#i just want to bring everyones attention to minhos hand | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seospicybin · 6 months

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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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todomochi-uwu · 5 months

Text

Who. (2/?) J. Y & S. M

Pairing: Poly! Jeong Yunho x reader x Song Mingi

Genre: Angst, Smut

Warnings: This content is for a mature audience

Synopsis: You can't remember when was the last time you spent time with them, the last "I love you", the last time any of them kissed you.

Other chapters: Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕

Yunho kept checking the file in his hands, reading over and over the same words not being able to register anything, his head was all over the place, between the tiredness, the stress and his broken heart, concentrating was proving to be impossible.

“Careful, Jeong. If you think any harder your head might catch on fire.” Said Lee Minho entering the doctor’s launch with an empty coffee mug.

“Piss off, Minho.” He didn't turn his eyes from the paper, determined to make it work no matter how much it took.

Minho’s eyes focused on the taller man in front of him, his skin was paler than normal, a slight blue tint covered it; his eyes were sunk in their sockets, dark purple bags underneath them; lips dry and crusty; he looked thinner, he looked sick. Yunho and Minho weren’t by any means close, they had spent the entire med school fighting for the top spot in their class; Jeong Yunho had proved to be a real pain in the ass, managing to balance school, work, friends and a fucking three-way relationship while Lee Minho could barely sleep and see his, now, husband.

“Not that I care, Jeong but, are you okay?” Said Minho, leaning against the countertop and waiting for the coffee to be done.

Yunho tossed the folder on the table, completely done. He pressed his fingers against his eyelids, trying to calm the blinding headache he had been carrying around his entire shift. “I don’t think it’s any of your business, Lee.”

The cat-eyed doctor shrugged, not wanting to dig any further, he tried. He took his mug and made a beeline straight to the door, but he couldn’t help but look back at his school rival, and what he saw shocked him a bit. His shoulders were slumped, and shaking, his face in between his hands, and small but heavy sobs left his mouth. A suffering Yunho was something he had never expected to see, and while he thought it would bring him joy, it just made him feel weird. He would have to ask Jisung what was going on, he was friends with Mingi, and he would have to know.

______________________________________________________________

Mingi was not doing any better at work. He fell asleep on his desk, barely paid attention at meetings, and was hostile to his co-workers and possible clients. Jongho was done with attitude, he had been patient, as much as he could, and he tried to understand the situation, but it was becoming too much.

“Mingi, I am begging you, please go home, you cannot continue like this. Get some sleep, eat and come back when you are better.” Jongho said as softly as possible, not wanting to trigger another fight with the dirty blonde lawyer in front of him.

“Jongho, I’m okay. I would rather just be working, there’s nothing to do at home anyways.”

“Mingi…” He was interrupted.

“Jongho, I won't repeat myself, leave me alone.” He turned his chair away from the younger lawyer.

That was it. He was done.

Jongho slammed his hand against the desk, startling Mingi, “Listen to me, Mingi, I get that you are sad, okay? I get it. But you cannot come here and act like a fucking dick and expect everyone to be okay with it. We tried to be nice and give you a couple of weeks to recover, but so far, we have lost two important clients because of your attitude and you pissed off three more. I’m sorry she left, but I highly doubt she would come back if she saw the mess you’ve become. Yelling at people, turning work in late, getting drunk, fighting with Yunho, do you think she wants that? Because I highly doubt it.” He jabbed his finger into Mingi’s chest. “Get. Your. Shit. Together.” And with that he left the office, slamming the door on his way out.

Mingi sighed, taking off his tie. He closed his eyes trying to calm down, but it seemed impossible. Anxiety had been tormenting him for almost a month now, and it didn’t seem like it would stop any time soon. He misses you. A lot. He just didn’t know how to function without that missing piece. Nothing was working right now, his head was always a mess, always going back to that night, trying to remember every moment he neglected you; he was trying to balance out his pain and stress to not mess up his relationship with Yunho as well; while also trying to balance out work as to not get fired, or at least not to piss off Jongho even more, but nothing is working. He misses you, and without you, nothing in him works.

______________________________________________________________

Chan was in the kitchen bar working; his heavy and expensive headphones sat on the top of his head while he was nodding along to the rhythm of his last track. He kept replaying it to try and figure out what was missing, what he could change or fix, but he just couldn’t concentrate. Flashbacks kept showing up in his head, replaying again and again, memories of his college days, memories of the time he fell in love with his now roommate and failed to do something about it.

It was the winter semester; the campus was covered in snow and everyone found refuge inside the library. Chan was planning to go there and work on a paper that was due that same night, but once he saw the amount of people inside the building, he decided he wouldn’t be able to work there. And just as he was about to leave, he saw Hongjoong sitting on a couch in the corner, next to him was something that made the producer’s mouth dry. A woman so beautiful his eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing, his brain couldn’t comprehend what was happening, his feet moved on their own in that direction, he needed to talk to her, to know her name, to introduce himself. His friend got up as soon as he saw him, greeting him and introducing her. Y/n. That was her name, a name Chan would never be able to forget.

A friendship was established that day. You would start by hanging out with Hongjoong, going out to eat, watch a movie or to a party; but soon it became just the two of you. Hanging out at each other’s dorms, he showed you some of his music, and you showed him some of her stories; at first, he would walk you back to her room every night, but after some time you would stay over, “it’s easier” you said. One fateful night, Christopher finally made a move, giving you a quick peck on the lips while listening to your favourite artist’s latest album, the largest seconds of his life were right after, waiting for your reaction; you ended up fucking on top of his desk, pushing all his books, and cd’s to the floor.

That was the way the next months were spent, hanging out and finding any and every excuse to have sex, but never giving a title to what you were. Chan just assumed you weren’t ready for that kind of commitment, convincing himself he was fine with what you had, not admitting he was just too much of a coward to ask if you felt the same as him.

“I just don’t understand him, Jisung. One day he acts as if we were a couple, and the next he calls me his best friend. Friends don’t treat each other the way we do, friends don’t do what we do.”

“Maybe he isn’t ready for that kind of commitment, he would just rather stay as friends with benefits.” Jisung pat her on the back, trying to comfort her.

“But I don’t want to be just friends with benefits.” You pouted her lips.

“Hey, come on, don’t be sad. I'll tell you what, why don’t you come with me to Wooyoung’s party this Friday? You’ll have fun and forget, at least for a bit, about Chan.”

Christopher’s first mistake was introducing you to Jisung. The second one was allowing you to befriend him. And his last, but most fatal one was not going to that party. Why? Because Yunho and Mingi were there.

“Y/n, this my friend Mingi. Mingi, this is Y/n.” And just like that, it was over before it could even begin. That same night Mingi had introduced you to Yunho, and they both were heads over heels for you, they asked you to hang out the very next day and while at first you were confused as to how it would work, they won you over, pushing completely out the idea of Chan off your head.

He remembered the first time you talked about them, he thought you had just made out with one of them at the party, and while he wasn’t exactly happy about it, he could let it slide, no idea of what was about to come. Texts left unanswered; calls that went to voicemail; and long nights waiting for you to show up, but at some point, it became clear, that you were not just sleeping around with them, you were in love. That very same night he went out and got drunk out of his mind, only being able to get back home after Changbin and Minho found him trashed on a bench in front of their building. He blamed himself, if he hadn’t been so scared, if he had just tried, you would be his, and he promised himself that if that door ever opened again, he would be there. But as time went on, it became more apparent that would never happen… until now.

He kept repeating over and over to himself that you weren’t ready, that you still love them and that you were still mourning that relationship, but he couldn’t help himself, he wanted you.

The last month he had been in some kind of hell in heaven. When you first had shown up, he was pissed off beyond comprehension, how could they let this happen? How could they treat you like that? He had spent every second of his existence since he met you, loving and worshipping the ground you walk on and they had let you slip away? Unbelievable. But he couldn’t help but see the perks of all of this. He was the one to console you, to build you back up, and through the course of the weeks, you were better.

He would come back home to you cooking, greeting him the second he went in; you telling him about your day or a new show you were watching; you showed him your work and asked his opinion. Everything went back to how it was; it was even better. This is what he had been missing out all this time?

“Good morning, Channie.”

“Welcome back, Chan. I made some spaghetti; I hope you like it.”

“Hey, Chan. How was work?”

Oh, blissful domesticity. But everything was too good to be true. They would show up in the most subtle ways, in the middle of a conversation, in the notifications of your phone, even in the clothes you wore, they still smell like them; your ex-boyfriends were everywhere in his apartment, tormenting him. And, of course, he wasn’t blind, he could see it, your face still showed how heartbroken you were, and he could also hear it at night, small sobs escaped your mouth, whispering their names again and again.

Yunho…

Mingi…

Never his name.

______________________________________________________________

Jisung had just arrived home, his hands full of grocery bags balancing them while trying to open the door, and just as he was about to spill everything on the ground, a soft hand came to his rescue.

“Jesus, Sungie be careful.” The person behind him giggled.

“Y/n?” His eyebrows furrowed, confused, but he still leaned in and hugged you. “What are you doing here? How did you get in the building?”

“Oh, I live here now.”

“Mingi gave up his rent control apartment? Is he crazy?”

“Um… not exactly.” You scratched the back of your head.

“Okay, come inside and tell me what’s going on.”

…

“And that’s how I ended up living with Chan.” You took a small sip of the hot chocolate Jisung had prepared.

“Have you talked to them?”

You shook your head.

Jisung’s arms were folded against his chest, his eyes looking directly at yours, not sure what to say, “So it’s over between you and them?”

“I don’t know, Hannie. I love them, so much it hurts, but I don't think they feel the same way, they act as if I'm not even there, as if I'm not important to them.” You lay down on the kitchen table, controlling your breathing so you won't start crying.

“Well, that’s just not true.” He put his hand on top of your head, petting you, “Mingi can be an idiot sometimes and the same goes for Yunho, but they love you, baby. From the very first moment they met you, they have loved you, maybe they just lost their tracks for a moment, but they will come back to you.” He kissed you on the forehead, “and if for some reason they don’t, I will be there to help you pick up the pieces.”

______________________________________________________________

Minho arrived late at night, completely done with work and with stubborn patients who thought they knew more than him because they read an article on the internet. Jisung ran to the front door as soon as he heard the jiggling of the keys, ready to receive his grumpy husband. He accompanied him into the kitchen, where he served him a hot plate of his favourite food and told him about this day.

“I found the chips you like on sale so I bought a couple, I also bought the ingredients I was missing for that ramen you want to try, oh and I tried that juice I’ve been craving, but it wasn’t that good.” Minho couldn’t keep up with the number of things that came out of his husband’s mouth, but he was happy to listen. “Oh, oh my god I almost forgot, guess who I ran into?”

“Who?” He said while shoving a spoonful of soup into his mouth.

“Y/n, she broke up with Mingi and Yunho, and she’s staying with Chan.”

Minho choked, coughing aggressively, not believing the words that came out of Jisung’s mouth. Everything made sense now, that’s why the puppy-like doctor had been so miserable the last couple of weeks. And why Chan had been avoiding him lately. He got up and headed towards the door, “Give me a second, love I’ll be right back.”

He made his way down the hall, he was in no mood to do this, but it had to be done. He had witnessed first-hand how completely devastated had Chan been after you had broken his heart (not that he thinks you did it on purpose), how hard it was to get him to shower, to go to work, how long it took him to go back to normal, and he feared it would happen again. He pounded on the door, not caring if the neighbours next door complained. The door opened harshly, a sleep-deprived Christopher on the door side, looking at him as if he had grown to heads.

“Min, it’s two in the morning, what the hell are you doing here?”

The doctor grabbed him by the arm and shoved him into the wall next to the door, “You are going to explain to me exactly what you think you are doing.”

“I'm not doing anything. She’s my friend, I want to help her move…”

He interrupted, “What? Move on? Were you planning to be her saviour so she would fall in love with you? Bang Chan, she’s been engaged to them for almost a year now, they are just going through a rough patch…”

“They broke up.”

“They will get back together, it's more than obvious, they are in love.” He whispered yelling, he was worried, did Chan think he had a chance?

“They neglected her, Minho they took her for granted, I would…”

“Chan, listen to me, she’s not in love with you, whatever you two had it's over, it's been over for years, for Christ's sake.” He shook his shoulders, trying to get some sense into him.

“I know what I'm doing.”

“You clearly, don’t.” He pushed his friend back into his apartment and went back to his. His entire body ached, but anxiety filled his head, not letting him rest.

______________________________________________________________

“So, she finally dumped your ass, good for her honestly,” Minho said as he entered Yunho’s office. The latter one looked up at him, the look in his eyes completely dead. “Geez, you look like shit.”

“What do you want, Minho? I'm busy, I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

“I know where she is.”

“What?” Yunho looked at him with wide-open eyes. “Don’t you fucking dare lie to me about this.” He got up and grabbed Lee by the collar and shook him, “How the fuck do you know that?”

“Because I saw her.” Little white lie, but he technically did know where she was. He pushed him back, “I don’t like you, Yunho, at all. But I know what it's like to be in your shoes, so I’ll make you a deal, you get your shit together and I might just tell you where she is.”

______________________________________________________________

Yunho’s hands kept trembling, he had barely been able to drive home without crashing. He wanted to scream, to cry, to tell Mingi what Minho had told him, all at the same time, but he also thought, what would he say? How could he apologize? Would she take them back? He went into the house, Mingi was lying on the couch, a book in his hands and glasses sitting on his face, his eyebags and skin tone resembling his boyfriend’s, he turned to look at him, noticing how fidgety and dishevelled he looked.

“Are you okay? Did something happen at work?” He got up and approached Yunho, he grabbed his face in his hands and caressed his cheeks.

“Um…” he bit off some of the skin in his lip, not knowing how to deliver the news, his head couldn’t put the words together, not even able to process them. “Minho told me something today.”

“Ugh, that asshole. I don’t know how Jisung married that guy, he's such a nice guy and Minho is so…”

Yunho interrupted him, not able to hold it in any longer, “Minho says he knows where Y/n is staying.”

Mingi felt how the air left his body, all thoughts abandoning his mind in the same way, tears were quick to rush to his eyes, “What?”

“Yeah, he saw her and knows where she’s been staying.” He paused to order his next words, “And he said he will tell me if we manage to get our shit together.”

Mingi took him into his arms and squeezed him till he was out of breath, not being able to contain his happiness. Together they cried and smiled while the thought of everything going back to normal filled them, that was until something crossed their minds at the same time, would you even want them back?

______________________________________________________________

Tag list:

@tunaasan @scuzmunkie

#ateez angst #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez smut #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunho angst #song mingi #mingi angst #mingi x reader #mingi smut

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tasteleeknow · 1 year

Text

CALL OF THE SIREN

PAIRING: siren!minho x fem!reader GENRE: smut. fluff. fairytale!au CONTENT: 18+ minors dni. WORD COUNT: 5.7k

SUMMARY: the effect he has on people is obvious, they’re drawn to him like he’s an oasis in a desert. then, with a small jingle of a bell that announces his arrival into your store, he attempts to ensnare you.

NOTE: my step back into writing after a little break. please let me know what you think! this is my interpretation of a siren. i know some people write them as mermaid type creatures. i wanted to write more the bird type, pretty bird singing in a cage and never touched and all of that jazz. whatever, hope you enjoy!

do not repost to other sites, including translations.

“Would you just come for an hour or so? Please?” you friend asks, tugging on your arm and giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

“You just go,” you whine. “I’ve just had a new shipment in, I really should—”

“It’s Sunday,” he interrupts. “Your books can wait,” she tugs you a little harder. “30 minutes.”

