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aeyla · 1 month ago

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Fuckin adorable

Just Look Up

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x reader

Word count: 4.4K

Tags: Angst, pining, fluff, best friends to lovers

Summary: Seungmin’s been watching you from an arm’s length for so long, his heart yearning to be closer to you. All he wants is to to hold you, to be held by you. Why can’t you just look up and notice how much he loves you? Why do you stay with your horribly toxic boyfriend when Seungmin’s right there?

Author’s note: Please listen to this song and picture Seungmin singing it, oh god it destroys me.

Warning!!! The reader has a pretty toxic boyfriend in this fic!!

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How are you this perfect? How can you go day to day being so flawless and not even realize just how breathtaking you are?

After being best friends for years, there isn’t a single hour of the day that Seungmin hasn’t seen you at, and never once have you been anything but amazing. Even when your hair is frizzy and tied up, face puffy from sleep, eyes bleary and asymmetrical, you’re still gorgeous.

Just the thought of you alone has Kim Seungmin weak in the knees. Every little quirk of yours drives him crazy. From the way you stick your tongue out when you concentrate to the way you always overcook your rice.

He craves the simple, sweet, delightful smell of your apartment. The way your TV is always on even if you’re not watching it. The way every room in the house is spotless except for your bedroom which goes from organized to a disaster in just a few short days.

Seungmin can never get enough of you. Never has been able to, and he never will.

Which is why it hurts so bad that you’re with someone else. You and your boyfriend have been together for four months. Four painful, excruciating months.

The guy doesn’t even understand how good he has it. He does t grasp how lucky he is to have captured your heart.

What is Seungmin supposed to do when he comes over for movie night and that jackass is sitting on the couch next to you? His stomach flips and churns uncontrollably until he makes up some lame excuse to leave early.

Your boyfriend doesn’t even treat you the way you deserve and it boils Seungmin’s blood.

Right before his very eyes, he watches as your chump of a boyfriend drops your hand when you tried to hold it during a big group dinner. Seungmin had been sitting directly across from the two of you at the large table full of a mixed bag of friends.

Innocently, and with the most adorable smile ever, you reached down and laced your fingers with your boyfriends. As if you burned him, he drops your hand and motions down to his food.

“How am I supposed to eat if you’re holding my hand?” he asks with an annoyed tilt to his tone.

“Oh,” you frown, that gorgeous smile of yours was wiped off your face. “Sorry, hon.”

“It’s whatever,” he replies and goes back to the conversation that he was in beforehand.

Meanwhile Seungmin was seething. He watched the entire interaction like some sort of car accident. Does the guy need two hands to eat? What kind of lame excuse was that?

The rest of the night, your mood was different. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes. And your laughter sounded fake and hollow.

No one seemed to notice.

No one except for Seungmin who took it upon himself to go up to the bar and order your favorite drink on his way to the bathroom. He told the waiter not to say anything about him being the one to order it.

It was already in front of you when he returned from the restroom.

“Look, Minnie!” you chirp while he’a sitting down. “The bartender said they made an extra by accident and gave us this drink on the house!”

A rainbow stretches over his heart at how happy you sound. But dark clouds come crashing through just as quickly.

Your boyfriend look down at the drink as you were about to take your first sip.

“Hey!” he calls out and places his hand over the top of the drink before you could even taste it. “You’re the one driving home.”

Your expression fell. “What? But you said you would drive home this time.” You look around the table and lower your voice to keep it between the two of you. “I’ve driven home every time we’ve gone out, I never get to—“

Your boyfriend slides the drink away from in front of you at the same time he kisses your lips gently. You don’t respond to the kiss at all, you don’t even close your eyes. “Thanks, babe. You’re the best.”

He leans away from you and picks the drink up, taking a sip from the straw. His face twists up in a disgusted expression.

“Fuck, what even is this?” he asks, looking down at the drink.

“It’s a Long Island…” you murmur, looking down at the table.

“Who drinks this shit?” He places it down on the table and pushes it away from him.

You do. It’s your favorite drink. You always order a Long Island no matter where you go. How does the guy not know that? What boyfriend doesn’t know his girlfriend’s favorite drink?

What kind of shit head does that?

Seungmin is seeing red. He wants to vault the table and throttle the guy. His shoulders are shaking he’s so angry.

