore and throw it aside, he isn't wrong to say that you need to eat. What's the point of saving the world if you're going to die of starvation?

You let out a sigh and grab the flyer from his hand, typing the numbers on your phone screen.

"Cheese pizza, please? With a lot of pepperoni!"

How can you believe that he's a demon when his choice of pizza topping is like a toddler's?

-

"Good evening, Miss!" The concierge greets you as he sees you enter the door.

"Hi," you greet back, impatiently wanting to get back to your apartment to dwell on your fate again.

"Miss Kim came by and dropped something for you," he informs, taking out a big envelope from your mailing box.

There's a faint sound coming from the small TV tuned to a news broadcast when you come to the desk to collect it.

"Here it is, Miss," he slides the big brown envelope across the shiny surface of the desk. There's a note on top of it which you immediately recognize as Kim's.

You open to do a quick check on what's inside when you hear a glimpse of the news from the TV.

"...man found dead in the river has been identified as Ben Watson, a financial officer of a bank company, leaving a wife and a seven-year-old daughter who has been notified about his tragic death..."

You glance at the small screen and see the photograph of the man you killed that night. You can't possibly be wrong about this when you remember the horror on his face as you lifted the rock before swinging it hard to his head.

"Is there anything wrong, Miss?" The concierge asks.

You snap yourself out of your daze and put the envelope close to your chest as if someone about to steal it from you.

"No, no," your voice is quivering in panic at the sight of the man you killed.

"Thank you," you abruptly the conversation with gratitude and walking fast to the elevator.

The warm water doesn't work to calm you down when you're tainted inside. You feel filthy, inside and out. You feel sick seeing your reflection in the mirror.

You've been holding your medicine in your hand but you need something stronger, you ditch the pill and run to the kitchen.

You pull out the wine you have in the kitchen cabinet and drink it straight from the bottle, chugging it like it's water. You gasp when you stop drinking, taking the bottle with you as you sit on the sofa while you're still in your bathrobe.

"This is how you're going to end the day?" Minho asks, taking the bottle of wine from you to take a sip.

"Can you stop talking about killing for just—" You choke on air as anger bubbles up inside you.

Minho holds his hands up in defeat and leans back on the sofa next to you, "I'm just saying..." he meekly says.

The silence only resides for a minute until he speaks again, "Look, the earlier you get it done—" he stops talking when you shoot him a glare.

You take the bottle of wine from him and take a long gulp, a drop of wine escapes the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin.

You aggressively wipe it with the sleeve of your bathrobe and recline on the sofa, looking out at the city lights that look like pinpricks in the dark of the night.

"I'm crazy..." you sadly remark.

Those words remind you of a sobering fact that what people think of you: crazy.

Ever since you were still an art student, people often found you talking to yourself in class, always in your little world with your imaginary friend. That leads you to this solitary life because normal people avoid crazy.

"People are right about me. I'm crazy," you state again, and saying it out loud makes your heart aches.

Minho turns his head and looks at you with his dark eyes that weirdly provide you warmth, "You're not crazy."

But why would a normal person kill a person because a demon told him to? You don't even know if he's real and not a product of your imagination.

"I'm a murderer..." you say with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart.

He scoots closer until he sits close next to you, his shoulder bumps with yours on the big sofa that could fit five people. He looks at you and gently says, "Yeah, but not a crazy one."

Minho has a way of looking at bad things positively. You chuckle at the irony of his words. You can't tell if you should be happy that you're not crazy or sad that you're indeed a murderer.

He slumps down on the sofa to be on the same level as you, also turning his head to look at the view, "Want to know something?"

Instead of answering, you take a sip of the wine. You know he'll keep talking even if you refuse him.

"This is actually my first assignment," he shares.

He drops his hand on the space on the sofa, merely inches away from yours, "It's more of an initiation, sort of earning my wings."

You look at him and get a little taken aback by the proximity you can see yourself in his eyes. You almost forget what you were trying to say to him, "What are you trying to say?"

You look away because he looks exactly like the one you envisioned on your sculpture, divinely beautiful that it's hard to comprehend.

"I'm saying that I'm new to this too," he answers.

Again, you can't tell if you should be happy or sad to know that. Strangely though, you find comfort in his words.

You look at his hand splayed so close to yours and it evokes the curiosity in you that needs to be fed. You gently flip over his hand and gently slip your fingers on the spaces between his fingers, you can feel the warmth and the roughness of his finger pads on each finger.

Minho is real, he's real, you perpetually assure yourself.

You glance at him and he's looking at you, your eyes meet in a tender gaze.

"Are you real, Minho?"

You're aware of how much that question weighs. If the answer is no, you know the insurmountable pain you brought onto yourself.

He slowly blinks and you can see his dark lashes fanning out so beautifully. His crimson-red lips open and says, "I'm as real as you want me to be."

Words aren't enough to convince you. With the despair filling your heart, you lean in and innocently put your lips on his. It's a kiss that feels more than just a physical act, one that you didn't know you needed.

After getting the reassurance that you need, you pull away. However, the hand lingering on your jaw tells otherwise. He touches your face with just his fingertips yet it's enough to send a tingle inside.

Slowly, he leans in to kiss your closed eyelids ever so softly and before you know it, he brings your face closer to place a tender kiss on your lips. 

And for the first time in your life, you feel the warmth no one has ever given you.

-

FIVE DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD

"You wake up early!" Minho says as you dress up to get ready for the day.

You ignore his words, continue collecting your things around the room, and put them into your bag.

"Are you trying to match your clothes with me?" He says, looking at your all-black outfit while sitting on the headrest of the sofa.

This morning, you woke up on the sofa still in your bathrobe and a blanket covered your body. The first thing you remember is you kissed him last night and somehow, it convinces you to keep going with the quest.

However, you still feel conflicted with what you do. You need to make sure of one thing.

"How about this handsome fucker?" Minho asks, pointing to the other person riding the elevator with you.

The man looks indeed handsome, he dressed so impeccably when it's only ten in the morning. He catches you looking and smiles at you.

You politely smile back and look away only to face Minho who's standing on the other corner of the elevator.

"He'll be losing his hair at the age of 32 and spends the next 29 years taking it out on his wife," he whispers even though no one can hear him but you.

The taxi ride to the hospital only takes fifteen minutes and you know where to go right away from the array of flower arrangements outside the separate building from the main hospital.

"Please tell me you're not doing what I'm thinking?" Minho asks in a concerned voice.

You wish to be able to shut him up for a few minutes until you can find what you're looking for. The hall is packed with people in black attire to what you can safely assume are the guests of the mourning family on the two funeral services being held by two different families.

You read the sign that leads to the Watson family yet pretend to be the one visiting the other family. Before you can sneak into their funeral service, you see someone taking the daughter outside.

"This is a bad idea!" Minho panickly says.

It's kind of alarming to hear because it's the first time he sounded genuinely concerned. You follow where the little girl is being taken and turns out, she's being taken to the park outside, probably to avoid her feeling overwhelmed.

"You're not a relative. People will get suspicious of you!" Minho nervously whispers.

You come over to the two men chatting and kindly ask for a cigarette even though you don't smoke. You stand at the other side of the door and take a drag of the smoke to be seen convincing.

"I know you're worried..." Minho sighs.

He stands next to you with his head hovering close to your ear. He takes a breath before talking, "She's not in mourning. She's not not mourning," he says as you both quietly watch the girl sitting on the bench and drinking a juice box.

"Happy that it's finished but sad that he's dead. But it has finished!" He emphasizes the last word.

You take another drag and accidentally do it excessively, sending you into a coughing fit.

"You spared her another five years of it. A lifetime of therapy," Minho explains, "a lifetime!"

You look at him to see if he meant what he said. He's a demon after all, the vision he forced you to see could be misleading, a trick to make you do what he says.

He looks back at you and smiles, "She's a mom at 29. A nan at 57," he shares.

See? He knows how to comfort you even though you don't ask for it. You give up on pretending to smoke and stab the cigarette butts onto the big ashtray. You shove your hands into the pocket of your jacket and start walking away to the parking lot.

"Why are you telling me this?" You curiously ask.

He nonchalantly shrugs as he walks next to you, "I just thought you'd like to know."

-

"Did you see that?" Minho shouts as he leisurely watches TV with his feet up on the couch.

You pretend not to hear him and continue sculpting, hitting the hammer harder, louder to drown out his voice. As if he read your mind, he appears behind you and places both of his hands on your shoulders.

"You should see this!" He insists, steering your body and making you watch the TV.

It's a broadcast of night news about climate change and he magically changes the channel to show news about nuclear testing.

"It's manifesting. Do you understand?"

Minho keeps switching the channel to show you every bad there is happening in the world, everything that shows the sign that the world is close to ending.

You lightly shrug him off and say, "We got this kind of news a few years ago but—"

Minho holds you by the shoulders and shakes you awake, "This is real. We don't have much time and you're the only one who can stop it!" He reminds you of the harsh truth.

Somehow that only makes you question why you have to be the one to bear such responsibility. Billions of people on earth and they chose you?

"I'm not ready yet. I'm—"

"Don't you want to see that little girl live her peaceful future?" Minho asks.

This is where you know he's being the demon he is, using your weakness to his advantage and making you give in to the temptation.

It's not so much a temptation when you have no other options, it's killing or being engulfed in flames on Friday. You muster up your courage and think of something to do.

The first killing was what Minho said it was: a beginner's luck, the man happened to be there and an abusive bastard, even in his grave, he shall not rest in peace.

This time, you plan to do it meticulously and without mistakes. You walk to the kitchen and pull open the drawer, taking out a knife you occasionally use to cut your sandwiches.

Minho shakes his head in disapproval of your choice of weapon, "You're not a knife person," he concludes.

You look at him, demanding an explanation behind that haste conclusion.

"It's messy. You could hurt yourself," he explains.

That sounds right. You put the knife back into the drawer and look around the studio to find potential killing weapons.

Minho leans into your side and whispers, "Let's choose something that is more you!"

You look at him and see that he's eyeing the table full of your sculpting tools.

You pick up the medium chisel and show it to him to seek his approval. You meet another disapproval as he strongly shakes his head.

"It's too specific. They'll know it's you. You're the only sculptor living in the area," he gives you an insight into how the devil's mind works.

You must admit that he just saved you from making a mistake. You pick another weapon that you're familiar with but also gives you the upper hand to do the killing. You pick up the hammer and turn around to show him.

A smile rises on his face as he nods in approval, "That's you! You're a basher!"

You bring the hammer close and observe it, it feels good around your hand since it's a tool that you work with most of your life.

"You've had the practice now. It'll be easier this time," Minho says with a sinister smile.

You want to believe his words so much but the nerves get to you. Your breathing becomes erratic once you realize what you're going to do with the hammer.

Minho puts his hand on the small of your back and holds you steady, "Liquor courage! That's what you need! Booze!" He suggests.

"I don't keep any alcohol in the studio," you meekly say.

Considering that sculpting involves a lot of sharp objects, it's wise to not keep anything that would dull your focus.

"Also, I just took an antidepressant an hour ago," you inform him.

"Oh, shit!" He curses and leans his body to the back, against the table.

Minho crosses his arms in front of him, then rubs his chin as he thinks of something. He then leers at you with a smirk dancing on his face, "Well, do you want a drink?"

-

There's a bar a few blocks away from your studio.

You got here in need of liquid courage and there's plenty of them here. You plan to only consume enough alcohol just to calm the nerves but not too much to lose your focus.

It gets you anxious to step into a new environment. You decide to go straight to order drinks.

"Whiskey, please?" You say to the bartender with a handlebar mustache.

Bartenders tend to remember the faces they have seen and yours must not have registered into his memory bank. He puts away the cloth he's holding.

"You want ice with it?" He asks.

"I'll have it dry," you answer since you came here for the alcohol, not for refreshment.

"Easy, love. We have work to do," Minho reminds as he props a hand against the countertop.

Knowing that one drink wouldn't be enough and you don't want to bother the bartender again for a drink, you decide to double.

"Make that two, please!" You hurriedly say before the bartender starts making your order.

"You don't have to get one for me," Minho grins at you.

The bartender takes another glass with him to finally fill them with your choice of potion.

"I didn't," you whisper back at him.

You immediately pay for it and bring your drinks with you to the empty spot in the corner of the bar, hidden behind the pool table.

You slowly sip your drink and feel it running through your system, stripping a layer of senses off of you, making you less aware of your surroundings.

"Okay, you see anyone tasty?" Minho asks as he sits next to you.

He cranes his neck looking for the next human sacrifice among the people who are enjoying their concoctions. His finger points to the guy with a beanie and drinking a pint of beer.

"Oh, that one perfect!" He exclaims.

He stacks his hands on top of the table and leans forward as he further speaks, "Burglaries. Mostly target the elderly. What do you reckon?" He turns to you for opinions.

The alcohol is not quite there yet so you take a longer sip. You feel the alcohol burns your throat and you wince from the bitter aftertaste.

"No?" He asks as he looks at you.

You know he's asking about the human sacrifice, not the alcohol but the answer is the same, "No."

Minho moves on. His eyes are pacing around the room to study people and check their backgrounds with his evil power.

He taps your shoulder as he finds his next candidate, "See that girl with the pints?"

You can easily spot the girl with curly hair, carrying two pints of beer in her hands.

Minho leans in close to your ear to give his intel, "She went on holiday when she was 12 years old and saw her sister drown in a swimming pool."

He suddenly lowers his voice as he tells you the rest of the story, "She could have pulled her out but she just stood there and watched."

Maybe it's true that people are the scariest.

They may look ordinary and good and all yet inside, lies this darkness that they buried deep inside them. If Minho hadn't told you, you would have taken her as a pretty girl with a nice smile and nothing more.

Minho pulls at the sleeve of your shirt and points to another guy, talking to his friend by the pool table. You're about to wave him off again until the guy turns his head and you know who it is.

"How about him? He likes to secretly film girls by drug them and once he—"

"Sent a girl into overdose," you finish his sentence.

Everyone knows who Tim Shaw other than a student in our faculty and more importantly, people know what he likes to do to innocent girls yet no one dares to make him take responsibility for what he did.

Until one night, he drugged a girl and left her on the cold floor of a club, unconscious. There's no evidence that he drugged her or it was he drugged, ended up with him getting dropped off of all charges.

You have one more drink to finish and you gulp it in one go, wanting to use this opportunity to get back for what he did to that poor, innocent girl.

Minho triumphantly smiles, knowing that you have set a target on Tim's head.

"I think we have a contender," he concludes.

-

Tim is exiting the bar and you take it as an advantage.

You don't need to lure him out, you wait a minute before you follow him outside to not seem conspicuous. Once you're outside, you look side to side to see where Tim is going.

"Perfect location. No witnesses," Minho answers as you both find him turning to the back of the bar.

Tim seems to hear your rushed footsteps and turns around to see you. He seems to be taken aback and you doubt that he'll recognize you. Being crazy has its advantages, you're off the asshole's radar.

You nervously laugh as he looks at you. You quickly think of something to say, "Oh, my God! It's really you, Tim!" You say with fake enthusiasm.

"I'm sorry but who..." he gets all defensive.

"I'm—" You don't know how to explain yourself other than 'the insane one from art school'.

"Oh, wait, you're that girl, the sculptor, the... uh," he brakes before he can say the infamous title of yours.

"The freaky one?" You playfully say.

He bursts into laughter and nods, "Hey, don't get me wrong. I like freaky," he says.

Minho points to the carts of empty bottles and gestures for you to use them instead of the hammer inside your bag that weighs your shoulder the longer you're carrying it.

"I was just getting a drink but it doesn't feel good drinking alone," you lie even though that's how you prefer to enjoy your poison.

"Yeah, I bet," he says with a grin that showcases his whitened teeth and malicious intent.

"How about drinking at my place?" He offers.

"Home turf. Even better," Minho comments, appearing behind you.

You don't want to seem desperate to be with Tim because honestly, you're just stalling to find the perfect opportunity to kill him. It's time to put what you learned from Kim into practice.

"I, uhm..." you rub the back of your neck and shyly smile at him, "I don't think that's..."

As you pretend to consider his offer, he's secretly checking you out. His eyes travel up and down your body, you bet he thinks of lewd things even though you're dressed like a bible salesman with the same outfit you wore to the funeral service.

He takes a step forward and smiles at you, "I live not far from here. You can easily crawl back here if you think I'm a bad drinking partner," he seduces.

Tim must have thought you were as gullible as the other. Oh, he has no idea the surprise you have for him!

"If you don't mind, yeah," you say with a low giggle.

"Okay," he says with a triumphant smile.

His house is indeed only two blocks away from the bar and he keeps boasting about how he owns a house from his inheritance and the rising price of property these days.

"Please, come in!" He lets you into his house.

You step on a crumpled beer can as you enter the living room and are horrified at the amount of trash littering the place.

"A few friends and I watched a football match last night," he concisely explains.

He takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack, "How about we drink in my room?"

You uneasily glance at Minho and he nods. You look back at Tim then put on a fake smile for him, "Yes."

He leads the way up the stairs and you follow him, climbing the steps with the hammer getting heavier and heavier inside your bag.

Tim turns around and sees you being hesitant, "There's no need to be shy now," he says with a lopsided grin.

You respond with a smile, keeping your head tilted up, and continue climbing up the stairs.

"Now!" Minho orders.

"Hit him with the hammer now!" He says again so close to your ear.

Your head snaps in his direction and hisses through your gritted teeth, "Shut the fuck up!"

Tim catches you talking and looks over his shoulder, "What's that?"

"Can't wait to see the bedroom!" You lie and add a giggle to sound convincing.

He smirks at you before pushing the door to his bedroom, "Come on in!"

His room is less messy than his living room in which he helplessly tries to make it seem tidy by flattening the pile of his duvet.

"You can sit down here," he says, patting the space next to him on the bed.

"You're not really going to have sex with him, are you?" Minho asks as he quietly watches you from across the bed.

A deadly glare is enough to answer him and he immediately refrains from pressuring you.

"I was just checking," he adds.

It's when you're in his bedroom that you start to fear Tim, not when you know what he is capable of. But at the same time, it fuels your hate fire, it reminds you of the reason why you need to eliminate scum like him.

"You keep your alcohol in your room?" You ask.

It's obvious that he took you here for different intention. He's taking you here for the sole reason that is to ruin your life.

"Oh, yeah, the drinks," he smacks his lips together and awkwardly paces in the room.

He reaches for the portable speaker on top of his dresser and turns it on, "You can wait for the drinks while listening to music," he says.

You nod, "That sounds nice!"

He gets out of his bedroom and heads back downstairs. While he's doing what you believe is spiking your drink with substance, you think of a plan on how you're going to kill him.

First, you take the hammer out of your bag and practice your swing. You get panicked with each second passed and haven't found a way to catch him off guard.

The footsteps on the stairs signal you that he's on his way here. You decide to do the classic way by hiding in the back of the door, planning to strike him from behind.

You see his figure entering the room, carrying two glasses of drinks in his hands, "It's your lucky day because I found a bottle of—"

Without thinking, you swing your hammer hard and hit him right on the side of the head. It's a weak blow and you can see that from how he's staggering backward, still conscious.

There's no turning back now that you have done it. You come charging at him, attacking him while he's still disoriented from the first blow.

He collapses onto the bed and not giving him time to recover, you keep hitting his head with the hammer with blood splattering the bed and wall with every swing of the hammer going onto his head.

You whimper as blood gets on your face and see that Tim is lying cold on the bed, dead. However, you land another blow just to make sure you've done it and leave no room for mistakes.

"You're good, you're good," Minho says from across the room.

That's when you stop and take a step back. It feels like your soul has left your body, you suddenly feel drained and the hammer drops onto the floor.

You look at the mess you made, the bloody mess and dead body, your life that is once far from all of it. Your throat suddenly closes up and you find it hard to breathe.

After a moment, Minho gets to your side to say, "You can't have that lying around," he's eyeing the bloody hammer lying on the floor.

With your mouth gaping for air, you bend down to pick it up and shove it back into your bag.

"Cleans anything you touched," Minho instructed.

You take a handkerchief from inside your jacket and use it to wipe surfaces you probably made contact with even though you're sure there aren't any.

You leave the bedroom after wiping the handle of the door and make a turn to the stairs when you hear the front door creak open.

You peek from the top of the stairs and someone is turning the lights in the kitchen.

"Get out before he sees you," Minho whispers.

It's bad when he needs to whisper like that even though no one can hear or see him, but you. The adrenaline is still pumping and you make the most of it by bracing yourself to make a run down the stairs and to the front door that is only a few meters away.

You take a deep breath before quietly descending the stairs without making any noise. You can feel your heart beating in your ear yet you keep going as the door is only a reach away.

You successfully land on the base of the stairs when your bag accidentally hits a flower pot, sending it breaking into pieces on the floor.

"Tim?" The man calls.

He looks at you with confusion drawn on his face, "Who are you?"

It's too late for you to break into a run as he sees your face and officially makes him an eyewitness. You can't leave an eyewitness, at least, not until you've done all three human sacrifices.

Is it necessary to kill him though?

You can think and consider as much as you want but it all comes down to the one question: kill or end the world?

-

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what you want — lee know

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, pwp, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, riding, hickies, very slight nipple play (m receiving), just pure filth no plot

inspo: skz talker episode 61, 16:25.

notes: it’s been so long and i’m still shaking off the rust on my writing muscles!! please lmk your thoughts. feedback is v appreciated <3

{ wc: 2389 }

you’ve been waiting for minho to come home all day. you could barely focus on anything since you woke up, a selfie from your boyfriend waiting for you.

‘i’m gonna die pt is gonna kill me’ was attached underneath the selfie he sent you. minho, in a black tank top that was admittedly a size too small for him, sweat and redness coating his skin.

it was cruel of him to send you such a selfie, turning you into a needy mess with something as simple as that. you had to write a paper—and now was not the time for him to be plaguing your thoughts. you managed to write most of it, in between thoughts of his strong arms and sculpted chest. in between thoughts of lining his skin with kisses and hearing his moans.

it was evening now, and minho was due home any minute—your excitement to see him growing to the point you checked your phone three times in four mintues just waiting for his arrival time to show up on your phone.

the sound of keys in the door brought you to your feet, rushing towards your boyfriend.

“hi jagi,” he smiled at you, leaning closer to kiss your cheek sweetly. “how are you?”

“horny,” you blurted out. you quickly gasped, covering your mouth with both your hands. minho raised an eyebrow at you, a one sided smirk sitting proudly on his face.

“i’m sorry!” you quickly apologised, “it’s just—well, no never mind! did you eat?”

minho chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you towards him.

“i did. why are you horny?” his hands slipped underneath your shirt, the one you took from his side of the closet, trailing his fingers across your skin.

“your selfie..” you admitted, sheepishly.

“i sent you that in the morning,” he states, “been that way all day?”