“45.”

Elsie was perhaps the only person you could call a real friend. She loved you, she’d proven that over and over throughout the years. Still, she was a very different person than you were. She sought out new faces and new company seemingly every hour of the day she had free.

“Why are you so obsessed with dragging me around like a sidekick?”

“Why are you so obsessed with this bookstore?” she retorts.

“Why are you so obsessed with that man?”

“What man?” she says, faking ignorance.

“Oh, come on.”

“Listen, you just have to meet him once, alright? It’s not—”

“It is that weird,” you correct before she can finish. “You and everyone else have lost your minds. I really don’t see how it’s possible for any man to—”

“You’ll see.”

You sigh. “Let me lock up.”

—

It’s as busy as the last time you’d been dragged to the monthly market. It always felt like the entire region descended onto the field far too small to accommodate them all. You weren’t used to crowds like this. Your days were happily spent in your village bookstore, room enough for your books and a small apartment out back.

“There!” Elsie exclaims.

A crowd surrounds a small stage, obscuring your view of whatever has captured their attention. Your friend grips your hand and tugs you so suddenly you barely manage to stay upright, ducking your head as she barrels through the sea of bodies. The bustling sound of the market fades as she pulls you to a stop. Her eyes are fixed on the small makeshift stage, constructed from various wooden crates stacked beside each other. He’s singing: the man on the stage. He stands there in front of you, white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows with his hair falling into his eyes. He’s pretty, you’ll give him that. But when you turn to speak to your friend, the look on her face makes the words stick in your throat. She looks transfixed. She looks like he’s offering her the world on a silver platter, holding it out to her with his bare hands.

A strange feeling bubbles up in your chest, like you should wrap your arms around her as if she might at any moment lunge onto the stage.

Then the singing stops.

“That’s him,” she breathes dreamily, still failing to pull her eyes from the man on stage.

“Thank you for coming,” the man on stage announces just before leaping off the stage and walking directly towards you. The crowd begins shuffling around, making their way to the small booth where they can offer their cash as a thank you for a clearly enrapturing performance.

“You looked away,” he says when he reaches you, like that means anything at all.

Your friend grabs your hand, as if she's afraid you might turn and run. “This is Minho,” she says. “He performs here every month. We uh—We had a drink last month and I said I’d bring my best friend next time.”

You tug your hand from your friend’s, a little amused by her clear infatuation. Then you hold it towards him, inviting the stranger to shake it. He doesn’t. Instead he looks down at it like you’ve just held up something rotten in his face.

“Minho doesn’t like touching people,” your friend explains, grabbing your hand again and saving you the embarrassment of letting it fall to your side.

“Right. Well, I uh— I enjoyed what little of your performance I heard. Your voice is nice.”

“Nice?” he says, cocking his head a little.

Nice wasn’t enough of a compliment for him? The man refuses to shake hands and has a big ego. Your brows draw together, growing confused at your usually very intuitive friend’s infatuation.

Elsie laughs, swinging your hands back and forth between you. “It’s heavenly, more like. Nice is a ridiculous way to describe it. Doesn’t it just… feel like it’s seeping into your chest? Like you could drown in it?”

The man—Minho—looks at you with anticipation, curiosity: like your answer is important.

“I—I mean, sure. I suppose.”

“Should we all get a drink? There’s a shake stall, just near the lake,” your friend says, pulling Minho’s eyes from yours as she leads you away.

—

The remainder of the day is uneventful. You stay an hour and your friend chats away with the strange man like a lovesick puppy while you make yourself sick on a far too large vanilla milkshake. Love gives people rose tinted glasses, you conclude that night as you fall into bed. He was pretty and he had a nice voice, but clearly your friend's view of him was magnified by her heart. Infatuation does that to people.

—

The gentle jingle of the bell above the door is one of those sounds you’d grown so accustomed to, you now barely heard it. It was background noise, like the sea birds or the crashing of the waves against the cliffs. You were so close to the cliffside here, it was the biggest selling point of the place. If you cracked your window open at night you could fall asleep to that sound. It was a stark difference to the car horns and sirens you’d grown up with.

“Excuse me?” a voice says, startling you from your reverie.

“Minho.”

“You remembered.”

“I’m good with names.”

He looks around the store, taking in the high shelves and the ladders installed to reach. “Yes, you’d have to be. Elsie told me you were… attached to this place.”

“I love it.”

He tilts his head a little, that look crossing his face again. You feel like you’re under a microscope.

You clear your throat, stepping down from the small step you carry around the store to reach difficult places. “Do you need help finding anything?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, gazing around the store lazily. “I don’t do a lot of reading to be honest. I could use a few recommendations.”

You brush your hands down your front. “Alright. What genres do you like?”

He shrugs, offering you a lopsided grin.

“You have to help me a little.”

“Give me three of your favourites.”

“We might not have the same taste.”

He shrugs again.

Okay, fine. He’d be buying either way.

He follows you around the store, a quiet shadow as you collect the first three books to come to mind. He’s quiet as he pays, placing his card down on the counter between you. Doesn’t like to be touched, you’re reminded. You slide the brown paper bag across the counter for him as you tuck his receipt inside.

“Here you go.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” he says casually as he scoops it off the counter.

You’re quiet for a moment, processing the question. “I’m sorry?”

“I know it’s an odd question.”

“Odd doesn’t—”

“Humour me.”

Elsie has a lot of explaining to do. “Sure. You’re pretty and your voice is heavenly. It seeps into my soul.”

He grins. “You’re lying.”

“Look, I think you’re strange. You… make me feel uneasy and—”

“Uneasy?”

“Not in a bad way. I don’t feel.. unsafe. I just… feel like I’m missing something. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Not knowing something makes you uncomfortable,” he says, still grinning. It isn’t a question.

“Why are you here? You clearly didn’t come here to buy books.”

He juggles the brown bag into one hand so he can hold out his other towards you. “I came to shake your hand.”

“I thought you didn’t like to do that.”

“I don’t.”

“So why are you—”

“Humour me.”

You sigh, reaching out and grasping his hand in yours. He jolts as your palms connect, dropping the contents of the paper bag across the floor as he stumbles backwards. Okay, he really doesn’t like being touched. You round the counter to collect the books from the floor, cringing a little at the way one of the brand new paperbacks has landed.

It’s only when you’ve collected all three and righted yourself you realise Minho is standing deathly still, silent.

You raise your eyes to him. He looks shaken. You can’t help feeling sorry for him. “I don’t know what—I don’t know why you don’t like being touched, but it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay to protect yourself.”

You place the bag at his feet and take a step away from him. “Did you—Did you feel anything?”

You frown.

“When we touched,” he clarifies.

“Like what?”

“Nothing. I uh—” he bends to collect the bag. “Thanks for the books.”

And with that, he’s gone. The small bell announces his exit.

—

It’s days like these, with the sun high in the sky and the gentle spring breeze, that you’re so grateful for life you can hardly contain it. You close the shop and take the small walk to the cliffside bench with a book tucked under one arm and a thermos in your chilled hands. She’s waiting for you there. She knows weather like this draws you out.

“The princess emerges from her tower, at last!” Elsie practically shouts as you lower yourself onto the bench beside her.

“No shouting on days like this.”

“Is that coffee?” she asks, gesturing to your thermos.

“Tea,” you correct, passing it to her before she can ask.

“Mm, prefer coffee,” she says just before taking a healthy sip.

“You should’ve brought some then.”

You’re both quiet for a while after that, opening your book to read silently as Elsie gazes out over the ocean, thermos grasped between her hands.

“Do you know something?” she says eventually. “I think you were right about this place.”

You place your book by your side as she passes you the half empty thermos. “Was I?”

“I know I tease you for it. But I get it. Why you spend all your time here, I mean. It’s nice.”

“Nice?” you laugh. “What an understatement.”

She turns towards you. “Oh, I'm the one understating the beauty of things now?”

“Don’t start.”

“I know he came to the store.”

“People do that when they want to buy books.”

“That man doesn’t need to go to a store to buy books.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you question.

“Come out with me tonight and I’ll show you.”

“Where?”

She grins.

—

“What the hell is this?”

“Minho’s home,” your friend answers.

“Elsie, this is a fucking palace. What the hell is he doing busking at the local market?”

She shrugs. “I asked him the same thing. Come on,” she says, attempting to lead you towards the imposing doors.

“I wasn’t invited,” you point out.

“I have a plus one.”

The sound of chatter and laughter floods through the door as it opens. Half the town are his dinner guests by the sound of it. Elsie pulls you through the stately rooms, each with high ceilings and decadent carpets.

When she passes you a drink, you still haven’t spotted him. You recognise faces from your store, people who have dropped by once or twice on a lazy afternoon and others who are regulars. Members of the local book club practically keep you afloat.

“Is this a celebration?”

“No, he just holds these regularly apparently. Has a private concert before dinner.” She tips back her head and finishes her champagne in one go. “That’s where they’re going now. Come on, let’s get good seats.”

It’s the kind of place you’d read about in fantasy novels, with high ceilings and chandeliers and carpets that could be worth more than your shop. It’s utterly ridiculous. A tiny sliver of embarrassment sneaks its way inside you at the idea of someone that had all this stepping into your store. You stamp it under your boot before it can settle. Your store is everything. You’d never been prouder of anything in your life.

When the man of the hour emerges, the room quiets. People shift in their seats, leaning ever so slightly towards the stage where he stands. This stage is nothing like the one at the markets. It’s a permanent, elaborate construction, raising him high enough that even those peaking their heads into the packed room from the very back can get a clear view.

Then he starts singing.

It’s just like the last time you heard him. It’s pleasant, beautiful even. But as you take in the faces of those around you, you get that frustrating feeling again: you’re missing something. He stands centre stage, lulling the entire room into a dazed wonder. You get the urge to climb on stage and shake him. Tell me what this is! But you don’t. You wait for him to finish, wait for him to release his captives.

Thirty minutes later Elsie takes your arm as you filter out of the room and towards the dining room, only stopping when Minho steps in front of you—blocking your exit.

“Did you enjoy the performance?” he asks, a polite smile pulling the corners of his lips up.

It sets your friend off on a speech that makes you want to pull her aside and give her a gentle slap across the face. Snap her out of whatever has taken root inside her brain.

“And you?” Minho finally asks.

“It was fine,” you answer. He didn’t need his ego fed.

He laughs. Laughs. Like the idea that you weren’t totally enraptured by him like a sort of admiring zombie was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Your eyes drop to his neck as you wonder how your hands would look wrapped around his throat.

“Elsie, they’ll be starting service now. May I have a word with my guest? Just for a moment.”

Your friend looks between you both, like she’s missing something obvious. You understand the feeling. Then she leaves with a gentle squeeze of your arm.

“You’re rich,” you announce after a moment of silence.

“Very observant.”

“How?”

“And blunt.”

“I don’t like not knowing things.”

“Yes, yes I know,” he smiles. Then he collapses into one of the empty chairs and looks around the room like he’s never seen it before, like it doesn’t belong to him. “People are… generous, with their donations. They like my voice.”

You scoff, collapsing into a chair across the aisle from him. “You expect me to believe all of this is just from… busking?”

“They really like my voice.”

“Yes, I know. Will you tell me why?”

“Must there be a reason?”

He takes a deep breath when you give him a pointed look before pulling himself to his feet and crossing the aisle towards you. You get the urge to run, but you don’t. You hold your breath instead as he kneels at your feet. He holds his palm up towards you, like he’s expecting a high five.

“I’ll tell you,” he says. “If you hold my hand while I do.”

“You won’t fall over this time?”

“I'm much closer to the ground if I do.”

It’s a strange request, but everything about him was strange. You hate not knowing things. So you press your palm to his, watching his face for any discomfort. His eyes fix on where your hands connect as he folds his fingers to intertwine with yours. It’s far too intimate for someone you’d only met twice before, but you need answers.

“This will be… odd,” he says. “You’ll have to be open minded.”

You huff out a small laugh. “Yes, well I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

He smiles. It’s a sad smile.

“I’m cursed,” he says eventually. It’s blunt and plain, no room for doubting the seriousness of it. “I exist to tempt others, to lure them without ever being able to touch them.” He takes a deep breath, readjusting the way your hands are intertwined so he can rest them in your lap. “It’s a safety measure, I assume. No one can resist me so to counteract any complications that might create… touch is repulsive. To both parties. I sing and I tempt them with beauty… and they want me. They want me so badly they throw their money at me in the hope it’ll make me see them.”

“Cursed.”

You look down at your intertwined hands, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. Okay so he’s either teasing you or he’s completely insane.

“I can prove it to you,” he says, seemingly interpreting the look on your face successfully. “If I must. It won’t be pleasant.”

“We’re holding hands,” you point out. You weren’t in pain.

“Yes,” he says with a small smile. “We are.”

“Well, doesn’t that disprove your… story.”

He squeezes your hand a little. “You aren’t lured in the same way. My voice is ‘fine’, as you put it. I’m pretty enough, but I’m not—”

“What’s your point?”

“Curses can be broken,” he says. “Surrounded by all those books and you’ve never read a fairytale?”

You want to shove him onto his ass and wipe the teasing smirk off his face.

“You’re a curse-breaker. Come to set me free.”

You yank your hand from his.

“Is this fun for you? Do you want me to fall for this story you're spinning and make myself a fool just for you to waltz into the dining room and laugh about it with your friends?”

He frowns. “No.”

“Why do you sing?” you ask. “If this is a ‘curse’ that you hate so much. Why set up these events to sing for them all?”

“I need it,” he says, brows still drawn together. “Or I'll die. I… feed from their adoration, or the curse does. It’s wrapped around me, yanking at my soul. I feed it or I die.”

The look on his face, the tormented glaze to his eyes. It’s too convincing. He’s either as good of an actor as he is a singer or he’s…

“How would you prove it?”

He pulls himself to his feet. “I would let someone touch me. Your friend, perhaps.”

“And what would happen?”

“She would… be upset. She’d be in pain.”

“It hurts?”

“It’s excruciating.”

“You can’t do it to me instead?”

He shakes his head. “You’re the exception, angel. I can’t hurt you even if I wanted to.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“That’s what you feel like to me.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Alright.”

He’s quiet as you leave the room, as you leave his house. You pull your phone out to let Elise know you’ve left early. She’ll understand. You don’t like crowds.

—

It’s weeks before the small bell above your shop door signals his arrival. You’d almost managed to put him from your mind and then there he is, standing in your space with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“What do you want?”

He steps towards you. He looks nervous.

“I’d like to be free, angel.”

“I said not to call me that.”

“Right, sorry.”

You sigh, stepping down from the ladder to face him. “Okay, tell me what to do.” Humour him.

One corner of his mouth lifts up. “What?”

“How do I free you? Break the curse,” you say, gesturing at nothing in particular.

He looks around you, at the shelves crammed to bursting with books. “No fairy tales at all?” he questions. When you say nothing he redirects his attention to you again, suddenly looking a little more solemn. “I’m afraid you’ll have to fall in love with me, angel.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. “Oh alright, then,” you manage eventually. “Is that all?”

He isn’t laughing with you, you realise. It sobers you.

“I would really, really like to be free.”

“The fairytales you keep alluding to. Don’t they usually fall in love before the big curse is revealed? A little less pressure that way don’t you think?”

He pulls one hand from his pocket and rubs the back of his head. “It would feel… wrong. To spend time with you while keeping that from you. Wouldn’t you feel… used? If you did end up… feeling something for me and then discovering I had something more to gain from you.”

You frown. “Yeah, I guess I would. But if you want to be free that badly, why does it matter? You don’t know me.”

