Picturing Chan And Y/n Just Finished A Round And Him Sitting On The Bed, Her Coming Behind Him And Running

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

picturing Chan and y/n just finished a round and him sitting on the bed, her coming behind him and running her hands through his arms and chest asking for another round, Chan going “guess I didn’t fuck you good enough, uh?” 😫😫😫😫😫😫😫

in which you beg chris for a round two

╰┈➤ bang chan x f. reader

╰┈➤ tags/warnings: fuck buddy!chris, idol!chris, dom!chris, unprotected sex, headlock position, spanking/slapping, name calling (slut, bitch), degradation, squirting

╰┈➤ word count: 1.2k

.·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·.

“you’re a fucking animal, christopher.”

the drop-dead gorgeous man, who happens to be your fuck buddy, laughs as he presses kisses all over your face.

“because you make me be one, sweetheart.”

chris stands up from his bed, leaving you to cover your upper body up in his sheets as he proceeds to the bathroom. all the while he was away, you take a deep breath. you can’t help but bite your lip and smirk as you look up to the ceiling, sighing in pleasure from such great sex. you thank the heavens for meeting chris because no other man can ever pleasure you as he does. it was as if he was the only one who knew all your secrets and kinks deep down without having you tell him. he just knew how your body works, as if a mechanic troubleshooting the sexual frustrations out of you.

chris comes back with a towel around his hips and phone in hand. you keep your eyes on him as he sits next to you on the edge of the bed, his broad and muscular back facing you.

“you have to be somewhere, chris?”

he hums, fast fingers messaging some people, “in a little while. need to go back to the studio later this evening.”

his ears perk up when he faintly hears you huff. he looks up and stares at the wall in front of him for a second with a grin. chuckling, he turns his head to the side and looks at you, “you don’t want me to go, huh?”

you giggle, poking your tongue against your cheek. you wanted to let out a whimper just from his hot, intense stare. some of his curls were faintly covering the top of his eyes, dimples showing. how can this man look cute yet hot at the same time?

“no, not really,” you whisper, your eyes wandering down to his shoulders, back, and biceps, which looked like they were constantly flexing. unknowingly, you lick your lips as you feel your core tighten around nothing. “need you again…”

“well, too bad, baby girl,” chris mutters, his hand coming up to caress your cheek before landing a sharp slap unexpectedly. your eyes widen from the sudden impact before a whine leaves your lips. “too bad our time’s up.”

after that, he focuses his attention back on his phone and types away again with a smirk.

but that didn’t sit right with you. that slap to your cheek ignites that oh-so-sweet, hot feeling down there. you push the blanket off your chest and kneel behind him. chris can hear the shuffling of sheets and is about to scold you, but you surprise him by wrapping your arms around his neck.

“please,” you whisper directly in his right ear, earning a shudder from him. “i want to feel you again, chris. i can’t get enough of you, baby. c’mon,” you let your warm hands wander his broad shoulders, before letting them go down to his chest. chris bites his plump lower lips from the feeling of your tiny hands on his chest, evidently groping his muscles. you knew that he was sensitive there, and it didn’t help that he just worked out earlier this morning.

“y-you needy little thing, ugh,” chris groans, grabbing your wrist in one of his hands to stop you, “haven’t i fucked you good enough, huh?”

you whine at that, shaking your head even though he can’t see you.

“come here, slut. over my knee, that’s right.” chris manhandles you across his lap. he doesn’t wait any further to spank your bare ass until you become a whining, withering mess beneath him. you can feel his cock growing hard against the confines of the towel, and the thought of having his big cock sheathed inside you made your pussy wetter.

“greedy, greedy slut,” he mumbles, slapping your ass with each word he utters. “can’t fucking get enough of dick.”

using his other hand, he grabs your hair roughly so that your head tilts up to meet his gaze. he raises his eyebrows at you, instantly making you feel submissive as you do, “are you proud, huh? proud that you can get me so easily, doll?”

you can’t stop yourself from squirming, a smile creeping up your lips as you feel satisfied with his reaction. “you know you like it too,” you reply cheekily.

chris clicks his tongue and roughly tugs your hair to force you up to the bed again. you slightly wince from the stinging pain in your scalp, but all that flies over your head when chris instructs you to lay flat on your stomach.

not wanting to take this chance for granted, you quickly obey. chris then throws the towel down to the floor, and his cock stands up proudly, long and hard. he straddles the back of your thighs while you feel his large hands squeezing your bruised hips.

“channie, please,” you wiggle your ass, hoping he’d get the memo, “fuck me more.”

“yeah?” he slaps your ass cheeks again, making you cry on the pillows, “my cock-hungry little brat wants more, mhm? look at you wiggling this perfect ass, fuck. admit that you’re addicted to my cock, and i’ll make you cum again.”

“c-chris, i’m addi—“ he doesn’t even let you finish before he’s talking dirty to you again, “admit that you want to be filled with cum every fucking day. yeah?” he aligns the tip of his dick against your dripping entrance. chris continues to babble, “this pussy’s so greedy, holy shit, look at it soaked and ready to be filled. want me to put my cock deep inside you?”

“yes! yes, yes, yes, chris! fuck… j-just fuck me!”

chris’ eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels your tight walls wrap around his girth for the second time today. you let out a long, loud whimper, making his cock throb which urges him to pound into you hard and fast.

“bad fucking bitch,” he grunts, “always wanting idols’ dick.”

“o-only yours,” you moan, hands gripping the sheets as his balls slap against your cunt. “i only want — shiiit — your dick, chris!”

he laughs menacingly at your desperation, “‘course you do,” he smirks before his left arm wraps under your neck, putting you in a slight headlock. “bitches like you aren’t satisfied with just one round, yeah?” you immediately feel your pussy gush so much wetness just from the position he had you in, your mind blank, and your neck constricting against his muscular biceps.

“mm, you like that?” his unoccupied hand sneaks beneath your body to rub your sensitive clit in fast circles, causing your entire system to quiver uncontrollably beneath his heavy body. “can’t breathe properly, hm? yeah, be my little fuckdoll, baby. you don’t need to breathe or think when i’m fucking the living shit out of you.”

you were on the brink of cumming, so close to falling apart. as you are about to warn chris of your orgasm, he brings up the hand that was once on your clit and forces his wet fingers inside your mouth. you practically squeal from how hot it is, letting you taste yourself off of his slender digits. he pushes his fingers more profoundly, and the moment your throat closes around his fingers, gagging, you squirt all over his bare cock.

“ohh my god,” chris groans loudly as your muffled screams also push him to climax. you soak not only his dick but his thighs, and the sheets beneath you have a pool of your juices. “gonna fill you up, doll,” he growls against your ear, his thrusts getting sloppy, “fill you up to the brim ‘till your pussy can’t take no more of my cum.”

.·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·.

[m.list | ko-fi]

BTS member Namjoon's history with misogyny and feminism, because I personally want this all in one list just for me:

(if you screenshot this to share anywhere, PLEASE source and/or link me. i'm sick of writing BTS posts and it going viral on twt when someone else steals it)

Oct 2014 — Namjoon writes lyrics for the misogynistic song "War of Hormone," including a line about how women are "the best gift."

March 2015 — Namjoon writes lyrics for his misogynistic song "Joke," including saying he's going to tell people that a "bossy" woman he doesn't like has gonorrhea (in Korean, “being bossy” and “gonorrhea” rhyme/are off by one letter). He then writes that he wants this woman to blow him.

June 2016 — Namjoon gets criticized for his misogynistic lyrics in "Joke" and "War of Hormone," and he says:

“The most controversial things came from what I wrote. I thought, ‘I was so ignorant.’ I wanted to study a lot. Since then, I have been taking women and gender studies classes at a university. […] I do contemplate a lot even as I write lyrics now. I read the newspapers a lot, and read books a lot, and study current society a lot. And now when I write lyrics, I get professional opinions from those like a feminist professor.”

He later shares that he still sends all of his lyrics to this women and gender studies professor, for them to "analyze objectively."

July 2016 — Korean feminist eAeon shares a thread on Twitter:

“Recently, Namjoon and I met privately and had a serious long talk about the issue of misogyny. Namjoon felt shame and guilt because of the controversy and revealed to me that he is distressed and unable to sleep due to it. So I said that misogyny is not a label or stigma that cannot be erased, but rather an obstacle in the right path that can exist within anyone. Rather than feeling like it’s unfair or painful, it’s a matter of deciding to fix it or not after discovering it within oneself. I talked about how I am also in the process of continuously fixing myself whenever I discover something I am lacking. Namjoon listened attentively and understood better than other people I have spoken to about similar topics.”

Oct 2016 — Namjoon writes the lyrics for the song "21st Century Girl," which includes (somewhat generic) uplifting lyrics such as “Tell them that you’re strong / Tell them you’re enough” and much more, with the whole song being along those lines. It’s fun, it’s cheesy, it's cute, it's entry level feminism, etc

Jan 2017 — Namjoon says in a live vlog:

“I’d never thought that my behaviors or words could hurt others. As I went through the year 2016, I started to think about that. My words or behaviors, regardless of my intentions, can cause trouble or hurt others feelings. I thought, I need to hold myself responsible for that and I need to think about such things. What I said and did can not be undone. I learned how to admit that to myself. It was hard to admit that I could hurt others’ feelings even if I don’t mean to. Now, when I start to do something, I think, how would people feel about my actions? Now, as I said, I feel much better about my feelings and emotions. Now when I hear something about myself, even if it’s criticism or condemnation, I think, what caused them to say this about me? What did I do wrong? What did I do to cause others to feel uncomfortable? I need to know how to change my way of thinking if it’s wrong.”

Jan 2017 — Namjoon posts a picture of a stack of books on his side table, and one is Breaking Out of the ‘Man Box’: A Call to Men, a book by Black male feminist and human rights activist Tony Porter, about “empowering men to create a world where men and boys are loving and respectful, and a human race where women and girls are valued and safe.”

Feb 2017 — BTS releases the music video for their song “Not Today.” The song is about the "underdogs" of society rising up and fighting back, and features a line about “shattering the glass ceiling that holds you down.” When asked if he knew what the phrase meant, Namjoon, who wrote the lyrics, said that he was fully aware of its meaning in feminism, as well as: “I wrote the lyrics to say let us, including BTS, not stay silent on social issues.” (Unrelated fun fact: the song is also heavily inspired by Aragorn's "but it is not this day" speech in Return of the King).

Sept 2017 — Namjoon shares a selfie where you can see he has a Marymond phone case. Marymond is a charity that financially supports former "comfort women," Korean women and girls who were abducted before and during WWII by Imperial Japan and forced into sexual slavery for Japanese soldiers.

Japan has refused to actually apologize to survivors, one Japanese politician said in 2014 that comfort women were "necessary for soldier morale," Osaka ended its sister city designation with San Francisco over a comfort women memorial in SF's Chinatown, many right-wing Japanese people view comfort women as lying sluts, etc. South Korea and Japan officially entered into an economic/trade war in 2019 due to Japan's refusal to give reparations to Korean comfort women.

March 2018 — Irene from Red Velvet says she read the book Kim Ji Young, Born 1982, which is about “the subtle hardships women endure” and is said to have “a clear goal of enlightening those oblivious to the gender discrimination that takes place everyday.” This caused a huge controversy, where Irene’s male fans burned pictures of her, said they now hate her, and essentially threw big temper tantrums because of her support of feminism.

Two days later, Namjoon does a live vlog just to say he also recently read Kim Ji Young, Born 1982, which he praises and calls “thought-provoking.”

(CONTEXT: Starting in the late 2010s and continuing now, incels and MRAs are a rising movement in South Korea, while feminism is viewed as evil and corrupting. In 2022, South Korea elected a proud anti-feminist as president, who ran on a platform specifically appealing to incels.)

July 2021 — Namjoon is seen reading the book Ways of Seeing, aka the book where the term “the male gaze” comes from. The book “criticizes traditional Western cultural aesthetics by raising questions about hidden ideologies in visual images,” and it is the origin of a famous quote about male artists and the male gaze: “You painted a naked woman because you enjoyed looking at her, put a mirror in her hand and called the painting ‘vanity,’ thus morally condemning the woman whose nakedness you had depicted for your own pleasure.”

Aug 2021 — Namjoon is put on a “feminist watchlist” by Korean incels — they made a list of “suspected,” “verified,” and “vanguard” feminists in Korean pop culture and politics, and put celebrities, politicians, and activists on their list accordingly, so they would know who to hate. Namjoon was listed here as a “verified feminist” and the incels said men should all boycott him due to his support of feminism. Namjoon is the only male idol included on this list.

Sept 2021 — BTS does an interview with South Korea’s then-President Moon (not the incel, but the guy before him), in conjunction with their UN work. BTS is asked to comment on misogyny, as they have a lot of female fans, and only Namjoon answers. He says:

“Personally, I received a lot of criticism regarding misogyny in 2015 and 2016, which led me to get my lyrics reviewed by a women’s studies professor. That experience, in turn, was an opportunity for me to self-reflect and question whether I’d been insensitive to gender equality. I want to do the best I can to take interest in this topic, learn, and make improvements.”

Him speaking about women's studies professors (some of the most controversial people in Korea right now) in a positive way, even just using the word "misogyny," and saying all this literally in front of a world leader caused quite a stir in South Korea.

Sept 2022 — Namjoon is asked to narrate the audio guide for the first-ever exhibition of modern Korean art in the West. Namjoon got to personally choose ten artists to feature in his audio guide, and for the first one (the most featured one), he chose Rha Hye-Seok, a painter who was also a writer and the founder of Korea’s feminism movement. In his narration, Namjoon describes how Rha died alone and in poverty, shunned by Korean society for advocating for women’s rights during Japanese Imperial rule.

Other artists he chose to include were Japanese Imperialism-era Korean resistance revolutionaries, as well as communists and North Koreans who were blacklisted in South Korea.

Mar 2023 — Namjoon talks about his love of art in an interview, and is asked if he invests in any art (“investing” in art collection = buying paintings just to sell them in the future when they’re worth more), and he says he just collects art for himself, but if he were interested in "investing and supporting," he would choose “Black artists, women, and emerging Indonesian artists.” (Namjoon chose to add the “support” part, turning the phrase around to mean uplifting instead of profiting off of.)

July 2023 — The members of BTS release a book describing their careers from pre-debut until now. Namjoon writes about the misogyny controversy from 2016, saying: 

“I think it was something I needed to go through. About this kind of concept and awareness, I have come to think that as someone living in the 2020s, it’s something you come up against at least once. And because I was criticized early on, I could recognize the problem sooner. […] This was because I’d received clear comments and criticism about the raps I’d written as well as my views. The Gangnam Station murder [a misogynistic hate crime/femicide] happened around that time, and so from a woman’s perspective I think there was no choice but to speak out even more."

About the positive impact the misogyny controversy had, he also said: "If it wasn’t for that process, we wouldn’t have made it this far."

The book then mentions: “Gender sensitivity training is now obligatory for all HYBE artists before they can debut.”