“no!” you quickly shake your head. minho pulled you closer, your hands having no choice but to rest on his firm chest. your fingers splayed across his tight shirt, feeling the thick muscles beneath the fabric. you let out softly that, “i wrote my paper.”

“good job,” he smiled at you, kissing your lips softly.

you smile back at him before you let him pull you in for another kiss.

you wrap your hands behind his neck, feeling around his shoulders as you do, and if you’ve moaned just a little at the touch you’ll just blame it on minho’s tongue against yours.

you let him move you around, fingers digging into your waist as you both blindly make your way to the couch. you feel the couch against your legs and minho softly lowers you onto the cushions, kissing around your jaw as he climbs on top of you.

you let him settle between your legs, sucking the skin on your neck while you run your hands up and down his firm back. feeling the way his muscles contract as he leans most of his weight on his arms and not you. with how strong he’s gotten lately you’re sure it’s not even that hard for him now. the thought makes your heart skip a small beat.

it’s when minho rolls his hips against yours, biting on your collarbone softly, that you realise this isn’t what you wanted. this isn’t what you’ve been fantasising about all day.

you push at his shoulders, causing him to look up at you with his big round eyes. they sparkle up at you, like they always do, before a question starts swimming in them.

“this okay?” he asks, bottom lip slightly pouted in confusion. his front teeth are more noticeable that way, when he’s a little confused, and you can’t understand how someone can be so hot and so cute at the same time. it makes you want to devour him.

“it is, min—“

“but,” he concludes from your tone, lifting himself up so your crotches are no longer touching. you can see his arms tensing as he does.

“there was something i wanted to do, if you don’t mind, i know you like taking control so it’s okay if—“ you can’t say more once minho kisses your cheek, ever so softly, and all you can do is sigh at your own rambling.

“what was it you wanted, jagi?” he asks softly, humming as his eyes search yours. a warmth covers your chest you aren’t too sure is appropriate for just how wet you are—but minho has always had that kind of effect on you.

“wanted to ride you, min,” you let out quietly.

he lets out a small chuckle, humming as he nods his head softly. “we can do that.”

“if it’s okay?” you ask, eyes wide and eager.

“i mean if you absolutely insist,” he rolls his eyes, smiling wide at you.

you scoff at him, shaking your head before you watch minho settle himself on the couch, patting his thick thighs in invitation.

you quickly climb onto his lap, settling in as minho slaps your ass lightly.

“i love watching you on top of me, you know,” he smiles, moving your hair behind your ears. he settles his hand on your ass, squeezing lightly, “and i can do this as much as i want.”

“you have a problem,” you giggle at him, rolling your eyes at his undeniable obsession.

“now you tell me all the reasons you love riding me,” he grins, much like a cheshire cat, as he rubs your hip with his other hand.

“well,” you start, running your hands across his chest, “i get to admire your body and all your hard work.” he hums in acceptance. you move your hands to his arms, up and down his biceps before you settle on his shoulders, “i love how strong your shoulders are, how i can put my whole weight on them.”

minho blinks at you a few times, nodding along as he eagerly waits to hear more. the hand once on your hip has now moved to your lower stomach, tracing back and forth over the hem of your pants.

“from this angle your cock reaches so deep inside me, too,” you say lowly, and minho ears turn a deeper shade of red than they were before, “i get to feel you so so deep, min.”

“i love how your tits look when you’re bouncing on top of me,” he says, trailing one finger from the hem of your shorts to your clothed pussy.

“i love when you slap my ass as i’m riding you,” you let out, breathing heavily.

minho laughs, squeezing your ass firmly. “i knew you like it when i touch your ass.”

“i never said i didn’t,” you defend.

“you like it when i touch you here, too?” he asks, eyebrows slightly raised as he rubs two fingers over your pussy—finding the exact spot easily. you nod quickly. “should i keep going? or do you need my cock already?”

“need it, min,” you groan, “need you inside me. now.”

after a bit of fumbling around and some uncoordinated kicking you’re both naked, and you quickly climb back into minho’s lap.

now that his shirt is thankfully far far away from him, you take a moment to stop and stare. shamelessly drinking him in. you squeeze his shoulders before trailing down to his arms and then you run your hands over his chest, down his stomach, across the dip from his chest to his waist.

you can feel minho watching you, but you’re far too distracted by the sight of him to feel ashamed. he’s yours, after all, and taking a moment to appreciate what’s yours should be allowed.

however, there’s a want inside you you aren’t able to ignore, and so you lean forward and press slow open mouthed kisses onto his chest, fingers splayed on his waist. you suck on the skin, too taut to move, and bite lightly before you move on to the next bit of skin. kissing everywhere you can reach, taking your time now that minho’s finally here.

you let your hands wander, let yourself feel the warm and soft skin of his stomach, the way it sends shivers down your wrist.

“jagi,” he sighs as you start sucking a few centimetres away from his nipple, “jagiya, let me feel you.”

“i’m here,” you remind him, bringing his hand into your hair. he cups your head, sighing as moved down slightly to suck on a new piece of skin.

“need your pussy, baby, please,” he moans, as you softly rub your hand against his pec, lightly tracing his nipple.

you can’t deny him, and the emptiness inside you is starting to ache, so you quickly grab him by the base as you line him up to your entrance.

you slowly sink down, feeling his cock stretch you out until you’re pressed flush against his thighs. the pair of you moan loudly at the feeling.

“god,” he lets out, hugging you closer to him. minho buries his face in your chest, breathing you in. “you’re so warm.”

“i’m so needy, min,” you chuckle, wrapping an arm around his beautiful back. “i want you so bad.”

minho thrusts upwards at your words, a small squeak like noise escaping you. he repeats his actions, over and over, barely letting himself pull out and focusing only on pushing in deeper.

he’s deep inside you, so deep you can feel a tingling in your neck, and all you can do is moan as minho takes control of the pace.

you can barely feel your thighs but you try as much as you can to meet his thrusts, leaning heavily on his shoulders as you push up and down.

the way his cock stretches you isn’t something you’re used to it, despite the many months you two have been together, and everytime minho fucks you like this you can feel it all the way to your toes.

you aren’t even sure your eyes are open but when they are, all you can see is minho’s sparkling brown eyes—looking so enamoured by you it makes you want to cry.

“min, s-so good, so good like-like this,” you let out in between punctuated breaths.

“giving you what you wanted, yeah?” he groans out, words light and breathless, “riding my cock like you wanted, jagi.”

“you always give me what i want, min,” you try your best to say, “always fuck me so good.”

you squeeze his shoulder tightly, supporting yourself as your thighs start to ache from the repeated bouncing. but the way his cock brushes against your soft spot makes it too hard to stop—the feeling so exhilarating you can only moan each time it happens.

you look down at where your bodies are connected, watching as your wetness glistens on his beautiful thighs.

you bring your hand to his chest, cupping his side as you rub across the few marks you’ve managed to leave behind. you smile softly at them before tracing the natural line between his pec and his stomach—much more prominent now he’s grown more muscles.

“had to mark me up, huh?” minho chuckles as he follows your line of sight.

“you’re mine,” you say before thinking, “wanted to mark what’s mine.”

at that minho picks up his pace as he brings his hand between your bodies, pressing on your clit lightly.

“keep talking like that and i’ll cum inside you, baby,” he moans.

“you’re fucking mine, minho,” you say, kissing him messily, “you’re so beautiful and it’s all mine.”

minho’s fucking you so fast and so hard, you fall forward, burying your face in his neck as you feel his release spilling inside you—minho moaning loudly in your ear. he stops for only a second to catch his breath before rubbing your clit just as fast, encouraging you sweetly as he says, “go on, baby, cum for me.”

your whole body shakes with it and you grab minho’s arms for stability, feeling them flex in your hold from his exertion. then, your vision starts blurring for a moment or two, your orgasm hitting you at full force. it’s sweet and so good with minho still buried inside you, your walls squeezing around his thick cock.

minho groans into your chest, kissing messily against your skin as he lets you ride out your high for a few more minutes.

once you exhale heavily, the fluttering of your walls relaxing, minho looks up at you with a lazy smile.

“you’re incredible,” he decides.

you giggle at him, kissing him firmly on the mouth. “so is your personal trainer.”

minho groans, rolling his eyes before he lets his head rest against the back of the couch. “please don’t take his side. one day he’ll end up killing me and then you’ll regret this.”

“you’re so dramatic, min,” you chuckle at him.

he hums in agreement, his lips a firm line as he nods. “i’m yours, though. you even said so,” he points out, a childish glint in his eyes.

“yes, and i think your cum inside me is further proof,” you scrunch your nose at him. minho groans softly, and you feel his cock bouncing lightly inside you. you can’t help but laugh.

you slowly run your nail across one of the marks you’ve left sitting proudly on his chest, smiling at your little creation.

“should i feed you now or are you gonna stare at my chest some more?” he eventually snaps you out of your minho induced daze.

“can you cook shirtless?” you raise your brows hopefully.

“that’s probably against some health and safety regulation, but if that’s what you want,” he kisses your forehead lightly before tapping your hip in a silent request to get up.

minho quickly grabs something for the mess, cleaning up the couch and your thighs before he gets you a change of clothes. he doesn’t bother wearing a shirt, as per your request, while he finds something quick to cook for you—insisting on feeding you before you get too sleepy.

minho let’s you run your hands all over his chest as he works, attached to him from behind as you kiss his strong back muscles. he doesn’t complain, not at all, and twists his head to meet yours every few minutes—pillowy lips puckered up dramatically in a silent beg for kisses.

you, of course, happily oblige. you’d give minho whatever he wants.

no nut november with skz

-> where the boys decide to participate to the challenge. who will be the winner ?

-> IMPORTANT : all these works contains smut, minors dni.

enjoy !

❃ day three

-> hwang hyunjin - first to lose

❃ day eight

-> seo changbin - second to lose

❃ day thirteen

-> lee felix - third to lose

❃ day eighteen

-> bangchan - fourth to lose

❃ day twenty three

-> han jisung - fifth to lose

❃ day twenty six

-> yang jeongin - sixth to lose

❃ day twenty nine

-> kim seungmin - seventh to lose

❃ first of december

-> lee minho - winner

masterlist

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

The Punch It Cinematic Universe(PICU)

drive with me, baby.

a street racing au filled with burnt rubber, high speeds, and equally high tension.

lee minho x reader.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Punch It | 5.1k

There’s an unexpected opening for the leader position of Changbin’s street racing gang club. Naturally, Minho stepped up, ready to fill in the role. He didn’t expect anyone to challenge him, though.

Floor It | 2.8k

You and Minho have been driving circles around each other for months now, but you can't seem to figure out what's holding him back from being the most skilled street racer in the city. Tonight, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Or wheels.

Burn It | 3.6k

The Golden Tire Cup semifinals is today, and Minho has the opportunity to get the Wolfgang Street Racing club to the finals for the first time in four years. Hopefully with you by his side, he'll be able to make it into the top two.

back to bbokari+

𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 | LMH

wc: 2.8k

warnings: switch!minho, switch!reader, perv behavior, reader is inexperienced but not innocent, masterbation (m+f), breast play, pillow humping?? idk it's like grinding but with a barrier lmao, handjob, (unintentional) edging, protected sex (still kinda risky tho idk, please don't do this), consent happens!

summary: minho knows what he's doing is wrong. but what's a little jerking off to the thought of his unsuspecting roommate?

BEFORE YOU READ.

minho knows what he's doing is wrong. he knows and he feels like shit about it. but the way you looked in those lounge shorts this morning haven't left his brain since. your pretty bare legs and how much he wanted them over his shoulders, together with his most recent obsession with stealing your panties got him where he is right now.

he's pretty smooth about it, he'd like to think. steals them from your laundry basket, jerks off in them, then cleans and returns them when he's sure you washed that load. saying something along the lines of "found them stuck in the washer when i was doing laundry, think the machine ate them", which sounds like an innocent and nice thing of him to do, you even blush a little as you take them from him, flustered that he saw your panties. little do you know that seeing wasn't the only thing he did with them.

it's kind of shitty, minho admits. the only reason you were comfortable sharing a flat with him was that he was nice and respectful of your personal space, unlike other potential male flatmates who would've been so perverted and never left you alone. with minho, you felt safe. sure at first you did lay out rules and set boundaries, but the more time you spend living with him, the more you start to develop a friendship.

he's very cool about splitting chores, be it cleaning, cooking, etc. he asks first if it's okay to have his friends over and use the common living room, especially if they're staying until late hours. and always always knocks, muttering a soft whisper of your name and a "can i come in?". if it's something he just needs you to know about, like that dinner's here, he just knocks and says it, doesn't even bother to come into your room. it all just went to prove further that he had no malicious intentions towards you— minho was probably the most kind and respectful man you could have as a roommate. but right now, he was feeling shitty for being everything but that.

it's only you that makes him like this though. he's had a crush on you for a while now, but being almost sure you weren't interested in anything with him other than a casual friendship, he just kept it to himself. until it slowly started taking over him, thoughts of you clouding his head at every point of the day. and of course, not all of them are about how pretty your smile is or how soft your hair looks. some of them are about how he would love to bend you over that counter and pound into you, or how he wants to bounce you up and down on his cock while he sucks on your tits.

it's filthy, and he knows. but as long as he doesn't act on them, these thoughts are harmless to have, right? fucking his fist with your little panties laced between his fingers just like he's doing right now is harmless as long as you don't find out, right?

his eyes are closed, lips parted, picturing that he's thrusting up your wet cunt as his hips move slightly up in the air and then down on the sheets in a desperate pace. your panties are already messy, soaked in cum from his last orgasm. his moans are not the quietest either. thankfully, he has chill music playing through the speaker in hopes to absorb any potential sounds that might travel to your room next door.

to his luck though, the bluetooth speaker runs out of battery and the music is now playing on a much lower volume from his phone. but minho couldn't care less, not when he was close. breathy moans and chants of your name, together with a mantra of curses and whines alternatively leave his plush lips as his eyebrows furrow in concentration, the usual careful minho now impatient and reckless. it's late anyways, and you're probably sleeping.

but the twist of a doorknob proves him wrong, abruptly pulling him out of his state of bliss.

his eyes shot open now, the first instinct he has is to hastily grab a pillow and throw it over his crotch as he sits propped up by his elbows, head turned in the direction of the door. his breathing is still unsteady from the building high that just left him.

there you stand, in nothing but a spaghetti strap crop top, panties and fluffy socks, hair a little disheveled and eyes heavy. were you sleeping? is this what you sleep in? he doesn't know, but he's definitely fantasized about it before. your name escapes his lips as he eyes you in terror, did you hear? just how much did you hear?

"i heard my name." you mumble, taking a step forward into the rather small room, soon reaching the side of his bed, and minho has to struggle to keep his eyes on your face and not ogle at your body in the dimly lit room.

"oh. uh, no i didn't call you. it must've been the music." he stutters, trying to sound nonchalant about it, but his big eyes are scanning your face for any hints of how you feel or what you'll do.

you look down to the pillow on his lap and he follows your gaze, eyes widening even more than they are when he sees your panties still in his hand. clumsily, he tucks them under the pillow before looking up at you.

"i-it's not what you think." it is. he feels stupid for saying this. it's like a line from a rom-com he would cringe while watching.

minho feels so dirty. being caught masturbating to the thought of his sweet roommate by none other than her. not only that, but now she also knows it's not the washer's fault that she can't find her underwear, it's because her perverted roommate cums in them every other night.

to his surprise and confusion, you just smile at him innocently. "oh i know. i know you weren't calling." you say, one knee now on his bed before you slowly climb over to him.

"it sounded more like you were longing for me. hm min?" you push his shoulder back for him to rest back on the sheets, and your strong roommate is surprisingly malleable under your touch. a barely audible whimper leaves him at the name, but minho thinks he has to get his shit together.

"i'm sorry. i'm really sorry. i know you think i'm disgusting right n—" he begins his rambling, flustered and trying to explain himself out of this situation but you cut him off by pressing your lips against his.

it takes him off guard, of course. he doesn't know how respond. does he kiss back? do you want him to kiss back? he has no idea. but minho decides to let the tiny greedy voice in his head win and moves his lips against yours, savouring a moment he's not sure he's going to have again. you could slap him right after you pull away for all he knows.

but you don't. you just hold his face in your hands, breathing against his lips. even though you just caught him doing what he was doing, you still feel the need to ask before proceeding with anything.

"do you want me?"

he can't seem to look away, pretty eyes sparkling even in the dim room. "only if you do too." he whispers.

"then have me." upon hearing his answer, you straddle his lap, pillow in between your cores as you kiss again; messily this time.

"can i?" he breaks the kiss to ask, hands ghosting around your waist, waiting for your permission to touch, to squeeze, to feel you, finally.

you sit up, peeling your top off, "you can touch to your heart's content. if i'm the only one."

"have been for the past couple of months." minho assures, admitting to his little crush.

you cup your breasts, watching the way his eyes almost cross as he takes in your bare torso. "fuck," he mutters, and you have to take his hands in yours, guiding them up to your tits and inciting him to fondle instead of just staring. the way he plays with them, gently squeezing and letting his thumbs toy with your nipples makes you heave a sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you start moving your wet core on him.

truth is, you were also touching yourself to the thought of him just now. it was inevitable, given how attractive and charming your roommate was, but also especially after you found out that your name sometimes escapes his lips. it's hard to make out really, you'd have to sit down and lean on the thin wall separating your rooms to hear his moans through the music, sometimes even skin slapping if he's been at it for more than one time. you were hoping your ears weren't fooling you, even though you were sure he's never had someone else over. tonight though, and as the music abruptly stopped, you're pretty sure it is your name that he's moaning out. and so you decide to make your first move.

the way you roll your hips on minho's sensitive cock, though through the pillow, makes him let out an unfiltered moan, just like the ones you heard earlier from behind the wall. one of his hands leave your breasts to grab a hold of your upper arm and pull you down towards him. he steals your lips in a much more hungry kiss, his own hips now slowly rocking up in sync in search of more friction. friction that he finds and soon takes over him and paralyzes his lips from kissing you— hanging apart, eyes closed as he focuses on the way your hips move on him.

he needs more than that, you think. so you get off him, slipping the pillow from between your bodies before taking a hold of his cock that's now up in the air after being pressed against his stomach.

"is this what i interrupted? you didn't get to finish?" you start jerking him off and all he does is moan, hips jolting up at the sudden contact as the prettiest sounds fall from his lips. you feel your own heat pooling between your legs just from listening to him.

"i didn't either, you know. had to come here when i heard you moaning my name so prettily, sounded so needy for me." you let him know, and it's breaking news to minho, hooded eyes fighting to widen in surprise. "you t-too?"

"yeah, min." your eyes trail down to spot the undergarment that sits forgotten on the sheets.

"like jerking off in my panties?" you coo at the thought, "thanks for washing them before handing them back, that's very nice of you." minho only moans at the praise, turning into putty beside you.

"do you want to ruin these ones too?" you offer, straddling him again. "i've already made them wet though."

"no—" he gasps, an arm flying to what you assume is towards his nightstand. "condom."

"don't worry, not inside." you whisper to him in reassurance, melting at the way his first instinct is to think of you even in the blurry state of mind he's in. "not yet."

you slip his cock through one of the leg holes of your panties and up to the waistband before sitting on his balls. your bare core drags over his base while one hand makes sure the tip is given the attention it needs, gently pressing on it alternatively and rubbing your thumb over his slit.

"please—" minho gasps; close, and you realize you've accidentally edged him three times now. when you first walked in, grinding on him with the pillow in between, then when you jerked him off just now. poor baby, no wonder he's desperate. and you think you don't want to toy with him any longer.

"don't worry, you can cum." you reassure him in a soft voice, "then you'll have to make me cum as well, right?"

minho nods his head frantically at your question. you could've said anything to him at that moment and he would say yes regardless, so desperate for release. "y-yeah, 'll make you cum, fuck, please—" he stutters, and it doesn't take longer than a few seconds for him to shoot his load inside your undergarment, the fabric immediately soaking it all up.

after he's done catching his breath, he flips you over, slipping out of your panties and peeling them off you.

"wanna help you finish too." he says, reaching again to the side and fetching a condom from the nightstand drawer. but you take it from his hand, grabbing it with both of yours and ripping the packaging with your teeth, then spitting out the plastic piece.

minho watches in awe. the way you just made him cum in your panties, how your hands moved on him so gracefully, the way you talk— it's all unexpected to him. "how do you know all of this?"

"i'm not as innocent as you think." you tell him. it's true, but not quite. most of your knowledge would've been from other sources than your own personal experience. you didn't engage in that much before, but your imagination constantly running wild did make up for it, especially with minho being the perfect subject to fantasize about.

he grins, amused. "yeah? put it on me then." he straightens back up, letting you reach down to grab his cock, attempting to push the latex on it but it's trickier than you expect. remains of his cum making it harder for you execute the task you're doing for the first time.

"i-it's slippery." you glance up at him nervously after feeling his gaze on you. you can tell he's still smirking too, enamoured by your clumsiness.

minho chuckles, "give it to me." he says before rolling it out along his length with much more ease than you.

pushing your legs up over his shoulders, he hovers over you to join your lips again, moving his cock up and down your slick folds to lubricate. but the motion makes you long for him impossibly more.

"minho, fuck me. now." you pull away to tell him and he laughs sheepishly at your eagerness, "sure, princess."

circling his strong biceps with your hands, you throw your head back deeper into the pillow as you feel his cock slowly inching deeper inside you, your mind already gone.

"what's wrong? did my dirty princess never have her little pussy stuffed this full?"

it's been, but not this full, not this gracefully. the way he fills you up makes you breathe out dragged moans.

"n-not dirty." you still manage to argue back, missing his praise already, as if he wasn't just doing that.

minho coos knowingly, lips ghosting over yours, "not so innocent either, whining on my cock. hm?"

his dirty words only encourage you to be more vocal yourself. "fuck, you feel so good."

"'ll make you feel even better."

after giving you a few seconds to adjust, he starts pumping his cock into you, his thrusts not so fast but gradually getting harder that it makes you see stars, loud moans filling the room that was already smelling like sex.

"fuck, sound so pretty. always wanted you under me like this." he admits, entranced by your sounds that until now he just got off imagining, now he can hear all loud and clear. you just whimper in response, too focused on the way minho slips in and out of your walls. "feel good?" he pushes you to use your words.

"so— so good, fuck." your eyes threaten to roll back, the position making him hit really deep inside you and you feel your high approaching.

"gonna make you cum, pretty girl." he exhales, the way you clench at his words getting to both his head and sensitive length. "all around my fucking cock, yeah?"

"fuck, please."

"don't need to beg, just let go for me, i got you." minho picks up his pace, contrary to the way he softly cradles your face in his hands, pushing you over the edge.

♡

"does this... change things between us?" you trail once both of you have finished, him lying by your side after filling the condom. you can't help but already think of what this just made you.

"only if you want it to." minho breathes, just as careful with his answer as you were with asking.