“Like I said, I can’t hurt you. It’s… maybe it’s part of it. I don’t know. I feel…” he trails off, eyes dropping to the ground. “It’s strange,” he continues after a moment. “I’ve known about you, that someone like you existed out there somewhere. Someone who could fix me. I just—How long have you been here? How long have you had this place?”

“5 years.”

“5—” he pauses, sucking in a deep breath. “Right.”

“How long have you been… like this?”

“6 years,” he says, shoving his hand back in his pocket. “You’ve been here this whole time. This curse is cruel, I shouldn’t be surprised. I just—”

“Swear to me,” you interrupt, taking a small step towards him. “Swear to me this isn’t some elaborate joke. I don’t want to see anyone in pain. I don’t want you to have to prove this to me. I just… I need you to look me in the eyes and swear to me.”

He takes a hesitant step towards you as he lifts his hands from his pockets. “Is there someone you… someone you don’t like very much?” he asks, a tiny smile forming on his lips. “Someone you wouldn’t mind seeing getting a very short jolt of pain?”

“You said it’s excruciating. Is it that way for you too?”

He nods.

“No, there’s no one I’d want to feel pain.”

He sighs. “I want to prove it to you. I want you to be sure of me.”

“You’ll have to prove yourself worth trusting. If I'm going to love you, I’ll have to trust you, won’t I?”

He reaches slowly for your hand. You let him take it, lifting it up so he can inspect it. He traces his finger over your palm, tracing the lines that cross your skin. “I’ll do my best,” he whispers.

��

It doesn’t take you long to recognise his patterns of behaviour. He visits the shop regularly, finding some way to touch you in these small ways before he leaves. You can’t help but stay quiet as he does, afraid to interrupt him. You can see it, the way he gets comfort from your touch. You suppose if you’d been unable to touch another person at all for six years you’d be a little desperate for human touch as well. Your hands are the focus of his attention. You’re sure he must know them as well as he knows his own. He traces the lines on your palms, plays with the rings on your fingers, wraps his fingers around your wrists.

He’s replaced the local bookclub as your biggest customer. It’s not possible for him to be reading all the books he buys. Still, he comes in once a week to ask for more recommendations. You slip in the occasional test. A vampire romance or fifty shades of grey. He never comments on it. Not until today.

“Are you trying to hint at something?” he says from the lounge chair tucked into a corner of the store. He’d taken to spending time reading as you worked. It was the only evidence you had that he read at all.

“Hint at what?” you ask from behind the counter.

“Your kinks.”

You choke on your tea, slapping your palm against your chest to prevent the liquid from entering your lungs.

“I’m sorry?” you choke out.

“I’ve noticed your recommendations are getting a little… adult. Do you have a thing for BDSM?”

You duck around the corner to check for any quiet customers lingering between the shelves. “Would you be quiet?” you scold as you march towards him. One of your regulars is perusing at the back of the store.

“Come on, angel. Don’t be shy.”

“Are you telling me you’ve been reading them?”

“I liked the one with the priest. Forbidden fucking is exciting, isn’t it? Doing it where you shouldn’t—”

You slap your palm over his mouth. You can feel his grin form. “If you don’t shut up, I’m banning you from the store.”

His eyes sparkle with mischief but he nods. You release him before wiping your palm on your jeans.

—

It’s only a few months after that when you notice it. He’s your employee. You didn’t hire him and you don’t pay him but as you hand him the box opener so he can start taking stock of the next box you find yourself frozen with the realisation.

He frowns, pulling himself to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing?”

He closes the box opener. “Well I was about to use this sharp thing to slice the tape from this box so I can take the books out.”

“Shut up.”

One corner of his mouth lifts up.

“You’re working here,” you point out.

“Am I?”

You nod. Silent.

“Would you like me to leave?”

You frown. “No.”

He smiles, sliding the knife open. “Then I’ll continue with the box, shall I?”

—

You stir awake at the gentle nudge against your shoulder. “Angel,” he whispers. “It’s late.”

“How late?” you mumble, rubbing at your eyes as you uncurl your body from the unnatural position you’d fallen asleep in on the lounge chair.

“I closed an hour ago,” Minho says. He crouches at your feet, hair standing on all ends from where he’s dragged his fingers through it. You reach out to smooth it down.

“Thanks,” you say through a yawn.

“Why are you so tired?” he asks, reaching out to take your hand so he can trace patterns across it.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Any reason?”

You trace over his face with your eyes, taking in his long lashes, the slope of his nose, the curve of his upper lip. “Would you… be spending time with me if I wasn’t…” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers.

Your eyes flick across his, the soft light from the lamp doing just enough to make the deep brown clear. He needed something from you. You’d barely known him a year and he was the strangest person you’d ever met. It was probably foolish to trust him, dangerous at the very least.

“I do,” you answer. “I… trust you.”

He rocks forward, bringing his head down to your lap so he can press his lips to your hand. He peppers little kisses across your skin and you tangle your free hand into the hair at the back of his head. It falls down the back of his neck now, longer than it’s ever been before.

“Keep me,” he mutters, just clear enough for you to make out. “Will you keep me, angel? Please. I can’t hurt you. I swear.”

“Okay.”

—

“What?”

You blink, finding Minho’s sparkly eyes fixed on you. He’s smiling, like you’ve missed something funny.

“You were staring,” he says.

You drop your gaze to the floor, feeling your cheeks warm.

His soft footfalls as he approaches are the only sounds in the store. It was a quiet day, heavy rain preventing many customers from venturing out. He arrives at the bottom of the ladder, holding it steady as you descend. When you turn he doesn’t remove his hands, caging you in.

“Am I pretty?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Yeah?” he repeats with a small smile. “Have I grown on you?”

You fiddle with the tie on his hoodie as his fingers stroke through your hair. Grown on you felt like the wrong way to describe it. Inside you. He’d tangled himself with you and now you weren’t sure you could ever let him go. You’d spent a few sleepless nights imagining spending your days in the store without him. A small part of you was afraid. Afraid that if—when—you told him you loved him, he’d leave. Curse broken, needs fulfilled.

“A little,” you mutter, eyes fixed on his chest.

“Only a little?”

You look up into his eyes, then to his lips. “Would you leave if it was more than a little?”

“Hm?” he questions as he tugs a little on one of your earlobes.

“That’s what you’re here for isn’t it? You need me to—” you suck in a breath. “You need me to love you. Will you leave after that?”

He frowns, hand dropping to cup the side of your neck. It’s a comforting hold, his thumb stroking gently behind your ear. “Why would I leave?”

“I’m your curse-breaker, right? That’s my purpose? That’s what you need from me.”

“I don’t need anything from you, angel,” he says. It’s a little unfocused, like his mind is somewhere else. His thumb keeps stroking.“It’s been two months since I needed to sing. It let me go.”

You drop the hoodie ties and grip the fabric instead. “What?”

He offers you a small smile. “You freed me,” he whispers.

The curse is broken… and he’d stayed. “You’re still here.”

“Mm, do you want me to leave?”

“No,” you answer quickly before pulling him towards you, tasting him for the first time. He stumbles a little, humming into your mouth as he steadies himself. It’s a frenzied stumble around the store. You are hardly aware you’re moving at all before you find yourself pushed up against a wall of books.

“The store is open,” he mumbles into your neck.

“Don’t care,” you mutter before you grip his hair and pull his mouth back to yours.

He laughs, taking a large step backwards and detaching you with ease. “Yes, you do. I’ll be right back.”

You attempt to catch your breath as he locks up, dropping your head back against the books and closing your eyes. You loved him. You loved him and he knew and he didn’t leave you.

His finger traces your lips when he returns. “You’re smiling,” he whispers.

Your eyes flutter open. “You didn’t leave me.”

He frowns. “I was just locking up.”

You huff out a short laugh. “No, I mean… two months ago.”

“Ah,” he says before pressing his lips together and adopting an exaggerated thoughtful expression. “Why didn’t I leave?”

You press your finger to his cheek. “Do you think I’m pretty?” you ask.

His eyes flick to yours, the teasing expression dropping off his face. “Angel,” he whispers. “You’re wrapped around my soul.”

You’re both quiet after that, little noises of pleasure the only sounds between you as he pushes you against the shelves. You snake your hands under his hoodie, pressing your hands to his skin. He’s so warm. He’d taken your hands shortly after you’d entered the store, cold and wet from the downpower. You’d frozen still as he lifted them to his mouth and breathed over them, warming them gently.

“Love touching you,” he mumbles against your lips. “So soft. You were worth it.” His lips move to the corner of your mouth. “I couldn’t touch anyone… for years and you were there at the end… a soft angel come to save me, hm? Let me feel you…”

He continues muttering the same way as he presses kisses across your skin. You snake your hands up his back, lifting his hoodie as you go. He barely detaches his lips from you for a second as he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside.

The rain seems to get heavier as you’re consumed by him, offering you a curtain of privacy from the world. It feels completely safe, here with him, in your favourite place on earth. It's yours, this place, him. You bite into his neck, just enough to leave tiny marks in his skin. He grunts, threading his fingers into the hair at the back of your head. “The angel bites,” he laughs as he slips his other hand up your thighs and under your dress.

“Stay here with me,” you gasp into his mouth as his fingers brush your clothed centre.

“I’m staying,” he breathes.

“You can’t leave.”

He smirks as his fingers brush back and forth, barely touching. “Listen to me. I’m not leaving you, yeah? I’ll never walk out the door again if that’s what you want.”

“You have a—a palace,” you gasp as he hooks his fingers into your underwear.

His lips ghost over yours as his fingers explore you, slipping through your folds leisurely. “Would you rather live there?” he asks.

“Wouldn’t you?”

He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing you. “Wherever you are,” he whispers as he tugs your underwear down your legs.

“Here,” you breathe.

“Alright, we’ll live here.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, like you can hold the sentiment inside him and physically prevent him from changing his mind. We, he said. We’ll live here. Suddenly his hands are under your thighs and he’s practically scooping you up, slotting himself closer towards you and lifting you up against the shelves. His bare torso is warm against your thighs as you wrap yourself around him securely.

“That sounds nice,” you mumble into the crook of his neck.

“Just nice?” he says back, the mischief clear in his tone.

“It sounds so wonderful, I could die from joy.”

He chuckles against your temple. “Don’t do that. Don’t leave me.”

“One condition.”

“Hm?”

“Would you fuck me now?”

He makes that face again, like he’s deep in thought. His mouth forms a straight line. You kiss it off him, forcing him to part his lips. “Alright, angel,” he mumbles. “I’ll fuck you now.”

His movements are lazy and patient as he pulls himself free from his trousers. You practically latch yourself onto his neck, sucking at his skin desperately. Then he’s playing with you, wetting the tip of his cock along your folds like he has all the time in the world. You’re on the brink of tears when he finally shoves you against the shelves and lets you sink down onto him.

“‘m inside you,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

You hum, dropping your head back. “Yeah,” you breathe. “You are.”

please don’t forget to leave feedback, it took me lots of time and effort and hearing your thoughts is what makes me want to write more. thank you.

#lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #kpop smut #stray kids smut #kpop imagines #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #minho smut #minho x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios

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quokkawritesarchive · 2 months

Text

BE MY VALENTINE — HYUNMIN.

pairing: hyunjin x seungmin genre: smut, NSFW warnings: drunk confessions, oral (s. receiving), dirty talk, cum swallowing a/n: it’s part of my valentine’s collab! i may have got a little bit carried on with the plot and went way over the word limit…

it was a particularly sad day for a romantic person like hyunjin. after years of being an idol, he craved for love. he just wanted to find a person who’s gonna accept him the way he is and understand him fully. hyunjin was a hopeless romantic after all.

seungmin, on the other hand, locked up his feelings long time ago. he knew it won’t be possible to date anymore because of his constant work and crazy schedule. but deep down, he also craved for love, he wanted to find the right person too.

that’s how both of them ended up drinking on valentine’s day like some losers. all other members were busy doing something — jisung distracted himself with writing lyrics for a new song, jeongin was watching some k-dramas, minho and changbin went to the gym, and felix and chan were playing genshin and spending their entire salaries on a new banner. everyone has found some way to distract themselves from valentine’s day. no one wanted to think of how lonely they truly were.

since hyunjin’s dorm was basically empty and jisung locked himself in his room, it was mutually decided to drink there.

seungmin was a fan of beer, but hyunjin stuck to the good old soju. he wasn’t really a drinking type, but the occasion left him with no other choice but to get absolutely blacked out.

the bottles were carefully grouped up on the coffee table, while the boys were sitting on the floor and watching something on tv. none of them paid much attention to the screen, as they were already tipsy.

“when was the last time you kissed someone?” hyunjin suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had been going on for the last half hour.

seungmin stopped mid drinking, shifting his gaze from the tv screen to hyunjin’s face.

“dunno… like a few months ago? when we went to the strip club for chan’s birthday, i think?”

hyunjin nodded rapidly, indicating that he still hadn’t forgotten that day.

“yeah i remember how i found you making out with some bitc- some girl on the sofa.” hyunjin quickly corrected himself, earning a laugh from his friend. “why didn’t you rent her for the night? she was all over you.”

“ugh… i think that’s exactly why i didn’t rent her. because she was all over me.”

hyunjin put on a “don’t lie to me” look and seungmin sighed.

“i don’t know… just… didn’t feel like it…”

“didn’t like the kiss?” hyunjin suggested, opening another bottle of soju in the meantime.

“maybe.” seungmin avoided the question carefully, dancing around it like fire. “that was last year, jinnie. i-“

“don’t remember?” hyunjin chucked. “okay, you don’t have to answer truthfully.”

seungmin felt his cheeks burn. despite the fact that he really wanted to tell the truth right now, he knew he would regret it tomorrow. he hid his sexuality this whole time not to end up telling the secret the second he got drunk. especially at this moment, when hyunjin looked so cozy in that hoodie and glasses, with his hair smeared as if he just woken up from the nap.

“you good? want some water?” hyunjin waved in front of seungmin’s face, waking the latter out of his trance.

“no, no, i’m good.” seungmin replied nervously. has he been staring this whole time?

“let me actually bring some water. we’ve been drinking non stop, it’s time to sober up a bit.” with that, hyunjin disappeared into the doorway.

perhaps hyunjin was right, and it was time to sober up. if he continued to stare like that, it would end badly for both of them. seungmin slammed his own cheeks a couple of times to calm himself down. and it actually worked. by the time hyunjin returned with two glasses of water, seungmin was already feeling much better and less sleepy.

both of them emptied their glasses in silence, as if the talk before had never happened. after a few bottles of alcohol, the water seemed to come straight from heaven.

“so… what about you then?” seungmin asked, not being able to shut his mouth entirely. once the unusual topic like this was brought up, it was hard for him to move on. it really affected him, he was dying to know hyunjin’s answer.

“what is it to you?” hyunjin said surprisingly sharply.

“ah, cmon, dude. you asked me first! now it’s your turn!” seungmin laughed it off, but he got so concerned deep inside. why did hyunjin become so defensive all of a sudden?

“i’m gonna steal your answer and say i don’t remember.” hyunjin winked, earning an irritated growl from seungmin.

“yeah, yeah, of course. i know you’re dating someone secretly, that’s why you don’t want to answer!”

“and what if? are you jealous?”

seungmin got shut up so hard. he couldn’t even think of a proper comeback for like ten seconds, staring dumbly in response. by the time a minute had passed, it was just awkward to even say anything, so he just took another sip of beer.

“so… you are jealous?”

seungmin cursed under his breath. he needed to leave right now, before it was too late. if he doesn’t, he will ruin everything. everything.