PS, he's trans inclusive, so any terfs reading this can die I guess:

Sept 2018 — Namjoon speaks in front of the UN and says that all people “no matter who you are, where you’re from, your skin color, your gender identity” deserve to be able to “speak themselves,” something he defines as having confidence in and loving yourself.

May 2019 — BTS creates little animal cartoon characters to represent themselves, and then makes a video talking about them and answering fan questions. Hoseok is asked what gender his character Mang is, and Yoongi says: “I kind of want all of them to be gender neutral. I don’t want them to be classified into two gender groups.” All of the other boys nod and agree, particularly Jimin and Namjoon, who are verbal and enthusiastic/excited.

The video then has a short animation of Mang looking back and forth between the doors to two bathrooms, each labeled with traditional gender symbols, and then Mang bursts through the wall between the doors instead:

Aug 2022 — Namjoon shares a picture of a glass sculpture he bought for his home, made by Roni Horn, a "neither male nor female" queer activist and artist.

March 2023 — Namjoon shares a song rec, “Parody” by Yves Tumor. Yves Tumor is nonbinary and goes by they/them and he/him pronouns, and Namjoon chose to share this specifically on Trans Visibility Day.

April 2023 — Namjoon shares a picture on his IG story of the cover of the photobook The Ballad of Sexual Dependency by Nan Goldin, a bisexual Jewish activist and photographer who first rose to fame during the AIDS crisis. Her photobook is about humanizing addicts, drag queens, queer and transgender people, HIV positive people, etc.

Bonus stuff I wanted to include, because this is my post:

March 2017 — Namjoon and American rapper Wale release a song together, called “Change.” From Billboard’s review of the song: “In this unrestrained hip-hop track, the duo criticize the ‘alt-right,’ ‘racist police,’ and declare they have ‘no faith in the government.’”

May 2018 — Namjoon recommends the book Das Kapital by Karl Marx in a live vlog. That book is over 3,000 pages long and is about the importance of communism and socialism, capitalism's oppression and exploitation of the working class and all marginalized groups, how capitalism and imperialism go hand in hand, and more. Namjoon also says he wrote the BTS song "Paradise" about his views on capitalism in South Korea and how it leads to people overworking themselves to death.

May 2018 — Namjoon says in a press conference that he’d rewritten parts of BTS's song “Fake Love” for their performance at the BBMAs, to not include the words “I am” (nae-ga in Korean) or “you are” (ni-ga in Korean) specifically because they sound like the English n word, which he says is offensive and that Koreans shouldn’t say it.

He went on to say: “There are many people hearing the song for the first time, and when you are hearing parts like that as English, there is potential for misunderstandings to occur. To prevent that, we edited the lyrics.”

Oct 2018 — Namjoon has a million songs about mental health awareness, the suicidal thoughts and panic attacks he used to have in late 2015 and 2016, and his depression, but I especially recommend his album "mono," where every song marks a different place in his recovery and struggles with mental illness. In the live vlog for this album, he also became one of the only Korean celebrities to ever say he sees a therapist.

Feb 2019 — Namjoon shows off some of the art pieces he owns in a live vlog, including multiple pieces specifically about Free Palestine (all of his Palestine-related art is pro-Palestine). When talking about the art, he calls the country "Palestine."

Jan 2020 — Namjoon and the rest of BTS reveal “Connect BTS,” a global art project bringing attention to diverse visual artists around the world. BTS sponsored five 100% free art exhibitions and personally chose the artists themselves, and interviewed them to help bring mainstream attention to them. The main artist in the Berlin exhibition was Nigerian artist Jelili Atiku, whose work is about European colonialism in Africa.

April 2020 — Namjoon recommends the book Guns, Germs, and Steel, the groundbreaking book destroying all arguments in support of white supremacy, “stunningly dismantling racially-based theories of human history,” and “arguing against the idea that Europeans have any kind of intellectual, moral, or inherent genetic superiority.” Some people believe Europeans were able to colonize, enslave, and conquer the Americas/Africa because white people are superior, but this book says it was just luck, geography, the invention of guns, and immunity to diseases from Europeans not washing their asses.

Dec 2022 — Namjoon releases the song “Yun” featuring Erykah Badu, about the painter Yun Hyong-Keun. Besides painting, Yun was also an activist who protested against Imperial Japan and the Korean war, and was arrested and tortured multiple times throughout his life for standing against colonialism and imperialism, and later for being a Communist sympathizer.

Jan 2023 — Back in 2021, BTS's company HYBE announced they were going to sell BTS NFTs, but then literally never mentioned it again. In 2023, it was revealed that Namjoon himself had gone to HYBE headquarters and gave a "powerpoint presentation" to HYBE's executives about how horrible NFTs are and how he didn't want them associated with BTS.

Feb 2023 — Namjoon shares another picture of his Free Palestine art, coincidentally (or not) on the very same day Israel bombed Damascus and killed nine civilians.

March 2023 — Namjoon in an interview: “Music is really necessary for the world, but when it comes to my own music, sometimes I feel that I am producing something unnecessary. If I died tonight, I don’t think anything would change. Some people may care, but a farmer or street sweeper are more relevant to the functioning of society.”

April 2023 — Namjoon shares a picture from his home, and in the background, an original political sketch from Philip Guston’s Poor Richard series is visible.

Philip Guston was a Jewish Communist who did a series of political sketches about how much he hated US president Richard Nixon — for anyone who doesn’t know, Nixon was a fascist conservative, and sort of the Trump of the 70s. He was hateful, racist, misogynistic, homophobic, he spoke nonsense and most centrists thought he was insane and would never get elected, he literally started the War on Drugs, etc. Guston’s sketches portray Nixon in a very grotesque way and are all about him and his cronies being evil and fucking over the whole world out of hatred and greed.

So, Namjoon owns a sketch by a Jewish Communist about hating and mocking fascist conservatives.

and lastly, Namjoon's two best outfits:

(the sweatshirt in the second one features a picture of Rick Owens, an openly bisexual fashion designer, wearing heels)

GO FOLLOW MILA SHE'S SO CRIMINALLY UNDERRATED IT HURTS

Invisible string ♡ Minho (pt. III)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: After so many years of being closed off from the idea of love, you finally allow yourself to feel it freely with Minho.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ a soulmate AU, fluff, smut

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, swearing

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: A part of this chapter was almost shamelessly inspired by the song that inspired the plot in the first place, Invisible String by Taylor Swift. Also really inspired by my favorite Minho vlog, Lee Know Log 4 🩷

To those who have asked to be tagged in this story: would any of you be interested in being tagged in any new work I post later? Let me know! And thank you for reading and giving me such a great experience posting my writing here for the first time 🩷

← part II ♡ ⟳ part I

You spend the entire flight home processing everything that had happened during the trip; from Minho’s words, to your kisses and touches, to you ultimately acknowledging your own romantic feelings for him. Although it all felt sudden, it had been a long time coming.

As his car stops at the front of your house, Minho steps out and walks with you, your backpack in hand.

“I know you’re scared. I understand that even more now that I know about your past relationships,” he speaks softly as the two of you stop at the front door, “And I want you to know that I’m gonna be patient.”

You nod slowly, although the desire to answer him is still so prevalent in your mind, the words lodged in your throat and yearning to spill out. But you’ve made the mistake of jumping into relationships far too often, always driven by your emotions, and every time, the outcome has been disastrous. You don’t want that to happen with Minho.

So, you settle on a question that has been eating away at you.

“Why do you like me, Minho?”

His face twists into a deep frown before ultimately softening. Carefully placing your backpack on the step leading to the front door, he sighs.

“You shouldn’t have to ask me that,” he assures you, his rough hands touching your shoulders before moving down your arms to entwine with your own. “You don’t even realize how fucking amazing you are, do you? I’d move mountains, fight anyone and do anything if it meant I’d have the privilege to see you smile.”

And, just like that, you feel your lips stretch out into a small smile at his words. He grins at you.

“Just like that. I’d do anything to see that,” he says. “And you take care of your friends simply because you love them, never asking for anything in return. You collect plushies like me, you appreciate the criminally underrated flavor of lemon cake, and you worked at the same convenience store as me, and spilled coffee all over my notebook on the day we met. That’s why I like you; because you’re you.”

Tears threaten to well up in your eyes, so you quickly avert your gaze, focusing on your shoes. With a nod, you wrap your arms around Minho, taking in his scent and reveling in the comforting warmth of his body. Little did he know, you were just as willing to do whatever it took to keep him near you. He plants a chaste kiss on your forehead as you break away from his embrace.

“I’ll call you later, okay? Thank you for the trip.”

 

As soon as you step inside your house, Eunha is quick to come running towards you, her hands dirty with flour as she abandons her unbaked cookies on the counter and pulls you into a hug.

“I missed you so much,” she whines, “How will I survive living without you next year?”

You chuckle, watching as her lips turn into a pout.

“I’m sure we’ll suffer equally, if that makes you feel better.”

She fakes a sob, turning on her heels and heading toward the kitchen.

“Oh, Hyunjin is in a crisis, apparently,” she tells you, wiping her hands on her apron. “He called me three times just today to ask if you were back already.”

You let out a sigh. Hyunjin was more often than not either glum or vexed due to his trials and mishaps in finding love. He once joked that you two would end up having to marry each other with how things were going. You dreaded his reaction to the news of Minho soon entering your life in a new way.

“The hotel’s Wi-Fi was a joke, but I honestly didn’t even think to check my phone,” you tell Eunha, who giggles as she cuts her cookies into heart shapes. “What? Why are you giggling like that?” You ask her with a grin, approaching the counter.

She shrugs. “Nothing. I didn’t even think to check my phone,” she playfully mimics your voice, looking up at you, “I’m guessing you had fun, then?”

“I did,” you beam, “It was everything I thought it would be and even more.”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “Even more?”

“Even more,” you reiterate. “I had so much fun with Minho. I forgot how good it feels to just let go and allow myself to feel what I want to feel.”

Eunha’s lips curl into a small smile. She hums, lowering her head in a feeble attempt at pretending to focus on the cookies in front of her. “And what did you want to feel this weekend?”

“Like maybe I can finally fall in love again.”

Your friend lifts her head, her eyes wide. “Love?” she exclaims, “You, the girl who has spent every day since I met you talking about how love isn’t important, is wanting to fall in love?”

You chuckle at her reaction, shrugging dismissively. “In my defense, I had my reasons. Plus, some things made me change my mind.”

“More like someone,” Eunha teases, and you roll your eyes at her, but a smile spreads on your lips unwittingly. “I’m happy for you,” she beams, “and I think you should definitely fall in love again — not maybe.”

You sprint across the small kitchen space, circling around the counter to wrap your arms around Eunha and squeezing her as she lightly pushes you away, warning you about flour getting all over your clothes, but you don’t mind.

Because you love her, as you’ve learned this past weekend, and you don’t mind the mess when it comes to someone you love.

It’s only as you enter your room that you check your phone, which is filled with notifications from Hyunjin, much like Eunha had said. After ten missed calls, it seems he resorted to simply texting you.

Hyune: hey I know you’re in japan but can you answer the phone? Hyune: I promise I’ll be quick. just wanna talk to you Hyune: hear your voice idk I feel really alone rn and really bad idk lol Hyune: mingyu has his girlfriend over. can you believe they’re still together? Hyune: can you believe he has a girlfriend and I can’t even find someone to give me the time of day lol Hyune: can you believe every date I go to ends with me crying lol Hyune: sorry I’m being annoying and the messages aren’t even being delivered, you’re clearly having fun sorry Hyune: sorry Hyune: guess that’s why nobody can endure me for more than two dates Hyune: have fun 🤍 I love you

You feel your heart ache as you read his messages, answering with an apology. But before you can hit send on your second message, Hyunjin has already replied. 

Hyune: it’s okay. I’m sorry I even sent those in the first place

Me: Stop apologizing Me: You know I love you and I’ll always be here for you Me: Where are you?

Hyune: at my dorm Hyune: staring at the ceiling

Me: I’m coming over

True to his words, Hyunjin is lying on the floor of his dorm’s cramped living room once you open the door. There’s a small canvas propped up against the wall, a myriad of shades of blue forming the shape of a face. Your best friend’s talent never ceases to amaze you, and you have to fight the urge to stand still by the front door for a few seconds simply admiring his new painting.

“Look at this sulking Pisces,” you click your tongue as you approach Hyunjin, who only opens one eye to shoot you a glance.

“I’m in a fragile state and this is how you greet me,” he all but pouts before sitting up as you sit cross-legged beside him on the floor. “How was the trip?”

You shrug. “It was fun. We only had one day to explore the city, so we didn’t do much,” you say simply, tapping your fingers on your thigh.

You don’t want to sit and talk about how much fun you had during a trip when Hyunjin’s puffy, bloodshot eyes are staring directly at you. He was sad, and his sadness was palpable throughout the entire living room — his bitten lips, his painting, his hands covered in dried-up blue paint; everything was dripping in sadness. This was a constant with Hyunjin, but lately it had become even worse. He has an overwhelming desire to love and be loved, but his every attempt at fulfilling this desire is futile for reasons you cannot wrap your head around.

“I like the new painting,” you smile, focusing on the saddened blue face. Hyunjin scoffs beside you.

“It’s fucking terrible,” His hand shoves the canvas face down on the floor. You bite your lip. “Can’t even paint shit I like anymore. Every time I try, it always turns out muddy and sad.”

“What happened?”

He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Well I’m pathetic, so it’s still the same old reason. I had a date with this girl on Saturday, but she canceled at the last minute. Texted me something about me being too clingy after she agreed to go out with me, about how she knows she would feel suffocated if we dated.”

You furrow your brows together, anger bubbling up inside your chest. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, but don’t worry!” Hyunjin gave you a forced smile. “She made sure to remind me that it was her, not me, and that lots of women out there like guys like me. Whatever the fuck that means.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, turning his attention toward his hands before scratching some of the dried paint off. You sigh.

“Hyunjin, she isn’t wrong about that. You know that, right? You’re not the one at fault.”

He scoffs. “Sure seems like it when every date I’ve gone to since starting university has ended up with me being rejected for the same fucking reasons. It’s always me. Too clingy, too sentimental, too emotional,” his voice is almost a whisper as he speaks. He turns to face you again. “Remember how I would stop sleeping with you whenever I liked someone? Wanna know why I stopped doing that? ‘Cause I know it’s not gonna go anywhere anyway, so what’s the point? It never goes anywhere, and then I’m left alone again. Maybe I should just accept it, y’know? Some people are just meant to be alone, and clearly I’m one of them.”

Your anger has now morphed into sadness. You hate the way Hyunjin talks about himself, hate it even more how it seems nobody can appreciate the amazing person he is. Being caring and sentimental is not a flaw, and you pray that he never allows other people’s opinions to sway him into thinking that way. You pray he finds someone who can appreciate these qualities in him the same way you do.

“You’re not alone, Hyune,” you assure him, taking one of his hands in yours. “You’re surrounded by friends who love you so much, and while I know that’s not the type of love you yearn for, it’s still love.”