"only if you like me back." whispering, you look at him with hopeful eyes. as much as you enjoyed it, you want him for more than just sex, much more.

"i do, i fucking love you." he's quick to answer this time, reassuring you with a kiss.

"good." you smile, nuzzling his chest.

"can i sleep here tonight?"

"whenever you want."

[thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, please leave a reblog, sharing your thoughts is optional but highly appreciated! if you want to be notified everytime i post something, please refer to this post here ♡]

𝗹𝗶𝗽𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀 | LMH

wc: 3.6k

warnings: praise, marking (a lot of it), profanity, one (1) lie but it's harmless, possessiveness? idk minho just wants to show off, brief grinding, fingering, biting, finger sucking, semi-public sex? but like no one is there dw, car sex, unprotected intercourse.

note: i would say lils bullied me to write this, but that would be a big ass lie. thanks to @gimmeurtmi 's big brain for enabling my very horny thoughts about lipstick stains on minho. it was so hot we yelled about it twice.

BEFORE YOU READ.

standing in your apartment's doorway, you check your hair one last time in the mirror before turning to your boyfriend.

"do i look okay?" you ask him, looking at his figure that's crouched down to slip on his boots.

minho looks up, smiling upon seeing you're genuine about your question. "do you have any idea how much self control it's taking me to not rip that outfit off you?" he says in a soft voice, so much in contrast with his words and you wonder everytime how is he able to do that.

your eyes immediately leave his at the comment, "you could've just said i look fine." you mumble, cheeks heating up.

"fine is a criminal understatement." minho says, hands reaching up to rest on your sides from behind. you look at him through the mirror, the way he eyes you down almost makes you shiver. you wish you could have that effect on him.

he also looks good. way too good actually. the all black combination of high waisted pants and a zip up shirt you didn't know he owned made your head spin. matched with two belts crossed over his waist and a thigh strap that only accentuated his thick thighs, he looked criminally attractive.

but your eyes keep travelling back to his shirt. ever since he slipped it on a little while ago, zipping it up his toned torso, you can't stop thinking of pulling it back down. it didn't help that the zipper kept slipping down due to gravity, seems like mother nature was testing you tonight.

you also wanted to rip it off him, but you couldn't say that as confidently as he did. so you just settle on turning to face him and telling him you could say the same about him.

minho smirks in fulfilment at the praise and leans in, trying to steal a kiss but you move away. he blinks at you in confusion, minho was too used to getting what he wants, because it's usually what you want as well.

"see this?" you point at your face, swirling your finger. "this took forty minutes." you warn, letting him know that if he dares to ruin your makeup he will have to face consequences.

minho pouts, but he knows better than to argue with you when you're in scolding mom mode, not to mention how he watched you spend a long time doing it meticulously so it looks perfect.

still, he hasn't kissed you in more than an hour— which is too much in minho's books. "i'll be careful, please?" he tries his luck one last time, pulling out the soft voice and doe eyes card.

"i'll do it." you say nonchalantly, hiding the fact that his behavior made your heart melt. you cup his face and peck his lips, careful not to move yours on them too much. your lipstick was allegedly kiss proof, but you didn't want to risk ruining it before you even leave the house.

"that's it?" he raises an eyebrow, unsatisfied.

"what more do you want?" you mirror his reaction, teasing him further. you know he can't argue back when you nag him, it was your dynamic. he ruled the bedroom and you had your way aside from that, almost. "makeout before the party even starts?"

"oh so we are making out once the party starts. sweet." he smiles, taking advantage of your wording. smooth fucker.

"no. not in front of your friends."

"why do you think i want you to be there?"

"because i'm also jisung's friend?" you answer, not sure what he's hinting at. you were close to minho's friends, but just enough to hangout occasionally from time to time. you knew them through him after all, and were still a bit awkward. jisung was probably the closest one to you in comparison to the others, so he actually insisted that you come. minho on the other hand, had different thoughts.

"that, but also to brag about what i can pull." he says proudly, like he's talking about a trophy. he knew a slightly bigger circle of jisung's acquaintances were invited, some of which he wanted to prove some points to. "of course we're making out."

you scoff at his answer. is there really anything to brag about here? minho was hot and respectful. pulling partners wouldn't be an issue for him at all. "well, you can pull way better than me so that doesn't prove much." you mutter honestly, looking down.

"don't be ridiculous, honey." he grins, "i've definitely hit the jackpot with you." minho steals a kiss on your cheek before scurrying away, reaching for the door.

"i said don't touch!"

♡

as you reach your destination, he leans his cheek towards you, asking for a kiss. "thank the driver." minho demands.

you roll your eyes before obliging, a small smile on your face nonetheless. he didn't have to use that excuse, if he wanted a kiss he could've just said so— you were done teasing him about your makeup.

as he lets you walk a few steps forward, minho quickly catches a glimpse of himself on the mirror of the doorway to jisung and hyunjin's apartment, making sure your lipstick stained his cheek. smirking to himself in satisfaction when he sees it, he follows behind you right after.

as the night goes by, you've completely brushed away that incident. until you sit down next to him on the couch, having a closer look at his face after a while and your eyes widen.

"what's this doing here?" a tiny gasp leaves your lips while you throw your hands up to wipe away the smudged product. minho tries to stop you, but he's not fast enough.

"well now you have to give me another one" he huffs, disappointed.

"what do you mean? i thought you wiped that earlier." you grumble, hoping nobody saw it.

"why the fuck would i do that." he retorts, lips slightly jutted up, "give me another."

you sigh in defeat knowing he will never let you hear the end of it, leaning in to place another kiss on his cheek just where you wiped the first one. "thank god it's dim in here." you mumble.

"we haven't made out yet." minho speaks again just as you lean away. "you said we'll be making out at the party."

you eye him in disbelief at his attempt to twist your words— trying to have more just after he had his way with the kiss. "you said that. i never did."

"try to be more specific if you don't want your words to be misunderstood, baby." he shrugs at you.

"you mean manipulated."

"details." he waves you off, "now take responsibility of what i've been promised."

you look around briefly before deciding what to do with your needy boyfriend. the couch was very much in the center of the room. "not here." you turn back to him.

"i know where." he says, grabbing your hand before getting up.

"really? the kitchen?" you groan, having hoped he had a more discrete spot in mind.

"nobody comes here, trust me. food is in the living room anyway." minho pulls you against him by the waist while he rests his hips on the counter.

"fine." your eyes trail down from his eyes to his lips, then they make the mistake of going lower, down his neck and chest. the zipper of his shirt rests much lower than intended, revealing some of his toned anatomy. the way the fabric hugs his arms, defines his shoulders and waist— it was ridiculous, there was no way this shirt wasn't illegal somewhere. together with how delicious his thighs were looking in those pants while he sat next to you earlier, you wonder how you even lasted this long.

you bite your lip before looking up, "not like i can resist you any further anyway."

minho's face gravitates closer to yours, eyes fluttering shut when he joins your lips together. your palms rest on his chest, not-so-subtly feeling him up as he works his way from your lips to your jaw, then down your neck.

"min, don't bite. t'will show." you whisper, though it involuntarily comes out as more of a whimper at the way he sinks he teeth on the sensitive skin.

minho's considerate enough to listen to you, but he has a condition. "fine. you mark my chest then." he argues, since it won't be as visible once he zips his top up.

but still, the process itself takes a few minutes and there was no way no one was going to spot you while at it. "not here." you eye the way his lips are already stained.

"why not." he asks right after you speak, visibly frustrated.

you just glance back nervously, conscious of the people present in the apartment. minho takes your cheeks in his hands, turning your face back to him. "i'll stop you if anyone's looking. don't worry." he reassures, acknowledging your concern.

you believe him, comforted by his tone. so you tug on his collar, just enough to attach your lips to his neck. chest was too much for now, but you still wanted to do this. he leans his head to the other side, giving you more access as he sighs.

"all clear?" once you spot the pink mark starting to bloom on the crook of his neck, you glance up before moving to his collarbones.

"all clear." minho confirms as he checks for you.

you slip the zipper to his shirt down, now more comfortable to suck on his clavicle knowing that no one's looking and that it can be covered. minho relaxes under your touch, letting a deep moan bubble up the back of his throat.

"quiet, you're enjoying yourself too much." you scold him in a whisper for not being careful.

"keep going. there's absolutely no one in sight." minho purrs, arms tightening around you as he tries to fight the smirk spreading on his face. head thrown back to rest on the upper cabinets, his hooded eyes are fixated on his target, making sure they're still looking at the position the two of you are in. and they are, of course; not looking the least bit entertained.

so that was a lie. but he had some scores to settle. don't get him wrong, he's in good terms with most people. minho just thinks some of them should know better than to fuck with him— or you. more than one of his casual friends he caught checking you out everytime he brought you to any gathering or hangout. it wasn't subtle either, straight up ogling at your legs or waist or any part of your body the outfit complimented that day. they never acted further, but it was enough to push minho's buttons. and tonight, he wanted them to know just who you belong to, and what those pretty lips of yours can do.

"more." he looks down at you when your mouth moves away from his skin, zipping his shirt back up.

"this won't do, let's get out of here." to his dismay— or maybe satisfaction, you turn around to find the door, one of minho's wrists in your hand.

his other hand sneaks up immediately to zip the shirt back down while you're not looking, revealing the hickeys already turning darker against his warm blushing skin. throwing a last glare and a high, sassy middle finger at the men in the opposite corner, he follows you outside. it was petty, but he didn't care. all he wanted was to leave this fucking party before things got out of hand.

they do once you step off the elevator that you messily kissed inside and into the car though. the zipper now fully disassembled, his chest soon gets covered with more kisses and thus lipstick stains, making him lose his mind at the sight, and yearn for even more.

"mark me, honey." he encourages, "don't be shy, we're all alone now."

"i'm getting there, pretty boy. been waiting all night." you moan, practically salivating at how ravishing he looks— soft skin adorned with pink and purple marks, hair tousled and sticking to his forehead, and smudged lipstick on his puffy lips.

his hands flips up the fabric of your short skirt, kneading your ass while you continue to mark him. "fuck yes," he groans, "all mine."

"you're all mine." you say back, tracing your fingers down his chest. "so pretty all marked up"

he looks up from his position on the driver's seat at you straddling him, the contours of your lips all blurry from kissing him, like you've been sucking on a red lollipop— and minho's brain shortcircuits. next thing you know, he cups your jaw and brings your face closer to his, his lips on yours, passionate and impatient.

"i'm going to fucking devour you." he pulls away just enough to growl, then orders. "backseat."

"aren't we going home?" you blink at him, already dizzy. but he's impatient, hands on your waist already helping you off him.

"not anymore, i'm railing you first."

after you settle yourself on back of the car, you begin to pull on your cropped long sleeve top.

"just open it." he suggests, nodding at the buttons conveniently aligned down your chest. "love fucking you in your pretty clothes."

just as you're done doing that, minho tackles you down, lips crushing against yours first then down your body, just like you did to him.

one of his hands tugs down impatiently at your bra as he marks his way down to your tits, before he recollects just enough consciousness to slip his fingers under your back and unclasp it, now pulling it down. it's messy, you could just take a few seconds to remove everything and let him feast on all of you, which he loved. but he also liked having you this way, like he was messily unwrapping a gift just enough to use it— use you. the thought alone made your head buzz, how hungry he is to practically devour you, just like he said.

"now you're all mine too." he speaks, breath heavy as he eyes the painting he made on you.

you smile up at him, "always been, min."

minho now towers over you, or atleast however much the car roof allows. his shirt now hanging on both sides of his torso, chest and abs adorned in pink and purple marks. he pushes the belts around his high waisted pants up to undo the button and they rest prettily on his bare skin. as he pushes his pants down, your hand instinctively reaches to grab his side.

"slutty fucking man waist." you find yourself muttering, enjoying the view with a smirk. "so pretty."

it's a compliment, minho knows. he mirrors your smirk proudly down at you. "fan behavior." he scoffs, eyes never leaving yours. he knows he looks good, knows he has you obsessed.

"i'd say i'm doing pretty well for a fan." you quip, hand going down to grab his cock but he yanks it away too fast, taking both of your wrists and pinning them on top of you.

"know your fucking place." minho hisses, his playful tone suddenly long gone.

you huff in impatience, "fine. fuck me then."

you know he doesn't like it when you try to go through things fast. sex goes by his pace and his pace only. but you're so in need of him and you know he is too, so what's the point of waiting?

minho doesn't waste a single word on you, his grip only tightens, burying your wrists further into the seat now that it hurts and you wince. he lets go right after proving his point, sitting back up.

"you take this fucking cock when i fucking say so." he spits, putting you back in your place for even thinking of bringing that attitude near him.

when minho pushes your legs up though, you think you're getting what you want. but he only hooks two fingers inside your cunt after moving your panties to the side, his other hand busy stroking him. the cold metal of his rings against your folds makes your head spin.

this is fucking absurd. you know he wants to rail you, he just said that earlier. but just to prove his point further, minho chooses to make you wait even longer.

his two hands work easily on the two of you, being ambidextrous, he always made sure to remind you how good he is at that. he leans in again when he sees you writhing under him, tits perking up as you arch your back and calling him for a taste.

a kiss, a suck, a nibble. his lips wander all the way from your neck to your abdomen, covering you in even more hickeys like a starved man. you're loud as you moan at his touch— louder than what's considered discrete for this setting. it's two in the morning and you're in an underground parking lot, but that doesn't make it your bedroom.

minho reaches the hand that was on his cock up, pressing the side of his palm against your lips. "bite." he orders before dipping back down.

muffled moans leave you as you feel your high approaching when he pumps his fingers faster. helpless under his touch, you weren't sure if you were pathetic for even trying to order him around, or if he was just too fucking petty that he had to have you creaming his fingers before even dreaming of having his dick. either ways, you clench on minho's digits as your first orgasm hits you, his tongue playing with one of your nipples only sending you over the edge.

"tight fucking pussy." minho breathes once he retracts his fingers from you. "so greedy, hm? you want my cock when two fingers are enough to get you legs shaking?"

you bite your lips. he's right, like he always is. his hands always worked wonders on your cunt, but you craved more. in a way, the sight of him hungrily nibbling on your bare chest made you long for him to mark you as his in more ways than just that— ways that involved having him inside you, something he wasn't giving you that easily.

having no other choice but to beg, "please." you mewl.

"didn't catch that." he sarcastically says, putting a hand around the shell of his ear and leaning in.

okay, now he's just being petty.

"please, min."

he can't hide the satisfied lopsided smile spreading on his face, he loved being worshipped. "one more?" he tilts his head at you, like he's the one begging. so fucking ironic.

"please. want your cock, if you wanna give it to me." you pull out your best behavior, good girl mode fully on and you know it gets his cock twitching. a few bats of your lashes for good measure, a glance down on his cock for extra spice and you crack his shell.

"hmm, so good for me." he coos praise at you, pushing your legs up again and aligning himself with your folds.

"wait. take it off." you pull at his shirt, and he takes that opportunity to tease you further, if even possible.

"pretty girl, that'll cost you some more beg—"

"please." you cut him off, ready to beg again and again at this point. "pretty please. want to mark you more."

"yeah? your mouth will be busy though." minho chuckles at you, indulging you and slipping his shirt off. the two fingers that are still covered in your slick now tap at your lips, "suck. you'll need it."

as he sinks in, it takes minho so much self control to not lose his mind at the way your walls suck him right in. "fuck, so warm."

that little sliver control slips away when you whimper around his fingers, eyes already welling up with tears at the pleasure. before he lets himself get completely overtaken by desperate lust for you, he reaches his free arm up, wrapping it securely over your head that's too close to the door for it to be safe.

and now that he made sure you won't be hurt, minho moves his hips frantically on top yours to chase a high that was quickly building up. "so good, no one else can have this fucking pussy."

♡

your fingers trace the purple hues around your clavicle, eyes fixated on your reflection as you lean forward in front of the bathroom mirror.

"you're insane." you start, nagging your boyfriend once again. the dynamic transitioning right back after you're both sated. "these will take days to fade."

he only chuckles by your side, looking at you through the mirror while he rests two palms on the counter.

"what about these?" he glances down at his bare chest before turning around, "you even ripped my back open."

you roll your eyes, "don't be dramatic."

"dramatic." he repeats in disbelief.

"i warned you." you remind him, "said i was gonna mark you more."

you did, but he thought you were talking about hickeys only when he shoved his fingers in your mouth, not expecting you to dig your nails in his skin. your touch was always soft, claiming you don't want to hurt him when both of you know that the way your grip tightens around his biceps when he fucks you into the bed does nothing to him. if anything, it only turned him on even more, he wanted to feel your desperate attempts at "hurting" him.

"back is new though." he comments.

"this kitten can scratch, you know." you lift a hand to show off your nails, looking at him through your lashes. the slight pout on your lips is endearing to minho, your attempt at threatening him only makes him want to take control over you even more.

"hm, need to tame you then." his voice drops, the smirk never leaving his features. your sore legs almost opt to give up on you as a reaction, but you quickly try to cover the effect he caused by teasing him.

"as if you're not actually obsessed with them."

"i am." he gives you a mischievous grin, "snap some pictures for me, will you?"

[thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, please leave a reblog, sharing your thoughts is optional but highly appreciated! if you want to be notified everytime i post something, please refer to my pinned ♡]

game over | lee know

pairing: lee know x afab!reader

word count: 6.5k

genre: smut, angst, fluff, best friends to lovers

warnings: minors dni, swearing, use of pet names, nipple play, fingering, protected sex

summary: after a night where the two of you accidentally end up cuddling on his bed, you and minho are forced to confront the feelings you’ve had for each other all along.

(a/n): *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? cheers to my first fic of 2024!! i have a goal to start writing more this year, so expect to see more of me soon! please accept this as an offering for my re-entry into the world of smut writing. i hope it lives up to your expectations and more. again, feedback is always appreciated! much love! <3

“I’ve watched you make Miles circle Harlem Station enough times to memorize the entire layout. If it wasn’t in there the first time, why do you think it’ll be there now?”

Your character pauses mid-run as you turn to scowl at Minho, the quest prompt taunting you on the left side of the screen.

He blinks like he’s asked an innocent question, like he didn’t just state the obvious to rub salt further into your pathetic wound. “I’m trying to cover all of my bases here, Min. What if I missed something?”

“You know, most people who discover they have superpowers take it as a sign to do something impactful with their life. Become a hero. Start a crime syndicate. Something.”

“But…?”

“But not Miles Morales. No, he figures he wants a silly purple suit and wages psychological warfare on innocent people with nothing better to do. Inspiring, really.”

You groan, picking the controller back up as Minho prods at your side with his foot. “You’re so unhelpful.”

You’ve been at it for a while now, perched on the edge of Minho’s bed, taking up residence in his room while he doom scrolls on his phone, splayed out against his pillows.

Your hangouts are quiet for the most part. But then again, that’s how it’s always been for you and Minho—mutually shared silence. More comfortable with each other as you both coexist in the same space than anywhere else.

It also just so happens that Minho has a PS5 and you don’t. Something about it being a Christmas present from his very rich, very financially irresponsible roommate who thinks anything expensive is a good gift, even if Minho has never so much as touched a console a day in his life.

You made a joke about it back then, something along the lines of “Hey, do you think Changbin needs a girlfriend that he can buy another one for?” to which Minho had thrown you an unreadable look and mumbled that you could come over and use it whenever you wanted. You would never ask him to do that, because you’re a good friend. So thankfully, he’d offered on his own.

Minho is a good friend too. He lets you come over, lets you grab at your hair in frustration while he watches, and even looks things up for you when you really need it. Not that you ever do, because you’re a firm believer in finishing games with integrity rather than pulling up a wiki on how to do it step by step.

But hey, if Minho throws you a very helpful, very not-looked-up tip every once in a while, who are you to complain?

Miles Morales is pretty busy as a teenager. In between learning how to be Spiderman, going to school, and fighting crime, he seemingly always has another side mission for you to do.

You throw yourself back into the game, searching high and low for the sound samples that you need to complete the quest while Minho’s phone spews facts about the molting process of komodo dragons somewhere behind you. Probably another one of his animal life documentaries.

Another hour passes, the sky completely dark outside the window above Minho’s desk. You’ve circled Harlem Station another five times, searching all the same spots, running into walls and alleyways along the street in hopes that something, anything will turn up. Your back is starting to cramp, shoulders tense, so you roll your neck a few times and stretch your arms above your head.

You yawn and lean backwards, fully expecting a pillow to catch you on the way down. Except you fail to remember just how small Minho’s bed is, especially with two people on it, and collide with his chest.

“Shit, sorry,” you say quickly, sitting back up, “Didn’t know you were behind me.”

“It’s okay.” Minho mumbles, voice tired. “Come here.”

There’s no time to react, no time to process what’s happening before Minho’s arm is wrapping around you and you’re being guided back down into his chest.

Your body goes rigid, but then you realize that’s probably weird, so you force yourself to relax. Minho doesn’t say anything, just keeps his attention fixed on his phone screen, footage of a baby red panda rolling around in a pile of bamboo sticks playing at a low volume.

You and Minho don’t do this. You’ve never done this.

You and Minho are best friends. When you were younger, the people in your neighborhood even went as far to call the two of you soulmates. Always attached at the hip, never separated. But even after all of that, all the years of hangouts and sleepovers and taking up space in each other's lives, you and Minho have never cuddled.

Is this cuddling?

You brave a glance in Minho’s direction just to find that he’s still locked in on the documentary. If you focus too hard, you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the rhythmic beating of his heart between your shoulder blades.

This doesn’t have to be weird. It’s fine, really. You and Minho are more than qualified as friends, best friends, to do this. Absolutely.

You take a deep breath, exhaling slowly as you count to four, and reach for the controller again, allowing yourself to fully relax into Minho.

For a split second you can’t help but think that this is definitely better than laying against pillows. Minho is broad, his shoulders wide and chest big enough for you to melt into one side comfortably. Pillows are lumpy and inconsistent and definitely don’t radiate heat the way Minho is right now, soft puffs of air hitting the top of your head as he breathes.

To no surprise, you find it hard to get back into the game. Miles is running into walls and missing all of his web shots as your brain struggles to keep up, lagging because of the way Minho’s body is firm beneath yours.

You’re jolted out of your thoughts when Minho shifts, his elbow coming up to rest against your shoulder and—oh.

Minho slides his fingers into your hair without a second thought, blunt nails dragging against your scalp as they card through leisurely.

Your stomach twists and turns as an unfamiliar fluttering feeling settles deep within your gut. It’s so unfair, the fact that you feel like your heart is about to sprout wings and fly out of your chest while Minho scrolls through instagram like this is a normal Friday night activity for him.

To make things worse, Minho decides he’s going to rest his cheek against the side of your head, the contact adding the overwhelming feeling of—whatever it is that you’re experiencing.