Your demeanor drops even further through the floor, taking Seungmin’s heart with you. No matter what conversation anyone tries to pull you into, you only offer one word answers.

Your boyfriend barely pays any mind to you.

Seungmin nudges your ankle underneath the table. You look up at him with dull eyes. He motions for a writing utensil in the air.

You think for a moment, turning and fishing through your purse until you pull out a pen and hand it to him.

He flips the paper placemat over on the table and draws a tic-tac-toe board on the back. He draws one ‘X’ in a box and then slides it across the table at you.

When you look down, the corner of your lip quirks in a tiny smile. You take the pen and draw an ‘O’ in another box, then slide it back to him.

This continues a few times before the game comes out to a tie.

Wordlessly, he meets your eyes with a cocked eyebrow. You nod. He draws another board and you do it again.

With each X and O that’s drawn on the back of the paper placemat, life returns to your eyes. You even let out a few giggles when Seungmin makes a ridiculously terrible move.

Each and every game comes out in a tie until you make a specific, unbeatable move. Seungmin looks down at the board for a few drawn out seconds.

He bites his lip with a grin. “There’s no move I can do that you won’t win.”

“I know!” you cheer and laugh. “I mastered the technique.”

“You didn’t master shit,” he grumbles in fake annoyance. “You cheated.”

Balking, you gasp. “I never cheat, Kim Seungmin.”

“Well, you just cheated at tic-tac-toe so you’re also a liar.”

“I didn’t cheat!

“Did so.”

“Did n—“ You’re cut off by a hand on your arm.

“We’re going.” Your boyfriend’s voice is gruff, slurred, and a bit agitated.

For what seems like the hundredth time tonight, your face falls when you look at him. “What do you mean? We just finished dinner and I thought that we’re going to the karaoke bar after this.”

“Not anymore.” He grabs your jacket off the back of your chair. “Come on, get your purse, we’re going.”

“But—“

“We’re going.”

Your body tenses and your mouth flies shut.

By the flush that crawls up your neck, Seungmin can tell you’re embarrassed. Embarrassed that you would let someone speak to you this way. Embarrassed because now most of your friends were watching you both closely.

You’ve always hated confrontation.

You take a deep breath and push back from the table, seemingly giving up. Seungmin has had enough.

“I think she wants to stay,” Seungmin says from across the table. “Can’t you call an Uber or have someone else take you home?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes flash with anger. “Hey, why don’t you stay out of our business?”

Seungmin’s nose twitches, he’s gripping the pen in his hand so hard it might snap in half.

“I just think that you’re ignoring the fact that she doesn’t want to leave.”

You look over at Seungmin. “It’s okay, Minnie. I’ll go out another time, promise.”

His gaze softens when you call his name.

“Yeah, Minnie, she’ll go out another time.” Your slime of a significant other slides his arm around your waist and pulls you away from the table.

You only fight his pull for a moment, glaring at the side of your boyfriend’s face before looking over at Seungmin one last time.

You’re apologizing with your eyes. Seungmin can read you too well. The two of you never needed words to communicate.

Then, you’re gone. And everyone else around him continues to talk as if nothing happened.

Seungmin flexes his jaw while he fights back his anger. A small part of him wants to run after the two of you and deck your boyfriend in the parking lot.

But, it’s not worth it. Who knows how you’d react to that.

He looks down at the paper placemat and draws your final ‘O’, drawing the line across to signify your win.

Seungmin doesn’t go to the karaoke bar that night either.

____________________________________

It was the next night when you texted him.

[January 10 1:26 AM]

Y/N: Are you awake?

Seungmin was about three seconds from sleep when his phone buzzed. Normally, he would ignore it and answer in the morning, but something in his brain told him to roll over and check anyway.

His eyes widened at your text, his thumbs flying to answer you.

Seungmin: I am, what’s up?

Y/N: Can you come over?

This late? You’re asking him to come over now? Sure, it’s a Saturday but it’s still strange.

Y/N: Please. I need you here.

Seungmin: I’ll be there in 10

He only took seven minutes to get to your apartment. The other three were spent jogging through the parking lot and up the stairs to your floor.

Only one knock lands on the door before you rip it open.

Seungmin’s heart falls through his chest.

You’re looking up at him with red rimmed, glassy eyes. Tears flowing down your flushed cheeks.

“Hi, Minnie,” you choke out.