Hyunjin smiles softly at you before pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours. It’s sudden but not entirely unexpected; the way you and Hyunjin dealt with shitty things in life and unpleasant feelings together had always been through sex, and you knew it always made him feel at least a little better afterward. And so you let him, returning the kiss even as part of you felt wrong doing it when your entire being was consumed with thoughts of only Minho.

As soon as he kisses you, he swiftly pushes you down onto the hardwood floor and hovers over you. Hyunjin’s fingers undo the buttons of your cardigan before slipping under your shirt, caressing your skin as his lips trail kisses down your neck. Soon enough, his body is pressed up against your spread thighs, and you know where this is going — but as much as you want to make your best friend feel better, you cannot bring yourself to do it.

“Hyune,” you softly call out, and he hums against your throat. “We can’t do this.”

He chuckles, squeezing your waist. “Mingyu always comes home late when he goes out with his girlfriend. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not that, Hyunjin. I just—”

“Do you not wanna fuck on the floor?” He asks, coming up to look at you. He cocks his head to the side. “We can just do it on the couch then, I really don’t wanna have sex with all those pictures of Mingyu and his friends staring at us in our room.”

“Hyunjin, no—”

“It’s not like we never did it on a couch before, stop being dramatic—”

“I’m in love with Minho.”

It comes out before you can fully comprehend what you’re saying, the word love slipping past your lips effortlessly. Hyunjin stills on top of you, his body rigid and tense. 

“Oh,” is all he offers you. You nod slowly, fingers picking at a drop of paint that stained the collar of his shirt.

You whisper, “I really am just as surprised as you are, believe me.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “I’m not surprised. I just— now you’re leaving me, too.”

You shake your head. It’s ludicrous to you that Hyunjin could imagine that you would ever even entertain the thought of leaving him. Running a hand through his messy hair, you pull him in and press a kiss to his nose. Hyunjin hides his face in the crook of your neck with a groan.

“Sorry, that was pathetic. I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologizes. “You know I don’t mean it like that. I just love you so much. I thought we would…”

You furrow your brows as he trails off his words. You thread your fingers through his long hair. “We would…?”

“End up together somehow,” he speaks slowly, his voice muffled, and your heart drops.

Hyunjin harboring these feelings about you was something you would never have imagined. You were certain he was content being your friend and having sex with you only until he found the right person. He went on several dates, after all. Your heart feels like it’s been shattered into a million tiny pieces upon learning about his hidden desire for the future he used to so often joke about: you two ending up together simply because you were each other’s only choices.

“Hyunjin,” you start carefully, “I love you, too. So much. You’re my best friend, and that’s never going to change. We don’t have to be together romantically for us to be in love, y’know? I realized that just recently.”

You feel him nod his head, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers.

“I’m just sad I won’t have you anymore. I’m gonna miss us so much,” he places a small kiss on your collarbone. “Whenever I felt like I was in a dark pit with no way out, every single time you were there to bring me out of it and make me feel okay again. I love you so much for that.”

And you can only softly smile at his words before your heart shatters all over again as you hear him quietly begin to sob in your skin.

“Hyunjin,” you call out, although you know he won’t reply. “You’re the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. My love for you goes beyond us having sex — that wasn’t even important to me in our relationship. It was just something good on top of something already amazing.” With a slow nod, he lifts his head and gazes at you with red, teary eyes, causing your heart to ache even more. “I’ll never leave you. Ever. I’ll still answer your four hundred three a.m. texts, still let you hide away in my house, still happily listen to you complain about your days, and still hold you when you cry.”

Hyunjin pouts like a child, and your heart swells with fondness.

“Really?” He asks, and you chuckle with a nod.

“Really,” you assure him. “Me being with someone will never change our friendship, or my love for you. I mean, we won’t have sex anymore, of course, but I’ll still talk shit about your roommate with you so I’m sure you’ll forgive me.”

Hyunjin’s tearful expression vanishes, replaced by a small teasing grin. “I am gonna have to jerk off significantly more, so I don’t know about forgiveness,” he jokes.

You push him off you with a chuckle, sitting up as he tries to regain his balance.

“When did this whole thing with Minho even happen?” Hyunjin asks, setting his painting back against the wall. You shrug, buttoning up your cardigan. He hums. “So, are you already together?”

“Not yet,” you say, “but I’m gonna answer him after our class this week. If he fucking lets me, that is. He says he wants to be patient, but I don’t want to be patient. The only thing I wanna be is with him.”

Hyunjin’s whole body contorts as he groans. “Ew, what the fuck? When did you become such a sap?”

As you shove him back once more, you both burst into laughter while Hyunjin stumbles back and spills a mug filled with dirty paint water all over his floor.

The rest of the day goes by with you and Hyunjin painting together, a much broader array of colors and a much happier end result on the canvas: beautiful flowers painted by him standing alongside clumsily drawn hearts, stars, and other doodles painted by you. After signing your name above his elegant signature, you inform him the painting is leaving with you — it’s hanging up on your wall as soon as you arrive home.

Hyunjin is your best friend; it’s been this way for the last two years, and it’s indisputable to you that this fact will remain no matter what happens. As you watch him hunched over your painting, insisting that his flowers could be more detailed — even after you assured him a thousand times that they were perfect — you curse yourself for not realizing how beautiful this love between you two is. You hope he cherishes this love as well, in spite of his desire for the two of you to be together in the future. You know deep down this idea stemmed from his fear of solitude.

You’re not worried about him at all, though. He’s a precious soul, and anyone who fails to recognize that doesn’t deserve him. He’s simply getting rid of the wrong people in order to find the right person, someone who sees him as you do.

The love you feel for Hyunjin is unchanging, and if you had any say in it, it would be everlasting.

Your next Japanese class with Minho comes too soon, and you find yourself unprepared. Every trace of resolve you had after returning from your trip dissipated bit by bit every time you saw or talked to him. As soon as you saw his figure step into the coffee shop on Monday to pick up his usual order, you realized that every single scenario your mind had conjured up fell flat. Minho was beautiful, amazing, breathtaking — he deserved something grand and earth-shattering, not a simple answer from a girl who wasn’t even half as good as he was.

It certainly did not help that he, always true to his words, respected your time. Not once during his coffee trips or your never-ending talks through the phone did he mention the topic. And it was slowly but surely driving you insane.

You bite your lips so much on your way to university you’re sure your lipstick is gone by the time you enter the building, and you’re surprised your poor bag isn’t riddled with holes in the cloth from your insistent picking. You shouldn’t feel this nervous — Minho is the one waiting for an answer, after all. For all he knows, you could be simply building up the courage to let him down gently. But you are nervous. You’re terrified he will listen to your clumsy words and decide he deserves someone better. Or, worse yet, will only realize how undeserving of his love you are once you’re in a relationship.

And you don’t think you can face another heartbreak where you’re left to mend your gashes all alone.

You enter the building with shaky hands, fiddling with the strap of your bag and walking toward your classroom on autopilot as your mind is too busy running over all the ways in which this could go wrong.

All faded, however, once you saw Minho waiting for you in front of your classroom. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he looked down at his phone, his body wrapped in a cozy-looking black sweater and sweatpants, a keychain of a cat plushie hanging from his backpack matching his phone case. You stop a few feet away from him. He deserves the world, and that terrifies you. Still, his presence alone melts away every ugly word of doubt and every piece of worry inside your body until the only thing you can feel is the swirling of that familiar pinwheel spinning inside your chest.

You greet him with a long hug, hoping he can’t feel your heart beating through your own sweater.

After class, he walks you to work, enthusiastically telling you about the progress he, Chan and Seungmin have made on their game. You nod and hum along to his words, but you can’t, for the life of you, focus on a word he’s saying. All you want to do is tell him you like him — god, you like him so much — but every time you’re close to doing it, the ugly words return and scream that he deserves more than an underwhelming confession on a gloomy, empty street.

You stop walking as you two reach the bench located just far away enough from the hustle and bustle of students on campus, the one where no one bothered you when you sat here by yourself for three years, the one that had oddly become your favorite bench among all the other identical ones scattered throughout your university.

Because it was here that you and Minho had your first real conversation, it was here where you two laughed and gasped at all the little coincidences between your lives, and it was here where you began to build a friendship with this wonderful guy who would unknowingly change you for the better.

It was the perfect place, and you berated yourself for not realizing that sooner.

Minho’s voice calling out your name pulls you away from your thoughts, his hand wrapping around yours and pulling you gently toward his body. You hum before colliding against his chest as he chuckles.

“You just stopped walking,” he says, a lilt of confusion in his voice. “I know you hate work, but I didn’t think it was this serious.”

And when you properly turn to look at him, Minho is smiling so beautifully under the somber sky of winter, as if he is the embodiment of sunshine — always glistening and radiating such a comforting warmth no matter how glum the world around him is. And, at the sight of him, you just can’t stop your words. Never mind how gloomy this campus seems or how lackluster your words are — Minho’s presence alone makes everything become golden.

“I like you because you’re you,” you mirror his words at you, “Because you laughed in my face for spilling coffee all over your notebook when I didn’t even know you, because you love coffee just as much as I hate it, and because you believe in silly myths about riding paddle boats together,” You blurt out, words completely unbidden by your brain. Minho’s eyes widened for a beat before slowly turning into crescent moons as a smile spread across his lips. You take a deep breath before continuing, the words flowing out of you so quickly you’re worried he won’t be able to understand you, “And you opened my eyes to the love I feel for my friends, which I was so fucking stupid and blinded to. But, most importantly, you taught me that love isn’t bad. It can never be bad because you’re love, Minho. You’re full of love, and there’s not an ounce of anything bad in you. And you make me feel deserving of this love, even though I still don’t understand how I can be deserving of something so beautiful.”

Minho’s arms are pulling you into an embrace before you can process everything you said, and by the time you seem to come to your senses, you realize tears have welled up in your eyes. He holds you close to him silently for a while, his left hand delicately massaging your scalp as you clutch onto the fabric of his sweater as if he might be taken away from you if you let go.

“I like you, too,” he whispers against your hair, and you feel your lips contort into a pout.

“You already told me that,” you grumble. “I just word-vomited my feelings to you and this is all you have to say?”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “What else is there to say? I like you so much I don’t think I can put it into words. I might just say something stupid if I talk about it too much.”

You furrow your brows, pulling away from his embrace to face him. “Something stupid like what?”

“Like saying I love you.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. Yet again, Minho has rendered you speechless. He shakes his head dismissively, a smile still etched onto his lips.

“No need to say anything. I told you it was stupid,” his eyes drift over to the bench beside you two, and his smile grows. “Guess this has to become my favorite bench too.”

You let out a laugh, but it’s cut short by your tears spilling out again. Minho quickly turns to look at you again, his expression shifting into a mixture of happiness and worry for you as he wipes your tears away with his thumbs.

And as the sun begins to set, the street lights flicker on, casting a warm, yellow glow over everything around you. You cup Minho’s face and press a chaste kiss to his lips, then to his nose, before wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into an embrace once again.

“I don’t think I’m ready to love you yet. I’m sorry,” you apologize, both to him and yourself.

Minho simply hums, kissing your cheek. “I told you I’m patient, because love is patient. I would wait an eternity for the privilege of hearing you say you love me.”

You and Minho have officially been together for almost two months by the time winter break arrives. You’ve done everything couples do, except for two things: say I love you and go all the way. You’ve done every other possible thing — well, Minho has done every other possible thing to you, with you discovering that Minho particularly loves eating you out, often laying on your lap on your couch after work and rubbing his head against your thighs like a cat, humming and sighing until he has your attention before all but begging you to let him go down on you. Whenever you offer to do the same to him, in any way, he immediately turns the offer down, saying he’s satisfied just pleasuring you. It always leaves you with a million questions, as you notice him have to adjust himself in his pants or coincidently go to the bathroom, but you don’t question it.

The two of you also found ways to get around the whole L-word situation. I missed you becoming your go-to phrase for when you want to scream out that you love him, but are still unable to, while he usually just makes you swallow both your words and his own that are lingering inside your mouth with a kiss.

You had fallen into a routine quickly, with you visiting Minho most evenings after your shift to just lay on Chan’s stiff leather couch and watch him work. You two always hang out with his co-workers slash friends for a while before leaving for the night — Seungmin becoming like the pestering but loveable little brother you never had — and you head to your house in Minho’s car before you sneak him into your home so Mrs. Choi remains none the wiser.

Her ‘no boyfriends spending over two days at the house’ rule can’t possibly apply if she doesn’t even know Minho is there in the first place.

And so, he’s been basically living alongside you and your housemates. This outcome was almost inevitable since Minho hates his roommates while you love each other’s company.

You’re now packing your things with Hyunjin, who’s been sitting on your bed for the last half-hour rather than helping you as he’d promised. In the past month, he’s been able to come to terms with the fact that his ideal future with you was nothing but a coping mechanism after a month of sulking every time Minho was around. He deleted every shitty dating app on his phone and now focuses on finding love naturally, recently going out with a girl he met in one of his classes. The first time they met was the epitome of a meet-cute, with her accidentally bumping into him and spilling black paint all over his shirt. It brought back memories of when you first met Minho, and you had high hopes that this time things would work out differently for him. But, judging by the scowl on Hyunjin’s face and his nonstop complaining, you were wrong.

“But, be for real, why did it take her six dates to realize she doesn’t think we’ll work out?” He grumbles, spinning one of your necklaces around his finger like it’s a toy. “I paid for every meal, made sure she got at least two orgasms every time we went out, and she just suddenly decides we won’t work out? Fuck off.’’

You chuckle, closing your suitcase after triple-checking that you packed Minho’s Christmas present and walking over to where Hyunjin is sitting, snatching your necklace from his hand.

“Maybe she liked the free food and orgasms too much to let them go.”

Hyunjin scowls. “You’re saying that’s the only reason she went out with me?” He feigns offense, shaking his head. “I hope Minho’s parents hate your guts.”

“Hyunjin!” You exclaim, watching as he bursts out laughing. “Don’t even joke about that. You know how nervous I am.”

“There’s no way they won’t like you,” He assures you, “You’re fucking amazing, not to mention their son loves you. That’s more than enough reason to love you too.”

You clutch the necklace in your hand, humming before turning on your heels to check your drawers for anything you might have missed. Hyunjin using the word love makes you a bit anxious, an unwelcome reminder that you still haven’t been able to overcome this stupid emotional blockage preventing you from telling Minho you love him. The first and only time you’d ever said you loved Minho was that evening at Hyunjin’s dorm, and it hadn’t even been directed at him. Without saying a word, you both understand the love that exists between you — it’s unspoken, but deeply felt — and you’re aware of that, but the fear that one day he’ll grow tired of waiting is painfully tangible inside your mind.