“why did you ask me that question for?” but instead of leaving, seungmin got straight to the point. he was digging a hole for himself.

hyunjin smiled and looked him dead in the eye. “the first one? let’s just say i didn’t ask to hear how you liked making out with that girl.”

“then why?” seungmin’s eyes started flickering between hyunjin’s eyes and lips.

hyunjin’s eyes dropped down to seungmin’s lips as well as he said almost inaudibly. “because I wanted to kiss you.”

seungmin didn’t know how, but it happened. one second his gaze was captivated by hyunjin's inviting lips, and the next his eyes were closed with his own lips pressed over hyunjin's. he wasn’t sure who leaned in for the kiss first, it didn’t matter anymore. but the fact that they were even doing it couldn’t sit right in his mind. he was scared of losing himself quickly, trying so hard to control the moment. their lips parted for a moment to inhale, and then met again for the second time, with a slower and gentle pace.

the tv kept playing in the background this whole time, but all they could hear was the sound of their lips moving, exchanging saliva and pulling away for a moment to tilt their heads. their noses brushed every time, which felt even more intimate than the kiss itself.

hyunjin’s lips were as plump and soft as seungmin imagined. the sharp taste of soju filled seungmin’s mouth, mixing with the taste of beer he was drinking. the slow kiss quickly progressed as hyunjin brought his face impossibly close, deepening it further.

the pace had picked up as well as they continued to glide of their tongues over each other so languidly. all they could worry about was the urge to taste each other more.

hyunjin’s hand finally made it onto seungmin’s thigh unintentionally. almost reflectively, he began to slide his palm on seungmin’s inner thigh, causing the latter to moan deeply inside the kiss. hyunjin’s mind already felt floaty because of the amount of consumed alcohol. but now that seungmin was responding to his kiss so eagerly, desperately, submissively… he felt like on fire. he wanted to touch seungmin more. kissing was not enough.

after minutes of heavy make out and hyunjin’s hand caressing his inner thigh, seungmin’s cock began to grow bigger in his pants. with another accident brush of hyunjin’s palm over his groin, seungmin finally broke off the kiss, pulling away with swollen lips. hyunjin was staring at him with desperation in his eyes, breathing heavily, lips as equally glossy and swollen.

they were silent for a second, until hyunjin spoke. “you are a pretty good kisser. no wonder that girl was all over you.”

“shut up!” seungmin growled, hiding his face in embarrassment. “we are both drunk. we should stop, otherwise we will end up fucking each other.”

hyunjin’s lips grew into a smirk. “what if i want us to fuck each other?”

seungmin turned away completely, feeling his dick grow bigger at the words. “fuck- don’t say that. i’m so hard already… we shouldn’t be doing this.”

hyunjin laughed and then tugged seungmin closer by his t-shirt, ignoring his speech entirely and making him yelp in surprise. “let me help you then.”

hyunjin was not blind. the outline of seungmin’s dick poking his pants so deliciously was grabbing all his attention. and after seungmin expressed his wishes, it was impossible for hyunjin to stay away. he knew what seungmin wanted and how desperately he needed it. his dick screamed for touch, for any relief.

hyunjin reached his way into seungmin’s mouth for the last time, not wanting to pull away. their tongues danced around each and over their bottom lips once again, before hyunjin broke the kiss.

excitement was rapidly building up inside him. he finally got what he’d wanted for years. that night, on chan’s birthday, he was crushed by the sight of seungmin making out with that girl. he looked like he enjoyed it, and hyunjin was so surprised when seungmin ended up politely declining her further offers. but now… he could finally feel his lips with his own.

true to his words, hyunjin reached into seungmin’s pants, straight into his boxes.

in a matter of seconds, the entire length of seungmin’s dick was open on a plain sight. hyunjin stared down at it, precum all over, dropping from the tip further down the length. it was endearing to see seungmin so aroused for him, so desperate for his touch.

“let me know if i should stop, ‘kay?” hyunjin said against the skin as leaned in, planting series of kisses on seungmin’s inner thigh. he let his lips brush near the hip, kissing it slowly before biting on the soft skin.

seungmin nodded lightly and shut his eyes, holding his breath. his hands reached for hyunjin’s head, interlocking his fingers in strands of hair and pushing him lower.

hyunjin’s hot breath tickled the tip, and seungmin almost let out a loud moan, but quickly bit his lip. he had almost forgotten jisung was still in his room down the hallway and actually could walk in any second.

but a quiet moan did escape his lips when hyunjin kissed along his tip, softly and slowly. he then trailed down his tongue from the head all the way to the base while using his other hand to softly run it across the inner thigh. the cock was already painfully hard from the heavy make out, so hyunjin could apply barely any effort to make seungmin moan in desperation. he watched how the thick string of glimmering precum connected his lips and seungmin’s cock.

hyunjin looked up only to see seungmin’s clouded eyes and his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. the embarrassment was crushing over him. but it wasn’t embarrassing to hyunjin at all. rather the opposite; it was hot. seeing his friend in such a state was so hot. he immediately felt his own cock growing harder and bigger against his pants, which was slightly uncomfortable; but he chose to ignore that feeling for now. the image of dripping and hard swollen dick in front of his face was much more exciting.

running his tongue down the dick from top to bottom for the last time, as if licking a lollipop, hyunjin finally pushed it inside his throat until he started choking slightly. hollowing out his cheeks, he started bobbing his head up and down, trying to take more than he possibly could.

“ah-“ his actions finally caused seungmin speak up. “your mouth is so warm.”

the praise only made hyunjin to bob his head faster, the tip of the cock hitting the back of his throat repeatedly. seeing the impact of his own actions on seungmin’s body gave him a sense of confidence. seungmin panted above him, his fingers digging deeper into hyunjin’s hair as he pushed him further down his cock.

it became messy quickly. the spit started running down from the corner of his mouth, dribbling all the way down his chin and onto seungmin’s thighs. but hyunjin didn’t care; the messier the better.

the sounds of slick connecting with hyunjin’s lips sliding down the entire length filled the room. seungmin felt himself getting anxious again, since jisung was still somewhere in the dorm.

“don’t be shy, min.” hyunjin spoke as if he was reading seungmin’s mind. “i bet he is wearing headphones. he always wears them when he writes new lyrics.”

seungmin replied breathlessly. “w-we’re not hundred percent s-sure…”

“okay, then next time we’ll go to your dorm.” hyunjin smiled, sinking back down on the dick.

next time… the words repeated in seungmin’s head. he could no longer tell if it was an empty promise or a real chance that it would happen. but right away he came to the conclusion that he wanted this to happen.

finally feeling the satisfaction of having something warm wrapped around his cock had him in chokehold. hyunjin was skilled, seungmin could tell it from the way he got him worked up so quickly.

fighting the inner shyness, seungmin lowered his head once again only to be met with hyunjin’s ardent gaze.

“‘m g-gonna cum if you keep looking at me like that.” he swallowed hard.

hyunjin’s eyes nearly rolled in satisfaction just from hearing that. he was so addicted to praise. and the only thing that worked as good as praise were the high-pitched whimpers leaving seungmin’s mouth.

“then cum for me.” hyunjin said without breaking eye contact.

that alone made seungmin’s breath hitch in his throat as he started shamelessly fucking into hyunjin’s mouth.

hyunjin wasn’t sure what was prettier, seungmin’s shameless actions or the moans that were leaving his mouth.

the thrusts became more rapid; seungmin grabbed onto hyunjin’s hair till it started to physically hurt. seungmin’s head threw back as he spilled loads of hot cum down hyunjin’s throat. he didn’t pull away, sucking it all effortlessly and tasting the saltiness of the cum. it still felt unreal how he had managed to ruin his friend like that in such a short time.

seungmin’s face completely changed as he realized hyunjin had swallowed everything that just came out of his dick.

“hyunjin.” he said with a concerned tone.

“c’mon, don’t look so disgusted.” hyunjin chuckled, leaning in closer. “you taste good.”

he then found seungmin’s lips again, letting him taste himself on his tongue.

he really couldn’t stop kissing him.

his lips were addicting like drugs, making hyunjin light in the head. the way they melted into each other for another good minute was almost like they’d been dating forever. even with seungmin’s shyness, everything felt natural, as if it was meant to be.

the loud slam of the door down the corridor made them jump away from each other.

“jisung.” they said in sync.

seungmin barely managed to shove the dick in his pants, and hyunjin took a pillow from the couch to hide his own erection.

“you guys okay?” jisung appeared out of the darkness of the corridor. “you look like you saw a ghost.”

“yeah, you.” seungmin responded in his usual manner, making hyunjin laugh.

“whatever. alcoholics.” jisung sighed, looking at the pile of bottles on the coffee table.

hyunjin and seungmin exchanged looks again. little did he know what was happening here just moments ago.

-> reblog to support me, if you enjoyed reading this and please let me know your thoughts in the comments! ♡

masterlist | taglist

TAGLIST (OPEN): @lvlnijiro @hanjisung-enjoyer @fun-fanfics @soonie1010 @noellllslut @newhope8 @channiebahngswife @chanscappuccino @vivioluh @rockstrhanji @yoontaethings @katsukis1wife @caitlyn98s @yaorzu-blog

#stray kids #skz smut #hyunmin #skz hyunmin #hyunmin smut #hyunjin smut #skz hyunjin #skz seungmin #seungmin smut #hyunjin x seungmin #stray kids smut

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dean-a-mean-tae · 3 months

Text

Follow The Leader | Stray Kids Extra Member AU

Nicholas's habits that the boys subconsciously started doing.

WARNINGS: swearing, idk. I kind of just whipped this out of my ass. I wanted to give you fluff before Wednesday. I love you :)

Nicholas Master list | Reaction Style

BANG CHAN Throwing their head back when they laugh

Nicholas used to hide his smile and force his laughs down. He was taught expressing loud emotions was inappropriate and was a sign of disrespect. So, he refused to be noisy around his members. While they thought he was uncomfortable, Nick was actually showing them respect.

When they finally broke Nicholas out of his shell, they discovered his wonderful habit of throwing his head back during a really good laugh. His eyes will close, his teeth showing, and his head thrown back as his shoulders shake with laughter.

It's a terrible habit when they're in front of walls.

*thump*

"Holy- Are you okay?" Hyunjin laughed as he rubbed the back of Nicholas's head. Before Nick could answer, another thud came from the other side of the room, and the duo looked over.

Chan leaned forward, rubbing his head as he laughed loudly. Once what happened clicked, Nicholas laughed harder and fell on the floor. The trio of boys laughed at the two's similar clumsiness.

LEE MINHO Shouting while running

Let me explain. Nicholas is a pretty big guy. He's going to bulldoze whoever he doesn't see when running. After one too many accidents, Nicholas started making a siren nose while running. Whenever staff hear the siren, they press themselves against the nearest wall or compact their body out of the way.

Minho started doing it to tease Nicholas, but it stuck after he realized how effective it was.

"WEEWOO WEEWOO!" or "BEEEP! BEEEP! Incoming! Incoming!"

Like they trained for this their whole lives, everyone pressed against the walls. Those who weren't lucky enough to get to a wall in time hopped onto furniture or slid into doorways and prayed this wasn't the path meant to be taken.

When the staff looked up, they watched Minho and Nicholas fly down the hallway with the members hot on their heels.

"I don't know if I hate how much it works, or if I love it," Chan huffed as he slowed to a stop in the middle of the hallway. He looked at each staff member before letting out a breathy chuckle. "They're gone now you can relax."

"WEEWOO! WEEWOO!"

"nEVERmInD!"

SEO CHANGBIN Humming when slightly annoyed

Nicholas will never tell you to your face that you piss him off. You have to pay attention to his expressions or his actions. Since he was 6, Nicholas developed the habit of humming to alert people of his growing irritation.

He hums to release tension in his body instead of grinding his teeth.

The members realized it after continuously teasing him about something. They ignored the first few signs, but his repeated humming told them.

"You better stop it," Minho warned, watching Jisung and Felix poke at Changbin while he was eating.

"Why? He does this to us," Jisung huffed as Nicholas sat on the floor.

"Are you irritated?" Nicholas asked, and Changbin nodded as he continued to humming quietly.

"Sorry, hyung," Jisung and Felix muttered before leaving to bother Minho.

HWANG HYUNJIN Drawing on cups

Whenever Nicholas brings the members a cup of something, he draws something on the cups or leaves a message. Since Changbin told him how happy it made him and the members agreed, Nicholas hasn't missed a chance at drawing on a cup. He'll take their cups out of their hand and draw on them sometimes.

One day, Hyunjin drew on Nicholas' cup, and the smile on Nick's face made Hyunjin promise to repay his kindness. It's become a secret code for them. They both keep the cups or heat protector sheets, whatever they've drawn on, in a drawer.

"How come your cup has a little penguin on it?" Jisung whined as he leaned over Nicholas' shoulder. The older boy shrugged as he sipped his drink to hide his smile.

To busy whining, Jisung missed the smile shared between Hyunjin and Nicholas.

HAN JISUNG Sneezing with their entire bodies

The members joke about sticking Nicholas into a helmet because of how clumsy he is. He sneezes clumsily. He will pause whatever he's doing and take a deep breath before thrusting his head and torso forward as he lets out a dying rat sound. The members will never let him live down the time he did that and fell into a pile of pillows at a friend's house.

The first time Jisung did it, Felix and Nicholas were watching Jisung's live.

"Where the hell did he go?!" Felix screamed as Jisung flew from the camera, and a loud shout echoed from the mic. Next to him, Nicholas's head is thrown back in laughter at the blur that was once his younger friend.

Minho popped up on the camera and waved, making Nicholas laugh harder. Minho looked down before looking back up with a thumbs up, "He's fine. He just sneezed."

A hand appeared from under the desk, and Jisung gave them a thumbs up. Felix laughed as he handed a wheezing Nicholas tissue to wipe his face.

"He just disappeared!"

LEE FELIX Silent Feet

Because of childhood trauma, Nicholas learned to walk on silent feet. He can walk loud, but his body is used to walking softly. Unfortunately for the members, this means getting scared by a 6'3 pole randomly appearing in their peripheral vision.

Felix has picked up on this habit and used it for plenty of things. He usually uses this habit to sneak around the dorms at night. One of the members, usually Nicholas, will wake up to a body under them. Half the time, it's Jeongin, but sometimes it's Felix.

"Why are you in my bed?"

Felix spluttered at the deep voice laced with sleep from his older member. Only after he burrowed under the covers and into the back of Nicholas did Felix respond.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Don't know," He answered. Felix hummed as Nicholas turned to face him. They stared at each other, thankful for the dark purple LED light shining in the room.

"Maybe you can't sleep because you have these lights on," Felix whispered, and Nicholas smiled.

"Maybe I left them on because I knew someone was gonna creep through the hallway to my room," He said, raising his brows in amusement. Felix huffs as he buries his face in a stuffed animal.

"Goodnight, sunshine."

"Good night, Nick."

KIM SEUNGMIN Randomly glaring

Nicholas has a terrible case of RBF. When he relaxes his face, it looks like he's glaring at you. He tries not to chill, mainly for that reason. Seungmin developed the habit randomly. They don't know the exact time it happened or why he started doing it.

He just starts glaring at random objects or at nothing. Usually, when Nicholas starts to relax, Seungmin tense up and glares.

"What's wrong with you?" Chan asked, and Seungmin tilted his head.

"Nothing, why?"

"You look like you're gonna stab us!" Hyunjin screamed, and everyone laughed as Seungmin mimicked stabbing him with a crunchy french fry.