Seungmin steps inside and looks all over your body, trying to find any sign of an injury or anything. “What’s going on?” he asks in alarm.

He cups your cheeks and looks in your eyes after kicking the door shut. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you cry. “‘M sorry if I scared you.” Another sob wracks your chest. You throw your arms around Seungmin, burying your face into his chest. His own arms immediately fly around your body.

“I broke up with him,” you mumble into Seungmin’s hoodie.

It’s shameful how his spirits lifted. Internally, Seungmin wants to pump his fist in the air and jump around. He wants to stand on your balcony and scream victory at the top of his lungs.

But externally, he keeps his cool, one hand moving to rub your back in soothing circles.

Fucking finally.

“What happened?” he asks gently, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You force a dry laugh. “It’s been coming for a while, I couldn’t fucking stand the way he talked to me last night.”

Seungmin laughs under his breath. Yeah, yeah he saw it. He wasn’t the only one that wondered why the hell you were still with the guy.

“He always talked to me like trust. I just…” You sniff and bury your face further into Seungmin’s hoodie. “I think I just liked having someone, you know?”

Seungmin’s heart clenches.

“It was nice having someone who at least pretended to like me like that.”

Do you not see him? Do you not see the way he looks at you whenever you walk into a room? How his entire demeanor perks up by your very presence?

If he had a tail, it would wag whenever you blessed him with your presence.

You let out another sob and hold him closer. “God, why am I crying so much?”

Seungmin grabs both of your upper arms and rubs up and down a few times. “Here,” he says gently. “Why don’t you sit on the couch and I’ll make you some tea, okay?”

Nodding, you pull away from him and wipe at your cheeks with your sweater sleeves. “Yeah, okay.”

He reaches out and uses his own sweatshirt sleeve to wipe at your cheeks with great care. “I’ll only be a few seconds, okay?”

Again, you nod. But your body makes no move away from him. You lean into his gentle touch, craving the closeness of it all. Eyes sliding close, your lip quivers with more cries.

His fingers poke out from the sleeve and run down your tear-stained cheek. His hands are always so warm.

It could be the dead of winter or the middle of summer, his hands were always warmer than yours. But even an ice sculpture’s body held more heat than yours did.

On several occasions, you would shove your hands into Seungmin’s pockets to thaw your frozen digits.

He can still remember last winter where you unzipped his huge, puffy jacket and then zipped it back up with you inside of it, your back to his chest. Seungmin can’t remember a time where his heart was beating faster than that day.

He had warmed you right back up, gladly sharing his body heat to keep you toasty warm. He even went as far as wrapping his scarf around both of you.

The bus came late that night to pick the two of you up from that stop and he was grateful for every single second he got to spend wrapped around you.

You’ve always been his soft spot.

Seungmin cups your cheeks with both hands, thumbs swiping away the tears that keep falling. Your tongue pokes from your lips and then you bring your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Tea will make you better,” he whispers. Seungmin leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead.

The happy sigh that you let out doesn’t escape his notice. It was a sigh that was reserved for when you were relaxing after being tense for so long.

He’s heard it after you’ve kicked your shoes off after a long work day. After the first bite of a hot dinner. After curling up in a cozy blanket on Friday night.

And now when his lips meet your skin.

It wraps around his heart and squeezes even tighter.

He pulls away first and nudges you backwards a bit. “Go sit down.”

“Okay,” you answer with a whisper, turning and making your way to the couch while he moves into the kitchen.

He meanders around like it’s second nature, there’s not a single dish in your kitchen that he doesn’t know where it is.

There’s a pan full of cold food sitting on top of the stove. It looks like it was never served.

So, you haven’t even eaten.

Seungmin clicks the burner on to reheat the food while he switches the electric kettle on.

When he comes in with a full plate of food and hot tea, you’re on your phone with a scowl on your face.

“What is it?” He decides to be nosy.

“He’s texting me.” You don’t look up at Seungmin as he places everything on the coffee table in front of you.

“Don’t answer,” he says simply.

“I’m not. But he’s just…” you trail off. “Being so mean.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows furrow. “Show me.”

You only hesitate for a moment before showing him your phone.

[January 10 2:02 AM]

DON’T ANSWER: I’ll be here when you decide to stop being a bitch and remember you need me.

DON’T ANSWER: As if you could even do any better than me, did you think about that? Have you seen yourself and then looked at me?