When Minho invited you to spend Christmas with his family, you hesitated at first. Meeting your ex-boyfriends’ families had never been so significant. You were a teenager at the time, the implications were different and the stakes didn’t seem as high. This time, it feels as if getting Minho’s parents to like you is indispensable. How will he go on dating a woman his parents deem unfit for him? Especially with how highly he speaks of his mother, you’re sure her opinion of you will weigh on his mind.

You can only hope they love you half as much as you love their son.

The car ride to Minho’s parents’ house was around half an hour.

Half an hour you spent picking at a loose thread on your skirt and overthinking so much your head ached by the time he parked the car. You hated how nervous you were, but Minho’s parents liking you was a non-negotiable. 

After insisting on carrying your own suitcase — just in case his parents might think you’re an overbearing girlfriend if they see Minho carrying your bag for you — the two of you walk up the stairs and into his home. The first thing you notice is how cozy-looking everything is; from the family pictures neatly placed on coffee tables and on the walls, cat furniture and toys mixed in with their actual furniture, down to the fuzzy blankets thrown over the couches.

The second thing that catches your attention is the quietude permeating throughout the house, as well as the fact that the first family member to greet you two is an orange cat.

“Oh, did you miss me this much?” Minho asks in a sweet, singsong voice, similar to how you would speak to a baby. He crouches down to pet the cat, who is now entangling himself between his legs. He introduces you by your name, because Soonie is truly just another family member to him. You chuckle, kneeling next to him and carefully extending your hand toward the orange ball of fur.

“Hello, Soonie,” you speak quietly, afraid you’ll spook him. He eyes you carefully before sniffing your fingers and, ultimately, rubbing his head on your hand. You sigh in relief, petting his fur with a smile.

Minho’s cats liking you was also a non-negotiable.

You place your suitcases in Minho’s childhood bedroom, his parents letting him know they will arrive a little late after going Christmas shopping. Looking around his small room, you smile at all the small things that scream Lee Minho. The pictures of him and his friends back in high school are the first thing you notice, glued to the wall in front of his door lopsided. His thick-rimmed glasses and bowl cut make you smile as you analyze one of the pictures, where he and four other boys hug and smile widely in a karaoke room. Then, of course, his extensive plushie collection sat against a wall to your left — all stacked on top of each other like a mountain — which he proudly shows off to you.

“Y’know, I had to basically fight a little girl at the Sanrio store for this one,” he says, a bit too smugly, while holding a plush of Kuromi dressed in a ladybug costume. “I was sixteen, though, so I think that excuses my behavior. I would never do that nowadays.”

You narrow your eyes, humming skeptically. “Sure you wouldn’t.”

Minho just chuckles, meticulously placing the doll back in its place beside the cherry on top of a rather large Pusheen pudding plushie.

“Oh! You have to see my books.” He takes your hand in his, dragging you toward the wall facing his bed. A bookshelf expanding from the floor to the ceiling makes your mouth drop. You hadn’t noticed it before, with it being hidden away in the corner of the room. The bookshelf is decorated with fairy lights — which Minho promptly switches on — and filled with beautiful books, from intricately designed hard covers to intricate sprayed edges, every single book in his collection has something special about it.

He uses a small metal ladder to reach the top of the shelves before handing you a book so thick your wrist almost bends upon grabbing it. It’s a collection of seven Jane Austen novels, all in a gorgeous blue and golden hardcover. You eye the book like it’s a precious jewel, carefully running your fingers over the details engraved on the cover. Beside you, Minho lets out a breathy laugh, stepping down from the ladder and bumping your shoulder lightly.

“You can open it,” he tells you, but you’re still too mesmerized by the book to look at him. “It’s what books are for, whether they’re pretty or not. You have to open it and read it, otherwise they lose their purpose.”

You nod slowly, but remain unmoving. Minho’s hand suddenly rests on top of yours, and he opens the book for you. The page is entirely annotated, with highlighters and thoughts jotted down on pencil in messy handwriting. Looking up at him, you are met by his smile.

“See? The book is fine, the world didn’t end. I have these special editions because I enjoy collecting pretty things, but I always read them,” he explains, “I like when books reflect the emotions I felt while reading them. I annotate, scribble, highlight — I once threw a special edition Stephen King book across the living room and into a wall. There’s an indentation on it till this day.”

You gasp. “Minho, what the fuck?”

He shrugs dismissively. “I know, I know. All book sins in the eyes of many people. But, like I said, that just reflects the emotions I felt while reading that book. I look through any of these pages and I know exactly what I felt at that time of my life.”

You nod, your lips absentmindedly curling into a smile. Minho truly is something else. You skim the page opened before you, reading some of his annotations and laughing quietly to yourself as he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

As you close the book, he speaks again, “They’re a bit like people, aren’t they? Pretty and put-together on the outside, but once you really dig in, it’s all a mess and cluster of feelings and passion.”

 

You and Minho spend an hour lounging around the living room, with you meeting his other two cats during that time. Soonie and Doongie’s adoration toward Minho is clear, with both orange cats always rubbing against his leg or tangling themselves in his sneakers by the door as you two cuddle on the couch. Dori, however, remains laid on his cat tree, barely sparing the two of you a glance. Minho jokes that Dori hates him after he left his first mom, even showing you further proof in the form of a video where the gray cat bites his nose while he sleeps.

Upon hearing the key turn on the front door, your heart is quick to jump. Minho’s parents have arrived.

Sitting up on the couch, you gently push Minho away from you. He shoots you a questioning look.

“What? I don’t want them to think we were doing something indecent.”

“Indecent?” Minho repeats with a chuckle. “We were cuddling, not consummating a marriage on this couch.”

You grumble incoherent words under your breath, shrugging. “I know. I just want them to like me.”

“They were more than okay with seeing me cuddle my ex when I was a teen. We’re both adults, I’m pretty sure they won’t think you’re a filthy harlot.”

You gasp, hitting his chest and hissing through your teeth. “A harlot?”

Minho lets out a long, hearty laugh just as his parents walk through the door.

“Oh, there you are!” You hear his mother’s voice call out as soon as she steps inside the living room. You turn to face her and you’re greeted by the same smile you see on Minho’s face every day — they look so similar you have to hold back a gasp. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You stand up from the couch and smooth down your long skirt, smiling while she walks toward you. You’re caught off guard when she pulls you into a hug as soon as she’s in front of you, her arms squeezing you as she sighs happily into your hair.

“Mom,” Minho calls out, “You’re scaring her.”

His mom pulls away with a chuckle, her left hand pinching her son’s cheek before resting on your shoulder again. “He’s the one who’s scared I’ll embarrass him,” she refutes. “And, god, you’re so pretty! Minho told me you were beautiful, but I just assumed it was the infatuation speaking.”

You feel your cheeks flush at her words, biting back a smile. Minho had talked to his mother about you — had said you were beautiful. You swear if you died tonight, you would die a happy woman.

As his mother steps away from you and into the kitchen, rambling on about how crowded the shopping mall had been, a man comes into your field of vision. He nods courtly before extending his hand, which you shake a bit awkwardly.

“I’m Minho’s dad,” he simply says. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Minho has been very happy on the phone since meeting you.”

And with that, he’s off into the kitchen, following his wife. You’re left a bit dazed. Minho truly was a perfect blend of his mother’s appearance and his father’s calm personality. 

Beside you, Minho pulls you into a side hug, his chilly hands caressing your arms. “See? It’s impossible not to love you.”

You freeze for a moment, before relaxing as you realize he’s talking about his parents loving you. You curse yourself inwardly for being so damn emotionally constipated, but let out a sigh of relief nonetheless.

You were worried for so many different reasons — that you wouldn’t measure up to Minho’s first girlfriend, that your personality would be scrutinized until your flaws finally emerged, and that this would be the catalyst for Minho to realize you’re not worth it. Not worth waiting until you can tell him you love him, not worth waiting until you feel like sex isn’t going to just ruin everything between you, not worth the hassle and the chore that is loving someone like you.

But as he walks into the kitchen with you, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, like he’s proud to show you off to his parents, the level of reliability he radiates is enough to melt away all the annoying little worries you had inside your head.

Christmas eve comes two days later, and you’re rudely woken up in the morning by the sound of Minho’s voice cursing under his breath as he drops something on the floor by his bed. You groan, rubbing your eyes, and he turns to face you with an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry,” he whispers, kneeling down next to the bed and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Good morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Eight, I think.” His fingers brush your hair away from your face. “I didn’t set an alarm ‘cause I didn’t wanna wake you up, but guess my inability to be quiet did that anyway.”

You chuckle lightly, scrunching up your nose. “Why are you up so early?”

“Gotta start cooking dinner soon,” he explains.

“Already?” You ask, perplexed. You knew he cooked Christmas dinner all by himself every year for his family, but you never conceived just how much work that would be for a single person.

Minho is unyielding despite your best efforts at persuading him to stay and cuddle you for a few more hours, and watching him cook is always oddly attractive to you, so you find yourself joining him in the kitchen, wrapped up in one of his many cat print sweaters.

At first, you simply sit up at one of the counters and watch him, mesmerized and all but drooling at the way he rolls up his sleeves, the prominent veins making his arms look so sexy while doing such a mundane thing like chopping fucking vegetables. Not to mention his hands, so beautiful and big as he rubs the seasoning on something you don’t even care to identify because you’re just too busy thinking about those hands all over your body. Only now do you notice how no real sex for almost two months has really taken a toll on you, what with the way you have to cross your legs just to try and relieve some tension because your mind won’t stop thinking about Minho’s veiny arms caging you against this counter and his big hands—

Minho calls out your name, and you snap out of your fantasies, humming as you reluctantly turn your attention toward his face with a dazed expression. He seems to find it funny, as he chuckles before repeating himself, “I asked if you would like to help. I can teach you some of the easy stuff. Must be boring just sitting there and watching.”

Oh, but it isn’t boring at all.

But you’d never tell him that, so you nod before hopping off the counter and awaiting further instructions. Turns out you’re worse at cooking than you had thought, so you’re relegated to chopping duty, which you hate for two reasons — firstly, chopping vegetables is boring, and secondly, you’re now deprived of your view of Minho as you stand with your back turned to him while he cooks.

It’s around five p.m. when Minho’s mom joins you two in the kitchen, and by that time you’ve done all you could, so you’re back to your spot on the counter. She smiles at you before ruffling Minho’s hair as he closes the oven.

“My baby is such a wonderful cook, isn’t he?” she praises, and he shrugs with a smirk.

“I am very boyfriend material, aren’t I?”

You chuckle as you watch his mom carefully fixing his hair which she had messed up, Minho scrunching up his face as she then fixes his wire-frame glasses on his nose.

“I’m so glad you’re wearing your glasses again,” she comments, cupping his cheeks and squeezing before letting go. “You look so handsome.”

“You should thank her,” Minho smiles, turning to look at you, and you shoot him a puzzling look. “Remember on your birthday, when you told me I looked good wearing glasses?” He asks, and you nod slowly. “That’s why I stopped wearing contacts.”

Your mouth opens, but you can’t find the words to answer him. You can feel your cheeks dusting pink as his mom coos at the two of you, saying something about young love that has you gnawing on your lips to hold back the silly smile you want to let out.

Minho’s mom leaves the kitchen shortly after, his father calling her from the living room. He takes this as his chance to approach where you’re sitting, hands resting on your thighs before he presses his lips against yours.

“I wanted to look handsome for you. It’s kinda pathetic, isn’t it?” He chuckles against your lips, and you simply shake your head, tangling your fingers in his black hair that has now grown past his eyes.

“It’s actually fucking adorable,” you assure him, pulling him into another kiss, one much deeper than the last.

He quickly uses his hands to spread your thighs apart, pressing his body into yours as you wrap your legs around his waist. The effect this man has on you is mindboggling; the mere slide of his tongue against your lips has you shivering. It certainly doesn’t help that you are now in the exact position from your imagination earlier today.

Minho always tasted like your own personal favorite flavor, always deliciously swirling on your tongue whenever you kissed him. He always renders your mind fuzzy and silly as bliss consumes the entirety of your being. You can only imagine how sex with him will feel like, and you don’t think you can wait any longer. Your worries be damned. You needed him more than you could handle.

But just as Minho pulls you closer to his body — your core dangerously close to his crotch, and sucking on your tongue in a way that has you mewling against his lips — his mother calls out your names, and you two quickly separate, startled as if you were burned. She informs you his grandmother has arrived and you two walk to the living room to greet her. You silently thank the universe for her not walking into the kitchen; the last thing you want is for Minho’s poor grandmother to catch you two making out on the counter like two teenagers.

She is a sweet lady, certainly not as old as you expected her to be, and she always has a smile etched onto her lips stained with red lipstick. You don’t even have to ask to know she is his mother’s mom, as the three of them share the exact same smile you grew to love so much.

You find yourself even more comfortable today, as you help both women set up the table for dinner — his grandma meticulously placing a beautiful lace cloth over the table while telling you about how this was one of her late husband’s first gifts to her when they first moved in together. 

It felt as if you were part of the family.

And as you turn on your heels to grab the fancy silverware from a cabinet, your eyes meet Minho’s gaze. With a smile on his face, he stands by the kitchen door, watching you, and your heart swells with joy.

This was everything you never thought love could be.

Christmas dinner was amazing — as you knew it would be. Minho’s cooking is always fantastic, and pure happiness is written all over his face whenever he was complimented. The way he offers to serve everyone, watching intently as each of you took the first bite before he finally allowed himself to eat as well, his lips upturned into a grin and his ears red as you all hummed and gasped at how tasty everything was. It’s his love language; from the way he carefully and methodically prepares the food, to the way he enjoys watching other people eat more than eating himself. He shows his love through his cooking, you realize, and you smile as you think back to numerous times you woke up in the morning with a beautiful table set with breakfast for you after he spent the night at your house.

You haven’t put it into words yet, but he has unquestionably been showing his love for you through his little actions.

And that’s what you want to do tonight as well.

After watching a cliche Christmas movie with his family, you two are now the only ones awake with you drying off the dishes Minho’s washing. He looks beautiful even now, with his hands clad in neon green dishwashing gloves.

“Minho,” you call out, poking his rib with the plate he just handed you. He squirms with a giggle, warning you to not tickle him. You simply hum, continuing as nonchalantly as you can. “Do you wanna have sex tonight?”

His hand stills, dropping a knife on the sink as his head turns abruptly to look at you, eyes bewildered. “What? What, and you ask me this now? While we’re doing the dishes?” He sputters, and you grin with a shrug.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, placing the plate on top of the counter. “I just… really wanna do it. Really want you.”

Minho turns off the tap — at least five knives left ignored at the bottom of the sink — removes his gloves and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Okay, not what I expected to happen on Christmas night, but I’ll take it.”

You both stare at each other for a beat, before inexplicably bursting out laughing. Maybe it’s the sheer suddenness of your request, or the absurdity of the situation you were in when it happened, but you can’t help it.