“Doing okay?” Minho asks after a while. His eyes glance over at where Miles is standing in the middle of the street, salsa dancing after sitting idle for the better part of five minutes. You jerk the joystick quickly.

“Yup!” You say a little too quickly. “Yeah, great, good.”

“Tired? I can drive you home.” His hand is still moving softly against your head, slow strokes that make it hard to fight the sleepiness nipping at the back of your mind.

“‘S okay, Min. I can walk.”

Minho’s brow furrows as he shifts to look down his nose at you. You turn your head up at the same time, and it’s then that you realize just how close your faces are.

“You’re funny if you think I’m gonna let you walk. I have a car, come on.” He says, sitting up and pushing you with him.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure.” He smiles, grabbing his keys off the nightstand. “Anything for you, yeah?”

The drive to your dorm is quiet. Changbin and Minho live an easy two blocks down from campus. Although Minho is still in school, he was quick to jump at the opportunity to get away from dorm life. Anything to ease the hole that his parents were no doubt burning into their pockets to send him to school in Seoul.

You really could have walked. It takes less than five minutes for Minho’s car to roll to a stop in front of your dorm building, a few students passing by as they return from the library.

“You’re coming over again tomorrow?” He asks, turning to look at you. His left hand grips the steering wheel, and you can’t help but notice how even in the dark his eyes still have that same shine.

“Oh, you—do you want me to?”

Minho snorts, glances forward for a second before returning his gaze back to you. “‘Course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

You fiddle with your hands in your lap. It’d be weird to say “I don’t know I just thought that you might be weirded out that we cuddled” in a situation like this, right?

“I just thought—” you stop, shaking your head, “Nevermind. Yeah, I’ll—yeah. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Minho watches while you get out of the car, eyebrows furrowed as he follows your every move. Not so much confused, more worried than anything.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, leaning down to peer up at you through the window.

“Yes, I promise. Goodnight, Min, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Minho blinks a few times before giving up. He breaks out into a grin, and you ignore the smattering of butterfly wings in your chest.

“Night.”

You and Minho cuddle now. It’s a thing. Has been for weeks since that first time.

Every night is the same: you play for a bit, Minho watches his documentaries, and somehow in the middle of it all you find yourself pressed against his chest while he plays with your hair.

You’ve learned how to effectively handle the rapid beating of your heart every time too. Minho, still as casual as ever, hasn’t mentioned it even if he’s noticed.

Tonight is no different. You’re still looking for the stupid sound samples. Miles is running through back alleys in between brick buildings and graffitied walls, nothing to show for it.

School has been shit, too. The past few weeks have brought an increase in assignments and finals are just around the corner, which means you’ll no doubt be typing out multiple page papers in no time. All you want to do is beat this stupid game so you can have some sort of achievement to quell the misery you’ll be subjected to in about a week’s time.

It’s also become increasingly hard to ignore the shift in you and Minho’s relationship. If you can even call it that.

On the surface level, nothing has changed. But there are little things here and there, little moments that are so small they almost go unnoticed.

When the two of you go out, the touches he leaves on your arms or waist linger for longer than they used to whenever he passes by. There’s glances stolen and smiles shared that leave your cheeks flushed pink and his ears red. And, to top it all off, you’ve realized that you’re more anxious whenever you’re not in Minho’s arms, a result of knowing how it feels to have him so close and being unable to forget even after he’s gone.

Because when you’re in Minho’s arms, the world ceases to exist. Stars align and burn so bright that you feel like your entire body is on fire.

Minho’s arms feel right.

Your feelings about Minho have always been clear. He’s your best friend, your other half, someone you’ve never once had to question about his place in your life.

Minho is a constant, steady reminder that no matter what happens you’ll always have a place to run to, a place to be.

That’s what makes this so scary. The tightening of your heart when his hands find purchase in your hair, petting and scratching and making you feel things you’ve never felt before. The warmth of his chest against your back as the two of you exist together inside the walls of his bedroom, no one to judge you or make you feel like you need to think about anything other than Minho, Minho, Minho.

You’ve had crushes before. You’ve dealt with the dizziness of attraction and longing. Not with Minho though. Not like this. And because of that, it feels wrong.

There’s no way Minho feels the same, no way he’s doing this every night because he also can’t sleep once he’s in bed, his mind full of thoughts that include you and the lingering feeling of your touch on his skin or the scent of your shampoo in his nose. Not the way yours is.

Minho’s last girlfriend was named Yeji. She had hair the color of fire and a sparkle in her eye that made you feel like maybe you didn’t have it all figured out the way she did. She kept herself wrapped around his arm and looked at him like he hung the stars. Her love for Minho was fierce and explosive and his for her all the same.

You’ve never been the jealous type, but thinking about it now you realize that maybe whatever feelings you’re harboring for Minho have always been there—if your annoyance during their relationship was anything to go by.

It was hard for you to be around when he was with Yeji; sometimes you’d leave gatherings early, or you’d decline invites to hang out. At one point, Minho had to corner you in front of your dorm building because you’d stopped answering his texts to come over.

It wasn’t your fault though. It was unfair for him to expect you to want to be around them, to sit and watch as he held her hand or planted kisses on her head, to be subjected to feeling like you’d never be able to find something similar to what they had. Absolutely impossible, like squeezing water from a stone.

But regardless, you powered through it. Bit the bullet and stuck it out because you knew that at the end of the day if the only way you’d be able to have Minho by your side was by being nothing more than a friend then you’d take it. Because at least then it would—

Fuck.

Fuck.

You’re in love with Minho.

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Miles is salsa dancing in the middle of the street, taunting you.

“Stop that.” Minho says, his eyes burning holes into the back of your head.

“Stop what?”

“Thinking. I can hear it from all the way over here.”

“Sorry.” you mumble.

“Want to talk about it?”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “It’s nothing, really. I just—I have a lot on my mind.”

It’s not a lie. You do have a lot on your mind. You’re just leaving out the part where you mention that it’s him.

“Hmm,” Minho hums like he knows. Like he’s experiencing the same thing. Maybe he is. A part of you dares to hope. “Do you want to cuddle? Will that help?”

You swallow around a lump in your throat as his words carve out the inside of your chest, leaving you hollow.

So you have been cuddling. You were scared to call it that out loud, weren’t sure if you were allowed to.

Already beside yourself, you nod, scooching towards him.

Minho shifts upwards on the bed, his back against the pillows, and parts his knees. You stop, confused, until he’s grabbing your arm and guiding you in between his legs, your back against his chest. He lets his chin rest on the top of your head, one hand resting on the side of your thigh and the other holding his phone.

“Better?”

No. You think you’re going to die. “Yes, thank you.”

Minho starts playing with your hair, just like he always does. He scrolls through instagram where you can see, stops on a post, double taps, keeps scrolling. When a funny video comes up, he laughs and waits for you to laugh too. It’s so intimate, so unlike the two of you, but for some reason it feels normal. Unlike your frazzled brain five minutes ago, Minho’s hold brings forth a sense of clarity that you’re certain you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Minho makes you feel seen, warm, safe.

And you’re undeniably in love with him.

When he notices you squirming, he steadies you by pulling up his knees to incase you into him further.

“I can sing you a song. You used to like that, yeah?” He asks, bumping the tip of his nose against the crown of your head.

You did use to like that. You still do. But it’s been so long since Minho last sang to you, maybe since middle school, so you never had the courage to ask.

“Only if you want to.”

“Anything for you, remember?” Minho says with conviction, like he doesn’t have to think about it twice. His certainty knocks the air out of your lungs.

Minho’s chest rumbles when he starts to sing, his voice taking on a soft cadence that makes you feel like you’re floating on air. Unlike his higher pitch when you were younger, Minho’s voice is deep and rich and hits every note with practiced ease.

Minho’s voice was always your favorite. You could listen to any song, try and distract yourself with music and a pair of headphones, but nothing ever worked quite like Minho’s singing did. And now, as you sit between his legs, his hand tangled in the strands of your hair, you don’t think that anything will ever be able to compare.

You’re completely melted into him by the time he’s done, your bodies alloying together in a way that makes your insides twist and turn. Minho continues his motions through your hair, humming softly, and then, “Was that okay?”

“More than okay.” You sigh. “Loved it. Love you.”

The confession hangs in the air, leaden and haunting. You don’t process what you’ve said until the damage is already done. Your ears fill with static, your blood running cold.

Minho’s hand stills, so does his chest, like he’s no longer breathing.

No. No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This is his fault. His stupid singing. His stupid warmth. Him, him, him.

Minho, Minho, Minho.

You sit up quickly, trying to hide the tremble of your voice when you manage to squeak out a few words. “I should get going.”

Miles is still salsa dancing on the tv. Minho blinks a few times as you scramble to grab your things, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid. So much for not wanting to make things weird. So much for trying to be normal. Way to fucking go.

The sinking feeling in your gut worsens when Minho doesn’t move, doesn’t even bother to say anything. He just watches, his mouth opening and closing like he wants to stop you but he can’t find it in him to do so. You don’t blame him.

You’re halfway out the door of his bedroom when he finds his voice again. The same voice that was just filling your ears not too long ago, except this time it’s strained.

“Wait, don’t—”

“I’m not sure if I’ll be over tomorrow. I have to study.”

Minho’s hand stops where it was beginning to reach out for you. He lets it fall to his side, his eyes shifting to the floor. Part of you wants to hear him out, wants to see if maybe he’s not as repulsed as you think he is, but the other part of you knows you can’t handle any of that right now.

“Oh,” he whispers, “Okay. You’re gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” You lie. “Sorry.”

Minho looks up, something like hurt flickering across his face, and that’s all you need to see before you’re bolting out the door and into the night air.

The tears begin to fall as soon as Minho’s apartment is out of sight. It feels like someone’s reached inside your chest and grabbed your heart in their fist, twisting and twisting until the pain becomes unbearable. All those years as friends, all the effort you put into making sure nothing would ruin your relationship with Minho down the drain in a millisecond.

You find yourself in a secluded corner of the courtyard near your dorm building, eyes swollen and red as you cry and cry until you feel like you can’t anymore. There’s no one around, only the soft whistling of the wind as it whips past your face. You wish you hadn’t left, wish that you were back in Minho’s arms so you could parse through every feeling clawing at your brain.

You’re not sure how long you stay out there, but by the time you’re dragging your feet into the dorm lobby the student worker at the front desk is half asleep. The elevator ride up is miserable, your red-rimmed eyes staring back at you in the reflection of the ceiling. Your head hurts, your heart hurts, everything hurts.

You’re about to turn the corner when you hear Minho's voice, frantic and pleading.

“Y/n, just, let’s talk okay? I know you’re in there, please open the door.”

He’s standing with his forehead pressed to the wood, hand above his head as he knocks weakly. All it takes is one hesitant step forward for him to catch sight of you in his periphery.

“Minho?” You strain, the lump in your throat growing again. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes go wide when he turns to face you, his cheeks flushed and chest rising and falling as if he just finished running a marathon. “I didn’t—I thought that you—” He glances back and forth between you and the door.

You let your eyes travel down his body, stopping when you notice his feet clad in nothing but his house slippers. He’s not even wearing a jacket, his t-shirt uneven at the neck, hair wild from the wind.

“I ran here.” He says once he notices your stare. “I shouldn’t have let you leave like that. I was stupid.”

You force yourself to look up after the last word leaves his mouth, your eyes searching his. “Min—”

“Are you okay?” He cuts you off, rushing forward. He wraps one hand around your wrist, lifting your arm to inspect for damages. When he doesn’t find any, he brings his hands up to cup your cheeks, brows furrowing when he notices how puffy your eyes are.

“You’ve been crying.”

“I haven’t, it’s just windy out there.”

“Stop lying.” He mumbles. “You can’t lie to me.”

“It’s fine.” You try to say, stepping back. His hands fall back down to his sides. “It’s nothing. I just need to sleep.”

You shoulder past him, keeping your head down so he doesn’t see the tears that are already starting to form. You’d rather not look more pathetic than you already do. There’s nothing he can say to fix this, this is your problem. Something that you’ll have to live with and move past even if it hurts.

“I love you too.”

The world around you stops moving. There’s a ringing in your ears, static spreading throughout your entire body. If it wasn’t for your death grip on the door handle, you probably would’ve fallen to the floor.

You turn, painfully slow, and come face to face with Minho’s similarly fearful eyes.

“If you meant it the way I think you did, I love you too.”

“You’re just saying that,” you whisper, “I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, okay? It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have said it. I got too caught up in my own head and I accidentally—”

“Don’t.” Minho croaks, eyes glossy. “Don’t tell me it was a mistake. Don’t bullshit me.”

“What are you—”

“Actually, no, fuck it.” He sighs, closing the distance by a few steps. “You got your turn, now it’s mine. I meant what I said even if you didn’t. I love you. I’m in love with you. I’m sorry I let you leave without saying it back. I froze up because I never thought that I would hear you say it first.”

It’s your turn to open and close your mouth, words lost. Minho is looking at you like you might disappear if he even so much as blinks. His voice is thick, like there’s a layer of fear coating his throat as he forces the words out one by one.

“I thought I could live with it, I thought that I could stand never being able to tell you. But then I got a taste of how it felt to have you so close to me and, God, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Every night after you leave feels like an eternity until you come back the next day.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Why do you think I haven’t just given you my console? Why do you think I force myself to focus on youtube videos whenever you’re over? I needed a reason to keep asking you to come back. I needed something to distract myself from wanting to hold you close and tell you how badly I want you to stay.”

He lets out a shaky breath, his chest heaving up and down like he’s just finished running a marathon.

“I don’t know if I’m reading this wrong. Maybe you didn’t mean it like that, maybe you just want to be friends. But these past few weeks of having you with me every night, of being able to hold you and pretend for just a moment that you’re mine, have made me so unbelievably happy. You have no idea. So, please, if this isn’t what you want, tell me. But I need you to know that I love you, too. And I’m sorry that I didn’t say it back when I had the chance.”

Minho looks at you like you’re holding his heart in your hands, broken and bleeding. He doesn’t know that he’s owned yours since the moment you met, since he flashed you that lopsided grin and you knew that you were always going to be his.

“I meant it.” You say slowly, watching as he swallows hard. “I meant it the same way you did. I love—mmmnfgh!”

Minho’s kissing you before you even get the chance to properly say it back. He brings his hand up to rest on the back of your head, holding you in place while he slots his lips together with yours. It’s soft, gentle, almost as if he’s scared he might break you. If he really wanted to, you’d let him.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours and drops his hands to your waist.

“What does this mean?” You whisper into the space between your lips.

Minho sighs. “It means that I love you, and you love me. We can figure out the rest later. Together.”

That’s all the permission you need to pull him back into you by the collar of his shirt, smashing your lips together in a kiss much more urgent than the last. You let him push you backwards into your dorm, kicking the door closed with his foot as soon as you’re inside. Minho walks the two of you in the direction of your bed against the far wall, and you silently pat yourself on the back for saving up to afford the single room this year.

You let out a noise when the backs of your knees hit the bed and you go tumbling backwards, Minho landing on top of you with a grunt. Your lips are still attached, almost like you’re glued together, and Minho grins.

“Stop smiling,” you mumble, “I can’t kiss you when you’re smiling.”

He pulls away, trailing kisses up the side of your cheek, over your nose, down the other cheek, laughing. “We can’t have that can we?”

The third time Minho kisses you is different. His movements are slower, more sensual, and you gasp when his tongue swipes over your bottom lip. You let him in, a strangled moan escaping when he slots his leg in between yours, applying pressure.

“Min—”

“Fuck. Sorry.” He says quickly. “We don’t have to—I should’ve—”

“No,” you say, sitting up. He blinks at you a few times, watches as you place your hands on his chest, run them down the length of his torso until they reach the hem of his shirt. “I want this. I want you.”

Minho’s eyes darken as he brings a hand up to your face, hooking his thumb and forefinger just below your ear as he cups your jaw. “You,” he breathes out, touching his nose to yours, “You drive me crazy.”

“Good ‘crazy’ or bad ‘crazy’?” You ask, letting him guide you back down until you’re flat against the bed. He plants his knees on either side of you, drops his body until you’re chest to chest, and starts placing open mouth kisses along your neck. You squirm beneath him, squeezing your thighs together as the desire in your stomach builds.

“Good.” He mumbles against your skin, sucking at the spot just above your collarbone. “So fucking good.”

Minho lets you pull his shirt over his head, the dip between his shoulder blades visible when he drops back down to remove your sweater, mouthing between the peaks of your breasts as soon as it’s off. You arch your back into him, groaning when he reaches around to unclasp your bra.

“This okay?” he asks, throwing it to the floor.

“More than okay,” you whisper, “Feels good.”

Minho wastes no time in taking one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling the other one between his fingers as you writhe beneath him, your lower half looking for some sort of friction. He brings his knee back in between your legs, presses his thigh against your core and clenches the muscle.

“Use it,” he mumbles, teeth biting at the flesh of your chest, “Let me feel you.”

A broken whine escapes your lips when you grind down onto his thigh, the pressure making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You’re so wet already, clenching around nothing as Minho continues to lick and suck at your breasts.

“Min.” You moan, tangling your fingers in his hair. “Not enough. Need you. Please.”

“Fuck.” Minho growls, propping himself up on his elbows. He stares into your eyes, lips swollen and pink. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Tell me.” You plead, your vision going blurry when one of his hands behind stroking the side of your stomach. Minho’s fingers are slender, soft to the touch, and you think you could get the shape of them tattooed as a reminder that the two of you existed in this moment in time together.

“I’ve been thinking about you forever. More in the past few weeks, but, you’ve always been there. Always in the back of my mind. You’re so pretty. The prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I—” he laughs, ducks his head for a moment before looking back up, “I never thought I’d be able to have you like this.”

His hand slips beneath the waistband of your pants, and you bite your lip to stop the moan from leaving your lips when the pads of his fingers dip into your folds.

“Like I said, you drive me crazy. I’ve never wanted someone, anything, the way I want you. I—fuck, y/n.”

“I’m here now. I want you. Need you. Have me, Minho.” You moan, clenching when he pushes a finger in.

Minho swears under his breath, kisses you through the process of removing both of your pants, the loss of his fingers leaving you empty as you throb with want, with need.

“Do you have—”

“Top drawer.” You cut him off, jerking your head in the direction of your night stand. Minho smirks before reaching over and pulling out a condom. He takes a second to roll it on, your mouth pooling with spit at the sight of him.

He’s big. Unbelievably big. You swallow when he lines himself up at your entrance, lowering himself as he cages your head in between his elbows. “I’ll go slow,” he whispers, placing a chaste kiss on your lips, “Want to take my time, remember this forever.”

“Sap.” You giggle, gripping his shoulders.

He kisses you again, smiling into it. “Only for you. Anything for you, remember?”

“I remember.” You grin. He kisses you, messy and wet until you’re melting into the mattress, and then Minho pushes the head of his cock inside.

“Oh God,” you whine, burying your face into his neck. Minho brings a hand down to sooth you by rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb as you mumble into his neck, broken noises escaping your throat as he pushes himself in further.

“That’s it, baby, just like that. You feel so good, let me hear you.” He grunts, picking up a steady pace.

It’s so much all at once. The feeling of Minho’s cock filling you to completion, the warmth of his firm chest against yours, the iron grip he has on your hip, probably bruising. You hope it bruises. Hope that it’ll stay, a permanent mark just like the one he has on your heart.

Minho is so beautiful like this, hanging over you with his hair dangling in his face as he gives you his all—gives you the world. You’re dizzy with want. With love.

Minho thrusts into you like you’re his, taking you apart from the inside out. He touches you with fire in his fingertips and leaves a trail of ice in their wake. His moans are broken, strained, falling from his lips like a mantra as he says your name over and over again with every snap of his hips.

“You’re incredible.” He says against your lips, your teeth clacking together. “It’s you. It’s always been you. Will always be you.”

You let him wrap his arms behind your back completely, gasping when he pulls you upright, your body pressed against his chest as he sets you both in a sitting position. He leans his head back, moans when you angle down into the kiss, bouncing slightly to meet him halfway as he continues thrusting upwards into you.

It’s so much—everything you’ve ever wanted and more. The feeling of Minho beneath your fingertips, your hands exploring every inch of him, from his chest to his back, stopping at the base of his neck as you moan into his mouth. You’re not sure if you’ll ever recover, not when you've gotten a taste of what heaven feels like.

Minho falls back against the pillows, letting his hands find purchase on your waist as he helps lift you up, his hips smacking into yours at a pace that has your head spinning.

“Min—ah. I’m so close.” You cry out, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Fuck, me too. You’re so beautiful. So, so, beautiful. The most beautiful person in the world. Let go for me. Be mine.”

Abdomen clenching, completely filled, you cum with a sob of Minho’s name, him following right behind as he spurts into the condom. Minho whispers reassurances into your ear the entire time, rubs soothing hands up and down your back as you both ride it out until you collapse against his chest.

“Baby,” Minho croaks, sliding his fingers into your hair. “Jesus, y/n—”

“Was that okay?” You ask. “Are you regretting it?”

“What? No.” Minho soothes, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Of course not. I would never regret that, would never regret you.” There’s an air of finality to his voice. He’s sure.

You stay pressed together for a long while after that. Eventually, Minho moves to clean up, and you allow yourself to be wiped down and dressed in the same t-shirt he came in. When he’s done, Minho pulls you into his bare chest, fits your head under his chin so that he can nuzzle his face into your hair.

“Hi.” He whispers, taking a deep breath.

“Hi.” You say back, closing your eyes.

“This is kind of a mess, isn’t it?” You ask when he starts drawing circles into your hip bone.

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know.” You sigh. “It doesn’t feel real. I’m scared I’m gonna wake up and you’ll be gone.”

Minho tightens his arms around you, drops a firm kiss on your forehead. “I would never. And as far as it being a mess goes, I don’t care. I’m happy as long as you’re happy. This is whatever we want it to be. At the end of the day, it’s you and me. Mess and all.”

You smile into his neck, brushing your lips against his skin. “Promise?”

Minho nods, lets his chin knock against the top of your head. “Promise.”

“I love you, Min.” You say with certainty this time, wanting him to know that you mean it. You vow to yourself that you’ll never let him go without knowing again.

“I love you, too.”

“Min! Look!”

Minho’s entire body jolts awake, phone flying out of his hand and tumbling off the bed. You’re too ecstatic to care that you’ve just woken him up, not when you’ve finally gotten that stupid purple suit.

“The last sound sample! I did it!” You exclaim as you throw yourself at him. He laughs lightly, kisses your cheek as you giggle over the sounds of Miles’ uncle finally gracing him with the Purple Reign suit.

“Only took you, like, a month.”

“Shut up.” You groan, swatting at his chest. “I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what?” Minho asks, his brows disappearing into his hairline. You stretch yourself in between his legs, your chin coming to rest on his stomach as you look up at him with a pout.

“It’s hard to find time to play when my boyfriend is so needy.”