DON’T ANSWER: You’re the one who said relationships are all about compromise and some shit. So why are you making all the fucking rules?

DON’T ANSWER: so now you’re not even going to answer??? You’re leaving me on read??

DON’T ANSWER: cunt

DON’T ANSWER: couldn’t even give good head, what good are you for anyway.

The rage Seungmin felt last night is nothing compared to what he feels right now. His hands are shaking with thinly veiled anger. His eyebrows are furrowed so much his face might start cramping.

He grabs your phone away from you and looks closer at the texts to make sure his eyes are seeing this right.

“Don’t say anything,” you say quickly.

“I won’t,” Seungmin replies angrily. His teeth might shatter from how hard he’s clenching his jaw.

Who the fuck says this to someone? Someone with a majorly bruised ego, that’s who.

He takes it upon himself to tap through your ex-boyfriend’s contact and block him. Your phone is thrown onto the coffee table soon after.

You don’t address it. You sip your tea and take an uneasy bite out of your food.

Seungmin’s leg starts bouncing on the floor. He’s never been a particularly angry guy, his emotions are always in check. Usually with situations that get him upset, he lets it roll off his shoulders.

But that’s when it’s about him. This is about you.

You, who finally stood up for yourself and you’re getting shit for it.

The sound of the plate and mug being placed on the coffee table hits his ears.

“Minnie,” you say gently, letting your hand slide up his arm. “I think you’re more upset about those texts than I am.”

Seungmin huffs and bites his lip. “How could he say that shit about you?”

“I wounded his fragile ego, that’s why,” you chuckle dryly.

Your touch is soothing. Like an ice pack on a burn.

“What happened?” he asks, looking over at you. “What happened between the two of you?”

You gulp and avoid his eyes. “After last night when we got home, I didn’t say a word to him, I didn’t have the energy for it. I dropped him off at his apartment and he got so mad that I didn’t stay the night.”

Your legs pull up under you, your hand drops from Seungmin’s arm to wrap around yourself. “He came over tonight since we usually have dinner on Saturdays together and just… everything went to shit before we ate. I told him how he spoke to me and acted yesterday was unacceptable and he just went off on me.”

You’re right, though. It was unacceptable. It was uncalled for, rude, toxic, disgusting, all the above.

“I said I was done. He blew up; spouting all this nonsense about how he’s the best I’ll ever have and blah blah blah.” You pause and let out another dry laugh of disbelief. “It’s funny cause he’s actually the worst. Even my dumb high school and college boyfriends were better than him.”

A small furl of jealousy bubbles in Seungmin’s gut, but he stamps it down.

“Why were you with him for so long, Y/N?” The questions comes out of his mouth before he could stop it. You stayed with the guy for four months, about to hit five.

You swallow thickly. “Loneliness?” You shrug and fiddle with your hands in your lap. “I… I liked the way he looked at me in the beginning I guess. It made me feel wanted.”

How was he looking at you any differently than Seungmin was? He stares at you every single day with his big puppy dog eyes just waiting for you to look up!

Just look up!

“I was…” Again, you hesitate, trailing off and biting your lip nervously. “I was trying to get over someone else truth be told. After pining for so long I couldn’t take the one sidedness of it.”

Seungmin feels his heart crack. God, how much more of this can he take? Even before all of this, someone else had your heart?

“So, it’s like I’m back to square one again.” You run your fingers through your already messy hair.

“You still have feelings for this person?”

“Yeah.” You look around the room and then directly at Seungmin. “They never went away. Maybe that’s why I’m so upset. Not because of my ex but because I have to go back to yearning for him to just look up and see how much I like him.”

He’s trying so hard to be a good friend, he really is. His happiness at your freedom was so short lived. He got, what? Twenty minutes? Twenty minutes of hope.

But he needs to be supportive.

“Y/N.” His voice cracks when he says your name. “You’re… amazing and beautiful and intelligent. I’m sure whoever has your heart would bend over backwards for an opportunity to be with you.”

Your eyes sparkle when he speaks.

Fuck, stop making this harder than it already has to be, please.

“You think so?”

“I know so. If it’s a guy, you just gotta be direct. Look him right in the eye and say ‘I have feelings for you’”

You tongue your cheek and think about something for a long five seconds before speaking up again. You stare at Seungmin directly in the eye and speak.