As you both calm down, Minho pulls you into his arms and informs you that he will have to go out and buy condoms, since he truly wasn’t expecting anything to happen. You don’t fault him, the two months you’ve been together were filled with you all but running away from sex. You couldn’t help it, your brain always dragging you back to that night in Japan, and the way he avoided your gaze in the morning. Although you knew it was irrational, and that he was simply shy, your self-sabotaging skills were too great, and your mind insisted that if you had sex with Minho too soon he would think you were nothing but a slut. That’s what you were told most of your life, anyway, so you couldn’t be blamed for the way your brain was almost conditioned into assuming the same.

But Minho had proved time and time again that he was not like the awful guys before him, and that all your worrying was unwarranted and foolish. You were depriving yourself of something you wanted badly out of sheer insecurity and attachment to experiences so far in the past it was almost masochistic at this point.

You insist on joining him on his impromptu trip to the convenience store, only throwing one of his sweaters over the dress and tights you wore for Christmas dinner.

Minho holds your hand as you two walk down the empty street, Christmas lights from the houses and stores making everything seem almost like a movie. You spot the familiar logo from across the street, and Minho bumps his shoulder with you while you head toward the convenience store chain where you both once worked.

“This is actually the exact one I used to work at,” He tells you as you look through a fridge hidden away in the back of the store. “I loved working the graveyard shift. I rang up so many couples awkwardly buying condoms like they were buying hard drugs.”

You chuckle, settling for some pudding you two could share later. “Will that be us tonight?”

He shrugs. “We’re adults, it’s normal to buy these things. Unless you want me to act like I’m buying crack cocaine, then I’d be happy to indulge you.”

You stick your tongue out at him with a light shove, turning to look through the rather lacking options on the condom shelf.

“Grape flavor?” Minho makes a face as he eyes one of the boxes. “Who the fuck would want the artificial taste of grapes when fucking?”

You shrug. “Could be worse, imagine banana-flavored condoms. I think I’d throw up all over your dick.”

“That’s sexy,” He jokes, and you let out a loud chuckle, earning you a look from the only other person at the store this time of night on Christmas eve.

Among your other options are a green glow-in-the-dark condom — which would only make you think of Shrek while Minho fucks you — and a strawberry-flavored one. You decide to play it safe, grabbing a box of plain, thin condoms and placing them in the basket Minho’s carrying.

“Let’s just go for the safest option,” you tell him, “We’ll have plenty of time to play around later if you want, though I’ll go on birth control once we’re back home so we won’t even need them anyway.”

You watch as Minho’s eyes widen for a second, his eyebrows shooting up almost comically.

“Sure, yeah.”

“Don’t short-circuit now. I need you functioning to fuck me.”

“Keep saying shit like that and I’ll be broken before we even make it back to my house,” he states matter-of-factly, and you chuckle, shaking your head at his words. But Minho’s expression remains unchanged. “I mean it. It’s been over a year since I’ve had proper sex. I’m surprised I didn’t combust the second you said those words to me in the kitchen.”

With a chuckle, you pull him to your side and walk toward the cashier. It’s a poor teenage boy, no older than eighteen, clearly bored out of his mind and wishing to be anywhere but here. As he rings up your items, Minho points to his phone that’s resting on the counter.

“That’s Ahri from League of Legends, right?” He asks, and the boy looks up, his eyes sparking with interest. He nods. “I don’t play, but I’m a game programmer, so I know a little bit about it. What’s your rank?”

“Grandmaster,” the boy answers proudly, his face lighting up with a hint of joy, probably for the first time since his shift started.

“Oohh,” Minho gasps loudly, basically hyping up this random boy at the convenience store. You watch the interaction with a silly smile on your face. “And you’re still young, wouldn’t be surprised to see you at World’s someday.”

The boy shakes his head dismissively as Minho hands him his card, but smiles nonetheless. Once he hands you your things, he speaks again, “Are you from around here, hyung? Let me know when you have a game out, I’d love to try it. See if you’re any good.”

Minho raises his brows at the obvious teasing lilt in his voice, lips upturning into a grin. “How about this? I’ll give you the beta code and you can start your career of testing games for money.”

“You’ll pay me?” The cashier marvels at the words, and Minho simply nods. He jots down a code from his phone into a scrap piece of paper on the counter, the boy’s face now a complete shift from the expression he wore when you first walked in, all because of Minho and his ability to be kind and sweet no matter the person or circumstance.

As you head back to his house, only the two of walk along the shy streets as the clock hands turn past midnight. Among all the bad people in this world, you’re indescribably happy that a man as good as him is the one walking beside you down this street, firmly holding your hand.

You arrive home and quietly head straight into Minho’s room. You thank any higher power that might exist for the fact that his room is the only one on the first floor, as you would have to endure your desperate need and desire for him until you got home if it wasn’t. Any of Minho’s family members walking in or hearing you two have sex would make you want to flee the country and change your name.

He joins you after storing your puddings in the fridge, making you jump with his arms wrapped around your waist while you were blankly staring at the pictures on his wall. You sigh, the realization of what was going to happen only really dawning on you now that you stand in Minho’s bedroom, and your mind starts to wander and doubt everything all over again.

“I kind of ruined the mood by asking to have sex, didn’t I?” You ask as Minho places a chaste kiss on your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“There was really no mood in the first place,” he lets out a breathy chuckle. “We were washing the dishes.”

You roll your eyes, once again more annoyed at yourself than at him. You could only hope that your awful propensity of bringing up these irritating thoughts of yours at the worst possible moments didn’t drive Minho away from you. Could only hope you were worth it in the end.

“I know, it’s just…” You trail off with another heavy sigh. “This guy I dated hated that. Said I should just initiate it instead of asking like it was a business transaction.”

You feel Minho shake his head. “That’s stupid. Why would I think that?” He sounds incredulous, and hearing him say it makes you realize just how asinine that thought really was. “We had to buy condoms, anyway. It’s also good that you’re comfortable asking me that. It’s as it should be.”

And you can only smile, biting back a giggle because of course he thinks that. It’s as if Jane Austen came back from the dead simply to write Lee Minho.

His arms tighten around your waist, and you turn your head to look at him. “You should really stop thinking about… them,” He hesitates, “Your exes, I mean. Stop comparing, assuming everything will be the same and have the same sad ending. You need to let go of that in order to truly heal. I hate how every time I’m good to you, or do the bare fucking minimum, your mind spins it into something being your fault. I hate what they did to you so much.”

You feel your breath get caught in your throat, tears threatening to spill much like they do every time you are faced with this topic. But you hold them in. You don’t want to cry, not right now, not when everything is so perfect with Minho. So, instead, you take in his words. He’s undoubtedly right, and you must force yourself to face this uncomfortable truth.

Slowly, you promise yourself. You smile at him, a silent promise to him, and you know he understands you when he smiles back, his lips pressing a kiss to your lips.

He lets go of you and rummages through his drawers, and you look around once more. His plushie mountain, the pictures of his childhood and high school days. You scrunch up your nose.

“Will it be too weird to have sex in your childhood bedroom?”

From where you’re standing, his back turned to you, you can faintly make out the tip of his ears turning red as he runs a finger through his hair.

“Well, not really…” He trails off, “I had sex with my ex-girlfriend here all the time when we skipped school together.”

You let out a gasp. “Lee Minho skipped school?”

He chuckles, closing his drawers and immediately wrapping his arms around you. He’s a lot more touchy since you brought this whole topic up, you notice.

“My parents were always at work, though, so this is my first time doing it while they’re right upstairs,” He explains, bringing his finger up to your lips and lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “So we’ll have to be quiet.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, nodding. You know all too well you’ll probably be too quiet. Once again your trauma playing a part in this, the words an old boyfriend harshly spilled about you being too loud and vocal have always been present in your head. Now that you think about it, all these moments and words are like post-it notes stuck to your mind, and you skim through like a student cramming for an exam every day in search of one that applies to your current situation. It was excruciating.

Hyunjin tried his best to change this about you, always assuring you he liked to hear you during sex when he noticed your pursed and bitten lips, and that you should be vocal about what you want and like. But you always settled for nods and quiet hums instead.

Minho presses a quick kiss on your forehead then. “I’m gonna shower ‘cause my hands still smell like onions and garlic after washing them a thousand times,” he tells you. “I’ll be right back.”

As you’re busying yourself looking through Minho’s extensive collection of books, a meow pulls your attention toward the door. It’s Dori, the gray cat you’ve decided is your favorite since it’s the only one you can easily recognize. He stares for a beat before approaching you, and you kneel carefully to stroke his soft fur. You soon find yourself sitting down by the bed with Dori on your lap, purring away as your mind travels to a future in which you and Minho adopt cats of your own, all while living together and making plans for the rest of your lives. It terrifies you slightly to allow yourself to have these thoughts because if things were to go wrong with Minho, this would only be another ‘what if’ that would haunt you.

Another post-it note to your already cluttered-up mind.

But his words from earlier come back to you just as you begin to panic. You have to let go of the past and stop assuming only the worst outcomes are attainable. And so you simply smile at the imagination, letting your mind run wild while Dori falls asleep on your lap, his gray fur all over your red dress.

You and Dori both jump as Minho all but slams the door when he returns, a towel in his hand drying his damp hair. He cringes at the sound, cursing under his breath. Dori leaves your lap, and you stand up with a pout. He definitely is your favorite cat among the three.

“Sorry,” Minho whispers, as if that will compensate for the loud noise. You take in his appearance; a green Christmas sweater and bright red sweatpants. You bite back a smile, because that’s so him.

“Your outfit is doing a great job of seducing me,” you jest, and he shrugs with a cocky grin.

“I know no woman can resist a Christmas sweater.”

He pulls you into him with a hand around your waist, his lips crashing into yours in a deep kiss. You notice he’s more frantic, less careful than he usually is, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as his hands slide up your back. He pulls away, breathless and flushed, and just looks at you for a moment. You can see the shift in his eyes, yearning swimming all over his brown orbs.

Clumsily, he shuts off the lights behind him then switches on the fairy lights adorning his bookshelf, his left hand still firmly clutching your body. Until it suddenly loosens, and you cock your head to the side.

“Okay, you gotta leave,” he says, and you follow his gaze, landing on Dori, who stares up at him almost defiantly. Minho lets out a sigh, opening his door before walking toward the cat and motioning toward the exit as if he will understand him. “Come on, I’ll give you treats later, hm? But you need to leave now, Dori.”

You fail to hold back a chuckle. “Why does the poor baby have to leave? He looks so comfortable snuggled up on the floor.”

“I can’t have sex while Dori watches,” he deadpans as if it were an obvious answer. “It’ll be weird.”

“Minho, it’s a cat. He doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s still weird! And I…” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. He’s still facing the door when he blurts out, “I told you, I’m already really fucking nervous ‘cause it’s been a while since I’ve had sex. I might not be the best.”

You shake your head with a smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “Minho, that’s not possible.”

“Yes, it is!” He finally turns to face you. “Remember back in Japan? I came too fast, it was embarrassing. That’s why I never let you touch me.”

You jokingly pout at him. “Thought you just liked eating me out.”

“I fucking love eating you out, but I’m not exactly refusing that you do the same because I want to,” he explains, “I’m just scared I’ll be bad at it.”

You furrow your brows. “Bad at… getting a blowjob?”

Minho’s ears are dusted a light pink, and he throws his hands up. “Well, yes! Back in Japan I didn’t even know what to do with my hands. I don’t know what you like, and I haven’t been with anyone else to know what most people like so…” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck, I was so nervous that night, you have no idea.”

“You were nervous?” You let out a huff, recalling Minho’s clear shift in demeanor that night. “Looking into my eyes the entire time and pinning me down to the bed, that’s you being nervous?”

His entire face now flushes red, and he returns his gaze toward the door, where Dori paddles out of the room graciously. He promptly shuts the door, locking it this time.

“I was nervous,” He tells you, taking a step toward you. “I kept looking at you ‘cause I couldn’t believe that was actually happening. Felt like you were gonna disappear if I looked away,” His hands cup your face gently, and your lips unknowingly curl into a smile. “And when you looked at me in the morning, all I could think about was how awful I was the night before.”

You have to fight the strong urge to laugh because god, that’s why he was acting shy and avoiding your gaze. You berate yourself for even thinking otherwise, for ever assuming Minho could be like your ex-boyfriends. His words ring even more true than before.

You let out a groan, realizing you two have been putting off having sex for such mindless reasons. When he shoots you a questioning gaze, you simply say, “Minho, we’re both fucking idiots, d’you know that?”

And before he can say anything else or even entertain the idea of overthinking any more, you pull him into a kiss. With a surprised hum, Minho gently pushes you back, and your knees meet the softness of the mattress causing you to fall back into his bed. He climbs on top of you, pulling away from the kiss.

“You still gotta tell me what you like,” he repeats, his lips all but pouting at you. You smile up at him.

“No,” you say simply, pushing his hair back with your fingers as it fell into his eyes. “It’s better if we figure that out together, isn’t it?”

Minho chuckles, promptly pressing his lips to yours, your hand tugging at his hair gently as his tongue glides across your lips, causing a soft whine to slip from your throat before you can stop it.

“I like that,” he says between kisses, “When you make these pretty noises.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words and take that as your chance to take the first small step in healing, adding a post-it to your mind, reminding you not to suppress any noise that Minho coaxes out of you tonight.

The atmosphere in his room feels perfect — like heaven, as he would say. The soft yellow glow emanating from his bookshelf made everything seem dreamy; his honey skin looked stunning, and his eyes gleamed like the stars in the sky every time they met yours.

It was undoubtedly so much more intimate and passionate than any other time you had sex before, and you were both still fully clothed.

It was just like what Minho had told you many months ago.

His hands travel through your body until they rest on your back, finding the buttons of your dress, slowly opening each one as his lips trail down your neck, softly sucking on the skin. As he gingerly slides your dress down your torso, you realize that this will be the first time you two see each other naked. Yet, you don’t feel nervous. You want nothing more than to be close to him, with no barriers between you, to finally be tangled with him like the roots on the ground.

Minho unclasps your bra, his gaze unmoving from your chest as he slips the garment off of your skin and drops it on the floor. It’s almost as if you can feel his gaze burning you, your chest tightening and your breath hitching in your throat. He licks his lips, leaning down to wrap them around your nipple, his hand promptly finding your other breast and softly massaging it. You let out a choked gasp, tugging at his hair.

You feel his lips stretch into a smile before he softly bites the bud.

“So you like this,” He mumbles, pressing a wet kiss to your nipple. “Duly noted.”

You giggle at his words, your hands tangling in his hair once more. His kisses travel up again, from your chest to your neck, until he’s back to kissing your lips. Both of his hands now massage your breasts, alternating between rolling your nipples between his rough fingers and pinching them lightly, causing a rush to spread across your entire body. You feel your arousal trickle down your slit as you grow more desperate.

“Minho,” you call out between kisses, and he hums against your lips. “Do something,” you all but beg him, yearning for some release as you feel the small, unrelenting pulse between your thighs grow stronger with each stroke of his finger across your chest. Your hands now grasp at his sweater, tugging it over his head, the fabric also discarded somewhere on the floor of his room.