“Oh I’m needy?” Minho laughs, pinching your cheeks on either side.

You retaliate by biting his thigh, not expecting the groan that he immediately lets out. You raise an eyebrow at him, smirking when you notice the slight bulge in his pants. “See what I mean?” You ask, squealing when he reaches down to pull you up towards him, flipping you over so he can press you into the mattress with a kiss.

Seen, loved, warm. Minho makes you feel like you’re the luckiest person in the world. He holds you like he’s scared to let go and loves you harder than you’ve ever been loved before.

Soulmates. Attached at the hip. Two imperfect halves of the same perfect whole. It’s always been Minho. You’ve known since the start, ever since you first laid eyes on him.

Game over.

LIVING IN THE RUINS

minho x fem!reader. 2k words. minors dni. best friends to lovers. soft!minho. angst. fluff. jealousy. emotional hurt/comfort. smut with feelings, in a tent.

“Excuse me?”

You blink at the stranger in front of you. She seems to materialise before your eyes. You’d zoned out again and missed the attention your best friend had clearly been receiving from strangers in the crowded room. “I was wondering if I could get your number?” she asks, eyes fixed on Minho’s. She blinks quickly a few times, her long dark lashes fluttering much like your heart in your chest. 

She hasn’t looked at you once despite your close proximity. You’re so close to the object of her attention in fact, your thigh brushes against Minho’s jeans under the table. 

He shifts beside you, sitting up straighter in the booth. “Oh,” he says, clearly taken off guard as well. “Thank you. I mean that’s — I don’t—” 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks with a small tilt of her head. 

“No,” Minho answers quickly, incapable of lying. His discomfort radiates off him. You’d spent years learning his emotional tells. “I mean—” 

“He’s not into women,” you interrupt, finally drawing her attention to you. She blinks before her eyes drop down to your chest and back to your eyes, like she’s completely taken aback by your presence. It’s impossible, you know that logically. Still, she puts on a good performance. “Sorry,” you add. 

Her lips curve into an unconvincing smile. “No worries,” she says. “The hot ones never are.” 

The whole exchange is as short as it is ordinary. How many tipsy girls work up the courage to ask the pretty man across the bar for his number? You would bet money on it happening multiple times over somewhere across the planet at any given moment. It’s normal. Mundane. Still, you know it’ll chip a little more of your carefully built wall away. A chisel to stone, slow and steady. The only problem is that it’s been chipped at for years. You can feel the fragility of it these days, each chisel etch feels alot like when you’re down to the end of a game of jenga. 

Any move now will cause it to crash and fall. 

She hadn’t considered for a moment you might have been together — not when she’d spotted him across the room, clearly with you — and not when she’d gotten close and blatantly ignored your comfortable proximity to each other. Her question about his relationship status had been an afterthought, a possibility she hadn’t considered until faced with a response other than ‘yes’. She’d been expecting a yes.

The thought that he might be with you, might be attracted to you, was unconsidered. You wonder if she’d discussed it with her friends. ‘No,’ they might have said. ‘There’s no way he’s with her.’

Minho is quiet as the petite brunette turns on her heels and disappears back into the mass of people. His red ears give his embarrassment away. 

You nudge his shoulder, rocking him out of his trance. “Hey,” you prod. “Alright?” 

The smile he offers you is a little lopsided — very Minho. “Always,” he says. 

—

Your annual camping trip is just like the year before. Your small group of friends sets up camp in your usual spot. Everyone climbs into their usual tents. Everyone assumes you and Minho will be sharing, as always. 

You’re not sure why it hurts so much. They assume that nothing would ever happen between you. None of the other girls share a tent with a guy they aren’t dating. You’re the exception. Because Minho would never want you. 

He notices your low mood later that night. The group separates in the dark to play flashlight tag and as you find yourself wandering a secluded patch of the campsite, you know he knows. His attention is on you instead of where he’s walking. You almost scream when he falls into apparent nothingness. 

“I’m fine,” he quickly reassures you, pulling himself up from the ground. “Just dropped my glasses.” 

“God, you scared me.” 

It takes you both at least ten minutes to find them, relying purely on touch alone. It's too dark to see much at all without a light and using your phones would give your position away. 

You’re grateful for the darkness when you reach up and place his frames gently on his face. It hides the heat in your cheeks when you brush chocolate brown hair behind his ears, ensuring you’ve placed them properly. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, close enough that his breath warms your lips. 

You’re also grateful just to be near him, you realise. Just to know him. You love him. 

You love him. 

It’s an earth shattering realisation to have while playing flashlight tag in the middle of nowhere. You need to escape. You can’t. You’re sharing a tent with him. 

The situation isn’t helped when later in the night one of the girls with big bright eyes and a gentle smile makes a very clear move on him. You were used to it. People loved him. 

You loved him. 

It’s a stupid thing to cause the wall to finally crumble. It’s humiliating really. But when he laughs at something she whispers in his ear: it happens. 

It falls. 

You’re pathetic without it. 

All you can do is hide from him, escape to the tent and pretend to be so tired you’ve fallen asleep before he can investigate. It’s not something you do. Not with Minho. He knows you so well hiding from him is just as stupid as it is pathetic. He’ll know. 

Still, you can pretend. He won’t know as long as you’re unconscious. You can put it off until morning. 

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep. You lie there staring at the canvas of the tent for what feels like hours, the sounds of him tossing and turning continuing for so long you almost give up. 

But then he’s still. His breathing seems to even out. He’s asleep. 

That’s when you let yourself cry. Quietly at first; silent aching sobs. 

What a time for the wall to crumble. You wonder if you have the energy to rebuild. You’ll have to find it. The alternative is letting Minho go entirely, removing him from your life and letting the ruins erode away over a long, long time. 

Not an option. 

“Hey,” Minho’s soft voice calls. Shit. You wipe clumsily at your eyes and sodden cheeks. “Hey, what’s going on? What happened?” he questions as his palm rests gently against your shoulder. 

You should face him. You can’t hide. You know it. 

“No-thing,” you whimper, breath catching between each syllable. It’s that awful breathless kind of sobbing, the type that leaves you unable to inhale fully, let alone speak. 

He rolls you over onto your back. He isn’t rough — but it’s with enough strength you’re completely unable to resist him. 

“What is it?” he says again, tone much more forceful now. He isn’t letting it go. He looks down at you with wide eyes, like he’d never been asleep at all. 

You shake your head. 

His gentle thumbs move to your cheeks to attempt to wipe away the mess you’d left behind. He rests on one arm, leaning over you so he can give each cheek the same treatment. It’s a curious instinct, to wipe away someone's tears — like it has any effect on the person’s pain at all. It’s the best we can often do, you suppose. 

“Just focus on breathing,” he says. “Just breathe.” His hand stays against your cheek, fingers resting on your neck by your ear — featherlight. 

Breathing is easy, in theory. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. His lips part to join you, guide you. His lips are still a little red from his bedtime routine, his tinted vaseline usually lasting him the entire night. 

“That’s it,” he soothes when you finally manage a few steady breaths in a row. “That’s good. You’re okay.” 

They’re simple words of comfort. The kind of thing anyone would say to a person in distress, but they settle something in your chest. You were okay. He was yours in a way that was more than nothing. He cared in a way that felt so genuine it was hard to be dissatisfied with the nature of it at all. 

“Did something happen today?” he asks, still leaning over you. It’s a vulnerable position to be in. It mirrors how you know this conversation will go. Your wall is a crumbled mess. You have no defences against him. 

“Not really.” 

His eyebrows pull together. 

“Nothing worth this,” you clarify. 

“Tell me.” 

“It’s not… It’s embarrassing.” 

His lips curve in a tiny lopsided smile, just a hint of amusement. “Friends are for sharing embarrassing things with. And I’m your friend,” he says. “Aren’t I?” 

You blink quickly a few times, desperate to keep your tears at bay. Then you nod weakly. 

“Why do you look so miserable about it?” he says, tone light and teasing. 

Your lips wobble a little as you struggle with the words attempting to burst forth. They pound and burn and demand to be set free. You lose the battle. “I love you.” 

He blinks, eyes flicking across your face. 

The gates are open now. You’re turned loose. “I love you so much,” you sob. “It hurts. It hurts everyday and it just keeps getting worse and I can’t—” 

His lips cut you off, a warm, heart-stopping, and very much welcome interruption. He’s kissing you. He’s—

“Stop,” he mumbles against your wet, salty lips. “Stop hurting. Please.” His next kiss is unbearably soft, a brush against your upper lip. “Please,” he whispers. 

You nod dumbly.

He rewards you with a collection of gentle kisses across your cheeks, replacing the remnants of your tears with the sticky wetness of his moisturised lips. You imagine the slight red marks he must leave behind. 

He settles over you properly at some point. You’re too distracted by the path of his lips to notice exactly when. But then his arms are by your head, caging you under him in a way that makes you hope for the universe to halt all progression forward. This was enough; everything. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips finally. “I’m… sorry for letting you think I don’t. I’m a coward.” 

“No,” you chastise quickly as you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Don’t say shit like that.” 

“I—” 

“It hurts me… and you told me to stop hurting.” 

His head drops to your neck… then, with a soft press of his lips to your skin, “Then I’ll never do it again.” 

Every move he makes is gentle when the slow, indulgent kisses turn into exploring hands and whispered pleas for more. Each of his whisper-soft words of affection sweeps away a crumbled section of your wall, clearing the space to build something entirely new. He’s warm, so warm as his bare torso rests on yours — as he finally presses inside you and sucks a mark into your neck to join the rest he’s left. “Doesn’t hurt?” he asks, stilling as he fills you completely. 

“No,” you gasp. “No, you’re… it’s—” His lips take the words from your mouth, a little messier than he’s been before. When his hips roll into yours you can’t help grasping at him like he might suddenly get up and leave — fingers tangling in his hair desperately.

“I got you,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy breaths mingling with your own. “I got you…” 

When he eventually spills inside you, flooding you with more of his warmth, you’re crying again. But this time it doesn’t hurt; this time it’s a release. The tears that he kisses from your face afterwards — they wash away the rest of the rubble.

a/n: my tiktok feed has been full of the orange peel theory and i know minho would be the perfect research participant for it.

“i really want an orange,” you sigh, nuzzling a little further into where you were buried into minho. he hums in agreement, eyes flickering to you for a moment before trailing back to the tv. 

“we just got some tangerines from jeju,” he strokes a hand up your arm. “they’re on the counter.”

“yeah,” you pout up at him, leaning forward and trying to catch his eye but he keeps them trained on the screen. “but i don’t want to peel them.”

“then i guess you’re not getting an orange,” he snarks, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips when you huff and relax back into him. you grumble a bit and he ignores you, the only inclination of his attention being the hand he continues to stroke up and down your arm. 

a few moments later he shuffles out from under you, leaving you hunched into the place in the couch he was just occupying. you shoot him a glance that’s half curious and half accusatory, a bubble of hope building up in you. 

“just gotta use the bathroom,” he explains, and the bubble bursts. right. 

“hurry back,” you tell him, and you’re sure you look a bit ridiculous sprawled out like you are. 

“okay, boss,” he rolls his eyes, leaving the room swiftly, and for the first time tonight your attention is fully on the tv. he really doesn’t know how distracting he is, even when he’s not doing anything. 

he comes back just as the episode is ending, and you can tell that it’s going to end on a cliffhanger. you don’t look away from the screen as you recap him on what he’s missed, filling in the details that have led to the scene right now that has your heartbeat in a chokehold. 

you let him slot himself next to you again, lifting yourself up so he could slide under you and settling your head down into his lap, your gaze not wandering from the tv for a single second. it’s only when the episode finishes and the tv screen turns black with end credits that you notice it. 

the smell of fresh oranges. 

you might have explained it by the scent of the fruity hand soap he keeps stocked in your bathroom, but that one is lemon scented, not orange. a quick flick of your eyes upwards fills in the gap, and you’re shooting up from his lap with a blinding grin on your face so quickly that your head spins. 

“careful!” he warns, balancing the plate of freshly peeled orange slices in one hand as he steadies you with the other. 

“you peeled me oranges!” you can’t stop smiling as you ignore his reprimand. 

“yeah? you said you wanted some,” he furrows his brow, looking a bit confused, which is entirely unfair. he knows that he has tsundere tendencies. 

“you passed the orange peel theory test,” you gush at him, taking a slice into your hands and holding it like it was something precious. 

“i passed the what?” 

“i’m going to eat these oranges,” you continue as if he wasn’t talking, popping the slice in your mouth and groaning at the taste immediately. it’s so good. “and then i’m going to make out with you. for a long time.”

“well if this is the reward i’m going to get, i’ll peel you oranges every day.”

—

soft hours

everything for your golden touch.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: fem!reader (reader is called good girl), slight restraint, new kink discovery, unprotected sex. smut - MINORS DNI.

synopsis: you didn't know how to tell minho you wanted him to pin your wrists down and ruin you.

you love minho. you love every single thing about him, from the freakish facial expressions that he makes when he wants to annoy you to the soft sound of his voice when he’s talking to his cats. you loved him so fierce that you ached with it, the knowledge that he is yours inflating your head to the point of almost bursting.

you loved having sex with him almost as much as you loved loving him. you craved the way he would untangle your body with his fingers, the dark and twisted way his eyes would bore into yours as he slid into you, the near animalistic way he would drive into you when he was close to his high.

and yet, your greedy little mind couldn’t help but want something else. despite the love and care and attention he gave you so freely, you held this small bundle of disappointment deep inside of you, locked away and begging to be set free: 

you wanted him to pin your wrists down - to the wall, to the bed, behind your back, anything. you wanted to see the veins in his hand bulge from holding you down, you wanted bruises painted on your skin for days that you could look at as evidence of his passion for you. you wanted to be rendered immobile, you wanted to thrash around with no chance of escape

you think about it more frequently than what is probably normal; when you try to not think about you end up thinking about it more, and it turns into this vicious cycle that you can’t leave. in bed is one thing, but daydreaming in grocery stores? when you’re out at dinner with your friends? even now, when you’re sitting with his head in your lap watching a movie?

in truth, this one wasn’t your fault, really. one minute you were watching the two leads dance around each other in a frustratingly awkward flirtation and the next they had peeled each others’ clothes off and were engaging in some heavy petting that you had to admit was a tad too much. usually when corny sex scenes took place during movies you watched together, you both laughed about it, giggling at how unrealistic it was. but this one…

the man takes both of her wrists in one hand and presses them to the mattress above her head and she moans, and despite how pornographically fake it sounded you still found yourself pressing your legs together just slightly. minho’s head shifts with the movement and he huffs, fidgeting a bit before settling back down. 

the camera pans to the woman’s wrists, and you can’t help the way your pussy clenches around nothing, an embarrassing gush of wetness seeping out of you. you haven’t been turned on this quickly by something other than minho’s lips in so long and you wish you could hide your face away from him. 

“he’s not even pressing that hard, she could get free so easily,” minho snarks, complimenting his words with a bark of laughter before looking up at you for a response. 

he doesn’t go to the gym like you do, is what you would likely say if this wasn’t affecting you the way it was. she’s pretending to stroke his male ego.

“yeah,” you say instead, and it comes out shakier than you wanted it to. he notices, of course he does, and before you could brush it off he sits up and scrutinizes you with narrowed eyes. 

“are you-” he cuts himself off, pausing to look down at your lap and back up to your eyes. “are you turned on right now?”

“shut up,” you drop your hands to your lap in an effort to cover up something invisible, something that he clearly already knew about. 

“don’t hide from me,” he teases, taking one of your wrists into his hand to move it away from your lap. “you’re turned on by a cheesy porno scene, this is so funny.”

“it’s not that,” you try to defend yourself when he bursts into delighted laughter. you try and move your hand out of his grip, but he keeps it strong, and that makes the pulsing between your legs even worse.

he notices, of course he does. he notices everything about you, whether you like it or not. 

“oh,” he breathes out, eyes wide and mouth dropped open, his tongue poking out to lick at his bottom lip. you can see the wheels turning in his head as he arrives at the answer to a question you didn’t want him to ask. 

“let’s just go back to the movie, okay?” you tug again at your hand but he doesn’t budge. his eyes are transfixed on the way his fingers look wrapped around the delicate skin of your wrist.

“you want me to do this?” he breathes out, taking your hand and leading it up to the back of the couch, right by your head. he positions your hand in place delicately before pressing down, so far that you can feel your heartbeat thrumming in your fingertips.

“god, yes,” you moan out, too far past being embarrassed to hold anything back. you can feel each one of his fingers pressing into your skin, and you buck your hips up into him when he moves to slide a knee in between your legs. 

“how long have you been holding this back from me, hmm?” he asks, leaning forward so that his words glide right against your ear. he presses a kiss to the top of your jaw before pulling back a bit.

“wasn’t holding it back,” you gasp out as he pins your other wrist to the opposite side of your head, trapping you in place. 

“i think you were,” he brushes his lips against yours and you try and chase him when he moves back but you can’t with the way he’s holding you back.

he guides you up, his grip still strong on your wrists, and oh. he’s walking you to the bedroom with your wrists trapped in his grip and this is something you hadn't ever imagined - it was somehow better. 

you move as if in a daze, the air around you moving away like syrup as he pushes you into the mattress underneath him. everything was happening too quickly, not fast enough, just right in the space and time he’s given you. 

he releases your wrists so he can undress himself, and you already miss the warm weight of him on you as if you were missing a limb. 

he doesn’t make you wait too long, climbing over you with a predatory look in his eyes, pressing just enough of his weight onto your body to make your breath catch in your throat. 

“my pretty girl wants to be held down, doesn’t she?” he teases, his voice deep against your skin as he trails his fingers against the veins on your wrists. 

“ngh, min,” is all you can let out, all the thoughts leaving your head with every touch of his fingers on you. he nuzzles his nose into your neck, an impossibly sweet gesture that makes you relax into a boneless puddle of spilled bones on the mattress. 

“i’ll always give you what you want,” he yanks your hands up above your head in one split second, a wicked grin on his face as he crosses them and pins them to the pillows. his other hand trails down to the waistband of your shorts, teasing them against the elastic before creeping further down. 

you’re already so turned on, so close to the edge that the first brush of his fingers against your clit makes you jump underneath him. your hands start to move to wrap around his back, wanting to hold him even closer to you, but you can’t. you let out a dry sob, so overwhelmed with how this was impossibly good, how such simple actions from him effected you so intensely. this was so much more than you could ever have imagined in the darkest parts of your head.

his fingers pause on your skin and he looks up at you with alarm, an are you okay? at the edge of his tongue.

“off,” you say before he could, wriggling your hips and hoping he would understand. 

“okay, baby,” he does, of course he does. he helps you kick off your shorts and panties, and it’s a little bit of an awkward affair but neither of you could think to care about that. every bit of his teasing from earlier was gone, the reactions he pulled from you making him desperate to do it over and over just to hear the way you gasped so prettily around his name.

his hand flies back to your cunt, keeping your wrists secured above your head as he rubs circles around your clit over and over until you’re shaking apart under him. your hips buck up when you come and he works you through it, finally stopping when you start to whine in sensitivity.

he lets go of your wrists to cup your face in his hand, latching his lips onto yours in a sloppy kiss that leaves you panting into his mouth. you leave your hands where he had kept them, still crossed over your head, and when he notices he groans at the sight. 

“you’re so hot,” he says reverently, the possessiveness in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “you’re so good, my good girl, all mine.”

“yes, god, i’m yours-”, he doesn’t let you finish, flipping you over onto your stomach so quickly that you felt weightless. he paints himself onto your back and you can feel how hard he is, his cock brushing against your thighs. he takes your wrists in his hands again and twists them to rest at your lower back, securing them in his hold.

he ruts into the space between your thighs once, twice, three times before positioning himself at your entrance and burying himself inside of you. you’re so wet that the slide is almost too easy, he fits himself into you like he was made to be there always.  he stays there for a moment, nosing at the back of your head before drawing out and snapping his hips forward so quickly that you can hear his thighs hitting your ass.

“ah!” you cry out, the aftershocks of your previous orgasm giving away to the feeling of him gliding in and out of you. you feel so impossibly small like this, pressed underneath him and unable to move - not that you would want to if you could. 

he keeps you restrained under him as he drives into you, ignoring the way your hands clench and unclench into fists every time he hits that spot deep inside of you that makes your entire body sing with pleasure. 

he presses wet kisses to the back of your neck, the side of your ear, the crown of your head as he fucks you; the only sounds echoing through the room are his breathless pants and the little ah-ah-ah’s you let escape into the pillow under you. 

you come together, the rhythmic squeezing of his hand around your wrists and your cunt around his cock creating the perfect rhythm for both of you to ride until climax. he stays buried inside of you for a moment, releasing your wrists to intertwine his fingers with yours instead. 

when he pulls out to collapse on his back next to you, you whine a bit, and he shushes you and pulls you into his chest. he’s still catching his breath and you can hear his hummingbird heartbeat under your ear as he tilts his head down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“why didn’t you tell me this was something you wanted to do?” he asks, trailing his fingers through your hair. 

“i didn’t want you to think i wasn’t satisfied with what we do already,” you mumble, addressing his chest more than him. “because i am, truly.”

“baby, you don’t need to be afraid to tell me these things,” he soothes, his voice so soft in the night air. “i can’t say this was something i’ve thought about before, but i very much enjoyed it. we discovered this together. i want to keep discovering things with you.”

“will you stop being so emotionally intelligent all the time?” you slap his chest, a light thing, but he grabs your wrist in his hand to stop you from doing it again anyways. there’s redness there from the way he had been gripping it and he rubs his thumb against your skin to soothe it; even so, you hope you can see the marks of his fingertips there tomorrow.

“you wouldn’t want me any other way.”

slow mode — lee know

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, cockwarming, a lil masturbation, stressed reader, use of “bunny”, “baby,”, minho being ambidextrous in a hot way. this was supposed to be dirty but it’s mushy as fuck and not even that sexy. if you let an ace write smut don’t be surprised when that happens.

inspo: minho’s bubble messages and recent academic overwhelm

notes: can this be classed as my valentine’s day fic? here it is anyway. the title is a reference to sunshine which is my go to destress song. to anyone who relates to reader’s situation, may all your stresses be lighter from today my lovies 🩵

{ wc: 2003 }

you arrived home after another long day, one of many—maybe too many—and as soon as you put your things down and got rid of your shoes you walked over to the sofa, pouting at your boyfriend.

“oh, come here,” he said, putting his laptop away and opening his arms wide.

you crashed down on the soft sofa, head rolling onto minho’s thick thighs.

“how was it?” he asked, sympathetically. you rolled out of bed early, so early even minho wasn’t awake yet, and the sun had set hours before you’ve arrived back home.

he knew how hard things have been lately.

between all your work and deadlines and commitments, minho could see the stress was getting to you. minho could always tell.

“so many things to do,” you mumbled into his lap.