“I have feelings for you.”

“Yeah, just like that. See? It’s easy.”

“I have feelings for you,” you repeat with a little more feeling. He can’t look at you anymore. It hurts too much.

Seungmin’s head hangs down a bit, hair falling in front of his eyes. “Yeah, Y/N. You got the hang of it.”

“No, Seungmin.” You crawl closer to him on the couch until you’re kneeling directly next to him. You take his face in both of your hands. “I have feelings for you.”

What?

Is the world still turning? Is he awake? Is he interpreting this right? Are you still practicing?

“Huh?” Smooth, Kim, smooth.

“Seungmin, I have feelings for you. I have for so long and I was so scared of losing you as a friend so I didn’t say anything.”

His brain is malfunctioning. His heart surely is going to explode from the fluctuations in his heart rate.

Him? You had feelings for him this whole time? Is he breathing?

“It just seemed like you didn’t feel the same, so I kept it to myself and tried to move on. I’m sorry if this makes things awkward between us.”

“Me?” The word is hoarse when it comes out.

“Yes, you.”

“You have feelings for me?”

“Yes, Seungmin.”

“Oh my god.”

He says it under his breath as his body acts on its own. He grabs your face the same way you’re holding his and smashes your lips together.

It feels so right. Your lips are so soft against his, he could cry. They’re everything he dreamed they would be and more. No amount of daydreaming compares to how it feels to finally kiss you.

His bottom lip slots between both of yours while his hands slide all over your body. They start on your face just for one to thread in your hair while the other comes down to your waist.

Your mouths open and close like mirror images of one another, lips sliding over each other. Your own fingers slide into his hair while the other caresses his jawline as it moves.

He could die right now and he would be happy. Anyone could tell him anything and it would be okay.

Seungmin would give you the world if you asked him to. He’s absolutely on cloud nine, his head in space.

Small hums and groans come from both of your throats the longer your mouths slide over one another. He’s never felt more alive, more awake than he does right now.

He can barely feel his legs.

Seungmin didn’t even realize how much he was leaning into you until you lose your balance and fall back on the couch, his body quickly coming up to hover over yours.

Your lips don’t stay separated for long at all.

When they meet again, your tongue slides along his lips and Seungmin swears he hears angels singing. You taste like tea and happiness.

Your tongues tango for a while. His chest flush against yours. Can you feel his heart hammering against his rib cage? Can you taste the years of desperation on his lips?

All this time he thought you were just ships passing in the night.

“I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N,” he murmurs into your mouth. You suck on his bottom lip and a shiver races up Seungmin’s spine. “You’re the one that needed to look up, idiot.”

Pulling back, you stare up at him like he hung the moon.

“Do you mean it?” Your fingers trail over his face, tracing the soft lines of his features. When they run over his lips, he purses and kisses the pads.

“Every word.” He grabs your hand and holds it to his cheek. “These past few months have been torture, Y/N. I’ve been waiting for so long for you to see me like I see you.”

You gulp and stare deeply into those big, brown puppy dog eyes. “I can’t believe it. This is real, right?”

With a laugh, Seungmin pinches your side with his free hand. You yelp and giggle.

“I should ask you to pinch me.”

You grin wider.

His eyes fall to your lips. Seungmin is only able to control himself for another three seconds before he dips down and captures them with his own once more.

Your smile doesn’t fade even as you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s so contagious that his own grin blossoms against your sweet lips.

The long, heated kisses dissolve into delicate pecks since neither of you can control your happiness. Your lips are stretched too wide to properly interlock them.

The happiness shared between your hearts is overflowing. The dams that were holding back your feelings for years have finally burst.

No longer do you need to hang onto fleeting moments and cling to hoodies forgotten at your apartment.

You sigh. Your happy little sigh huffs out of your nose.

Seungmin’s heart sings with joy, it grows wings and flies from his chest and into orbit. You’re everything he ever needed.

And all he needed to do was look up.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips.

“God, I love you too.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin x y/n #seungmin fluff #seungmin fanfic #stray kids x y/n #stray kids smut

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aeyla · 1 month ago

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Thanksgiving With You

Relationship: Lee Minho x reader

Tags: Pure fluff

Summary: Your plans to go home to America for Thanksgiving are uprooted the night before you're supposed to leave. Unable to stand seeing you upset, Minho decides to take matters into his own hands and make sure you get to celebrate no matter what.