YANG JEONGIN Connecting his fingers to his thumbs

People think Nicholas is counting when he does this, but it's been debunked when they realize most of the time, he has no reason to. Someone thought he was mimicking playing the piano like his older sister does and everyone ran with it.

He's actually just stretching his fingers, but he lets STAY think that because it's cute.

Jeongin started doing it when he realized why Nicholas did it. He didn't even know you could stretch your fingers until Nicholas told him about it.

"What are Nick and Innie counting?" Chan read, and everyone looked at the duo sitting next to each other. They were stretching their fingers again.

"Nothing," Nicholas answered.

"Then what are you doing?" Changbin asked, reaching back to grab Nick's hands.

"Nothing," Nicholas shrugged. Jeongin hummed in agreement as he leaned against the older boy's shoulder.

Nicholas Ross Master List

Tags list: @bada-lee-ily, @jinnie-ret, @hwxnghyynjin, @foxilsdenn, @rensahazard, @mynameisnotlaura, You can be added by asking in the replies, sending me a message, or doing an ask thingy.

#deantae nicholas ross #skz 9th member #stray kids 9th member #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x male reader #stray kids x male reader #skz x 9th member #stray kids extra member #stray kids with the 9th member #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #9th member of skz #9th member of stray kids

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sluttywonwoo · 5 months

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instead of you [part thirty-three] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, angst, discussions of plane disasters, mentions of sex (mdni ; 18+)

word count: 3k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional a/n: disclaimer that this chapter and the following chapters take place on oahu and kauai, hawai'i. i wrote this a year ago (originally posted on sept. 22, 2022) and included mentions of the negative impact and sentiment tourism in hawai'i procures, but it was before the fires in maui. i included hawai'i in their vacation in the first place because i'm part hawaiian and wanted to bring attention to our people's attitude toward tourists while also writing about the parts of the islands that i grew up loving. and i thought i should clarify that before posting, as i feel the context is important to precede what would be an otherwise distasteful choice if i had written this now. please keep hawai'i in your thoughts, mahalo plenty <3

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

Predictably, you cried yourself to sleep. You debated over whether or not to tell Minho. He’d probably find out when he woke up in the morning but would he be mad if he didn’t hear it from you? If Jisung was right, he didn’t care about you at all, so why would you grant him the courtesy of a head’s up? You didn’t want to believe Jisung, rather, you wanted to believe that he had only said those things in the heat of the moment but at the end of the day, he knew Minho far better than you did. Whether or not he was telling the truth to try and save you or lying to hurt you was up to you to decipher.

You wound up texting Minho, ‘Jisung knows,’ without any other context and calling it a night.

The next morning, you woke up to a message from Jisung telling you not to bother getting ready for the day and that he’d be going on without you. It was mostly a relief not to have to put on an act after everything that happened the night before but it also stung.

You weren’t very optimistic about repairing your relationship with Jisung, but any lingering hope vanished when he wouldn’t even look at you in passing in the hallway.

You spent the entire day in bed, trying to distract yourself with anything you could think of to pass the time. You scrolled through social media until your timelines stopped refreshing with new content. There wasn’t anything interesting enough on TV to pull you out of spiraling so you didn’t even bother trying to find something to hold your attention.

At one point you remembered the book you were reading but as soon as you opened it you were greeted by all of Jisung’s little annotations he had left for you. He still had your book and you wondered if he would ever finish it now that you’d ruined everything.

You thought about texting him, just to check in or try and talk about things but you didn’t want to bother him. A couple of times, you almost texted him just out of instinct. You would go to send him a tweet that you thought he’d find funny and then remember.

Minho came by your room that night after dinner when everyone was back from the day’s activities. He knocked twice, letting himself in before you’d even finished telling him he could enter.

“Care to explain what happened?” he asked, hands on his hips.

You shrugged noncommittally. “Jisung found out.”

“How? Did you tell him?”

“And ruin my own relationship with my best friend? Yeah, definitely.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “I didn’t come here to argue. I just want to know what happened.”

“Then don’t accuse me of shit.”

“I didn’t mean- I’m sorry. That’s not what I was trying to do.”

You sighed and signaled for him to sit down if he wanted to. He did, perching himself on the edge of the bed cautiously.

“He knows because he noticed me sneaking out and finally decided to follow me.”

The color drained from Minho’s face. “So he heard-”

You nodded. “I don’t know how much, but enough.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck is right.”

“He wouldn’t say a word to me today,” Minho said.

“He wouldn’t even look at me.”

“I guess we knew this would happen eventually.”

“Yeah.”

“We fucked up.”

“Yeah.”

“You were right.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

“We really do deserve each other.”

Oh. What Jisung had said earlier rang through your ears again.

“I guess I was.”

Just then, the door to the bedroom opened and Jisung walked in, scoffing as he passed his brother.

“I should have known,” he muttered to himself.

“Ji, look-” Minho tried, only to be immediately cut off by his younger brother.

“Don’t. Please just fucking don’t.”

“But-”

“God, you never listen to a word I say, do you? Either of you?”

You wanted to protest that you did listen to him but you thought better of it. It wouldn��t help your case at all. Instead, you sat there silently like a child being scolded.

“I don’t want to hear you explain yourself,” Jisung continued. “I don’t care why you fucked my best friend. I think the act in itself doesn’t need an explanation.” Minho opened his mouth to respond but Jisung cut him off again. “I don’t want to hear an apology either. I already know you don’t mean it. In fact, I think we’re done here so if you wouldn’t mind getting the fuck out of my room...”

Minho looked like he wanted to argue but likely knew it wouldn’t do any good so he simply hung his head and let himself out, bidding you a quiet goodnight as he left. You didn’t respond. You didn’t even acknowledge him. How could you?

“Don’t forget to pack your things for the flight tomorrow. It’s a long one.”

You sat there, stunned. You hadn’t expected Jisung to speak to you at all, let alone say something amicable.

“O-ok thanks,” you responded shakily.

“I’m sleeping in here tonight,” he added.

“Oh-” you scrambled up, preparing to leave but Jisung stopped you.

“No, I meant with you. It’d look weird if I slept on the couch again.”

Of course. Keeping up appearances.

“Is it even worth it to do this anymore?” you asked. “I mean, it’s falling apart at the seams.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jisung argued. “It’s just a few more weeks.”

“Do you really want to keep pretending to be in love with someone you hate?”

He froze, still bent over his suitcase. Then he straightened up and turned to face you.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I don’t think I could ever hate you. I’ve been trying, trust me.”

You weren’t sure how to take that. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to take it. You tried not to let his words stoke the embers of hope you were still clinging on to but it was already proving difficult.

“Maybe with time,” you suggested.

He shrugged. “Ready for bed?”

You managed to get some sleep, despite everything. It took a while for your heart to calm down as you lay there beside your (ex?) best friend who was already snoring softly. He had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. You weren’t sure how he was able to drift off so easily in spite of your whole friendship falling apart but perhaps the stress was only one-sided.

You were the one being eaten alive by anxiety and guilt. All he had to do was mourn the loss of everything you destroyed.

The hours of sleep you did get passed quickly without dreams which was unusual for you. Before you knew it, Jisung’s alarm was going off and both of you were groaning as you dragged yourself out of bed.

You finished packing the rest of your things in relative silence. Neither of you had much to say aside from when you passed each other’s things back and forth from your suitcases.

The sun had yet to come up when the rest of the Hans gathered in the kitchen with their luggage. Since the flight was over twelve hours long Jisung’s parents had booked the earliest possible departure which just so happened to be before the sunrise.

The boys slept during the ride to the airport but you weren’t able to. You were squished between Jisung and Minho in the very back of the van, feeling like a pin in a grenade. They ignored each other, of course, both seemingly dead to the world.

Minho woke up before Jisung. He glanced over at you and offered an expression of sympathy. You just shrugged in response.

Sitting in the car like that caused your knees to brush up against each other every so often, each time you rounded a corner or went over a speed bump. Every time it happened you fought the urge to meet his eyes. The touch, be it fleeting, made your chest tighten over and over again until you were half-convinced you were going into cardiac arrest. Eventually, Minho gave up trying to give you space and just let his knee rest against yours. Funnily enough, it helped you relax.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s fine.”

He was so hard to read these days. Not that he was ever easy to read. You couldn’t tell whether or not he liked having his knee there. You weren’t sure why you were getting so caught up on it in the first place.

You longed to hold his hand. You longed to hold Jisung’s hand. But all you could do was sit there in between the two and wait until you finally arrived at the airport.

Thankfully, Minho was sat with his parents for the flight, which meant you were squeezed in between Jisung and Felix. You gave Jisung the window seat, knowing you wouldn’t get any sleep yourself. He looked like he wanted to argue when you offered it to him but ultimately surrendered when he saw the look in your eyes. You compromised for switching halfway through since the flight was so long but even that seemed to be pushing it for him.

It was funny how Jisung was still looking out for you after everything you had done. It was as if it was instinctual to him, to put you before himself. The realization almost made you tear up. Had you cared that much for him too? Or was it all one-sided? Either way, you were positive you didn’t deserve him.

Dom had chosen Hawai’i as his destination. A controversial choice, given the state of tourism at the moment, but it wasn’t like you had much say in the matter. Jisung had confided in you earlier in the trip that he had tried to talk his father out of it but that he couldn’t be swayed.

“We might as well try to make the most of it,” you argued. “It’s like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, right?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

The flight from Bali to Hawai’i was over twelve hours long which meant that you had roughly six hours to figure out how to entertain yourself before it was time to trade places. You could try to sleep but that meant leaning on Jisung and you were almost positive the last thing he wanted was for you to touch him right now.

You didn’t feel like paying for the in-flight wi-fi so you had to get creative with how to keep yourself busy. You scrolled through your camera roll for a while but it just made you sad. The pictures from the trip were one thing, but then there were all of the ones of you and Jisung back at school. The further back you went, the happier you seemed. There was no way that was actually true, it was just putting more distance between what had happened in the present from the way things were in the past. That, and you had a tendency to romanticize the past.

“Did you know flight attendants are trained to take oxygen masks from passengers?”

Felix’s voice from beside you pulled you from your spiral of self-pity almost immediately. You turned to look at him and cocked your head in confusion.

“What?”

“Like, you know that whole spiel they give you about safety before the plane takes off? And they’re like ‘during the flight, oxygen masks might drop from overhead’?”

“No, I know all of that. Why would they take the masks from passengers? Do they not have their own?”

“They do, but they might need to move around the cabin when that happens in case of an emergency or something, and if that were to be the case, they’re trained to take masks from passengers to oxygenate themselves. They’ll give it back, but in order to do their jobs they might have to borrow one without asking.”

“What if the passenger passes out?”

“Then they’ll be able to help them! Because they’re fully oxygenated.”

You made a face. “I’m glad you’ve got the aisle seat, then.”

Felix shrugged, grinning. “It sounds fucked up, but it’s just logistical. Wanna know something actually fucked up? These seat belts are practically useless.”

“What?” you weren’t sure if you really wanted to know where he was going with this but your morbid curiosity got the better of you once again. “What do you mean?”

“Well, they help with turbulence and stuff but in the event of a crash, these aren’t going to do shit for us. They’re just here to keep us strapped to the seat so they can identify the corpses by looking at the flight log.”

You sat there in stunned silence as the information Felix had just told you sunk in.

“That is... so dark,” you said finally.

“Yeah, but isn’t it interesting?”

“I guess, but why did you have to tell me all of this while we’re in the air?”

“Because it’s relevant!”

You sighed and glanced back at Jisung who was asleep and slumped against the window. “Ready to switch?”

It was just a joke but Felix scoffed nonetheless.

“I’m offended,” he whispered.

“And I’m traumatized.”

“My bad.”

Somehow, Felix kept you occupied until it was time to switch with Jisung. You lost track of time talking to him about everything and nothing. Out of all of the Han brothers, Felix was the one you knew the least.

You learned a lot about him in the six and a half hours you sat next to each other. You learned that he, like Jisung, had a passion for photography. He liked anime but manga adaptations always disappointed. He wanted to be a dancer when he was little, just like his big brother.

When it was Felix’s turn to inquire about you, you were sort of at a loss for words. You had to tread carefully around how much to actually reveal about yourself. When to lie, when to stretch the truth. You were exhausted. It was exhausting. But Jisung had made it clear that this was still important to him despite you not seeing the point anymore. So you played along for his sake. It was the least you could do since you ruined everything else.

You talked mostly about school, what you were studying, what you wanted to do with your degree... all the small talk that usually took place when you first met a person, not after you’d been traveling with them for over a month. But Felix didn’t know a lot about you interests wise so he listened intently and asked a lot of questions.

When it was finally time to actually switch, you were half-relieved, half-bummed. Talking with Felix was fun but you hated lying to him.

Jisung lifted up the armrest between you and him to let you slide over while he stood awkwardly in the aisle.

“Do you want to use my hoodie as a blanket, baby?” he asked.

“Sure, thanks.”

He laid it over your shoulders after you got settled against the window, kissing you on the head and telling you goodnight.

You shut your eyes and tried to relax but sleep wouldn’t come. You knew it wouldn’t. You took deep breaths in an attempt to slow your heart rate, lowkey considering holding your breath until you passed out.

Next to you, Jisung was flipping through the in-flight movies. You could hear him tapping on the touchscreen, huffing in frustration when he couldn’t find anything he wanted to watch.

“You okay, bro?” Felix asked his twin.

You felt Jisung sort of shift, likely checking to see if you were asleep. He sighed.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Relationship troubles?” Felix guessed.

“Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been pissy for like, the past two days. I assumed it had something to do with your girlfriend.”

“She hasn’t been sleeping well,” he explained simply, lying through his teeth. Well, it wasn’t technically a lie because you weren’t sleeping well, but that had nothing to do with why Jisung was upset. “The exhaustion has been leading to a lot of fights.”

“Sorry, man.”

“It’s okay. It happens. Not that you would know.”

Felix scoffed. “Ouch, I try to have a heart-to-heart with you and you go there?”

“This is a heart-to-heart to you?”

“You know what I mean. A real conversation.”

“Okay, but I’m right. You wouldn’t know.”

“Not all of us can have healthy relationships like you, Jisung,” he sighed.

“I know. I think I’m mom and dad’s only chance at grandchildren at this point.”

“Not if our brother has anything to say about it,” Felix said lowly.

“What do you mean?” Jisung asked.

He sounded genuinely confused but you knew that internally he was panicking because you were too. You were still pretending to be asleep but you had stopped breathing, waiting to hear what he would say next. How much did Felix know? You and Minho weren’t great at sneaking around but you had at least tried to be a little careful.

“You mean you haven’t noticed the way Minho looks at her?”

“Not really? But you spend more time with him. You know him better than I do.”

“Well, you should pay more attention. He makes it kind of obvious,” Minho muttered.

“Makes what kind of obvious, though?”

“That he wants her.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe you haven’t caught on to him flirting with her.”

“Well obviously he’s doing it behind my back so-”

“Sorry you had to find out this way,” Felix said, likely grimacing, “but at least she isn’t reciprocating, from what I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, at least there’s that,” Jisung murmured.

You were able to exhale in relief, but only slightly. Felix didn’t know everything but he could tell Minho was interested which wasn’t a good sign. How long had he been picking up on that?

Your best friend sighed angrily. “The one thing I thought Minho couldn’t take from me-”

You bit the inside of your cheek, guilt consuming you all over again.

“Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?” Felix asked. “He hasn’t even made a move or anything, mate. I just think he thinks she’s cute.”

“With Minho, that’s enough.”

i'm sick so no tags :(( but i've got nothing else to do so here ya go, lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!!

add yourself to the taglist here!

#instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #lee know series #stray kids series #stray kids fanfic #lee know fanfic #lee minho x reader #minho x reader

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mixtape-racha · 7 months

Text

wow | hyunho

why did you have to run your mouth? you knew minho wouldn't go easy on you, but you never learnt your lesson. even when he got someone else to help teach you // minors dni, 18+

words: 1.57k // warnings: established minho x reader, brat!tamer minho, hard dom!hyunjin, hyunho makeout, bondage??, reader is a brat and gets called bunny, minho is referred to as sir and hyunjin as master

a/n: based on this request by anon!! i hope you enjoy ♡

you knew it was a bad idea to try and get under minho’s skin. he always knew exactly to have you shaking on your knees and begging for forgiveness, but for some reason you never learnt. it was even worse when you acted up in public, because you knew he wouldn’t stand for you making him look bad. everytime without fail it would end up with you both pissed off, you left unsatisfied and an unbearable tension. but still; you never learnt.

so when you pushed your luck tonight at a company party, minho was ready to punish you in front of everyone there. you kept acting up - flirting with all his friends, interrupting his conversations and whining when he wouldn’t leave just for you. but what pissed him off the most was the mutterings under your breath. when you’d had enough of his shrugging you off to continue a conversation, you had rolled your eyes before grabbing your drink and phone in a huff.

“maybe i’ll just go and fuck hyunjin instead. at least he’d give me attention.”

you honestly didn’t fully intend for him to hear it, but you knew you had fucked up as you felt his stare burning into your back as you walked away. but also, you were too pissed off to care. in fact, it made you even more determined to make him snap. at least that way you’d be able to leave this stupid party.

you were quick to approach hyunjin, who was stood towards the edge of the room with some work friends. hyunjin was exceptionally close to you - someone you trusted with your life, and wouldn’t have any qualms sleeping with him if you weren’t with minho. you wrapped your arms around him from behind, nuzzling your face against his jacket, which made him jump in surprise.

“hey there, love. you good? where’s minho?” he threw an arm over your shoulder, his entire attention on you in a second. it was nice - that he’d just drop a conversation for you. but still, you scoffed at the mention of your boyfriend.

“don’t know. too busy kissing asses to even notice i’m still here.” you tone conveyed just how annoyed you were and, while you should know better than to run to hyunjin, you just wanted to go home and have minho bully his cock inside of you like no one else could.

hyunjin, being the ever so vigilant dom he was, took note of your attitude and swiftly changed the subject to avoid you getting yourself in any more trouble. it wasn’t long before had had enough of you avoiding him, choosing to stick to hyunjin instead, and he came stalking over just as you fell into hyunjin’s lap laughing at something he’d said.

“hi, minnie!” you smiled sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him when you noticed him, you hand still resting on hyunjin’s bicep. he looked between the pair of you silently before clearing his throat.

“hi, my pretty bunny. hyun, boss is asking for you so i said i’d bring you over.”

something in minho’s eyes made you disbelieving of his boss really wanting to talk to hyunjin,and you expressed this by rolling your eyes and pulling minho’s wallet out of his pocket.

“fine. i’m going to get another drink.”

the smile on minho’s face didn’t quite meet his eyes, and something about it unnerved you.

“of course, love. go enjoy yourself while you can.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

god why did you never listen? why did you always get yourself into these situations?

minho was furious when you left the party, you could tell that by the way his hands gripped the steering wheel as he drove you both back home. he would barely look at you, only responding to you in short answers and curt nods. it was scary, but also had you flooding your panties in a second. you knew whatever you had got yourself into tonight would be interesting, for sure.

and there you were. slouched against the bedframe, wrists cuffed to the metal behind your head. minho had rid you of all your clothes except your soaking panties, and they were so full of arousal they were sticking to your folds uncomfortably. you went to squirm, cuffs rattling on the bed post, but stopped as soon as minho whipped his head around to glare at you.

he was pacing at the end of the bed, hands folded behind him and shoes clapping loudly against the floor in the silence of your apartment. your nerves felt they were firing on all cylinders - you were overwhelmed but felt nothing, excited but scared. it was intense in the best way. you had no idea what to expect, but you knew wholeheartedly that as long as you got to cum tonight, being bratty would be worth it. it got you home early after all, didn’t it?

a soft knock on the bedroom door pulled you from your thoughts, minho smirking as he went and opened it to reveal… hyunjin. what was he doing here? oh god, had minho told him what you had said? you stared, bewildered, between the two men as hyunjin entered the door, quick to rid himself of his jacket and tie.

“min…” you started, but minho sent you a look that had you whimpering, burning under his gaze.

“now, bunny. be a good girl, you know that’s not my name, is it?”

“no, sir. sorry, sir.” you whined under his intense stare, goosebumps rising on your skin at being so exposed in front of hyunjin. something that minho picked up on scarily fast.

“come on now, pretty. this is what you wanted, wasn’t it? to fuck hyunjin because i wouldn’t give you the attention you so desperately crave,” he spat. “nothing but a cockdrunk little whore.”

“now, come on, minho,” hyunjin pipped up, tsking at the sight of you clenching your thighs together. “she won’t be cockdrunk tonight, will she? don’t get her hopes up.”

hyunjin’s eyes were dark as he stared you down, which made you whimper at the insinuation of you not being able to cum tonight. but little did you know, you weren’t even being allowed a dick near you tonight. nor fingers, nor a tongue. oh no, it was much worse.

“oh, you’re right, hyunnie. we better show her just how pretty you can be when you get attention, right? so she knows what she’s missing out on. what she could’ve had if she just behaved?”

you were confused, shaken up. what on earth were they planning? but when minho sat on the edge and the bed and patted his thigh, prompting hyunjin to come towards him, your heart dropped.

hyunjin fell perfectly onto minho’s lap, adjusting himself so he could sit comfortably while minho grasped the taller boy’s waist. you pulled at the handcuffs, the clanging noise drawing hyunjin’s attention to you, but not before minho could grip his chin harshly and force the dark-haired boy’s attention back on him.

“say you’re sorry to hyunjin, (y/n). tell master you’re sorry for talking about him like an object.”

“i–i’m sorry, master… please, sir, please-”

“hush.” hyunjin snapped, one of his hands trailing up to rest at the nape of minho’s neck. “you brought this upon yourself, and now you get to watch sir and master enjoy each other, yeah?”

you whined, but nodded anyway. maybe it wasn’t too late for you to be good. maybe if you behaved now, minho would show mercy on you. it was worth trying.

a gasp escaped your lips and minho brought hyunjin’s lips to his, the youngest boy letting out a surprised gasp. it was addicting and you couldn’t look away, the sight of your boyfriend swapping spit with his best friend. you almost thought you could cum untouched on the spot.

the way minho’s hands rubbed hyunjin’s hips, prompting the younger to grind against him ever so carefully. the whimpers and gasps that left each man’s throat as their tongues explored.

if only you were in the middle. if only it was you getting their attention, and enjoying their touches. god, you had to go and mess it up by misbehaving, didn’t you?

it only got more intense, hyunjin’s hips moving erratically against minho’s bulge as the elder trailed his lips down hyunjin’s neck, sucking perfect blossoming marks against the skin. you almost cried out when you saw hyunjin’s eyes flutter, rolling to the back of his head.

“fuck, hyung.” he whimpered, causing minho to smirk and bring a heavy slap down on hyunjin’s ass. the moan hyunjin let out wontonly was heavenly, and you couldn’t help the way you bit your lip and rubbed your thighs together.

just as it was getting good, however, just as you thought you could make yourself cum by yourself in your position, minho pulled hyunjin away from his lips by his hair. he turned to look over at you, a devilish smirk on his face as he took in the wreck you’d become. he was impressed you hadn’t lost it, but he had one final trick up his sleeve to make sure your attitude and bratty behavior would stop for good.

“now, you little slut,” minho spat at you, your eyes brimming with tears. “if you sit still and be good while i make hyunjin fall apart on my cock, i’ll undo the handcuffs and maybe you’ll be given permission to touch. got it?”

taglist: join taglists here @pretty-racha @chubbyanarkiss @taeriffic @mits-vi @chanssmiles @5kayzee @queen-klarissa @torixx80 @fawnpeaks @bangtanmix73 @savluvsmingi @boi-bi-ahaha @skz-streamer @demetrisscarf @4evrglow @manj1ro @linocvpid @alextheweeb7 @chans-american-slave @unsweetenedpeatea @carpioassists @bangtancultsposts @reiheis @happilydeepestwonderland @leemidnightmoon @watariisbestboy

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godslino · 2 months

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i am so obsessed with your writing style and im so happy to see that you like to write kidfics because i don’t see them often !! could you write seungmin as a dad?

sending love <3

alright. kenzie gave me dad!seungmin brain worms. everyone enjoy (i certainly enjoyed writing it) and let me know if this deserves to have a continuation

TINY HANDS | seungmin dad!seungmin. request. 640 words.

Tiny hands.

It’s the one thing Seungmin will never get used to—ten fingers, ten little fingernails, soft skin that he can’t get enough of.

“What are you doing?”

Seungmin looks up just as you’re walking into the living room, freshly showered and hair still damp. Beautiful as ever.

He doesn’t allow himself to be distracted for too long, immediately turning his attention back to the sleeping baby in his lap. His baby.

“I’m counting her fingers.” he says, rubbing his thumb along each individual digit. He could get lost in his own head like this, comparing the size of his own hand to the borderline microscopic ones that your daughter has.

“Well, does she have them all?” you ask as you burrow into the armchair across from him, “Because if she doesn’t then I have a phone call to make.”

Seungmin chuckles and brings one of her tiny hands to his lips, places a small kiss on her knuckles. “Don’t worry, they’re all here.”

Everything about her is so delicate. Seungmin was scared at first, worried that she’d break if he touched her. Born two weeks early, she was smaller than anything he’d ever seen before. Seungmin couldn’t believe that he had a part in creating that, in making a human so beautiful, living proof of your love for one another. It’s still surreal to him, like a dream that he hopes he never wakes up from.

Once he got over his initial fear that he’d accidentally hurt her, Seungmin never spent a second without her close to him.

Sometimes you scold him, tell him that she’ll never get used to sleeping in her crib because she’s always nestled into the crook of his elbow. Even when he’s doing things around the house, he baby wears like a champ, has her pressed up against his chest as he parades around the living room in what was supposed to be your swaddle carrier.

“That wasn’t a gift for you, idiot.” Is what Minho had said the first time he stopped by and caught a glimpse of Seungmin with it on.

“He literally won’t take it off.” you laughed, grabbing the bags of groceries out of Minho’s hands so he could shuffle over and coo over her sleeping figure tucked into the fabric, a proud look on Seungmin’s face.

Seungmin doesn’t know how he’s going to do it when she gets bigger. What if he never gets to carry her again? What if she doesn't want him to carry her? What if her hands grow so much that he can’t hold both of them in his own anymore? Seungmin’s thought about it so many times, has driven himself to tears over hypothetical situations that are eons away from ever happening.

Seungmin holds his daughter like he has the world in his hands. He rubs his nose against her cheeks and smiles when she blinks at him, makes noises that have her opening and closing her mouth in an attempt to copy him. He takes an endless amount of pictures that eat away at the storage on his phone but he really couldn’t care less. He sings to her when she cries and laughs when she burps after every feeding session. He whispers stories to her about how the two of you met when she wakes up in the middle of the night and he has to rock her back to sleep. He hopes and dreams that one day, when she’s older, she’ll know that his love for her extends much farther than any distance imaginable.

Tiny hands. Ten little fingers. Seungmin watches as they wrap around his own and smiles brighter than the sun.

When you eventually move to snuggle up next to him, your head against his chest as you both sit with a finger curled inside of each of your daughter’s little fists, nothing else matters.

This is love, and it’s Seungmin’s to keep forever.

#📁 requests #seungmin drabble #seungmin x reader #seungmin scenarios #seungmin imagines #seungmin fic #seungmin fluff #skzstarnet #love : snowyquokka

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daydreams-after-dark · 12 days

Text

Star Student

You put on a show for your hot Professor while he’s trying to teach a class. (This is an adult classroom situation.)

Pairing: professor/teacher Minho x adult female reader

5 min approx read

MDNI // SMUT // ADULT CONTENT AHEAD

CW: exhibitionism, voyeurism, masturbation in a public place. Classroom / university setting, teacher x student (all adults).

You’ve stopped listening to your professor. It’s not like you don’t know the work, you most certainly do. You’ve aced every exam, you’ve gone above and beyond in your assignments. You wanted to impress him. Professor Lee Minho. You wanted to show him what an eager student you are. A good girl. Your grades were impeccable.

That’s why you’ve stopped listening. You know what he’s talking about. You are hearing his voice though. You’re imagining he’s saying dirty things to you.

And you’re watching him. Watching how his slacks cling to his muscular thighs. Imagining his fitted shirt is unbuttoned.

Professor Minho stops talking for a moment and leans over his desk to check his notes. The way he’s propping himself up with one arm. It’s so sexy. How he has his sleeves rolled up. God those veins. The fingers of his other hand skim the page. Your walls clench.

You squeeze your legs together at the image of him laying you on his desk and leaning over you just like that. That his fingers are skimming down your body to your core. You imagine him hiking up your skirt and sinking deep inside you. You want him to fuck you so deep he’s in your throat.

You’re so wet just thinking about it. The throb between your legs is agonising. So you slide down in your chair a little. And you splay your legs out. Your black chunky lace up boots planted just outside the confines of your desk.

He notices. You see his eyes flicker to your feet then up to your eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches and he pulls his attention away from you to continue his lecture.

But his eyes keep landing on you. And you love the attention. You want more of it.

Your hand slides under the table to your thigh. You squeeze the flesh and sigh audibly. That gets Professor Minho’s attention. He looks at where your hand caresses your leg. That’s when you slide your fingers up your inner thigh and under your short black skirt. The one you wear for him in case he wants to see what panties you’re wearing. If he ever looks (and you know he does), he’d know you like to wear the see through kind. The ones that are lace, or sheer.

The professor instructs everyone to work on their questions and he takes a seat at his desk. Perfect. Now you can really torment him.

He’s flustered, you can tell. He’s pretending to read through papers but he can’t stop glancing up at you.

He knows you’re playing with yourself under your skirt. But you want to show him. You place your pen gently down on your notebook and reach under the table to lift the front of your skirt up.

You see the lust wash over him when his eyes drop to where your skirt’s lifted and he can see exactly what you’re doing.

You’d pulled your see through white mesh thong to the side and you are dipping your finger into your entrance and bringing your slick fingers to your clit. You repeat the action over and over until your clit is engorged and your lips puffy. You wonder if he likes his pussies puffy like yours?

“Y/n.” He says with a strained voice. “I need to speak to you after class about your assignment. It’s not quite finished off.”

“Yes Sir.” You say silkily. There’s that mouth twitch again. You smirk and slide your finger all the way into your tight little hole until your hand is cupping your pussy. You curl your finger so it’s grazing that sweet spot inside you, and use your palm to apply pressure to your clit.

Should you let yourself cum? Right here in the classroom? With other students around and the professor staring right at you?

You glance around the room to see no one is paying any attention to you. Except for Professor Minho. His gaze is locked on you. It’s almost like it’s just the two of you in the room. You wonder if he’s touching himself behind his big timber desk? You imagine he is and it makes you gush.

You rock your hips a little, creating some more friction and pressure, and there are wet sounds that are starting to grow louder. Still, no one else notices.

You part your legs a little more. For a moment you remove your fingers and spread your lips apart, showing your professor just how engorged you are. You swear you see his brain short circuit. He’s palming himself. He has to be.