Your hands travel over the expanse of his chest, fingertips taking in every inch of his soft skin. Breaking away from his lips, you push him back softly so you can revel in the sight of him; his delicate collar bones, his strong arms, and soft stomach. He’s beautiful, breathtakingly so, and you don’t know what you did to be deserving of him.

“Enjoying the view?” He jokes, and you breathe out a laugh, your gaze flying up toward his face — his lips swollen, and his cheeks flushed a pretty red.

“Minho, you’re so beautiful,” you whisper absentmindedly, and he smiles at you, softly pressing his lips to yours.

“You should see how you look,” he whispers.

His left hand soon slips underneath your dress skirt, fingertips grazing your skin over your tights. You feel goosebumps trickle along your thighs following his every touch, so eager to feel his hands on your skin you’re sure you’ll rip your tights in half yourself if Minho doesn’t get rid of them soon.

He seems to grow as impatient as you, lifting your hips with a strong grip to slide down your dress, tights, and panties off of you all in one go. In no time, you are now laid bare before him, and Minho is swift to trail kisses down your stomach, sloppy and messy, painting your skin with his saliva as his mouth waters at the mere prospect of tasting you.

With a heavy sigh, he stares at your glistening wetness before promptly wrapping his lips around your clit without a warning and sucking, ardently, vulgar sounds filling his small room much like they do every time he eats you out. Always messy, always eager, humming against your pussy and sighing as his eyes glaze over with pure want.

You squirm like lighting has shocked through your entire body. No matter how often you experience the satisfaction of Minho’s lips on you, it always leaves you trembling like it’s the first time. His right hand slides up the expanse of your stomach until it reaches your breast again, his thumb lazily circling your nipple. You purse your lips as his fingers tentatively trail across your folds, spreading your wetness up to your clit before lapping at it slowly, the small bud swollen and aching.

You’re quick to remember to open your mouth, letting out the heavy sigh that had stuck to your throat as his finger enters you, Minho still licking and sucking your sensitive clit, nipping harshly and making your sigh fade into a whine. Hand tangling in his hair and tugging, you elicit a low groan from his throat, which you feel reverberate through your slick folds.

Your thighs shake as he adds a second finger, and soon a third, thrusting them inside of you and stroking your walls more vigorously than he usually does, as if he somehow also feels your pleasure and needs to lead you to your high as quickly as possible.

Minho’s hand leaves your chest, and you bite back a pout, his fingers now gripping your hips before pushing them up so he can reach deeper. It isn’t long before his fingers drag across the spot inside of you that has your muscles tensing up, a strangled moan falling from your lips at the sensations coupled with the unrelenting feeling of his tongue on your clit. You come undone around his fingers and lips with a harsh tug of his black hair, rutting your hips against his face desperately, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as you do.

He laps up your juices as you slowly come down from your high, tongue flicking inside of you and sucking hard before he presses a long kiss to your cunt. Your entire body jerks in response to the overstimulation.

His kisses travel toward your inner thigh, your lower stomach and breasts until he reaches your neck, where his teeth nip at the soft skin, sucking harshly before his tongue soothingly licks at the spot. As Minho positions himself between your thighs again, you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Your mind goes hazy for a beat as you feel the thick outline of his cock press against your bare core.

“Minho,” you call out again, your voice significantly more whiny this time around, shaky and breathless, “Wanna taste you.”

He groans against your skin, pressing small kisses up your neck until he ultimately stops against your open lips. He breathes out a heavy sigh.

“Really want that, too,” he rasps out, voice hoarse as his dark eyes travel across your face. “But I really wanna fuck you. Shit, I need to fuck you so badly you have no idea,” He groans. You feel his length jump at his words as he presses your foreheads together and locks his gaze with you. “That’ll be hard to do if your pretty lips go anywhere near my cock.”

You breathe out a chuckle, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “Then get to it,” you simply say.

Minho’s lips curl into a grin. “Will you remember to be quiet for me this time? My baby sounded so pretty coming around my fingers.”

Your cheeks flush, just how loud you were before only now dawning on you. Fuck. Your words get stuck to your throat, your mouth opening but making no sound, so you settle for a nod.

He chuckles. “Good,” he replies with a kiss to your agape lips.

Minho sits up, detangling himself from your body briefly. He reaches for the box on his bedside table, scrambling with the cardboard before clumsily tearing it open and retrieving a condom. It’s only then you notice how his hands are trembling, from nervousness or pure lust. Either way, you find yourself smiling at the sight.

You reach out to run a hand along his arm soothingly, watching with hungry eyes as he tugs at his drawstrings before freeing his cock from the confines of his sweatpants. Minho hisses as he rolls the rubber over his length, shaky hands stroking himself one, two, three times, all while you eye him, watching greedily as if you were his own personal captive audience.

He lowers himself once again, hand now sliding across the length of your thigh before gripping the flesh, nails digging into your skin as he eyes you with an almost pleading gaze.

“Can I—”

“Please do,” you answer, almost frantically, before he even has the time to assume you might say no. You inch your thighs apart even more so Minho can slot himself perfectly between them.

Your mouth waters as you catch sight of him gripping his cock once more, tapping it against your swollen clit and eliciting a whine from your lips as your hands scramble to find purchase in his strong arms. Minho’s eyes then find yours much like they did back in Japan, and you know you are done for. His dark gaze once again felt all-consuming — desire and adoration swimming along his brown eyes, looking at you as if he were in a daze. Your grip on his arms tightens as he lazily slides his cock up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your arousal. Minho’s lips fall open as he continues his movements, the blunt head of his cock gliding along your folds almost painfully slow.

He leans in to close the small gap between your lips, before whispering something you can’t quite understand against them.

“I fucking love you,” he repeats himself more clearly, and finally pushes forward, his girth pushing into you as you gasp, feeling as if all the air has been stolen from you.

You aren’t sure if your reaction is due to his words, or the way his cock is working you open so good, or maybe it was a delicious blend of the two. All you know at the moment is Minho, Minho, Minho, your mind foggy as his name rings inside your head like a mantra.

“Don’t gotta say anything back,” he tells you in a breathy voice, “Just want you to know I love— Fuck,” he groans as he is now fully sheathed inside of you, and you clench at both the feeling and the words spilling from his lips. Of course he would choose now to tell you he loved you. “Love you so much, so much I’d do anything for you. Would wage a war with the world if you asked me to…” He babbles, words slipping past his lips like they were the easiest thing for him to say. Like he meant it so deeply, he didn’t have to put any thought into it. His words only die as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

Minho pulls his hips back in one swift motion, hands lifting your thighs around his body as he thrusts into you, evoking a rather loud noise from the back of your throat which is smothered by his kiss.

“You take me so well,” he growls against your lips, “We fit perfectly.” He breaks the kiss to look down at where your two bodies are connected. It felt as if you were one, melting into each other little by little the more Minho thrust his cock inside of you. You simply nod, mind even more dizzy with the way he’s already pulling out again before slamming back into you, his pace quickening as he presses you into the mattress.

Your nails dig into his skin, crescent moon shapes blooming over the expanse of his honey skin. His eyes still bore into you, hips now thrusting at an unrelenting pace, his small room filled with a cacophony of wet sounds, whines tumbling from your parted lips and curses that almost silently fell from his.

“Gonna come soon,” Minho chokes out, his eyebrows furrowing, “I’m sorry, I—”

You silence him with a press of your lips, hands now tangling in his messy hair.

“You’re always so good to me,” you tell him, feeling his cock pulse inside of your walls. “Wanna be good to you too, make you feel good.”

And he simply leans down before kissing you reverently. The sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed with the creaking of his bed likely much too loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. At least not at the moment. Not with the way his hand snakes along your hips, rough fingers now rolling delicious circles around your clit while his other palm presses down onto your abdomen, and his cock continuously hits a spot inside of you that has you all but crumbling apart underneath him.

Your mouth falls open, breaking the kiss, his cock twitching inside of you as his body stills on top of you. With furrowed brows and agape lips, Minho comes mere seconds before you reach your high as well, toes curling against his back as you melt onto his cock.

You stay that way for a while — a few seconds, maybe minutes — simply looking at each other as your labored breaths intertwine.

You finally reach up, brushing his dampened hair away from his beautiful eyes that now look at you as if you were the sole reason why the stars sparkle. Minho’s fingers soon find yours, tangling together as he brings your hands to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

You smile.

You love him.

It’s not a realization but rather a confirmation of something you’ve already known all too well and for far too long. You still can’t put it into words, but somehow, you are certain that he knows just as well.

Minho accidentally awoke you in the morning with his habit of slamming his door shut, apologizing as you grumbled at him and insisted you would only accept his apology if he let you give him a blowjob. He laughed, simply pulling you closer to him on the bed as he sat up and you finally gave the most beautiful man you had ever met the head he deserved.

Minho’s parents and grandmother had left to eat at a fancy restaurant, and after lying through his teeth and telling his very distraught mother that you were feeling too sick to leave the bed, you two stayed behind. They didn’t have to know the real reason you couldn’t leave the bed — Minho and his apparent insatiable hunger for you. It was as if something had been awoken inside him now that he had a taste of you, and he had to make up for all the lost time.

You two only leave his room late in the afternoon, the sun setting on the pale winter sky outside his bedroom window. His family would arrive soon, and you needed to get ready for their tradition of opening Christmas presents while watching bad holiday movies.

When Minho followed you when you headed toward the bathroom, you thought little of it. It was only when he began undressing alongside you that panic truly set in.

“We literally had sex, why do you sound so horrified?” Was all he offered you when you asked what he was doing before entering the steamy shower with you.

It was your first time showering with someone, and the fact that it made you so nervous felt almost pathetic. Minho was right; you had sex, and you saw each other naked and sweaty and vulnerable. This shouldn’t be any different.

Except it was.

You found yourself too awkward to wash yourself, doing a terrible job at pretending to scrub at your arms as you watched Minho shower like a normal person. He let out a chuckle after rinsing his hair, shaking his head.

“Are you seriously shy? Seriously?” He asked, turning your body around so your back faced him. “The girl who begged to suck my cock just this morning is too shy to shower in front of me?”

You opened your lips to refute him, but your words died in your mouth as you felt Minho’s hand spread shampoo all over your hair. His fingers gently massaged your scalp before placing his hand over your eyes to shield them from the foam as he rinsed your hair. He repeated the process with conditioner, then moved on to wash your body with his almost sickly sweet watermelon body wash. He did it all while humming, making you so relaxed and comfortable that all your silly insecurities dissipated in the air along with the steam from the hot water.

Suffice to say, showering without Minho would now be a sad affair.

You are now sitting on the floor before the television, his family exchanging gifts. Dori purred on your lap, and Soonie bit Minho’s socks, trying his best to remove the fabric from his feet. It’s finally time for you two to exchange gifts, and you’re a bit glad his family seemed to be so immersed in the movie because you know you would combust if you had to explain your gift to them.

“Here,” you hand him an orange box with a black bow. “It’s stupid. Now that I think about it, it’s probably such a fucking dumb gift. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and Eunha even made one for her sister. I almost stole hers ‘cause it turned out much better than mine—”

“My god,” Minho interrupts you with a hearty laugh, taking the box in his hands and inspecting it. “It’s been a while since you word vomited so much. What the hell did you get me that made you so nervous?”

He pulls on the bow, unraveling it before taking the black fabric in his hands and tying it around your head. He laughs once more, and you roll your eyes.

“Minho, just get to it before I snatch this box from you.”

With one last chuckle, he finally opens the box. He stills as he takes in the notebook, sitting on top of far too much wrapping tissue paper. The cat print cardstock paper was a pain to find, but it’s worth it now as you watch Minho’s lips curl into a smile as his fingers gingerly travel through the cover. It was crooked, a bit too small, and still reeked of bookbinding glue, but it reminds you of the day you met Minho, and that was all you thought about when you decided on this gift.

“You fucking bound me a notebook,” he says, still bewildered.

“Took me a while, but I did say I was gonna do it. I’m a woman of my word.”

Minho looks up at you, his smile reaching his eyes and turning them into the pretty crescent moons you love so much. “I love it,” he beams, hands now squeezing your cheeks as he pulls you into a small kiss. “This and that coffee stained notebook are going on my bookshelf back in my dorm, displayed in all their glory.”

Minho pulls away and reaches toward two small boxes on the coffee table. He clears his throat, handing you one box as he settles the other on his lap.

“I thought of you when I saw this on my Instagram feed,” he simply says, fingers toying with the misshaped bow on top of the box — one very similar to the one on your birthday gift many months ago. “Thought about what we talked about in Japan, y’know, about soulmates.”

You raise a brow at him, quickly undoing the bow on your box as curiosity washes over you. You pick up a bracelet made only of red thread, eyeing it curiously.

Minho retrieves the same bracelet from his own box, putting it on before asking, “Have you heard of the red string of fate?”

“That myth that a thread connects two people meant to be together?” You question.

He nods. “Exactly. I feel like that was us,” He explains, taking the red bracelet from your hands and slipping it around your wrist before gently tightening the thread. “Feel like all our little coincidences were little threads tying us together until we met.”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes, but you don’t bother trying to hide or stop them this time. Grabbing Minho’s hand that stilled around your wrist, you lace your fingers together, admiring your matching bracelets. It could only be fate. Every small detail that aligned and every road you two crossed to reach the place where you are now could only have come to be because fate wanted it to be that way.

Out of every city you could have lived in, every different university you could have chosen to attend, down to every other seat that could have been empty on the day you met Minho — everything fell into place like a puzzle piece, exactly as if a long, invisible string tied you to him and finally decided it was time to pull you together.

Minho’s gentle touch brushes against your cheek as he silently wipes your tears — no words are needed between you two at that moment as he smiles softly at you while you feel your eyes burn from the cry you had held back for so long. And, as if you’re his mirror, you feel yourself smile as his lips upturn into a grin when his gaze shifts to the open window.

“It’s snowing,” he beams. “It’s the first snow of the year, and our first snow together.”

 

You stand in front of Minho’s house, the light snow falling softly and covering your heads in white as he kisses you, only stopping to grumble against your lips.

“Your phone’s going crazy in my pocket,” He pouts, and you furrow your brows. You had already sent your family holiday messages, and your friends were all busy with their own Christmas celebrations, so you were clueless about who it could be.

“Can you check it for me?”

Minho nods, untangling himself from your embrace just enough to reach into his pocket and grab your phone to unlock it.

“There’s like fifty new messages from a group chat. Best Fucking Five?” He chuckles lightly at the name, his chilly breath tickling your cheek.

You, on the other hand, immediately frowned as you heard the name. It’s a long-forgotten group chat with your old friend group from high school. You had all stopped talking a little before graduation, with you especially distancing yourself from them upon realizing their toxic words and reactions to your relationships only served to make you feel worse about yourself. No one bothered to leave or delete the group since it quietly died and had stayed that way for over three years now.

Minho hands you the phone, and you click another notification that pops up as soon as you unlock the device.