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The TV was on in the shared apartment, all of the boys were laying all over the couches in various comfy positions. Legs tangled up in knots, blankets draped over different laps.

Living in the same building as one another definitely had its perks, that’s for sure. Even if everyone starts their days in their own apartments, by dinner time, everyone congregates to one.

Today, you and Minho’s apartment was the lucky winner.

When you answered a roommate ad two years ago, you didn’t know it would come with seven other men on top of that. But, you wouldn’t change anything that’s happened since then.

Felix’s head rests on Hyunjin’s lap while he plays on his phone with Changbin watching over his shoulder. Seungmin takes up two seats while Jeongin sits on the ground next to his legs. Minho is lounging in the corner seat of the couch, Chan on his left, Jisung on his right.

For the first time, they’re all silent. Each of their conversations were cut short when a news broadcast cut through the movie they were “watching”.

A female news anchor sat behind a desk looking directly into the camera.

“We interrupt your program with a breaking news report from The National Weather Service. Please be advised that there is extreme adverse weather expected to affect Seoul beginning tomorrow. All airports, roads, and businesses will remain closed starting tomorrow, November 22nd, until further notice.”

Normally, none of the boys would care about a storm. This meant time off from work, time to relax and stay inside while everyone gets some much needed rest but…

“Minho!” your voice calls out into the living room. Your roommate perks up off the couch, tearing his eyes away from the news broadcast. “Can I borrow your neck pillow? I’m going to need it for the flight. Sixteen hours on the plane is going to be killer without it.”

His jaw clenches and he looks around at the other boys on the couch who all have equally flustered expressions. They each stare at one another like deer in headlights.

“Ah,” he hums and looks around the room.

Oh, you were so excited to go home for Thanksgiving, how was he going to tell you that the airport is closed due to the incoming storm? Why does he have to be the one to break the news to you?

The news anchor continues talking about the snowstorm, predicting record levels of snowfall and high speed winds.

All month, all you could talk about was how much you missed Thanksgiving: the turkey, the parade, the pie, everything.

He didn’t really understand it.

“Minho?” You ask again when he doesn’t answer. Your figure appears in the doorway into the living room.

As soon as you stand in front of all of them, their heads snap towards you.

Your eyes widen, obviously startled. “Guys?” You ask, laughing nervously. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

Felix moves a bit, his mouth opening to say something before the news anchor cuts him off again.

“Again, we repeat the broadcast: Please be advised that there is extreme adverse weather expected to affect Seoul beginning tomorrow. All airports, roads, and businesses will remain closed starting tomorrow, November 22nd, until further notice.”

Your mouth drops open and you step further into the room to look at the TV.

“What?” You say to yourself, your heart dropping to your stomach. Everyone else’s does as well from your devastated tone.

Chan reaches forward with the remote, turning the volume up for you to hear.

“No, no…” you whisper.

Minho watches you, feeling his own heart break for you.

“M-Maybe I can book a flight for tonight. The storm starts tomorrow, maybe I can get out at the last minute.” You practically run back to your room, frantically looking for your phone.

All of the boys stay silent.

Apple pie this, mashed potatoes that, homemade pineapple … something. Minho couldn’t remember what you had said. You would always talk too fast when you were excited.

It only got harder for him to understand when you would go into English.

On top of all of this, you haven’t been back to America since you moved here two years ago. It was going to be your first time home.

You were just so busy when you started your new job that there was never any time to take off.

And now that you finally could? It’s falling through your fingers.

“Such a shame…” Hyunjin is the first one to break the silence. His voice carries the same sadness that they all hold on their shoulders.

Minho keeps looking down the hall where your room is, hoping to try and hear anything— any news of an earlier flight, a phone call, anything.

Only a few moments pass before Minho gets too antsy to sit still. He stands up from the couch and makes his way down the hallway.

Your door is cracked open a bit.

When he gets closer, he hears you on the phone. “N-No, you don’t understand, I was going home for the holidays— Yes… Yes I understand that everyone else is too, b-but I haven’t been home in two years.”

You sound so heartbroken, it’s physically killing him.

“There are no open seats? ….. the 5:30 flight? That’s in… that’s in ten minutes I live forty minutes away from the airport!”

Minho leans against the wall behind him, your open door to his left.

“There’s nothing else? … No, I understand. Thank you very much for your time... You as well.”