Now to show him just what a good girl you are. With one hand you push two fingers into your gushing cunt, and use the other hand to rub your clit. Your pussy is so slippery that your movements are quite sloppy. But it’s okay because you’re close. So fucking close that the classroom falls away and all you care about is your professor watching you play with yourself. And to cum.

The tension builds in your core. So tight. Everything is so tight. You’re so very close. You rub your clit harder and faster and you pray you don’t squirt all over yourself. You bite down on your bottom lip and squeeze your eyes tight, trying to stay as quiet as possible as your release hits you. It sends shockwaves through your body and your thighs tremble from the intensity.

You look up at your professor. He looks absolutely deranged with desire, his dark eyes glare at you. He looks like he wants to ruin you.

The bell rings.

He smirks.

You gulp.

You’re fucked.

Part 2 is here

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itshannjisung @newhope8 @sunshinesquokka @kangnina @queenmea604 @weareapackofstrays @chansbabyg

#lee know smut #lee know x reader #minho stray kids #minho smut #minho x reader #skz au #sorshas fic

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chanlix-honey · 5 months

Text

The Attention You Deserve (I.N.)

WARNING: smut (+18), pet names, daddy kink, fingering, choking, crying, jeongin being a tease and we’re here for it, (light) degrading,,,meaning MINORS DNI!! Please and thank you!!!

word count: 1.6k

a/n: HAPPY ROCK-STAR DAY EVERYONE!!! In honor of the new album release, I have decided to post the full one shot I teased a few days ago. This is my first skz smut post!! Pls be gentle!

Read at your own risk! Again, minors DNI. Enjoy!

“Let’s play a game, hm?” he pulls off the blanket that’s covering your sex, and your pleasured smell pulsates the room. “Since you wanted to be a bad girl, daddy’s going to correct this for you.” He brings your soaked hands to his mouth to lick the pleasure off of you. “I’m going to give you the night of your life. Maybe even the best. And you’re not going to cum once.” He tugs at your shirt, asking you to take it off. You do so obediently. “Good girl.” He plunges two of his fingers into your wet cunt.

“You obey me—and quickly—daddy rewards you. If you don’t listen..well,” You moan, the length of his fingers not giving you any let up. “I’m thinking of fucking you until I cum. How does that sound my dumb baby?” He chuckles, giving you a sly smile.

You couldn’t help yourself. Jeongin has been coming home from work later and later these days. He does his best to let you know that he and the boys won’t be done for some time, but he is an idol after all. He always has something to do. If it’s not vocals with his teacher and Seungmin, it’s practice with Danceracha, or executing lyrics with Channie-hyung (his favorite nickname for Bangchan, that he has passed down to you. Though he doesn’t like telling him in person).

When you text him throughout the day how excited you are for movie night, he can’t help but feel bad to try and remember the last time you and him spent time together. This would be good to get some of that quality time that you were both missing. And to treat you deliciously tonight. He misses your moans and your pussy, so he hopes to make up for it too. He feels his cock twitch at the thought of being coated in your juices and filling you up. He shakes the thought away to make sure he’s not sporting a hard-on before he goes back to Minho leading practice and replies to you. Be sure to wear that purple lace for Daddy tonight, I want to treat you to dessert…be a good girl and wait for me until I get home to give you the attention you deserve.

And tonight isn’t any different. You order pizza for the two of you once he texts you that he’ll be home in an hour—in hopes that the cheesy dinner arrives just as he does. By the time he comes home, he’s too tired for the weekly rom-com-roasting movie night that you and him had planned. He greets you with a good evening forehead kiss and lets you know that he’s going to take a little nap before you get the movie queued up. You smile at his sweet gesture, but can’t help to notice that your heart pangs at the kiss, disappointed that his lips missed yours.

Thirty minutes pass by. Then an hour. You continue to stare at your phone, as the screen is the only thing illuminating the room. You turned off the tv fifteen minutes ago. The barely-eaten pizza stares at you, as the box is only slightly open. You dejectedly scroll through TikTok, skipping fan edits of your boyfriend performing on the multitude of stages all over the world. You skip all, except one. A fan edit of his teasing lip-licking moments on stage, and the pit of your stomach feels engulfed by the flames of arousal. You let the video play once. Twice. Three times. Before you know it, your fingers are rubbing your clit to the ever-playing fan edit, desperately wishing your hand was his mouth and that teasing tongue.

“Ah, ah, daddy~” you mumble. You wouldn’t dare wake him up with your lewd sounds. Last time you made a mistake—let’s just say you couldn’t get out of bed the next day and a half.

Yet, your voice fails you and you squeak when you accidently pinch your clit, and your body shivers. You choke at your clumsiness and tears roll off your cheeks. Daddy-! You tremble, just about to cum.

Consumed in your pleasure, you don’t hear your boyfriend getting up from bed. He woke up from his nap just before you made the terrible decision to play with yourself. First, he heard you watching tiktoks—specifically the one that aroused you in the first place. And then he heard it again..and again. Like you stopped scrolling. Then, he started hearing your pretty little moans. Once he arrived in the phone-illuminated living room, he put the pieces together. He had actually been standing around watching you as he heard your cute little whimpers begging for a release. It seems that you weren’t as quiet as you thought.

“My, my, babygirl..did the words ‘wait for me’ slip your mind?” you yelp.

Suddenly, you feel one of his hands snake around your chin to tilt in his direction, and the other pinning your wrists away from you—stopping your movements.

Which is what brings you to this point. Him fucking you on his fingers in slow agony. It was supposed to be a night he was meant to take care of you. And you couldn’t wait until you had his full attention? He was not going to let that slide. Instead of giving you pleasure until your release, he had other ideas in mind.

“Y-yes daddy,” you shiver.

“Oh good, you do listen. Now tell me—” he begins, his fingers ever so slowly pump in and out of you, stretching you out.

“—What were you thinking when you stopped on that video darling?” He watches you writhe in pleasure. With your pupils blown, your body twitching in response to his oh so slow movements, and your hands grasping at air—pinned down by his large veiny hands at your wrists—he can’t help but look at you like an angel. How gorgeous you are…he thinks, smirking like the fox he is.

“I was thinking..mmh! About your t-tongue inside me daddy—fuck,” you gasp.

“Go on, princess, tell me how much you need me.” He groans. He can feel pre-cum soaking his sweatpants, his cock throbbing for you, begging to be released from the clothed prison.

“So bad. S-so b-bad. Your p-pretty pussy is aching for your mouth inside me ah~”

“You taste so good, daddy can’t help but to make you feel good to taste more of you..” He gropes your breast in one hand while his mouth is on the other, giving your clothed tits most of the attention—still finger fucking you ever so slowly.

You start to see stars. His fingers in you are already too much, despite the pace. How you’ve missed him touching you like this. But he’s slow. Way too slow. It feels like minutes pass before his fingers slip out again. Every second, you feel less than a milimeter’s worth of his two fingers occupy your gummy walls. Yet, you can’t help but take it all in. You’re drunk on his movements, you’d let him do anything to you at this point.

“You even dressed up in the purple lace I love so much,” he thumbs one of your sensitive nipples for it to perk up, pinching at it slightly. You groan, getting frustrated that you haven’t been able to cum yet.

His thumb grazes your clit. Barely even a graze, it’s almost as if his thumb makes contact by accident. It’s not enough to apply pressure, but enough for you to notice he’s toying with you. Making sure you know he’s doing it on purpose. The fucker. He hears you choke on your own breath every time he gives your clit a little bit of attention.

Jeongin coos, high on your moans. He leans in to you. “You think I wouldn’t notice baby? And now you’re on punishment for playing with daddy’s pussy..do you think I’m an idiot that would let you get away with it, slut?”

Biting between your ear and the skin just below it. “F-fuck…” you groan. He hums in success. He knows how you like to be fucked. Your body is very telling, and your voice lets you down everytime. Every frustrated huff, moan, and whine he takes from you. He’s barely doing anything and you’re already such a mess for him. He’s eager to try more, drunk on your fucked out sounds.

Before you know it, a moan slips out from your lips. “D-daddyyy..” you beg. You feel so close. And then, your body echoes to you. The pit of your stomach begins to tighten and your pussy throbs quickly. Tears brim at your glassy eyes, threatening to roll down. You mewl and moan, unable to control the next words to come out of your mouth. “Please! I c-can’t-t. I can’t I can’t I–” he stops. He removes his slender coated fingers from your tightening hole. A squelching sound fills the room.

Then, your heartbeat slows. You begin to catch your breath. Your tears spill. Your mind is not yet clear, but your senses kick in. You whine the moment you feel your cunt clenching around nothing, and you hear tutting. “My baby’s so close..too fucked to hear what I said, hm?”

You pause. No. No, no, no, no. You scramble to give him an answer quickly after you didn’t respond immediately.

“Daddy…mm..no! N-no I didn’t think—” He interrupts you.

“—Hush hush, it’s ok baby. Too blissed out on my fingers to think quickly.” Tears engulf your eyes, being denied a release.

“I’ll fuck you right to correct this behavior, don’t worry. For now, it’s my turn.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids i.n.#yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin #stray kids #i.n. one shots #chanlix-honey posts #chanlix-honey i.n. posts

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yxngbxkkie · 8 months

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just say you like me (h.h)

hello, hello! how are you lovelies today?? i hope everyone is well 💓 i have a cute little fic here that's based on hyunjin peeling tangerines 🤭 i hope you guys like it 🥰

feedback is greatly appreciated 💓

"Would you believe me if I said that I've never been here?" You ask Chan as the two of you lean against the balcony railing.

A gasp comes from the older man's lips, his gaze shifting towards you. "Wait, really? Never?" He questions you with wide eyes.

"Never. My parents could never really afford a vacation too far from where we lived," you tell him while looking out at the ocean. "They're going to be so jealous when I tell them."

Chan laughs at your words, and he shakes his head. "You'll have to get them a souvenir," he nudges your arm with his.

A giggle leaves your lips, nodding your head in response. "I definitely will. Mom loves collecting souvenirs. She'd probably disown me if I didn't," you mention.

"Y/N, come pick your room," Hyunjin's voice calls out to you, causing you to look over your shoulder.

"You're allowed your own room, by the way," your friend says, placing his hand on your upper back. "I told everyone you get first pick."

You pat your hand on Chan's shoulder, grinning at the man. "You're too kind, Channie," you say before walking back into the house.

Hyunjin stands in front of you with a smile on his plump lips. "Ready?" He asks, holding a hand out to you.

"Yeah," you chuckle, feeling yourself becoming a bit flustered.

You grab a hold of his hand, and he leads you up the stairs. Your fingers subconsciously lace with his, and you squeeze it gently. Hyunjin shows you each room, and you take note of which one you want to stay in.

"What room are you picking?" You ask him as the two of you stand in the hallway.

"It depends on which one you pick," he mentions while glancing down at you. The two of you smile at one another, and you lead him to the room you want.

You enter the last room he showed you, hearing Hyunjin's footsteps following closely. You stare out the large window, seeing the perfect view of the ocean. "I like this one," you mention, continuing to stare out the window. "I can't wait to see how it looks at night."

"I bet it's beautiful," Hyunjin whispers, shoving his hands into his pockets. "The room I wanted is actually next door."

"Really?" You ask, grinning. He laughs and nods his head, bringing one of his hands to your hair. "If we're both up late, you're more than welcome to come to my room."

"I'll take you up on that," he ruffles your hair, causing you to squeal and push him away.

You fix your hair instantly as you playfully glare at the taller man. "You're lucky I don't take back what I said," you joke, slapping Hyunjin's arm lightly.

"Y/N, Hyunjin," Minho yells, capturing both of your attention. You walk out of the bedroom, glancing towards the stairs to see Min standing at the top. "Food is ready. Come eat."

"Yes, mother," you smirk, earning an eye roll from him.

You motion for Hyunjin to follow you, telling him that lunch is ready. You hop down the stairs carefully, a smile stretching on your lips.

"It smells great," you tell Minho while walking behind him. You drag your hand across the middle of his pack, patting it for a few seconds. "Thank you."

Minho hands you the already prepared plate, shooing you towards the table. A laugh escapes your lips, and you bump your hip with his before heading to sit down.

You sit between Chan and Felix, the two already chowing down. Hyunjin sits down across from you, feeling his feet brushing against yours.

You smile at one another as he starts peeling the tangerine in his hands. You hover the spoon over your bowl, watching how quickly he peels the fruit. You hum to yourself and place the spoon into your mouth.

Hyunjin messes with your foot the entire time that you're eating. You hope the others don't notice your cheeks starting to blush.

After eating lunch, you all moved into the spacious living room. The members chat with one another as you keep your gaze glued to Hyunjin.

"If you stare at him any longer he's gonna notice," Seungmin whispers into your ear, bumping his arm with yours.

You jump at the sound of his voice, whipping your head to look at the younger member. A scoff leaves your lips, and you shake your head. "I'm not staring," you lie to defend yourself, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Sure," he laughs, resting one of his hands on your back.

"You were definitely staring," Hyunjin pipes up, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

You hide your face in your hands, and Seungmin grabs a hold of your ears. "Her ears are red!" He laughs, teasing you.

You shove his hand away from you before getting up from your spot. You walk away from the group, feeling too embarrassed to be around anyone.

You close your bedroom door and plop down onto your king-sized bed. You hug one of the pillows as you stare out at the ocean. You lay there for a few minutes before someone knocks on your door.

"Who is it?" You call out, quickly glancing towards the wooden object.

"It's Hyunjin. Can I come in?"

You bite your lip and push yourself up from the bed. You open the door slightly, looking up at him through the crack. "Are you going to make fun of me?" You ask him.

"No, never," he whispers.

You open the door fully, allowing him to come inside. You shut if afterward and move to sit beside him on the bed. "I'm sorry for staring," you apologize to him, fumbling with your fingers.

Hyunjin chuckles and grabs your hand. "It's okay. I don't mind," he reassures you while stroking the back of your hand. "Can I ask why you were staring at me?"

You start to get flustered again as you look over at him. "I - I just was thinking about when you peeled that tangerine," you tell him, cringing at your own words. "I-I've never seen someone do it so quickly."

Your friend laughs, squeezing your hand gently. "Just say that you like me," he mumbles loud enough for you to hear.

He moves a free hand under your chin, lifting your head up. Your eyes meet his, and your breath hitches again. "I can't find your tangerine peeling skills cool?" You try to joke with him, not wanting him to find out your feelings.

Hyunjin smirks before shaking his head. "I mean, sure. But you and I both know it's more than that," he mentions, tilting his head a bit.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you do your best to look away, but Hyunjin won't allow it. His grip on your chin tightens as he leans in closer.

"Would you still say that if I told you that I liked you too?" He asks, his nose brushing against yours.

"You what?" You gasp, your eyes widening.

"I like you, Y/N. I have for a while," he confesses to you while dragging his thumb across your bottom lip.

You lean forward, capturing his lips with yours. Hyunjin moves his hand to your cheek as he kisses you back. You wrap your arms around his neck, combing your fingers through his dark hair.

He breaks away from the kiss and rests his forehead on yours. "I'll peel all the tangerines for you," he tells you, causing both of you to laugh loudly.

"I hate you," you giggle, shaking your head.

Hyunjin reconnects your lips for a quick kiss, a whine coming from you when he pulls away. "No, you don't," he grins.