The conversation began with your former friend sending a screenshot of one of your ex-boyfriend’s newest Instagram post. You skim through the caption and blanch at the words accompanied by a sonogram picture. His girlfriend is pregnant, and he’s over the moon about it.

And you, for some reason, find yourself laughing so much you have to clutch onto Minho’s shoulder as your stomach starts to hurt.

He shoots you an understandably puzzled look, but you can’t stop the giggles that spill from your lips, so you settle on showing him the screenshot. 

“I got the best Christmas gift tonight,” Minho reads from the screen. “I'm going to be a dad, and the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known is the mother,” he trails off with a questioning lilt, brows furrowing as that had only confused him more.

“It’s one of my exes,” you manage to tell him after catching your breath.

Minho hums, taking your hands and shoving them in his overcoat pocket along with your phone.

“And why did that make you lose your mind laughing?” He asks with a small smile.

“I guess it was the shock, really. It also made me realize just how little I care about him now. All of them, actually. Every time I was broken up with or had my heart broken in some way, it honestly felt like the end of the world,” you explain, “Like my heart would never recover and like I would hate them for the rest of my life. For years I had such a strong ax to grind with them, and that hatred and grudge only caused me harm. It made me hate love, and it made me blame myself.”

Minho nods, pressing his forehead to yours. Around you two, the snow got thicker, and only the distant sounds of children laughing from neighboring houses could be heard throughout the quiet street.

“But it’s different now?”

You smile up at him. “It’s different now, and I only just realized that. These people are no longer people I hate. They’re simply their words and their actions toward me, but they, as people, mean nothing to me.”

Minho smiles and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. This realization makes you feel lighter, like a small part of the weight of healing has been removed from the equation. It’s only you and yourself now; none of them has any power over your emotions anymore.

“Maybe we should send the baby a present,” you joke, and Minho buries his head in the crook of your neck with a chuckle, and you jump as his cold nose brushes against your skin.

“Maybe we should.”

At that moment, in the arms of this amazing man who has helped you more than he will ever know, you realize that love truly isn’t bad. People can be bad, circumstances can be catastrophic, and wrong timing can destroy nearly everything. But love is, at the core of it all, good.

“Minho,” you call out, feeling him hum against your skin before lifting his head to look at you. “I love you,” you say simply.

His smile rivals every pretty thing around you. The first snow, the gleaming Christmas decorations, and even the moon herself pale in comparison to the smile that Minho gives you.

“I love you, too,” he replies, a tangible sense of bliss in his voice, as if he has yearned for a lifetime to finally be able to say those words to you.

You wrap your arms tighter around Minho, and your fingers brush against the red thread that adorns your wrist. It truly feels as if fate had led you to Minho, leaving little clues along the way to make sure you both knew when you finally met. His journey to you had been relatively easy, while yours had been heart-wrenching, but in the end, it had brought you heaven.

If soulmates really are a thing, there is not an ounce of doubt in your being that Minho is yours. More than anything, he taught you that love is present in everything around you. Love is being kind to others like Minho is kind to his family and strangers in convenience stores at midnight. Love is staying up with your best friend while she cries on the couch, not expecting anything in return. Love is the laughter of little kids on Christmas night echoing throughout a neighborhood. Love is also going out on your own, doing something simply because it will make you happy, and being kind to yourself. All this time, you held onto the belief that love is destructive and only leads to sadness, oblivious to the fact that it has surrounded you every step of the way.

Love is everywhere and in everything.

In the end, Minho had always been right.

Love is the most amazing thing in life.

♡ taglist: @notevenheretbh1, @malunar28replies, @jazziwritesthings, @finchyyy, @bloom-ings, @linocz, @minhochaos, @lastgreatamericandynasty1, @missminhoe, @jungkookies1002, @meanergreener

brother’s best friend - jjk (M)

↳ Pairing: jungkook x reader 

↳ genre: SMUT

↳ Word count: 5.3k 

↳ Warnings: intense smut, overstimulation, choking, spanking, dirty talk, dom!jungkook, oral sex (receiving), bbf!jungkook, and all unholy things that would put me to hell 

—  synopsis: In which Y/n owns a smut blog dedicated to her crush and brother’s best friend, jungkook. it was all fun and games until he finds out about it and acts it out with you. 

a/n: since tumblr links aren’t working, I suggest you to go to my blog description and check out my masterlist! 

“Y/n! Come here quickly!” You heard your mom shout from the living room, quickly closing your laptop and ran downstairs. You tried not to lose your balance as you simultaneously fixed your hair up in a messy bun as you took quick steps down. “Y/n, I swear … calm down, or else you’re gonna fall.” You heard your brother Taehyung, said with complete worry evident in his voice.  

Your mom was already attired in a business casual uniform with her hair up in a neat ponytail. She swung her bag over her shoulder and took the car keys from the empty jar that was set in the middle of the dining table. “I’m about to go now,” she started, grabbing ahold of her suitcase, “you two better not fight and always be good to each other okay?“ 

You can feel that Taehyung rolled his eyes, yet it doesn’t surprise you if he really did. "You,” your mom tended to your brother, “don’t do anything stupid in this house. Don’t hold any parties whatsoever, don’t invite people over, and especially don’t trash this whole place down.” Taehyung smiled, promising an ‘okay’ to her. You scoffed. 

“And you, Y/n, make sure that your brother doesn’t do anything stupid." 

"Mom~” Taehyung whined, “Mom we’re not eleven anymore." 

"I know that, but you sometimes act like one." 

Saying goodbye to your mom was kinda sad, as she was about to go in a one week business trip to Bangkok. Part of you was glad that you’d finally have some sort of freedom, but part of you will always miss her. When her uber drove off, you proceeded to go back upstairs to your room to finish what you were previously doing. 

~

As you were taking a hot and steamy shower, you can’t help but fantasize about him again. You know that musing about your brother’s best friend remains messed up, but the way how he looks at you and the way that he presents himself makes you head over heels for him.

Jeon Jungkook, 21, and a natural flirt believe it or not. 

Some may call it revolting, but you run a blog dedicated to all of your thirsty thoughts about him; not saying his name, of course. You post your deepest and darkest fantasies about him, and no one knows that it’s about your brother’s best friend. 

You often saw him shirtless, exposing his hot abs and muscular body to your own eyes. Your imagination drifted to the time where Taehyung held a little pool party between his friends. But when your mother found out that you weren’t invited, she persuaded Taehyung to invite his own little sister too. You didn’t really like the idea of swimming with a bunch of dudes and no ladies, but when you overheard that Jungkook was also coming, your judgment changed completely. 

“Hey, Y/n, lookin’ good.” One of his friends, Seokjin, wooed when you first stepped out of the house with a one-piece bikini. Taehyung rolled his eyes and smacked him on his arm, “Ouch! Okay, okay, sorry.” 

You couldn’t help but sneak a few glances to Jungkook. He was shirtless, only wearing his swimming trunks as he laid on one of the long chairs by the pool. He had his head tilted back as the sun kissed his skin, providing a stunning glow on his skin. You bit your lip, shaking your head. Now’s not the time. 

You masturbated and used your trusty vibrator to the thought of him. And it would be an utter hell if Taehyung ever finds out. 

You were knocked out of your dark thoughts when you heard rapid knocks to the door, "Y/n! Are you here?” Taehyung’s voice asked. “Yeah, why?” You turned out the water for a second to hear what he has to say. 

“Can we borrow your laptop? It’s for a project!" 

You groaned, tilting your head back, "No! Use your own!" 

"We’re already using mine. We need two." 

You rolled your eyes, already annoyed. "Whatever, fine." 

"Yay, thanks.” You can hear him already stepping away from the door until another question pops up inside your mind, “Wait! Who are you with? Who’s gonna use mine?" 

"Jeon Jungkook!" 

Your eyes went completely wide, mouth open in hysteria. Your brain couldn’t seem to function, and no other words were spilling out of your mouth. You wanted to scream, to bring back every word you said and to just run out of the shower to grab your laptop away from him – but you know you were too late. 

~

Jungkook’s point of view: 

"So what did she say?” I asked as I saw Taehyung returning back from upstairs. He grinned, revealing Y/n’s laptop from his back where he was previously hiding it. Seeing all of the cute stickers that surfaced the most part of her laptop made me smirk. “Here,” he gave the laptop to me as I set it up on top of the marble island. 

“Does it have a password?" 

"Yeah, it’s ’mypassword’. All lowercase, no space.”

A chuckle emitted from my lips as I looked at Taehyung, who sat across from me, already indulged in his own laptop. “How do you know that?" 

"I just notice her typing it in sometimes." 

My fingers typed the password the way how Taehyung said, and it unlocks. The first thing that appeared on the screen made my eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

Examining the whole page, I noticed that it was run by her. It was her account, and it was filled with all kinds of dirty fantasies. I bit my lip scrolling down to search for more. I knew that it was so wrong to invade someone’s privacy like this and just pretend that I didn’t see anything – but I couldn’t believe that someone like her thinks about all these nasty thoughts. 

[ Imagine your dom fucking you against the wall, lifting one of your legs up as he chokes you with his other hand ]

[ Your dom overstimulating you to the point where your legs shake, begging that you can’t take it any further but it just fuels him to fuck you harder ] 

[ ughhhh just the thought of someone wrapping their hand around your throat, whispering praises in your ear for how good you’ve been for them ]

[ fuck, when a guy has that cocky smirk turns me on so much ]

[ Your dom spanking you to the point where your ass turns red as he punishes you for being bad ]

I gulped, feeling a little bit turned on. I always saw Y/n as an innocent and a serene girl, but fuck was I wrong. My eyes go to an anonymous question that was sent to her, asking; 

[ Q: ‘Do you have a dom??’ ]

[ - no, just someone who inspires me lmao ]

[ Q: ‘who is it then???’ ] 

[ - i can’t say the name obviously, woman. ]

[ Q: Initials? ]

[ - jjk ;) ]

I almost choked on my own saliva after I saw the letters. I didn’t want to assume too fast, but I was certain that I’m the only person that she knows that has those initials. I smirk at the thought of Y/n having these dirty thoughts about me when she looks like an actual angel – so pure. 

I look up at Taehyung, who was apparently already staring at me with a confused look. “You good there?” he asked, nodding his head in my direction. I smirk furthermore, “Yeah.” 

“Okay. Now go to google docs.” 

~ 

You were panicking like shit, trying to put your clothes on properly. You were struggling to hike up your leggings, resulting in hopping on one foot as you almost lost your balance. You ran downstairs as fast as you could, praying that Jungkook has not opened your laptop yet. 

But as soon you were at the end of the staircase, you turned to your left and saw the two boys sitting at the marble islands, looking at your drained state. 

Your breathing was heavy, and you looked like you had just run a marathon. “What’s up with you, Y/n?” Taehyung asked, completely annoyed by your presence. 

You meet Jungkook’s eyes across the room who was staring at you intensely with a smirk. You gulped, seeing how he eyed you up and down. You suddenly felt small. “I-I need my laptop back.” 

“What? Why? We’re using it already.” Taehyung groaned. 

“Please, can I have it back? I-I forgot that I had work to do as well.” 

Taehyung looked at Jungkook, “What do you say?” 

“It’s okay,” he replied but never keeping his eyes away from you, “you can have it back.” He closed the cover, waiting for you to take your laptop back. You held your breath as you took the courage to walk over to them and retrieve your laptop from him. You seized a quick glance at Jungkook, and you noticed how he smirked at gave you a quick wink. Your eyes widen, quickly turning around as you were clutching your laptop tightly to your chest. 

You were fucked. 

~

Next day:

You were almost considering about deleting your account just because of how humiliated you’ve become. 

Taehyung said that Jungkook was going to come back again just to finish their project. Meaning, another day of hiding all day inside the comfort of your room. Your laptop – that goddamn thing – was on the other side of your room, charging as you were staring blankly at the white ceiling above you. Your hair was all messy and tangled from all of the tuggings you have been doing for the past hour.

‘He must’ve seen everything’, you thought to yourself as you closed your eyes. You reminisced about your recent posts that he might have seen and you immediately remembered the questions about having a ‘dom’. “Fuck!” you yelled, rubbing your face with your hands. You continuously kicked the sheets below you in rage, even throwing a pillow aimed to your laptop. “Why did I even think about posting his initials?” you whined, trapping your face with a pillow and let out a muffled groan.

You stayed like that for a couple of minutes until you calmed yourself down. You stood up from the comfort of your bed and looked at yourself in the mirror. Letting out a chuckle, you shook your head. “You fucking idiot,” you told yourself. You grabbed a comb and fixed your hair, taking your time to relax.

Just the thought of your crush finding out that you run a filthy blog just for him made you insane. You probably couldn’t even look at his eyes anymore, and you just pray to God that he doesn’t tell Taehyung about this. Because if he does, you were seriously deliberating about moving out of the house, blocking every connection from him and just disappear.

But did you regret doing the blog, though? Not really. Jungkook was seriously a hot guy. The way how he walks like he’s better than any other model there is, how the veins on his forearms are so prominent and visible, or how luscious his thighs are - makes you drool. He can literally be a cute bunny and turn into a hot daddy afterward. His fucking duality.

You found yourself daydreaming about him again and you mentally slapped yourself. You groaned at yourself and continued your little grooming session.

It was after a while until Taehyung literally texted your phone saying that Jungkook has just arrived; as if you needed the alarm. You replied with a simple “k” and decided to open your laptop. You logged in into your account and uploaded a post.

[ Okay, update. My crush knows that this blog is about him 💀]

After a moment, someone replied.

[ - Is this the jjk guy? ]

[ Yup. ]

[ - oh. Im the anon who asked the initals. woops #sorrynotsorry ]

[ you’re gonna pay for this, anon. I swear eye– ]

[ - girl, maybe I just made you a favor ]

“What?” you furrowed your eyebrows, about to type a reply before a knock the door refrained you from your actions. You looked up, waiting for the person on the other side to say anything. Nothing. Tilting your head to the side in confusion, you stood up from your desk and walked over to the door, about to open it but another set of knocks came.

With a huff, you finally opened the door. “What do you wa—”

The person you were least expecting was on the other side, almost making you lose your balance.

“J-Jungkook?”

He smirked smugly, combing his hair back, making his arms flex involuntarily. He stepped forward, making you take a shy step back as he leaned himself against the doorframe. “Y/n,” he smiles, crossing his arms in front of him. Your breathing was heavy and you tried your hardest to look away, but something in his eyes prevents you from doing it. He caught you within him, and Jungkook has something planned.

“W-where’s Tae?” You asked quietly, not trusting your voice. Jungkook laughs silently as he steps forward, coming inside of your room. He looks at your bed then turns to you again, “Can I sit here?”

“Oh, um, of course.” You forced a little smile. He smiles back at you as he sits down at the edge of your bed as you try not to literally drool. He wore black skinny jeans and with a white shirt tucked in. Even when he wore the simplest clothing he’ll still look good in them. You stood there awkwardly, playing with your nimble fingers until he signaled you to come closer. Your eyes widen for a second and you gulp. You obeyed him and you were now standing between his knees. He looks up at you and smiled. “Tae has gone to the mall to get a few things for our project.”