“i know. here,” he said, grabbing your arms and moving you to where he wanted you to be. he manoeuvred your thighs, placing them on either side of his lap and tucked your head into his warm chest. you sighed.

“bunny,” he cooed, his hand sinking into your hair. he slowly scratched at your scalp and quickly a warmth settled into your bones. you leaned further into it, further into him, and nuzzled your head against his chest.

minho wanted to ask you what else you had to do, what he could do to help, but the way your body fell pliant against his made him think maybe now all you needed was his fingers in your hair and his arm secured safely around your waist. he was right.

the soft glide of his blunt nails against the root of your hair, and the warmth radiating from his body—all of it enough to slowly melt away your stress. it was there, you knew the deadlines were coming, but for now all you could feel was the floaty feeling from minho playing with your hair and knowing you were there, in his arms, where it was safe.

maybe you accidentally deleted a three page essay you needed to hand in the next day or maybe your boss had a go at you or maybe your phone stopped working in the middle of your presentation and your notes were gone. but all of that didn’t matter now that it was over, now that you forgotten it completely, and now that your present was filled with lee minho.

“min?” you asked softly, after however many minutes passed.

he hummed underneath you, the vibrations soft against your cheek.

“why are you hard?”

minho chuckled awkwardly, slightly shifting underneath you.

“i was reading something before you got here,” he mumbled into your hair before planting a soft kiss on the locks.

“oh?” you lift your head up, eyes peering up at him. “what was it?”

“best positions to surprise your partner with this valentine’s day,” he recites the article headline. his ears change into a soft pink—it’s one of your favourite colours.

you giggle softly, straighting up to be eye levelled with him.

“and what did you find?”

“it wasn’t anything new,” he says, hand softly rubbing up and down your back, “but i was thinking of you doing them and…” he spares a small glance at his crotch.

at that you laugh loudly before tucking your head into his neck.

you breathe in softly, slowly, following the rise and fall of minho’s chest while his warm scent takes over you. you kiss his neck with a small peck.

“maybe i can help you?”

“bunny,” he rubs against your scalp, “you should be resting after a long day. another long day.”

“but min, i—“

“—did you even eat today?”

“of course! i ate the lunch you prepared yesterday and a few of us grabbed some food before the meeting. don’t worry,”

“good job,” he nods, resuming his soft scratching. you lean into it instantly. “i don’t want you straining your body too much. it needs rest.”

“i am resting,” you mumbled stubbornly. “it’s just i also want you inside me.”

the last part was quiet, defeated almost, and minho smiled against your forehead before peppering a few small kisses on your skin.

his other hand left your back and you felt him fiddling around near your thighs, before he softly told you to lean up. you silently followed his orders, looking down to find he pushed his sweats and boxers down to his knees.

you slowly sat back down on his bare thighs—but didn’t reach out to him. perhaps he was right, you were too tired to even move forward.

minho kept your head pressed into his neck, his ability to control both his hand and his dancer coordination proved exceptionally useful. he kept scratching your head, moving up and down and occasionally pressing softly into the back of your neck where most of your stress lived.

with his other hand, he stroked himself. once you realised what he was doing, you started leaving a few open mouthed kisses on his skin, kissing his pulse point and beneath his jaw.

“you need to prep too, bunny,” he said softly, voice breathy as it vibrated against your lips. “if you still want to.”

“i want,” you said quickly, tucking your hand into your pants and rubbing slowly. you were surprised to find just how wet you were, but then again, minho was right next to you stroking himself.

you needed him inside you.

you knew the prep you gave yourself probably wasn’t enough, but you needed him—you needed his warmth and his closeness and so you quickly lifted yourself up and rid yourself of your pants and underwear.

minho didn’t waste any more time, lining himself up to your entrance and guiding you down with a hand on your hip.

the pair of you sighed softly and you slowly and carefully sunk all the way down.

the stretch was more prominent than usual, but it was nice. so nice, and you let your eyes softly close at the fullness of having him inside you.

“there, baby,” he smiled at you, running his hands up and down your arms. he squeezed them softly before moving his hands to your back, rubbing up and down.

you didn’t realise how sore your whole body felt from the stress of everything the past few days had brought you, and you instantly relaxed.

“you’ve been working hard,” he said softly, nodding slightly as you lean your head back onto his chest. “you’ve done well, baby. so well.”

you melt at the praise, body weight pressed entirely into minho’s strong body as your mind slowly starts clearing up.

you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself even closer to minho as his arms both wrap around your back.

normally, you would be begging minho to start moving, to fuck you fast like he does when you’re stressed and need to forget the world around you. sometimes, he goes slow, when you need to be reminded of just how important you are to him. but now, he isn’t moving at all. and now, you think that’s exactly what you need. minho always knows.

you close your eyes, listening to the steady and reliable thumping of minho’s heart.

all other thoughts fade away. it’s nothing but minho, his smell and his warmth and his arms solid and strong around you. just minho.

———

your eyes are heavy, you must’ve fallen asleep as your brain feels empty and vague about the last few minutes. you slowly move your head to peer up at your boyfriend—a comforting smile on his face.

“did i fall asleep?” you grumble. you can still feel the fullness inside you, the pleasing pressure on your stomach so you know neither one of you has moved. you try slightly stretching out your thighs that have fallen asleep too, a soft tingling running through your feet at the numbness from the prolonged position.

you don’t move too much, but your pussy does instinctively squeeze around minho, and he lets out a delighted sigh as he leans his head back. still, he doesn’t move.

he runs his hands up and down your thighs, his smile still firmly in place as he looks up at you. he softly kneads your muscles, still working on helping you relax. your eyes lock together and the brown in front of you is swimming with adoration and a hint of pride you don’t know if you can even accept.

you feel yourself blush at the thought, know minho would scold you if you voiced it, and decide you’ll have to work harder on accepting the praise he gives you.

sometimes you think minho is the only person you’d ever let yourself be loved by.

most times you think that isn’t such a bad idea.

he licks his lips, swallowing in the way he does before he readies himself to say something important.

you tell yourself to accept his love, to let yourself be loved by him.

“you didn’t get me chocolate,” is what he says, “give me chocolate.”

you blink at him for a second, a habit you picked up from spending too much time around minho, trying to process what he’s even talking about.

it clicks a moment later.

“you never even asked me to be your valentine’s, so why should i?” you smirk at him.

he’s appalled by such an answer, eyes wide and mouth gaped enough for his bunny teeth to peek out slightly. you think you’d never love anyone as much as you love lee minho.

“you’re mine,” he says, simple. “why would i need to ask when you’re very clearly mine.”

you can’t help the way your body reacts when minho talks that way, and your pussy clenches tightly at his words.

minho doesn’t tease you, as you’d expect him to, but instead his eyes turn serious.

he runs his hands up to your hips, pushing you forward as your clit rubs against his pelvis.

“min,” your voice comes out high pitched and airy.

“i’m here,” he nods, “i’ll take care of you, okay?”

you nod.

he leans forward, kissing you firmly before bringing a hand back into your hair—softly scratching.

“my bunny,” he says, and it sounds like a promise. “and always my valentine’s. always mine.”

“always yours, min,” you echo firmly, and it sounds like acceptance.

minho brings a hand between your bodies, softly rubbing slow circles against your clit.

“and when things get stressful i’m here,” he reminds you, “and whatever it is you need.”

“m-me too, min, i’ll give you anything,” you moan softly.

“not chocolate, evidently,” he grins at you, his evil smirk out on full display.

you try and protest at his unfair accusation—you literally texted him earlier to ask if he wanted chocolate and he said no due to his personal trainer’s demands—but minho stops you with a fleeting kiss on your lips.

“i don’t need it anyway,” he decides, “you’re better than chocolate.”

at that minho grabs that back of your head and pulls your forward, kissing you urgently as his tongue softly moves against yours. he swallows down your moans as his hand moves faster against you, building and building and building.

you let the feeling take over you as you’re consumed by it, by minho and his familiar taste. the stubble on his chin and the softness of his lips and the way his soft hair feels between your fingers.

you let yourself forget everything else. the dates circled on your calendar and your unanswered emails and your appointments.

it doesn’t matter much when minho starts giggling into your mouth because you’ve knocked your teeth against his.

it doesn’t matter much when minho is all around you, inside you, kissing you. telling you, “mine, baby, mine,” as he starts lazily thrusting into you.

your thoughts, your anxieties, your responsibilities. for a moment they can all fade away—for just now. for as long as you and minho are together, connected.

for now, it doesn’t matter much. all you can think about is minho. just minho.

handled.

minors dni. minho x fem!reader. hands on necks (not exactly choking but choking adjacent). dirty talk. slightly rough piv. soft!dom minho.

It's not what you expect, the first time someone reaches out to wrap their fingers around your throat. It's during a lesson in self-defence, part of a compulsory skill. You flinch away as their fingertips graze your skin, scrunching your shoulders at the unnatural feeling. It's not a neutral act, a simple experience of skin on skin.

There's something deep down, an instinct designed to make the feeling of another person's hands around your neck inherently discomforting.

It takes many attempts for you to build a tolerance to it, the anxious feeling never settling completely despite your ability to hold still.

It was hard to imagine how the act could ever elicit anything other than that deep, instinctual urge to squirm away.

Until him.

His fingers flex as he tugs the black glove down his wrist a little further. It's a vital part of his costume as far as your concerned, a last minute addition ties up his all-black theme perfectly.

"Are you having fun?" you question, back pressed against a wall in a dark corner of the room.

The New Year was around the corner, the costume party in full swing around you. It'd taken a doe eyed look and a soft kiss to his neck to convince your boyfriend to join you.

He offers you a small lopsided smile, the delicate lip ring balanced prettily on his lower lip. "Mm," he hums with a small nod.

You tug him a little closer, "You sure? I know it's a little more crowded than I—"

"I'm fine," he says, the bare fingers of his glove free hand stroking gently over your wrist. "I'm all good."

If you were being totally honest with yourself, a (not so small) part of you hope he'd ask to leave. Getting him dressed up like this was the best part of the entire night, you'd decided. Now, you'd very much rather be at home taking the costume off him than stand around in a crowd of drunk partygoers.

The lip ring presses into his plush lip a little as he nibbles at it for a moment. You could leave the accessories on him. The ring, the silver necklace hanging around his collar—just long enough to tickle your chin if he was above you... and then there was the glove. Your eyes drop involuntarily to the hand in question.

"What about you?" Minho asks, tugging your eyes back to his.

"Hm?"

"Having fun?"

You blink.

He smiles, keenly aware of your propensity to drift elsewhere. "What you thinking about?" he asks. You would have answered him. You were too far into your relationship to be timid about such things. But then... then he reaches up with that hand... the dark, smooth fabric cool against your skin as he tilts your chin up a little. "Talk to me," he encourages gently.

Oh, he knows. Of course, he knows.

"Do you like my costume?"

His eyes drop down your body quickly. "Mm," he hums. "Very pretty."

"I like yours too."

He fails to suppress an amused, knowing smile. "Yeah?" His hand drifts from your chin along your jaw, coming to rest just below your ear. It allows his gloved thumb to play with your lobe a little as he steps into you a little more. "What do you like about it?"

"Fishing for compliments?"

"You seem desperate to offer them."

You frown, "No."

"No?" he questions, stepping even closer. He's pressed against you now, warm and dark—a barrier between you and the rest of the room. "My sweet girl wouldn't lie to me." He leans over you, lips brushing your jawline. "Would she?" he adds with a whisper. His breath tickles, hot against your sensitive neck.

You realise your error then. It was too late. The time had passed for you to drag him home and tear the dark clothes from him in the privacy of your shared apartment.

It was happening here.

Your eyes flick quickly across the room before you're grabbing his wrist and tugging him along with you, dodging drunk friends and acquaintances as you beeline for the hallway door.

Minho chuckles behind you, letting you tug him along without resistance.

You'd let you of tomorrow contemplate the decisions you make next. When you find each room taken, occupied by a couple or a group of intoxicated friends, you tug open the laundry door and slam it behind you both. There's a small lock on the door handle. You twist it.

"You like it that much, then?" Minho says from behind you.

He's leaning against the washing machine when you turn, arms crossed—sleeves rolled to his elbows.

You take in a few shallow breaths before he's stepping towards you and lifting you off your feet. It shouldn't be as easy as it is for him to lift you on top of the dryer. He settles between your legs, hands gliding up and down your thighs a few times.

His dark hair has loosened a little over the evening, the hairspray you'd used to keep it in place off his forehead giving into the humidity and copious tousles by distracted fingers. There's a lock hanging just over one of his eyes.

You reach up to brush it aside delicately.

"I lied," Minho whispers, seemingly prompted out of silence by your action. "When I said it's pretty..." he thumbs at the hem of your dress where he's slipped it up your thigh. "...I lied." His fingers brush your skin on one thigh, the fabric of his glove is cold against the other. "Pretty isn't right," he continues. "It makes me want to hold you down... sink into you..." His gloved hand snakes up your side slowly, coming to rest at the base of your neck. His fingers are splayed out across your collarbones, just below the point that would normally make you itch to squirm away.

"Min?"

His eyes flick up from your neck. His fingers twitch against you. "Mm," he hums. It's a sweet sound, in total contrast to the way he looks at you. Like he wants to tear you apart. You find you like the idea. You also find... that you wish his fingers would inch up just a little.

It's not a thought you dwell on. Instead you reach up slowly, like he might spook, and wrap your fingers around his wrist.. then slowly... gently... you guide his hand up to your throat. His eyes stay fixed on yours; his fingers ghost light on your skin.

"Don't look at me like that," he says as your fingers squeeze his wrist. "All fucking sweet like you don't want me to—"

"Please," you interrupt.

He leans forward with a groan, lips pressing to the side of your neck. He squeezes slightly at the movement. It's enough to have you dropping your head back.

It's different. It's so different to how it'd been with a stranger, with someone other than him. This makes you want to crawl under his skin, beg him to hold you and consume you—to take you. His. His. His.

"Minho," you gasp as his lips part and suck at your neck, his wet tongue poking out to lave at the marks he leaves as he goes.

His hand stays at your neck as he works, a comforting and steady pressure. He's got you, it says.

A tiny clink breaks you from your trance. His lip ring is gone when he pulls back, fallen into the dark and bouncing off things around you as it goes. You could not care less. You tug him back towards you, hands at the back of his neck to guide him. His lips are wet and hot against yours, moving with a laziness that did not at all align with upbeat music and countdown starting outside.

His tongue slips out to meet yours, his body falling over you a little in a desperate attempt to get closer. 8...7...6... the partygoers chant. Your fingers grasp at his hair, tugging a little. He whines. 3...2... You could be anywhere... you ponder as the cheers start and the new year begins. You could be anywhere and anytime, and all that would matter would be whether he was there with you.

His breath comes out in deep gasps when you finally part. It's a brief reprieve. He's on you in the next second, tugging your hips towards his and burying himself inside you. It's your turn to attach yourself to his neck, kissing and biting your way through his sharp drives into you. The dryer bangs against the wall behind you with each one.

"This what you wanted?" he gasps as you fall back on your hands. His hands grasp your hips. One warm. One cold. "Hm?"

His lips glisten with spit, a mixture of each of you. You're about to reach towards him again, desperate to taste him, when he releases one hand from your hip.

It's the bare hand this time, that wraps around your neck. It's worse—better. His fingers twitch each time he pumps into you. Your pulse flutters against them. You can feel it.

Then he pauses, tugs you flush against him—buried deep. "My sweet girl," he says. He presses his fingers into your skin at each side of your neck. It doesn't cut off your breath, instead, your cunt clenches around him—your high taking you off guard. It's a rush, a heaviness in your head that seems to match perfectly with the heavy, fullness of his cock buried deep.

There's something deep down, an instinct designed to make the feeling of another person's hands around your neck inherently discomforting. And then... there's this.

masterlist | l.mh

last updated: 14/01/2024

disclaimers:

- all suggestive/smut works depict minho as a softdom and reader as a fem bodied sub unless stated otherwise.

- do NOT interact with my 18+ content if you're a minor, ageless, default or empty blog.

- i do not take requests! i just write whatever comes to my head or if i'm inspired by something

- i try to not be descriptive of the reader's physical features but i do mostly write with a fairly tall, small chested character in mind.

- please keep in mind that english isn't my first language, so i apologize for any grammatical mistakes or if something doesn't make sense haha

[the content on this blog is purely fictional and in no way represents lee minho or stray kids as individuals.]

— fluff

• prompts/blurbs

bento lunches. sticker. soft cuddly minho. sticky notes. peachy. sleepy night banters. kdrama night. nightmares.

minho on your period.

when you have a past trauma from phonecalls. (hurt/comfort)

childhood friend to highschool crush minho.

barista!minho.

• short drabbles

sweet cravings.

minho comes back from his workout session all tired and craving something sweet. a pleasant surprise waits for him at home.

attention ft. languagexflowers, rachalixie & septicrebel

when you're working on your laptop and he wants your undivided attention.

insomnia.

when minho can't sleep so he makes it your problem.

mutual pining with minho. (prologue for ditto. see: fluff - fics)

your relationship with minho having no labels only makes your feelings for him grow.

moles & kisses.

they say wherever you have moles is where a lover in your past life kissed you the most.

sleep talking.

one bed trope with bestfriend!minho.

morning train.

life was hard. but you and minho had each other, seeking comfort in the small mundane moments you get to spend together.

• fics (2k+)

first snow.

having a crush on your manager was already bad enough. but him offering to walk you to the subway station after work made it even worse... or better?

sweet tooth. (hurt/comfort)

your boyfriend constantly outdoing you by being a giver with acts of service and gift giving as his love language, your complicated relationship with your birthday, it all was making your head hurt.

ditto.

after a long bad day, all you want to do is fall asleep in minho's arms, if only he was yours. you decide enough is enough. mutual-pining-to-lovers. drunk confession.

— very suggestive

• short drabbles

dizzy.

upon seeing you in nothing but his tank top, minho can't hide his (not so normal) fascination with your small chest.

when dori interrupts events

a morning-after round two is interrupted by dori, the number one cockblocker, literally.

drunk on you.

slow makeout sessions with pleasure-dom!minho.

pussy cat: Prologue. (see: smut - drabbles)

minho jokingly calls you pussycat and upon seeing your -very not normal- reaction, proceeds to be a whole menace about it.

minho had a bad day but so did you.

— smut

• prompts/blurbs

he controls a vibrator on a dinner night at home. ft. tasteracha

cockwarming him while on your desk.

minchan teasing you (ft. chan). op: channiesposts

poly!minchan.

riding + size kink.

overstimulation with softdom!minho.

you forget your safeword.

more poly!minchan thoughts.

when you accidentally turn him on.

sapiosexual!minho.

cockwarming comp sci major minho. ft. tasteracha

more poly!minchan !!

face sitting with minho.

lingerie try on with minho.

how vocal he is in bed.

thigh riding + dacryphilia.

• short drabbles

dessert with a view.

going on a picnic with no panties on.

tag teamed.

minchan threesome prompts (ft. chan).

addicted to you. op: channiesposts

when you make him beg for his release.

new pleasures.

minho is determined to make you cum from nipple play only.

take it.

minho fucking you on a chair. that's it.

breathe.

when you feel so overwhelmed that he has to remind you of basic survival instincts.

louder.

minho didn't know slow sex could make you this loud. in his dorm.

versatile chef.

ogling at your boyfriend's hands while he cooks makes you blurt out that you've never been fingered before. he takes matters into his own hands. literally.

ambidextrous.

being able to use both hands just as well can be very useful, minho knows that better than anyone else.

floaty.

after being fucked into a trance where you can't tell what's safe or not, minho has to make sure you're taken care of.

sweet treat.

for minho's birthday, you cater to both his love for sweets and your body.

day & night.

your boyfriend fucked deliciously, but he made love just as well, if not better.

pain perdu. (prologue: garlic bread)

there was nothing better than when you and minho's days off align. so you catch up on some much needed sleep, and love making.

zipper: the remix.

minho's not done making you swoon over him. so he throws you a second bait. this time it's zipped pants.

adore you.

giving your pretty boyfriend a handjob while he goes absolutely feral. that's it. spit, cum play. nasty but sweet.

garlic bread. (prologue for pain perdu)

it's always like this— you and minho using each other to forget about the day, but only because you're the healing elixir for one another.

• fics (2k+)

pretty boy.

taking your chance to take care of your dom after a long day, you shower him with praise until he submits under you... or not? body worship go brrr.

pussy cat.

a joke about minho loving his cats more than you takes an unexpected turn as he tries to show you that he loves you the most.

roommates.

minho knows what he's doing is wrong, but what's a little jerking off to the thought of his unsuspecting roommate?

lipstick stains.

minho knows better than to ruin your makeup in a party, but something about your smudged lipstick makes his head spin. (aka the zipper incident)

© lino-nyangi on tumblr. please do not repost to other platforms, translate or claim as your own!

║ Introduction ║

「Lee Know is your best friend, with benefits, and the most sought after ‘entertainer’ in the city. But what do you do when emotions run high and the line between friends and lovers begins to blur?」

║ Genre ║

「Alternative universe, non-idol members. Contains themes of love and romance, turmoil, explicit sexual content, angst and tension, casual relationship, established relationship, cheating and promiscuity, feelings of self-worth and value, adult themes throughout.」

║ Characters & Pairings║

「Female reader insert. Focused around Lee Know and Hwang Hyunjin. All members of Stray Kids are included. Contains original characters.」

║ Series Navigation ║

「Unrequited」

「Unmatched」

「Pleasure > Business」 a Bang Chan spin-off

「Heaven’s Demise」 a Hyunjin spin-off

「37k words approx」 「7 parts ✓」 「orig ver. published May 2020, rewritten April 2022」 「© May 2020 by jl-micasea-fics, © April 2022 by jl-micasea-fics」

「AO3」 「Wattpad」 「Tumblr links below」

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

║ Introduction ║

「You have a job to do. That job is simple, in of itself. Yet the elusive vampire family you find yourself entangled with, the target of your job, makes things anything but straightforward. Can you traverse the thin lines between right and wrong when harsh truths are exposed and realities come to light? Can you resist the allure of danger, the appeal of the unknown? Experience this story of unlikely friendships, lurking threat, and entirely unexpected love.」

║ Genre ║

「Alternative universe, vampire mythology, non-human members. Contains themes of love and romance, explicit sexual content, angst and tension, themes of horror and the supernatural, heavy conflict, explicit violence and gore.」

║ Characters & Pairings ║

「Female reader insert. Focused around Lee Know and Bang Chan. All members of Stray Kids are included. Contains original characters.」

║ Series Navigation ║

「Sanguis Limerence™」

「Sanguis Limerence: Origins™」

「Sanguis Limerence: Awakening™」

「150k words approx」 「28 chapters ✓」 「© December 2020 by jl-micasea-fics」 「official Spotify playlist」 

║ Read ║

「AO3」 「Tumblr links below」

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Chapter XXI

Chapter XXII

Chapter XXIII

Chapter XXIV

Chapter XXV

Chapter XXVI

Chapter XXVII

Chapter XXVIII

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Synopsis: Let's play two truths and a lie, and here goes the first thing about you: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend, Minho. (9k words)

Author's note: It's a quick one-shot I made like a year ago but pls enjoy it nonetheless 😊

Content warning: Infidelity.