"Not even a little bit," you sigh, smiling at him.

tagging: @thewxntersoldier @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky

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killedpink · 1 year

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[22:17]

thinking about minho is never healthy

🏷 contains: dom minho x sub reader, makeup application, fingering, heavy hand kink (have you seen that man's hands?), dacryphilia, oral sex, so so so domestic, hair pulling, slight marking, small minuscule spit kink, snow day, deepthroating/throatfucking, possessive minho if u look closely, cum consumption, slight praise

the grip the snow had on the land was tightening, the earth slowly being obscured by a freezing, white blanket of snow. it made everyone stop. work, school, all of it was paused as the roads grew too dangerous to travel on. this included you and minho, safely tucked away at home with every heater on max, candles lit, windows blacked out. at first, it felt like a well-deserved break from your busy lives, giving you both all the time you needed to sleep in, or binge watch whatever tv show you just couldn't find the time to finish, or even try out that new dish you both have been putting off. but, after a few hours in, you had exhausted every one of your plans, burnt through every show and every recipe in your cookbook. you felt defeated, truly. your back to the couch, facing the ceiling with your eyes closed, it all felt so bleak. and to make things worse, minho was out of sight, pattering around upstairs for some unknown minho reason.

"get up, lazy." minho nudged your arm that was dangling off the side of the couch with his socked foot, causing you to jerk it into your lap and spring up. you intended to tease him for bothering you, but once you saw him, your words fell into nothingness. "is that my makeup..?" your brows scrunched in confusion, a delighted twinkle in your eyes. minho rolled his eyes, "wow, your eyesight is working! move up." doing as he said, you turned your body to face the tv and sit like a normal person, giving minho the room he needed to sit down and more. "are you finally letting me put makeup on you?" his face turned blank at this. "no." he turned away from you, plucking a black nail polish from the bag he brought with him. "i'm letting you paint my nails." minho bargained, thrusting the bottle into your lap.

it wasn't exactly what you hoped for, but at least it was something. you shrugged, "is this the colour you want?" you shook the bottle to mix the solution into itself. minho's eyes followed the bottle, "yeah, it's the nicest one you have." you gasped, "how rude!" you cradled your heart in faux offence. "neon green wasn't to your liking?" you teased. minho resisted his smile, yet he simply couldn't fight it off, his pink lips curving into a grin and his front teeth showing slightly, not unlike a rabbit's teeth. "that was such a bad joke. we need to socialise you fast." it was your turn to roll your eyes, before twisting the cap, snatching minho's hand and bringing the brush to his fingernail. "don't get it on my hands." he warned. you scoffed, "do i look like an amateur to you? no? then keep your mouth shut." minho's jaw dropped. "as soon as i'm free im gonna throw you out in the cold." he threatened. you giggled quietly, "remind me who's in control of your nails again?"

the banter went back and forth for a while, all in good faith. "is it dry now?" minho asked, taking good care not to smudge his nails and therefore tarnish your hard work. "i think so. it looks fine." you said into your mug of hot chocolate, taking a slow sip. "ah, me too!" minho perked up. "i really think you can do this yourself. you're just lazy." you muttered as you held minho's mug to his lips, taking good care not to pour too much into his mouth. "but you still do it for me," minho swooned, once you brought the mug back onto the coffee table. "so, how does it look?" he held both his hands up to face you, showing off his nails. "you actually look really good," you took one of his hands to inspect it, his veins not going unappreciated by your attentive eyes. your gawking didn't go unnoticed by minho, either. "wanna see what else i brought?"

minho took out your favourite lipstick and mascara from behind him, holding one in each hand. "do you trust me?" he spoke seriously, his face saying otherwise however. your eyes widened, "you're so nice to me today!" your hands held his wrists, planting a grateful kiss on his cheek. his ears swelled red in response, his smile so wide it reached his sweet chestnut eyes, which were always beautifully inquisitive. "well, i do love you." minho's voice was small, whispering it into your hair, believing the quieter the more intimate it was. it was snowing harder, now, the force of the frozen rain slamming on your windows ungracefully.

snuggling into his warm, mellow middle made you grow tired, even if you weren't actually sleepy. tearing yourself away from his black hoodie that radiated a comfortably high heat, you tilted your head up slightly to face him. "make me pretty, minho," you spoke dramatically, looking up at minho through your lashes. "you're already pretty." he kissed your forehead, unscrewing the applicator from the mascara. "look up for me, baby," doing as you were told, minho got to work on your bottom lashes, becoming more pronounced as he swiped the brush onto your eyelashes, taking good care not to accidentally hit your eye. "how's it looking?" you asked, barely being able to see what was going on as your vision was focused on the ceiling, showing off only your sclera to minho. "sh, you'll distract me and i'll blind you. the ambulance would take forever to get here in all this snow, too." how imaginative.

"i'm done. take a look, you don't look so ugly now." to be fair, he didn't do a bad job. he didn't let your lashes stick together, separating them individually to give off a dollish effect, your eyes now looking bigger and your dark, long top lashes kissing your brow bone as they curled up, giving you an innocent, doe-eyed look. setting the mirror onto the table, you turned to face minho, "you actually did a good job, minho," he beamed at this, "i've watched you too many times." he muttered, plucking your lipstick from the table. "is that next?" you asked, interested in his plan. he uncapped it, and kept eye contact with you while he applied it to his own lips. confused, you watched him carefully, without exchanging words.

he took your face in both of his freshly panted hands, and pressed his lips against yours. he was firm, but so passionate that it trickled into you, kissing him back excitedly. although they were the same lips, minho never kissed you the same way twice with them, each kiss unique and each kiss as addictive as the former. he broke the kiss, eyes inspecting your lips meticulously. you realised what minho was trying to do — stain your lips with the lipstick he was wearing. he pecked your lips a few times, essentially slamming his lips onto yours. once they were saturated to his liking, minho rubbed off what little product was left on him using a makeup wipe, rubbing it back and forth on his lips to clean them. "that was strangely possessive," you noted, amused. cupping your chin, minho looked you in the eyes as he shook his head, "it looks better that way. trust me."

"hm, whatever you say." you muttered before leaning into minho, meeting his lips with your own, your hands cupping his cheeks. the pink, soft swell of his lips are, of course, pressed hot to your own. the space between you was nonexistent, your legs straddling minho's lap as he leaned against the edge of the couch, his hands on your waist creeping up under your shirt. your underwear grew uncomfortable around your body, rolling your hips onto the curve of his muscular thigh, moaning into the kiss as you caught your clit on his clothed thigh. minho parted his lips, his tongue peeking out of his mouth to prod at your tongue, sucking the muscle into his hot mouth, letting it go and flattening his tongue, affectionately licking yours.

using your shirt, he scrunched the material in his hands and tugged it away from him, urging you to pull back. "strip for me." he ordered, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. you knew better than to argue with minho, and besides that; you wanted him, too. your shirt was gone in a matter of seconds, your sweatpants a little more time-consuming, but it didn't take much effort to get rid of them, too. all the while, minho watched you, not even needing his concentration to rip off his hoodie, ruffling his dark brown hair in the process, falling to both sides of his face as if he had curtain bangs, just barely touching the lobes of his pierced ears.

using the back of his hand, he stroked your soft, fleshy thigh, leaving soft kisses along your jaw; his hand pulling down your underwear — sinking his teeth into your neck. not enough to break your skin, but harsh enough that it'll have a bruise blooming before he gets to fuck you properly. he kisses your throat like he's trying to pierce it, making you dizzy from the brief lack of oxygen. your back is embraced by the couch seats, minho leaning above you, in between your bare legs. his veiny hands stroked your sides, following the curve of your waist, cupping your breasts and leaving a long lick straight down the middle, following the natural valley between them. his knee pressed against the pocket of fat above your cunt, stopping you from squirming. minho's hair brushed against your collarbones, tickling your skin as he feverishly nipped your skin, venturing down by your pubic bone.

"i see the way you look at my hands, baby." minho spoke slowly, his voice hypnotically low. one of his hands brushed against your sex, his fingers tracing your slit at a feather-light pressure, just barely touching you. he chuckled when your hips involuntarily bucked, chasing his touch. "please, minho. please, just touch me," you whispered, face buried into the crook of your arm, unable to look at him when you were so flustered. "oh, don't worry. i will.." he kissed the side of your thigh, "eventually." he added, feeling his smirk against your inner thigh was dizzyingly torturous. both of his arms were now between your head, elbows digging into the surface below, his knee once again pressed firmly against your cunt. minho moved your arm from your face, his grip firm. "open your mouth, darling." his index finger tapped your lips, which parted without argument, your eyes watching him curiously. his index and middle fingers slotted into your mouth, stroking your soft tongue. you could just about feel the veins lying under his skin, curling and uncurling his fingers, your tongue brushing against his smooth, black nails. your spit pooled in your mouth, having to swallow excessively to ensure it didn't spill out the sides of your mouth. minho's fingers burned inside of your hot mouth, his cooler fingers quickly warming up as you suckled obediently onto his fingers.

minho pulled them out, a string of your spit connecting to your mouth, before snapping from the stretch and falling onto your bottom lip. your breath hitched once you saw minho put his fingers in his own mouth, his pink lips wrapping around the base of his fingers, cheeks hollowing as he sucked them clean of your spit, letting them fall out of his mouth. "minho, can i suck you off? please? wanna make you feel good," your voice was tremulously light. minho grinned proudly at you, "my pretty girl. how kind of you." he kissed your lips, "tell you what. i'll fuck your throat for five minutes, hm?" you nodded desperately, eager to please him. minho lifted himself off of you, no longer caging you in, allowing you to move onto the floor where you sat with your thighs pressed together a little too tightly — the outside of your calves holding your weight as they relaxed on the floor.

he was still in his boxers, the last piece of clothing to be removed from his body. you leaned your cheek against his knee, admiring him dutifully. he looked so good in black it was a shame to remove them, the elastic clinging to his hips, showing off his v-line, and the unmissably huge tent due to the bulge of his cock, which always made you drool. you helped minho shrug them off, throwing them behind the couch to join wherever the rest of your clothes went. you exposed the flat of your tongue to latch onto the underside of his heavy cock. ever so eager to taste more of him, your tongue licked from the middle of his cock to the tip, pulling him almost entirely out of your warm mouth, flicking the tip of your tongue onto the slit of his head, spreading your spit onto his cock, and in exchange tasting the precum that you quickly collected into your mouth, moaning at the taste. your lips were a puffy, glossy ring around his cock, sliding him further into your wet mouth, his head rolling on your tongue as you bobbed on his cock vigorously.

minho's hands threaded into your hair, using the handfuls of your soft hair as a handle, tugging at the roots so harshly it stung, his fists balled up tightly as he guided your head along the length of his cock, giving a quiet moan in encouragement. your eyes wandered to his muscular body, each muscle growing more defined as he tensed and trembled from your actions. he was hard in your mouth, pushing more of his cock into your mouth, until your nose bumped against his pelvis, his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, his head pressed so snugly inside the channel of your throat, brushing against your larynx, bruising the back of your throat and leaving a noticeable bulge in your neck where his cock was settled under, stuffing your mouth with the better half of nearly an entire foot of his cock. you didn't realise your eyes were swelling with tears until they quickly started trickling down your face, taking some of your mascara with it, smearing your under-eyes with a sheen of ebony black, your face resembling spilled ink, unintentionally sobbing on minho's filling cock.

you were grateful when minho tore your mouth away from his pubic bone, leaving an arch of lipstick from where your top lip had unintentionally kissed his pubic bone from being so full of his cock. the head of minho's cock pressed into the flesh of your cheek, swelling from the outside consequently, a rounded lump prodding from your cheek. minho's eyelids fluttered closed, dark umber eyes shielded by his eyelids as his lashes kissed the swells of his cheeks. you felt his cock twitching in your mouth, which you gratefully rewarded with a swallow, your throat tensing around him as you did so. minho's abs twitched with a sharp gasp, his thighs simultaneously trembling around your head. you looked up at him through stuck-together, wet lashes, staring at him intently. his hands lifted your mouth from his cock, "that's enough," his voice was throaty, heavy and husky as he spoke, evidently shaken up by your efforts.

"ah, i got some lipstick on you," you noted, seeing your lips stamped his pelvis, his inner thighs and the base of his cock in your lipstick. "leave it there," minho beamed, his bronze skin slightly shining in the light from an excited sheen of sweat. a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead and the sides of his face, saturating them in colour as a consequence. "you're always so pretty when i fuck you." minho was affectionate now, stroking your ruffled up hair lovingly, tucking the strands away from your face. he didn't even touch your tear-streaked cheeks, or your smeared lipstick, or your half-opaque mascara stained face, opting to admire it proudly instead of meddle with what was already perfection in his eyes.

you climbed back onto the couch, settling into your previous position of having minho between your legs, your sex now exponentially more wet than last time. you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully relax when you felt minho kiss your sex, littering you with his affection, his black-painted thumb pressing against your clit, rolling around the pearl in tight, lazy circles. you sighed contentedly, your hips slightly rocking in place against him. minho's fingers dipped down into your slit, gathering up your slick and slid into you with ease, after leaving a quick kiss just above your entrance that made you quiver in delight, anticipating his next move. your eyes raked over his forearm, veins travelling up his arm and bicep, catching the light and shadows simultaneously. your hand wrapped around his wrist, tracing over his smooth skin and feeling his veins underneath the pad of your thumb.

minho leaned into you, kissing your neck and the dip of your collarbones encouragingly. "you're doing so well for me, darling," he whispered into your skin, his hot breath on your skin resembling what you imagined paradise to feel like. your free hand travelled to his hair, twirling a lock in-between your fingers and letting it go, entangling your fingers in his hair like he did to yours earlier; although you were much, much kinder to him. then minho fully invested himself, pushing the blunt parts of his fingers into the good part inside of you, curling and stroking your walls attentively, his thumb quickly stroking your puffy clit, his fingers curving and circling. your eyes widened in realisation, your chest rising and falling quicker as you took a breath in, sharply.

he was spelling his name inside of you.

your walls tensed and quivered around his long, skilled fingers, your eyes screwing shut as his fingers brushed against your cervix. "you like that? does it feel good, baby?" minho muttered, cooing over your whines — you nodded, otherwise speechless. he dipped his head down to your cunt, his pink lips latching and suckling on your clit, the front of his tongue licking up and down your slit rhythmically, cleaning you of your slick, your legs trembling and your hips buckling under him, your back arching. gasping for breath, your hands tugged at minho's hair to entice him off of your sex, his fingers painted in a thick white coating of your cum, drooling out of your hole no matter how much minho tried fucking it back into you, instead using the flat of his tongue to lick you clean. his fingers followed soon after that, his pink, plump lips wrapping around his fingers and skilfully suckling them clean, minho's mouth now full of your orgasm. he manoeuvred himself to be inches away from your flushed face, his thumb tapping against your lipstick-stained lips again. your brows momentarily knitted in confusion, before opening your mouth wide for him. he cupped your chin with one hand, fingers splayed over your neck. minho let a rope of your cum mixed with his spit fall from his lips, falling onto your waiting tongue. he swallowed what was left in his mouth, his head lolling onto the base of his neck, throat on display as he gracefully swallowed your cum, his adam's apple bobbing as his throat opened and closed. "swallow it for me," he used the back of his hand to stroke your cheek delicately, as if you'd break if he added too much pressure onto your skin. you tipped your chin up into the air, letting minho watch as your throat tensed and released as you did as you were told and swallowed what he gave you.

a smile bloomed on minho's pink, swollen lips, the shadow on his sharp cupid's bow becoming more defined as he grinned. "you're so good for me, my love." he muttered proudly, brushing the hair from your face to tenderly press a kiss to your forehead, hands falling to his sides. you leaned into his touch, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. "rest up, we'll go for round two soon enough."

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