“And you didn’t go with him?” You asked. He chuckles, carefully holding your left hand and caressing it. Your breath hitched, biting your lip unconsciously.

“No, I told him I’d stay here. And besides,” Jungkook suddenly tugs on your arm, making you jolt forward and lay on his lap, “we have a lot to talk about.” You couldn’t breathe, everything seems to happen so fast. You heard him chuckle, caressing your backside. He holds your hips in place so that you couldn’t move. His stern grip on your sides makes you want to let out a moan, but you tried your hardest to prevent that.

“Jungkook…I –”

“Tell me, y/n. Was your blog dedicated to me?” he asked as he raised one brow up. You looked down in humiliation. You were about to say some lame excuse until he firmly gripped your chin, making you look deep into his brown irises. You tried to look away but his hold didn’t let you. He chuckled, “One word, baby. We’re you thinking about me when you post in that filthy little blog of yours?”

You sighed, the pet name making you feel some time of way, “Yes.”

Your answer resulted in him smirking, shaking his head. “You’re such a naughty little girl, aren’t you? Thinking about your brother’s best friend to fuck you. Is that what you want?”

The bluntness in his voice made you gasp lightly, not believing what you just heard. “Jungkook, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“A simple sorry isn’t gonna fix this, Y/n. Now, lay across my lap.”

You couldn’t believe what was happening, your every fantasy was about to come to life, and to be honest, you weren’t ready. You obeyed his instruction and you had your stomach pressed against his thighs, your knees touching the floor. He grabbed both of your wrists and encaptured them in one of his hands, pressing it against your back. You took a deep breath, knowing what was about to come. “Look at you,” he says, “laid across my lap like this. Do you know why you’re in this position, babygirl?” You whined at the name that he used, closing your eyes. “Answer me.” He grips your wrists tighter, making you wince. “Y-yes.”

“And why’s that?”

“B-because…” he started to remove your leggings down slowly, teasing you. “Because? Hmm?”

“Because I’ve been bad.”

He hums in approval, removing the material from your ass completely. Your white laced underwear exposed to him makes him growl, his member starting to grow. He runs a hand over your soft skin gently, caressing it carefully then squeezing it right after. You yelped in surprise. “Should I spank you for that, baby? Should I spank this pretty ass of yours until it’s red?”

You moaned, nodding your head as he chuckles. “Count for me.”

His right hand meets your right cheek harshly, leaving a filthy sound from the collision. You jolted forward, not expecting that he’d go hard immediately. “One.”

“You dirty little slut,” he hits you again, much harder than before as you mumble a ‘two’, “You like to be spanked, don’t you?” he hits you again, this time moaning out loud. “Three.” The lewd noises that the impact makes with the pleasurable pain already made you wet. His hold on your wrists tightens as he smacks you again. “Fucking answer.” He growls, and you obey him. “Y-yes. I do like it.”

He hits you for the fifth, sixth, seventh, and until it climbs up to the twentieth and you were knocked out. “Jungkook, p-please stop.” You had tears coming out from the corners of your eyes, both from the pain and the pleasure that every hit brings. He scoffs as he clashes his big hand on your left cheek for the last time. “T-twenty one,” you sniff. He removes your leggings off of your legs entirely as he lifts you up. He places you back on his lap in a straddling position. He wipes your tears off of your cheeks with his thumb gently, looking at your flushed face tenderly.

“So good for me, angel.” He whispers.

He himself looks flushed, his cheeks were red and so were yours. Spanking was one of his kinks as well, and we just loves how your body reacts to him. He lifts his hand up to your hair and removes your ponytail, leaving your gorgeous hair to fall down and frame your face. He smiles up at you and caresses your cheeks, pressing your face into his palm.

He looks at your lips for a second and locks his eyes back to yours, “Can I kiss you, Y/n?”

You nodded, forcing a small smile. Within a flash, he pressed his lips into yours. Your mouths fit perfectly, dancing together with a hot rhythm. He controls the kiss, pulling you closer to him. He swipes his tongue on your bottom lip, asking for entrance as you submitted to him, opening your mouth slightly so that his tongue can slip in. You moaned in the kiss as your tongues fought for dominance which he easily won.

His right hand slid down your stomach until it reached the hem of your shirt, tugging it playfully. His hand was so close to where you badly needed him, but you were too shy to ask. You whined as you teasingly wiggled your ass. He groaned at your movements, his dick already painfully hard against his jeans. He moves his hand further down until he ghosts it above your underwear. “Can I touch you here babygirl?”

“Yes, p-please.” You closed your eyes as you felt his hand cup your heat, you can feel your wetness soaking through the fabric. “Shit, Y/n. You’re so wet.” He presses his long fingers against the thin cloth firmly, making you moan. You can feel his member twitch beneath you. “Did your punishment made you this wet, huh? You’re so goddamn naughty, baby.” He growls as he pushes your underwear to the side as he collects your juices with two fingers, sliding them up and down teasingly. You moan out his name, the feeling of his fingers were already too much for you. He slid his digits up and down, soaking them until he brings his hand in front of your mouth. “Taste yourself, baby.”

You brought your face closer as you wrapped your mouth around his fingers, sucking them clean. Your own taste wasn’t unfamiliar, as you have done that many times before. He bit his lip as he groaned, loving the feeling of your mouth sucking on his digits as you would on his cock. He bought his hand back down and abruptly slid two fingers inside your pussy, making you gasp loudly. You rolled your eyes back and your mouth formed an ‘o’. “F-fuck, Jungkook.”

He slowly thrusts his digits in and out, producing lewd and wet noises. “A-ahh, p-please. Faster.” You begged, making him smirk. “Hmm, faster? Want it faster?”

You nod vigorously as he complies, fucking your hole faster and harder. The lustful sounds that it made plus seeing how his arms flex makes you moan out loud. You rest your forehead on his right shoulder, your body giving up on you. He chuckles, fucking you even faster. “You like that, baby?”

“Yes.” You moaned, closing your eyes tightly as you felt a familiar knot on your stomach. He can feel you clenching around his fingers, signaling your high.

“You look so fucking hot, Y/n. You gonna come for me baby? Come on, spill your cum all over my fingers.” He suddenly presses his thumb on your clit, making you jump from the addition of pleasure. He rubs your clit roughly, making you whine against his tshirt. “I-I’m gonna…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as you clenched your walls around his fingers tightly, your cum coating his digits. “Fuuuuck”, you dragged out, legs shaking. You haven’t come this hard before, and the feeling was all new for you. It was addicting. “Shit,” he chuckles, removing his fingers and tasting your cum. He made you look at him as he wraps his mouth around his own fingers, keeping his eye contact on yours. “Taste better than I imagined it, love.”

He places his hands underneath your arms as he lifts you up, and placed you down on the soft mattress of your bed. He hovers above you, removing his shirt and exposing his abs that you’ve seen countless of times. You whined, crossing your legs together at the sight. He chuckles, moving a hand in between your thighs and parting them away from each other. “I’m gonna clean you up, babygirl.”

He moves himself down, removes your underwear as he positions his head in between your thighs. He licks a bold stripe from your entrance up to your clit, making you moan out loud. You were still so sensitive from the orgasm you had earlier, and your legs were shaking from the pleasure. He held your hips down with his hands as he licks you clean. “You taste so fucking sweet baby.” He groans, diving in into your wetness and collecting your juices. You tugged on his hair, making him moan against your pussy. The vibration made your insides turn from the immense pleasure. He starts wrapping his lips around your little bundle of nerves, sucking on it as he flicks his tongue around it at the same time. His actions made you tug on his hair harder and scream out loud.

Little did you know you were cumming for a second time, legs frantically shaking as you spilled on his mouth. He was quick to catch everything with his mouth, not wanting to waste even a little drop of your cum.

He brings his mouth upwards to yours, making you taste yourself on him for a second time. “Jungkook…” you whined, wanting more.

He removes your shirt, exposing your bare chest for him that results to a guttural moan coming from him. He kneads your breasts, making you whimper, the little buds hardening. He kneels in front of you, undoing the buttons of his jeans and pulling the zip down. Being impatient, you reached out to remove his jeans but his hands were faster and he refrained you from doing your plan. “Nuh-uh, be patient,” he smirks. He pulls his jeans down with his boxers, revealing his manhood.

You whined, seeing how hard he has become because of you made you bit you lip. He strokes his cock a couple of times, his precum helping him in sliding his hand much smoother. You loved watching him like this in front of you, how his abs and biceps flex in front of you, his forehead sweaty and how he groans your name out lout. You couldn’t even believe that this was actually happening in front of you.

He positions himself at your entrance, supporting his weight with his forearms. “W-wait, Jungkook!” Your eyes widen from the sudden realization, placing your hands on his sweaty chest. He stops his tracks, furrowing his brows. “Yes, baby?”

“Protection.” You smirk at him as you reached towards your bedside drawer and grabbing a condom from the box you hid by covering it with colored paper, so no one could suspect a thing. Jungkook chuckles as you hand him the rubber, sliding it down his shaft. “You’re so fucking cute, you know that?”

He places the tip at your entrance, sliding just the tip until you’ve gotten used to his size. You breathed heavily, clawing his back. “Go on.” You whispered and he slid his cock inside of you. The both of you moaned, closing your eyes and getting used to the feeling. You were so tight around him, your walls clenching and it took him lots of self-control to not pound into you just like that.

“Jungkook – ah shit, you’re so big.”

He groans, followed by a chuckle, “Yeah?”

“Yes, so big.”

After a moment, you motioned for him to move. You were so wet already that it was easy for him to ease himself in and out of you. He pulled out until the very tip was at your entrance, then abruptly pounds into you unexpectedly. He did this a few times, making you scream out in pleasure. “O-oh, Jungkook!”

“That’s right baby, scream out my name so that the neighbors can hear who’s making you feel this good.” He groans in your ear, fucking you roughly. Rapid breathing, moans, and the skin-slapping sounds were the only noise thing filling this room. You just hoped that your brother wasn’t home yet.

He suddenly brings his right up to your neck, wrapping it around your throat as he chokes you just right. You roll your eyes back from the pleasure. The feeling of his big hand wrapped around your jugular plus his hard and deep thrusts almost made you cum then and there.

“You liked being choked, don’t you, Y/n?” he chuckles, gripping your throat a little tighter and fucking you harder, “You said it in your blog, right? Its one of your dirty little fantasies.” He whispers. You only nod, struggling to form any sentence in your brain.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me, hmm? Letting me take over your cute little body as I ruin you,” he smirks cockily as he pounds harder, making you scream as you close your eyes tight. “Have you been dreaming about this, baby? Do you have dreams about me fucking you hard and rough like this?”

“Y-yes,” you faintly reply, scratching his back with your nails. That action made him throw his head back in pleasure, revealing his neck that had protruding veins on the sides. “I always thought that you were such a pure and innocent little girl, baby. I never thought that you’d be this dirty.” His thrusts were even roughly than before – and boy does he have good stamina.

“A-ahh, Jungkook, I’m gonna…” You can feel yourself pulsing around him again and he groans darkly, using his free hand to rub your clit harshly. “You gonna come for me again, yeah? Come on baby, you can do it.”

You were feeling so fucked out already but you want to cum for the third time today. He presses his chest on yours, both sweaty bodies colliding and as close as you could possibly get. His thrusts became sloppy, signaling that his high was close as well. “Hold it in.”

Your eyes widen at him, creasing your brows. “W-what?”

You couldn’t hold it it, you couldn’t. The way how he pounds into you makes it hard for you to prevent your cum to spill all over his member. “I-I can’t,” you shake your head. Jungkook groans, feeling how tight you’ve become. “I know you can. Fucking hold it in, baby. We’re gonna come together.”

He fucked you faster and harder until he was almost about to come, “Now, angel, cum with me.” The both of you released together and it was pure bliss. You couldn’t contain how hard your legs were trembling from how intense your orgasm was. You covered your mouth with your hand as your orgasm kept going. “S-shit, baby.” Jungkook chuckles, “You came so fucking hard.” He tilts his head to the side, admiring your exquisite body quivering from the pleasure. He removed the condom that was filled with cum and tied it, throwing it on the bin at the corner of your room. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss on your lips, trying to calm you down as he ran his hands down your sides. “Hey, hey,” he smiles, pressing down on your hips and trapping them on the mattress, “breathe, babygirl.”

You mustered out a weak smile and you giggled, “Jungkook…” you tried to form words but your body didn’t let you, you were absolutely fucked out. He laughs quietly, brushing away the strands of hair that were stuck on your forehead. “You did so good for me, really. So good.” He whispered, pressing a kiss on your lips once again.

Jungkook stands up and swoops you bridal style and carried you towards your bathroom. He sat you on top of the marble counter as he searches the cupboards for a towel. You were still breathing a little rapidly, your chest heaving up and down. He returns back to you with a towel and he cleans you up with it. The rough side of Jungkook that you had just seen has now disappeared and you were greeted with a sweet and caring side of him. “Jungkook, uh, for real…” you started, he looked at you for a mere second and continued his little duty on you, “Hmm?”

“Im sorry for, well, making that blog. I, um…I just really, really like you a lot and I couldn’t help myself.” You looked down with a blush creeping your face. You heard him scoff playfully and he made you focus your gaze at him. “Y/n, don’t be sorry about that. It’s normal for us humans to feel like that for another person, okay? I like you too.”

Your eyes widen and your heartbeat almost stops from his sudden confession, “Y-you do?”

“Yes, silly. Why would I fuck you like that if I’m not attracted to you?”

“Oh,” you begin to blush even more, making him chuckle. “You’re so cute, really, Y/n.”

“Wait, what about Taehyung though? W-what if he finds out about us?”

Jungkook smiles as he positions himself in between your legs. He pressed a gently kiss on your chin, to your nose, then up to your forehead. “Angel,” he starts, “I’ve actually told Tae countless of times how much I like her little sister.” He chuckles when your eyes enlarge once again, “he knows that I like you, and I think he’s gonna be fine with it.”

You couldn’t help but to feel a sudden relief. Thank god.

Abruptly, a loud knock on the bedroom door interrupts your mood, “Hey, assholes! I hope you know that Y/n’s room isn’t soundproof at all, and I heard everything!”

You and Jungkook looked at each other at the same time with a cheeky smile plastered on your faces, “Shit.”

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♡hyunjinnies first time bottoming♡

Stray Kids is a group of eight. It will always be eight, whether some of you like it or not. It's completely fine to have biases and members that you like a little bit more ... but going to an event where all eight members are present and treating them all differently is incredibly rude. You paid to see all of them, not just one ... you can't call yourself a STAY if you don't respect all eight members equally. They all worked really hard to be where they are right now - Stray Kids isn't Stray Kids without all eight of them being together. They're all just as important as each other, and if you can't treat them all with the respect and the love that they deserve when you literally paid to be at an event with all eight of them, then I'm sorry but you're a horrible person and you don't deserve to be called a STAY.