This is how you play two truths and a lie. You share three statements about you, two being true and one false, and people must determine which is which.

-

So here goes the first statement: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend.

A few months ago, you came to the city for your new job and were placed in a housing with a group of unbearable people. Since you've just started working, you tried looking at another option to get a temporary place to stay until you're financially stable enough to rent an apartment.

Long story short, a friend of a friend introduced you to Kim who happened to have an extra room you can rent. She owns the apartment and does not necessarily need the money, she offered her room for the sole reason which is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of that is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of person every day and for that, you're grateful for her.

After a week of living as roommates, you learn that Kim is just as graceful as her occupation, a ballet dancer. She's beautiful, kind-hearted, amicable, and ultimately, a very attentive roommate.

The room you're staying in was supposedly her private dance studio but she uses the living room to practice now and you have to adjust yourself to the huge mirror covering one side of the wall in your room.

Not long after that, Minho comes into the picture. A sharp nose, sharp jaws, and feline eyes, a beautiful face that only reminds you that the world is unfair to some people, including you.

"This is Minho," Kim introduces him with a smile

The second your eyes lock in a gaze with him, you feel an instant attraction and it intensifies as he stares back into your eyes.

"My boyfriend," Kim adds a little too late.

It's funny that the word boyfriend doesn't stop you from being attracted to him, if anything, you want him more than before.

Kim and Minho have been together for two years now and they met at the dance academy which explains a lot of things, including Minho's lean and toned body.

How do you know? Because sometimes he stays over and on more than one occasion, you found him walking out of the bathroom with nothing but a white towel hanging lowly around his waist.

That's also when you learn that this attraction is strictly physical, your uterus is acting up when you see him, and lewd thoughts rush through your head. It's all biological. There's no way you want to pursue him romantically, you couldn't even think of a person more deserving to be with him than Kim. They're both beautiful and talented dancers, oftentimes, you get so envious because they have such a lovely relationship.

Like tonight, you hear their laughter the second you step into the apartment, finding Kim and Minho in the kitchen just casually talking to each other while sharing a bowl of fruits. You love how simple yet endearing their interaction is.

"Hey, you're home!" Kim says with a sweet, welcoming smile.

You wave your hand at her and briefly at Minho, "Hi, everyone!" You awkwardly say, feeling like you're interrupting them.

"Have you had dinner?" Kim asks, attentive as always.

"Yeah, I grabbed dinner after work," you lie, but you can always creep your way to the fridge late at night for dinner.

"There's a pie in the fridge. Help yourself to some dessert," she sweetly offers then shoves a piece of blueberry into her mouth.

Without having to look, you can see how Minho looks at you, he has this deep, intense gaze that makes you the slightest bit intimidated.

"I will, thanks," you hurriedly respond, wanting the interaction to end as soon as possible, "I'll just... get into my room."

"Yeah, you should rest," Kim softly mutters.

You hoist your bag higher on your shoulder and head to your room, before you get in, you mutter to them, "Night, guys."

"Night," Kim cheerily says.

You hurriedly get in and catch a glimpse of Minho with his intense stare a second before the door completely closes and clicks in place.

The trick to surviving the night is to wait until they get into the bedroom and put headphones on as you come out of yours, not only to avoid hearing unwanted noises, but you reckon it's only right to take the extra measure to respect their privacy.

As you're listening and catching glimpses of the movie playing on your phone, you walk around the kitchen to prepare your simple, unhealthy dinner: a cup of noodles and a can of soda.

You're quietly eating your dinner by the kitchen counter with the headphones still on and once you finished, you treat yourself to a slice of pie, then put the rest of the pie back into the fridge.

It gets messy as you're munching on the pie while watching the movie on your phone. The cherry filling gets all over your fingers and you hurriedly lick it off before it gets—

"Oh, my God!" You shriek in surprise, seeing someone standing by the fridge. Once you realize it's Minho, you break into laughter.

"I'm just getting a bottle of water," he says, his face illuminated by the glow of the fridge lights.

"I'm sorry," you say while clutching your chest, and a second later, regret for saying it when he should be the one apologizing.

There's something different in the way Minho looks at you, he has one corner of his mouth raised higher than the other, giving you the impression that he's thinking of filthy things when he looks at you like that. He's giving you that look now and it does certain things to you.

He then stops leaning against the fridge, taking the bottle of water as he walks back to the bedroom, leaving his signature faint smirk on the back of your head.

The signals are there, they're subtle yet constantly pinging, asking you to respond. For now, you're going to ignore it like you always do and continue existing like you're not sharing the same space with him.

-

Statement number two: You believe Minho wants to fuck you too.

At first, you thought you imagined it, you want to fuck him so you started being delusional and thinking that he wants to fuck you too. Once you started paying attention though, you realized that what he's been doing to you meant something or some sort of message he tried to deliver.

The first occurrence that came to your realization is when the two of you were in the kitchen, you were enjoying your yoghurt and he suddenly came behind you to get something from the drawer that happened to be blocked by your body. Instead of telling you to step aside, he made you stand there as his hand curved around your waist to get something out of a drawer.

From there, you noticed a lot of things he did, the way he briefly rested his hand on the small of your back as he walked past behind you, his hand that would often brush a part of your body when the two of you are next to each other or the way he would speak close to your ear as if he's seeking to be close to you. Simply put, he always tries to make physical contact with you.

The scariest part of it is not the possibility that the two of you will eventually get caught, but how unfazed he is even when his girlfriend is there. Like that night where the three of you shared the sofa and somehow, his hand found your shoulder and instead of retreating, he continued to caress the nape of your neck with his knuckle.

However, what happens tonight is what makes you believe that he wants the same thing.

After making sure that you're the only one still awake in the vicinity, you make your way to the bathroom to take a nice, hot shower to help you relax and sleep faster. You skip on using the hairdryer since it'll make too much noise and tiptoe your way back to your bedroom.

In the middle of putting on your clothes, you realize that you left the door ajar and you notice Minho is watching through the reflection in the mirror.

Instead of stopping or rushing to close the door, you pretend to not see him there and continue, turning your body to the side, showcasing every curve of your body through the reflection in the mirror.

You arch your back as you put on the night dress over your head and slowly slip yourself in it, shimmying your body as you pull the dress down with your hands. Then you look at him through the reflection in the mirror and make it known that you're aware of his presence.

From the crooked grin on his face, you can tell that Minho is pleased to be caught watching you and you received his signal loud and clear: He wants to fuck you too.

But sadly, tonight's show is over so you walk to the door and close it.

-

Friday afternoon, Kim barges into your room and she rarely comes into your room without knocking on your door. Seeing that she's carrying a dress in her hand, you guess she needs your opinions on her clothing choices.

You sit on the bed and take your headphones off, "What's up, Kim?"

She stands at the end of the bed and lifts the dress with both hands, "What do you think?" She asks.

It's a mini dress with spaghetti straps in a deep purple color and it's a nice dress, you're just not sure if it fits Kim's style that well, she usually opts for dresses with flaring hem and floral prints.

"It's nice, Kim," you say but skip on giving her the detailed explanation.

She puts the dress close to her body and hugs it, "Do you like it?"

"Yeah," you shortly reply, even though it doesn't fit her style well, it certainly will look good on her.

"Good!" She shortly says, handing the dress to you, "Cause you'll be wearing it.

Somehow, you reach for it and awkwardly hold it in front of you, "W-why? Why me?"

Kim goes to your vanity table and flips open your jewelry box, she holds your earrings one by one to find ones that would match the dress.

"You're coming with me to this party," she says, leaving a lot of details in her answer.

"What party?"

"Party at my friend's," she simply answers, deciding on the gold small hoop earrings.

But that's against your plan, you want to steer clear of Minho and party at Kim's friend means that he'd likely be there too.

"Kim, I don't think that's a good idea," you tell her.

She then leans against the desk in your room and crosses her arm together in front of her, "These past few days you refused to hang out with me so you have to hang out with me tonight."

So Kim knows that you've been purposely avoiding her but you need to explain that it's not because of her, "But that's not—"

"Nuh-uh!" She quickly cuts you off again, "Tonight you're going to the party with me," she decides on her own, not accepting any more excuses from you.

"Is it okay though? I mean... it's your friend's party. I don't want to intrude," you meekly say while playing with the strap of the dress.

"Why would it not be okay?" She says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, "Besides I want to introduce you to Gaspard."

Maybe you owe this one to Kim and hearing a guy's name piques your interest, "And who is Gaspard?"

"A cute guy," she shortly answers with a sly grin on her heart-shaped face, "And you'll like him."

It's not like Minho's presence would bother you that much and Kim needs you, she wants you there, therefore, as a good roommate, you should be there.

"Yeah, okay, I'm in the mood to meet a cute guy tonight," you tell her, not forgetting to show enthusiasm as well.

"That's the spirit!" Kim says with a wide grin dancing on her face.

Well, since you'll be there and possibly meet Minho, Gaspard better be a cute distraction for real.

-

The taxi pulls up in front of a house and you reckon it's where the party at from how many cars are parked outside and the faint thumping of the music playing inside.

The fact that you get here by taxi only means that there's no Minho so you can relax, for now.

Kim excitedly links her arm with you as you both walk into the house and you expect a party with laid-back music and endless glasses of wine but the second you step inside, upbeat music is blasting from around the house and everyone is having beers from red plastic cups.

The party is not what you imagined it would be, but it's what you need.

Kim cranes her neck to find her friends and once she finds them, she raises her hand to signal her arrival to them.

"Come on! Let's meet my friends!" She says.

Please, God, let him be a cute distraction! You repeatedly mutter in your heart as she drags you with her to meet her friends who are gathered in what you guess is a rec room in the house.

When Kim's friends finally come to sight, you put on a smile as you quietly guess which one of them is Gaspard. Kim goes to hug them one by one before introducing you to them.

"This is Ellie, Jena, Paul..." she introduces her friends back to you one by as the mentioned person warmly greets you.

"And Minho," someone adds from behind you.

You immediately look over your shoulder to see Minho standing there, Kim gently slaps his shoulder in response and laughs.

"This is not a roll call, honey," Kim says with a smile and then leans in to give Minho a quick peck on the lips.

Minho is already here and there's no Gaspard yet. No Gaspard means there'll be no distraction. You keep your smile on even though you're slowly descending into distress.

"There he is!" Kim exclaims, pointing at something behind you.

You reflexively turn on your heels and see a tall man with brown hair, striking green eyes, and a scintillating smile. This man will make the perfect distraction.

Please let this man be Gaspard, you deeply wish inside your heart.

Kim comes to your side and puts her arm around you, "This is the man I told you about," she says.

"I hope you only told her nice things about me," Gaspard says with a sly grin that makes his whole face light up.

The universe heard your plea and decided to make it true for you, this is Gaspard, the perfect distraction you want and need.

"Holyfuck..." you lowly mutter in disbelief.

"What's that?" Kim asks, hearing you saying something but doesn't quite catch it.

You've already forgotten where you are and what you're doing. And Minho? Who is Minho? You let out a chuckle and shake these silly thoughts away.

"So this is Gaspard, huh?" You say in all confidence.

"That is me," he answers, returning the confidence with a wide smile, "I'm better than you expected, I guess?"

Gaspard is confident and then gets shy in the next minute which you find charming, you smile at him and say, "I need more time to decide on that."

"That's fair," Gaspard says, offering his hand at you.

You think he's just going to shake your hand but he takes you into the crowd gathered in the middle of the room, dancing.

"A fair warning, I'm a bad dancer," you warn him as he takes your hands in his and makes you stand facing him.

"We still have time to decide on that," he pokes fun at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you close to his front.

Kim is right, Gaspard is cute and you like him already. He has just the right amount of facial hair and it grazes your cheek whenever he leans in to whisper into your ear, giving you a tingling feeling inside and outside.

After a few moments though, you find yourself panting from dancing with him. You should've known this would happen when you're dancing with a real dancer.

Since Gaspard is way taller than you, you have to put your arm around his shoulder and stand on your tiptoe to whisper to his ear, "Hey, how about we get drinks?"

"Drinks?" He asks you in confirmation since the mix of loud music and chatter is filling the room.

"Yeah," you answer while repeatedly nodding your head.

He doesn't say anything but takes your hand and leads the way through the crowd to the kitchen where bottles of liquor are strewn around on the kitchen island.

You intently watch as Gaspard is excitingly making you his special concoction. He finishes it off with a spritz of lemon before handing it to you.

"Thank you," you mutter in gratitude.

"Come on. Taste it!" He encourages you, curious of what you think of his drink-mixing skill.

Well, you've been staring at it long enough to give him the impression that you hesitate to drink it. You hurriedly take a small sip and you don't even have to lie, it's good.

"Wow!" You gasp, impressed with the drink he made.

"I know," he confidently says with a smirk and drinks his drink.

It's so refreshing and sweet like it has no alcohol at all, you hurriedly take another sip.

"It's really good," you tell him.

"Thank you," he says with a grin.

He then offers his hand at you, "Let's find somewhere to talk?"

You take his hand without question, letting him take you wherever he wants because it seems like he knows where he's going. He leads you to the backyard where everyone is hanging out by the pool.

"Hey, you!"

Recognizing the voice, your head snaps toward the source, and see Kim waving her hand at you from the long sofa that curved around a fancy fireplace.

You stop walking on your track and end up leading Gaspard there. You unconsciously let out a sigh of relief after seeing that there's no Minho there.

"Oh, hey," you greet back.

Kim scoots to the side to make space for you on the sofa, "Where have you guys been?"

"Oh, we were just dancing and he made me a drink," you honestly answer, not forgetting to show her the drink in your hand.

"And where were you going to take her, Gaspard?" Kim asks with eyes squinted at him.

"Anywhere but here," he jokingly answers.

"Well, since you guys just got here, it's your turn to play!" Someone says, you can't remember what her name is but she's one of the friends Kim introduced earlier.

"Turn to play? What?" You ask in confusion.

"Two truths and a lie," someone says.

You feel bad for not being able to remember their names, Gaspard's influence is that powerful on you.

"You know how to play, right?" Kim asks.

It's not about whether you know how to play or not, it's just so unexpected that these talented, gorgeous dancers like to play this kind of game at parties.

"Yes, I do," you answer.

Kim turns on the sofa to face you and looks at you in anticipation, "Okay then. Shoot!"

"Right now?"

"Yes," Kim shortly answers with a chuckle.

You admire their eagerness whether for the game or to know something about you, you rake your brain to think of three things about you and one of them should be a lie that would likely fool them good.

"Okay first is uhm... I'm allergic to cats," you share.

There's no response from them but you can see how they're looking at you and probably every detailed facial expression you make that will give away hints about whether you're lying or not.

"Second thing is my mom has a twin," you confidently share with a faint smile.

"Ah," Kim lowly gasps and you guess because you've shared this information with her before.

"Last thing is..." you look around as you think of the last thing to share with them.

You eventually turn to the side and see Gaspard smiling at you, "I think Gaspard is cute," you share the third thing about you.

"That's the one! That's the lie!" Someone excitedly guesses, and you suddenly remember his name as Paul.

You laugh because Gaspard looks so offended by his friend, "No, it's not a lie," you quickly defend him.

Gaspard shoots him a glare and triumphantly laughs, "Just drink, man!"

Paul drinks his beer in defeat.

"I must say the second one is the lie," the girl says again, still can't remember her name though.

"No. Her mom has a fraternal twin," Kim says, learning that information from you on the first day you moved into her apartment.

"Drink up, Jena!" Kim tells her that she guessed wrong and not wasting time but drinks her beer as a punishment.

"Oh, so you're not allergic to cats?" Gaspard asks.

"No, I'm not. I like cats," you answer.

He then sighs in relief, "That's great because I have a cat."

"Oh, wow?!" You utter in disbelief.

Other than being a great distraction, you share a lot in common with Gaspard and that says something.

"I also have cats," someone adds, joining in on the circle.

You can tell by the voice that it's the man you've been trying to avoid seeing tonight. You remain calm and have a sip of your drink.

"Yes, Minho, we all know you're a cat daddy," Jena says, finally knowing her name from Kim.

Kim groans and tosses a cushion at Jena, "Don't say that!"

Minho takes a gulp of Kim's drink and sits with his back reclined and his legs spread open, even his sitting position oozing with confidence and you eat that shit up.

You feel like slapping your face at that thought and have another sip to swallow that thought down.

"Is it my turn to play?" Minho asks around.

Jena shrugs since no one is taking the turn to play, "Yeah, sure, go ahead."

Minho softly scratches his chin before speaking, "I want to kiss someone tonight."

He starts easy but from the faint smirk on his face, you can tell he's brewing something in his mind.

"That someone is not my girlfriend," he calmly says.

Welp, there you go! Minho acts like he didn't just drop a shocking statement while his girlfriend is sitting prettily next to him.

You glance at Kim and she looks calm, but you can see that her jaws are slightly clenched. She's not happy so Minho should stop it.

But instead of calming his girlfriend, Minho looks at you and continues to share the third statement, "The person I want to kiss is one of you."

Your heart skips a beat because he keeps looking right at you and making it obvious for everyone to see who it is. All of a sudden, you feel the urge to exit this scene but walking out only makes it even more obvious.

Minho is sick of doing this to you and Kim, it's like he doesn't even care what it can do to either you or Kim.

"Oh, Minho, that's..." Paul hisses, not able to finish his sentence.

"Why, Paul?" Minho daringly asks him.

"Nothing," Paul says while scratching his head.

Minho leans forward and says, "It's you, Paul. It's you who I want to kiss."

Paul's tense face melts in a second and everyone bursts out laughing, "Fuck you, man!"

"It's you. I want to kiss you," Minho taunts him more, throwing himself at him and jokingly tries to kiss him.

Paul keeps pushing him away, sloshing his drink as he tries to dodge Minho's kiss while everyone else is laughing at them.

Even though it turns out to be a joke, you feel sick in the stomach and feel the need to get out of here.

"I need to go to the restroom," you mutter, getting up from the sofa.

Gaspard puts down his drink, "I can show you—"

"It's okay. I can go by myself," you tell him off, you regret being so crass but you're sure he'll understand.

"Okay," he says, sitting back down on the sofa.

While clutching the hem of your dress, you head back inside the house and find the bathroom to only queue to get inside, you decide to try on the second floor. You can easily find the bathroom as it's wedged between two bedrooms.

It's a party, you're sure the host would be okay with you using their bathroom, you don't even need to pee or something, you just need a space to vent.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you keep muttering to the reflection in the mirror.

When you touch your neck, you can feel a sheen of sweat there so you run your hands under the cold water and tap it to your neck.

This is the first time you realize what it'll do to you when it comes to following your desire. You'll ruin not only their relationship but also your friendship with Kim and she's been nothing but good to you.

"Fuck!" You mutter once again as you splash cold water on your face like it would help to put some sense into you.

Coming here was a bad idea!

But you're already here so you only need to stick to your plan, staying away from Minho and sticking with Gaspard. You allow yourself to spend a few more minutes just to compose yourself before coming out of the bathroom.

As you're about to climb down the stairs, the plan comes to a failure.

You see Minho is coming up the stairs and he seems to be looking for you as well from the way he stops once he finds you.

Instead of avoiding him as you planned, you feel the need to confront him about what happened a while ago. You grab the front of his shirt and take him into one of the bedrooms. The first one is locked so you try the other one and it's empty.

Once both of you are inside, you slam the door shut and push him against it.

"What the hell are you doing?" You aggressively ask, pushing his chest until his back hits the door.

"What? What am I doing?" He plays innocent but that smirk knows it all.

You slap his chest with both of your hands now but all you can feel is how firm his pecs are.

"You just don't care, do you?"

He puts his hands on each side of your waist and draws you closer, not hesitating to plant his mouth on your jaw.

"Minho!" You whine, ending up getting trapped in his hold with his arms wrapped tightly around you.

He glides his lips up and presses a kiss there on the skin under your ear, sending a tingling down your spine as his warm breath brushes your skin.

You helplessly dodge away from his lips yet somehow, he manages to capture your lips in a kiss and oh, you hate it so much! You hate how you like the way he kisses you, so passionately and hungrily, he makes it known that he wants it so much.

Okay, maybe the kiss is a slip-up and you hurriedly pull yourself out of it. You push him and pull away from the kiss.

"You know we can't do this," you mutter but you're looking at his lips, tempted to kiss him again.

He ignores your words and kisses you again, and you fall into it again. You try harder this time and break the kiss.

"Minho!" You whine, looking away to not let the temptation win again.

Using it as an opportunity, Minho plants his mouth on your ear and nibbles on it, peeling a layer off of your sanity which brings you to slip down the slope again.

Your lips are colliding again, harder and deeper, causing even more damage than the previous one as his hands go all over you and pull the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

The two logics in your head are clashing against each other, the one wants to satisfy this desire and the other wants to get out of this situation altogether. If you follow the former then at least, your curiosity will be fulfilled and if you follow the latter, then you get to keep the peace.

As you are caught in that inner battle, you blank out and stiffen against him.

"We have to stop," you mutter to him.

But is that what you want? To stop when you already have your toes dipped in the water?

Minho also takes a moment to assess the situation, he looks at you with his lips red and wet, "it has to stop," he says in agreement.

You take a step back and feel the sudden detachment as he lets go of you and you can't believe that he agrees right away that this is the better decision. You can't help but think that he doesn't want you enough.

He stays standing there, leaning against the door and looking at you with his eyes dark and wide with lust.

"So what do we do now?"

That's such a wrong thing to ask you because what you want to do now is be selfish for the night, for one fucking night, and if you're going to do it, you may as well go all in, right?

Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?

"Fuck!" you heavily sigh and take down the straps of your dress, sending your breasts spilling out of the front.

"Suck my tits," you order.

It takes Minho a moment to process it and when he finally catches on that you've made up your mind, he goes for it. He comes at you full speed, hands off the brake and head first.

His mouth lathers at your breasts before sucking at them like you asked, taking them in turns, and leaving them wet with his saliva.

"Nibble on my nipples," you command.

You look down to watch him obeying you, using his tongue to nibble on your blossoming buds and alternating it with his teeth next.

"Oh, fuck," you breathlessly mutter as he sucks hard on your nipple.

While his mouth is busy latching on your breasts, his hands are snaking to the back and kneading at your asscheeks, caressing them with his fingers, and teasing your underwear.

This feels so wrong yet so good, you have your inner battle still but your logic is being defeated by your body's needs. You pull him by the shoulder and make him kiss you again so you'll stop thinking.

The rattles on the door startle you both and Minho immediately pushes the door with his back, then holds the knob to not let anyone in. Whoever tries to get it seems to figure out that the room is occupied.

"Sorry," someone says from behind the door.

Minho immediately locks the door while you take a step back from him, he gives you that look again, the kind of look that sees right through you and knows that you feel conflicted inside.

"Kim is my good friend," you tell him, feeling a pang of sadness in your chest that it aches.

He comes at you again and kisses you in which you're returning with the same eagerness. He seems to know that it's the only way to make you stop talking and thinking altogether. He pulls you closer than before his hands snaking to your rear, cupping the ample flesh in his hand.

"This is terrible," you mutter as you break the kiss so you can take your underwear off.

"This is terrible..." you mutter again, pulling him close by the waistband of his jeans and proceeding to unzip his fly open, "Betraying her like this."

It's like your body has a mind of its own, it's doing the opposite of what you're saying.

You impatiently take his semi-hard out of its confine and stroke it in your hand, "terrible," you emphasize the word and nail it deep into your head.

Minho doesn't say anything but follows what your body wants, he kisses you again, sloppily with his hands mindlessly roaming around your body.

"Touch me there," you whisper into him.

Without looking, his hand knows where to go. It goes to where you want him to be, going to the front to that wetness between your legs.

"Put your fingers in."

Minho runs his fingers down your slit repeatedly before inserting his finger into you. One digit is enough to make you moan in pleasure as he pumps it in and out of you.

"Add one more."

He draws his finger out and brings his index and middle fingers, shoving them into your mouth to wet them with your saliva. He brings them back to your entrance and slowly pushes them inside.

"Fuck, oh..." you moan, burying your head in his neck.

Two fingers are going in and out of you and you're already losing it. You start to think of what his cock would be like inside you as it feels hot and hard in your hand, pulsating with so much desire.

His lips nestle in your neck, kissing and lightly sucking on the skin as your body clings to him for support.

"Curl them— Oh!"

Minho knows what to do, he curls his fingers and carefully finds that spot that makes you whine and moan at the same time, and the lewd noise echoes in the dimly lit room.

You look over your shoulder to locate the bed and start steering his body there, walking backward without having to take hands off of each other.

He slowly pulls out and breaks the kiss only to pull your dress up, making the dress hunched around your waist. You plop down onto the bed and get on, you take a moment to continue undoing his jeans and pull it down enough to let his erection free.

Without thinking, you put his cock into your mouth, take him as much as you can and compensate for the rest you can't take with your hand. You lick and suck, alternating those two as you enjoy every inch of his delicious length with your mouth.

Minho tangles his hand in your hair and gently tugs at it, "I feel so guilty," he says.

Oh, so he's not that selfish after all but the thought of him thinking of his girlfriend with his cock deep in your mouth doesn't make you jealous at all, it makes you feel more aroused than before.

"Oh, so guilty," he says between his hoarse, low moans as he stares back into your eyes.

You slowly pull away and replace your mouth with your hand, restlessly pumping his swollen cock.

"You should be," you tell him, sticking your tongue out of your mouth and swirling it around the pink tip of his cock.

All of a sudden, he grabs your hand and takes it away from his length, he then takes your other hand to pin it against the bed. He hovers above you as he kisses you again, his tongue prying open your mouth to taste more of you.

You can feel him rubbing his length between your folds and you spread your legs open so he can do it more, making you drenched than you already are.

It's obvious to you now that you want him, you want him so bad and what you want is only inches away from you, and you can feel how much he wants you.

"Put it in," you breathlessly say against his lips.

Minho wastes no time to position himself between your legs. He then holds his cock, lubricating it with your essence and giving it a few pumps to finally aims it toward your entrance.

The more time he takes to be inside you, the more impatient you get.

"Put it deep inside me," you demand, opening your legs wider for him.

Yet Minho keeps teasing your entrance, heightening your anticipation and the tension in the room, making you arching your back at him.

When he finally pushes in, he only inserts the tip. It's just the tip but Gosh! It feels good already when he starts thrusting at a slow, steady pace.

"That's it," you say, keeping your waist afloat to take more of him, "all the way in."

Minho is just as impatient. He takes your wish as his command and pushes the rest of his length into you, hitting you deep inside that you blank out and you can't hear your own scream of pleasure.

It only registered to you now that it's all real once you take a look at how his cock is fully buried deep inside you and there's nothing like the feeling of finally having your desire fulfilled. Minho feels so good inside you, every inch of his length fills you perfectly like he was made just for you.

"Oh..." you loudly moan as he starts moving.

You're in and out of you at how hard he's thrusting into you that it reverberates throughout your body and in the middle of it, you manage to look at him, his face is masked with pleasure from the way his eyes are half shut and his lips pressed together.

Maybe the two of you want it so much that the sex feels rushed and a little rough, almost animalistic even. You can feel you're about to cum and so is he.

"Don't cum inside," you warn him before bringing his head close for a sloppy kiss on his lips.

In return, Minho goes sloppy with his thrusts that the bed quakes along with his movements and you're gripping the sheet to hold on to. He's twitching inside you and your legs are shaking. The knot in your stomach keeps tightening and you feel like exploding at any minute now.

He incessantly thrusts into you while you keep gripping the sheet, he probably senses that you're on the brink of climaxing and takes you there, sending you into your release with your eyes screwed shut, seeing white. He cums not long after you and keeps himself deep into you, completely forgetting your warning.

When it occurs to you that he completely forgot about your warning, you slowly push him away and force him to pull out of you.

"I told you not to cum inside," you whine.

Minho's eyes fixated on the way his cum drips out of you, pearly white and glistening wet, inviting him to taste. He finds a way to solve it by settling his head between your legs and licking your mixed juices off of your cunt and not hesitating to swallow it. He sucks on your gushing hole before using his tongue to insert it, he makes sure to not leave any drop of his cum in you.

Watching him eating you and swallowing his own cum is getting you off in the best way, you suddenly don't mind it that much that he cum inside you. If anything, you want him to fill you so you get to watch him do it all over again.

"Stop, Minho! Stop!" You tell him, tugging at his hair to stop him from diving further into your wetness.

He abruptly stops and lifts his head with his mouth and chin glistening wet with your essence. You grab him by the front of his shirt and make him hover above you again. You know you already got what you want and it's time to stop.

What are you going to do now? You ask yourself.

Seize the chance. This is probably the last time you ever had this chance and this could be the one and only chance. You roll him over and straddle him, thinking of having him again for the last time, selfishly.

Taking a moment for this could be the only chance you get to do it, you look at him and his beautiful face, and you allow yourself to kiss his lips. You're running your hands down his clothed chest and patiently unbuttoning his shirt, then part it open to reveal his toned upper half body.

It's only fair if you get to touch him all over too so you do it, using your hands and your lips next, it's just you and miles and miles of his warm, honey skin.

Minho lets you do everything as he lays on his back, watches you kissing every inch of his abdomen, and eventually has him in your mouth again. He props his hands against the bed to see how your lips wrapped around his cock.

After a while, you suddenly pull out and gasp for air, "We have to stop."

He sits up on the bed and puts your hair away from your face, "But I don't want to stop," he says, then continues putting your hair away to the back so he can kiss your neck, chest, and breasts.

They're just words, they've been just words that you say in vain and have no effect to make you stop whatsoever. You only say that just to remind you that this feels so wrong but it feels good to do it.

You sit on his lap and position his cock at your entrance again, slowly, you lower yourself on him. You let out a mewl as you take him in little by little, feeling his girth stretching you out.

"Do you want to stop?" He asks you with his hands cradling your head in between.

"We have to," you sigh with your eyes closed, overwhelmed by his cock that buries deep inside you.

"I don't want to," he breathlessly says, holding you by the waist, guiding you to start moving.

Putting your arms around his shoulders for support, you're switching between pulsating and rolling your hips around him as he latches his lips on your neck and chest.

Somehow, he feels bigger and harder inside you, and he fills you better, therefore, you just want to keep feeling his length around you. However, in the middle of it, your logic fights to come out of you.

"This is wrong," you breathlessly mutter.

"Mmh-hmm," he hums against your lips, mindlessly answering to you.

"This is so wrong, Minho," you say again as you keep moving to chase your high.

If this is wrong then why it feels so good? If this is wrong then you never want to be right. If this is wrong then you want to be a sinner, forever.

"Oh, I can't do this anymore," you cry, it's unclear whether it's the body or your conscience speaking.

"Keep going, keep going," he repeatedly mutters through his gritted teeth, watching you bouncing on his cock.

The sex is more intense and harder than the previous one, you keep holding your breath even though you're running out of air. Your nails dug into his skin, your mouth locked with his lips, and you feel a sheen of sweat forming on your skin.

It all comes down to the one moment when everything hits you all at once. Other than the wave of dopamine and oxytocin that surge through your body, you feel good, you feel light and happy, but underneath that, you feel that bitter feeling, guilt that is gnawing and eating you alive from the inside.

You open your eyes and find Minho looking at you with a soft gaze and it feels tender that you feel like crying, or you're about to as you feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

"Oh, God! What have I done?" You roughly brush the hair stuck to your moist forehead.

"It's okay," Minho says, trying to justify this act of betrayal.

"Oh, my God!" You press the heels of your palms to your eyes to stop you from crying.

Minho gently holds your chin and softly presses a kiss on your lips as if he's trying to take the pain away but that's useless because you caused this yourself and he's a part of the problem.

But his kiss no longer holds the same effect, you feel restless the more he kisses you so you slowly pull away and keep a safe space between you and him.

"Let's just stop," you say with a sigh and then rush to get off his lap. You lowly gasp from the sudden emptiness and once your feet touch the floor, you're staggering backward.

Then, you feel it, his hot cum that drips out of you and down your inner thigh.

"I can help you with that," Minho offers.

You immediately hold your hand up at him and firmly say, "Just stop!"

You start fixing your dress, putting your arm in the straps, and pulling them to your shoulders. You look around for your underwear and once you find it, you put it on.

"Kim can't know about this," you meekly say as you pull the hem of your dress and smooth them down.

There's no looking back at it now. You've got what you wanted and now it's time to move on. You turn the door knob and head out without saying anything else.

Rejoining the party downstairs, you immediately head to the kitchen to get a drink but on the way there, someone catches you by the hand.

"Come, dance with me!" Kim says with a grin, pulling you with her to the middle of the room.

"Kim, I–" you can't find anything to say to her without the guilt clogging your throat, "I need a drink."

"Here. Have mine!" She hands you her cup.

"I'll get us drinks and get back to you, okay?" You kindly refuse her but she won't let go of your hand.

"Oh, come on, it's my favorite song!" She pleads with her puppy eyes, making you feel worse than you already are.

Seeing her and how oblivious she is to what you and Minho have done is breaking your heart.

That brings you to the third and last statement: That will be the first and the last time you've had sex with Minho.

-

Things are going back to normal. Or that's what it seems to you.

You're still roommates with Kim and she's still oblivious about what you and Minho did behind her back which means he keeps true to his promise.

And yes, he still comes to the apartment but it doesn't bother you as it used to. You learn that your friendship with Kim is far more valuable than his boyfriend's cock, in fact, you've been taking her kindness for granted.

So for these past few days, you've been trying to avoid them as much as possible. You purposely come home late from work and if you do find them together in the apartment, you make excuses to stay in your bedroom.

Fewer interactions means fewer chances of this guilt from bringing you down further.

The new plan is to get your own place as soon as possible and for that to happen, you have to start looking for it.

Today, Gaspard offers to help you check a few places and it's also the perfect getaway than staying in the apartment. You quietly get dressed and slip out of your bedroom to find Kim catches you while dunking her teabag into her cup.

"Where are you going?" She asks.

You don't want to tell her about it yet that you plan on moving out soon so you make up an excuse on the spot, "Just getting a few things for work, yeah," you lie.

She tosses the teabag into the trash and uses a spoon to stir it, "Just getting a few things for work, huh?"

"Yeah, I need new work shoes," you lie again, seamlessly this time.

"And you think you don't need my help?"

"No, no," you hastily reply, "I just know how much you like staying in on the weekends."

"I would to go out on the weekend too."

Kim keeps misunderstanding you so you decide to tell her, "I'm going out with Gaspard," you admit, but keep the details from her.

Kim lets out a laugh and puts down her cup of tea, "Oh, my God! Why did you lie about it?"

"I don't know. It feels weird," you awkwardly answer.

"Why would it be weird? Cause he's my friend?"

"Yeah..." you meekly say.

She laughs again and comes up to you, "Why would it be weird that my roommate is going out with my good friend?"

That's true, this is nothing compared to fucking your roommate's boyfriend. You swallow the guilt that crawls out of your throat.

"I can lend you my shoes to match it with that cute dress?" She offers, kind as always.

"No, it's fine. It's comfortable this way," you say, opting for the sneakers you're wearing since you're going to do a lot of walking today.

"As long as you're comfortable," she says, fixing your hair as she speaks.

The front door opens and the two of you are turning your heads to see who's coming, it's none other than Minho. You hurriedly sling your purse around your shoulder and ready to leave.

"I'd better get going," you tell Kim, giving her a quick hug.

"You can come home as late as you want," she jokingly says as she hugs you back, "Actually, don't bother coming home tonight."

You laugh it off and pull away while ignoring Minho who walks to the kitchen to get something out of the fridge. You head for the door and wave bye at Kim before getting out.

-

The search for a new place comes to fruition, you have two potential living spaces but the only problem is you can't afford the rent, yet.

You end the day with a hearty dinner also as a treat for Gaspard for being so helpful and patient with you. He's simply a great guy to be with and you wonder why didn't you want to fuck him instead of Minho.

Oh fuck, you think about Minho again and it reminds you that he's in the apartment now so you stay out as late as you can. You consider Gaspard's offer to come and visit his place but you don't want to give him the impression that this is a date.

It's too casual to be counted as a date in the first place but you make sure to promise him a proper one next time.

"Maybe next time when I'm not sweaty and the day is not as humid as today," you kindly refuse the offer.

"I agree," he says as his hair turns a lot curler in this humidity and shyly brushes it to the back.

He walks you to the entrance of your apartment building and you turn on your feet to face him, "Thank you for today," you sincerely say.

"No worries. I had fun today," he coyly says with a smile.

You know he wants to kiss you and you want to kiss him too because he's just so attractive and fun to be with, he's a great guy... you can list so many reasons why you should kiss him so you muster up the courage to do it.

You stand on your tiptoe and press a kiss on his lips, putting your hand on his shoulder for support and Gaspard returns the kiss with so much gentleness with his hand cupping your jaw.

In the middle of it, you come to a realization that you kiss him for so many reasons but not because you like him. You slowly pull away from the kiss and quickly put on a smile for him.

"Goodnight, Gaspard," you mutter.

He allows himself to place a gentle caress on your cheek and smiles back at you as he says back, "Goodnight!"

The walk back to the apartment feels like a punishment. At least, it's late enough that you're sure Kim is already asleep by now so you quietly unlock the door, pushing it open without making any noise, and walk through the living room until you get to the safety of your room.

You kick your shoes off, throw your purse onto the bed, and take off your jacket, just standing there in your dress facing the huge mirror with your reflection staring back at you.

"Do you need help with that?" Minho asks through the cracks of your door.

You hate it that he's still here and you're happy to see him, you're not answering but he comes to your aid anyway. He stands right behind you and slowly unzips your dress for you.

It must be intentional the way his knuckles graze your skin as he pulls the zipper down your back.

The memories from that night come back to you and unlock all the feelings that you try to keep at the bottom of your heart.

Minho then places his hand on your shoulder and looks at you through the mirror, "Do you need help with anything else?" He asks with a voice so low it's almost like a whisper.

You turn your head to the side and meet his gaze, "No."

All sorts of thoughts come rushing through your head but it's the same contradicting questions: Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?

Those questions going around your head and won't stop bothering you until you make up your mind.

You turn around to face him and notice how close he's standing in front of you, so close that you can feel the heat his body is emitting.

"But I'll help myself," you say and then kiss him.

Well, you guess people can tell which one is the lie now.

-

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raspberry stains.

word count: 1.6k

pairing: lee minho x afab!reader

warnings: multiple orgasms, foodplay, oral sex, smut - MINORS DNI

synposis: what do you do when you see minho eating raspberries like this. what a whore. (no raspberries were harmed in the making of this fic).

“i got some raspberries from the farmer’s market,” minho’s first words to you are when you shuffle into your living room, still in your pajamas. he shows you the plate of washed berries he had been munching on, way too awake for the hour that it was. you despise minho for being a morning person, for waking up hours before you and doing things like going to the farmer’s market instead of laying in bed with you. 

“good morning to you too,” you take a seat next to him on the couch, curling up against his side. at least if he didn’t partake in morning cuddles with you he never denied you couch cuddles.

“have one,” he says, holding out a berry to your lips. his fingers are stained red with the bursted juices and they brush against your lips as he feeds you. you suck his thumb into your mouth along with the berry and his pupils shake as you hollow your cheeks out a bit to get the flavor off of his skin. the sweetness of the raspberry floods your mouth and you move away from him to chew and swallow, the wheels in your head turning as you track his reaction to what you thought was an innocent act. 

suddenly, you were wide awake; if he was going to be horny about this so early in the morning, then so were you.

“give me another,” you demand as your hands reach towards his pants, unbuttoning them and opening the zipper with expert motions. he pauses, his eyes heavy lidded as he looks at you with an open-mouthed gaze. your eyes flicker between his rapidly hardening crotch and the plate of raspberries as you wait for your words to register in his head through the horny daze. “do you need me to repeat myself?”

he shakes his head, his eyes clearing a bit as he scrambles to pick up a berry to feed to you. you let it rest on your tongue as you slide to your knees in front of him and free his cock from his boxers, pressing down on the fruit gently so it bursts in your mouth. you take the head of his cock into your mouth and you let the juice dribble out of your mouth until it drips down his length, staining him even redder than he already was. you pull away, wincing at the feeling of liquid dripping out of the corner of your mouth, but the look on his face is worth the discomfort. he looks gone, his eyes heavy on you, the weight of his awe of you hanging off of his every feature. 

“this gone and we barely did any foreplay,” you tease, sliding your hand up his cock to spread the redness around. “you must really like me.”

“if you don’t keep going i might die,” he says, ignoring your bait, completely serious. you flash him a grin before going down on him again, a sick satisfaction seeping through you when his cock jumps in your mouth. you take him as far as you can go, using your hand to make up for the rest of the space and you bob up and down, letting your saliva mingle with the berry until he’s wet and slippery. 

the flavor is divine; you always love his taste, musky and salty with the scent of his clean body wash intertwined, but the raspberry mixing with him is a cocktail that you never want to stop drinking. he slides his fingers into your hair to keep you close to him, and you give him a particularly dirty lick to his slit when you realize that it’s his clean hand - as sexy as this all is, you didn’t want to deal with cleaning the stickiness out of your hair later. 

he lets out breathy moans and pants in time with your movements and you want to edge him all day just so you can keep hearing the music he’s playing for you, but when you peek up at him you feel a tinge of sympathy for him. his neck is completely flushed and it trails up to his ears, the veins in his neck popping out from the effort it takes to hold back from thrusting up into your mouth. you pet his thigh with your free hand, a silent good boy that doesn’t go unnoticed by the way he throws his head back with a groan. you take pity on him, relaxing your throat so you could take him down and swallow around him. you stay there for as long as your body allows, only backing off when the need to breath flashes warning signals through your head. 

his moans turn into whines as you keep stroking him, a clear signal that he’s close. you open your mouth, lolling your tongue out to catch his release onto it. the picture that you make in front of him, lips stained red and mouth open for him, is enough to send him over the edge and his muscles lock as he comes with a spasm. you work him through it until his hand tightens in your hair, the tiny pinpricks of pain sending a wave of arousal through you. you swallow his release and show him your empty mouth, and his answer to that comes in the shape of a dry sob as he melts completely into the couch.

you don’t realize how wet you’ve gotten since starting this until you let him go, your attention divided between his post-orgasmic glow and the burn of pleasure you feel when you rub your thighs close together. you rest your head on his thigh as you catch your breath alongside him, and you slide your hand into your pants, content to lazily rub yourself off before sharing a shower with him to wash the berry juice away. 

“what are you doing?” he asks, his voice deep and gritty. 

“you’re not the only one who gets to come today,” you sigh against his thigh as you circle your clit with your fingers, the wetness there making the glide easy. 

“no, i mean what are you doing?” he repeats, the emphasis not making things any clearer for you. he rolls his eyes when you don’t get it before sitting up and joining you on the floor. he lifts you off your knees and pushes you towards the couch to sit so your positions are reversed with him on his knees in front of you. “this is my job, not yours.” 

he pops a couple berries into his own mouth, swirling them around his tongue as he slides your pants and underwear down to your ankles. he helps you take them off gently, tossing them aside before pushing your thighs apart. he dives into your pussy like a starved man, pushing the red juice into your folds and lapping it up again before repeating the process again and again. it’s so much better than your own fingers, the unpredictability of where his tongue was going next keeping you unprepared for the onslaught of sensations. you come embarrassingly fast, your thighs locking around his head as he slurps at you, obscene sounds filling the empty living room. 

he moves away when you start to twitch in oversensitivity and his mouth is completely stained red. it’s smeared around his lips like lipstick, and you pull him up for a kiss with urgency. the taste of raspberries mixed with both of you is euphoric, and you let out a content sigh into his mouth as your body relaxes. 

“i’m not done with you yet,” he releases your lips with a wet pop, a string of pink saliva connecting the two of you. he’s back down between your legs faster than you can register, his mouth finding your clit instantly. his tongue traces patterns against it, circles and swirls and shapes that you can’t name and it’s too much but it feels so good that any protests die on your tongue. 

“minho!” you cry out, and once his name leaves your lips you can’t stop, the five letters taking the shape of moans and whines until it’s all you can say or think. your thighs begin shaking but he doesn’t stop, eating you out steadfastly as if he was born to do it. 

“one more,” he says against your folds, his fingers joining the mess between your legs to hook into you, curling upwards. “you can give me one more, right?”

i’ll give you anything you want, you try to say, but it comes out in a series of unintelligible sounds. the burn of your orgasm comes slower this time, a fire building and exponentiating unlike the sparks of fireworks that you experienced the last time. it burns and glows brighter and brighter until it’s a white light behind your eyelids, your entire vision whiting out as you come against his lips. you can’t see it, but you can feel the smile he wears against your skin as you come down from it. 

when you blink your vision returns, just as he is climbing up to sit next to you. he pulls you into his lap, holding you close as your sluggish head tries to make sense of what just happened. you bask in the silence, your head pressed against his heartbeat, his breathing moving your body up and down against him calmly. 

“you know,” he breaks the quiet, his words a whisper into your hair. “we’re never going to be able to look at raspberries the same way again.”

“shut up.”