There’s a long moment of silence and a thump against your mattress.

Ten more seconds pass before he hears hiccups and sniffles coming from inside your room. That’s when Minho caves in, coming up to your door frame.

He can never withstand hearing you cry, on the rare occasions that you do.

You look so small curled up on the edge of your bed, your head in your hands. Your suitcase is open on top of your bed with various clothes and toiletries all over the place.

Your shoulders shake as you sob quietly into your hands.

A frown pulls at his face. Minho reaches up and knocks gently on the doorframe.

Your head shoots up in surprise, hands furiously wiping away the tears under your eyes.

“Oh, hey Minho!” You try to smile, but the tears won’t stop, but you continue wiping them away. “Sorry, um… I don’t think I need your neck pillow after all.”

A sob wracks your chest.

“Sorry,” you apologize again and wipe the tears some more.

His frown depends and he walks over to the bed, taking a seat directly next to you.

“You don’t need to apologize, Y/N.”

You sniffle and look down at your lap, the sleeves of your sweater coming over your hands. “It’s dumb to be this upset, I know. I was just really looking forward to Thanksgiving, you know?”

His entire side is pressed against yours. His warmth seeps into you in a comforting manner.

Minho listens to you carefully. He’s never been the best at comforting a crying person, he knows that, but he’s learned that all you ever crave when you’re upset is someone to listen.

“We have this tradition in my family, god, it’s been so long since I’ve been able to do it,” you sniffle and wipe your eyes. “We wake up around nine, and my sister and I make cinnamon rolls and watch the Macy’s parade from New York while we eat them. Then, while we get ready we watch the National dog show and ugh…”

He leans back on one of his hands placed behind you on your bed. The cogs in his brain are already turning.

Cinnamon rolls… Parade…

“God, I really missed my mom’s Pecan Pie.”

“Pecan Pie.” Minho mouths to himself. You don’t see it.

You sniffle.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispers to you, his hand coming up to rub your back gently.

“It’s alright, there’s always Christmas. The airline said they can move my ticket without me losing money. I guess it’s better to go then.” You hum and wipe the tears off your face again.

Not knowing what else to say, Minho stays quiet, his hand continuing to rub up and down your spine.

He knows next to nothing about Thanksgiving; it’s an American holiday. All he knows are the little things he’s seen in movies: turkey, hats with buckles on them, eating until you explode.

What parade did you say? Macy’s Parade? Okay…

Minho loses track of how long you both sit there, you trying to pull yourself together while he rubs your back.

His eyes dart around the floor unfocused as he makes a mental checklist in his head. He’s definitely going to need to employ the help of the seven other men in his living room if he hopes to pull this off.

“Thank you, Minho.” Your voice pulls his attention. He looks over at your face, hand pausing between your shoulder blades.

Your eyes are red rimmed and cheeks are rosy from all your crying. A sad smile sits on your face that doesn’t meet your eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he responds, getting a bit flustered under your gaze.

You move your head to rest on his shoulder, like second nature, his arm wraps around your shoulders and keeps you close.

Butterflies swirl in his stomach at the contact. Yes, you’re his roommate, but it was in the last six months or so that his heart started seeing you as so much more.

It all started with you cooking his favorite dinner when you knew he had just had one of the worst days of his life.

He had texted you around noon complaining about the rough day he was having, you consoled him shortly, and that was that.

The day had dragged on, getting worse and worse; he opened the door to your shared apartment around midnight to find you moving around the kitchen.

When he peered over your shoulder and saw his favorite meal, his heart melted.

“To cure your bad day,” you smiled at him.

He fell so hard for you, there was no coming back.

Minho turns his head to rest his chin on the crown of your hair.

“Well, I have off work; maybe I can take the day to catch up on a project without being bothered to join meetings.” You trail off.

“Or you could take the day to relax.” He chuckles.

You pause. “Nah.”

He laughs again and hugs you close.

“I better unpack everything.” You peel yourself out of his arms. Minho’s body already feels so much colder without you pressed against him.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Minho stands up from your bed and makes towards the door.

“Minho,” you grab his attention. He turns back to look at you.

You’re smiling at him again, but the sparkle is missing from your eyes.

“Thank you, really.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

Minho pulls your door closed behind him and makes his way down the hall. He has a mission and a checklist.

And he needed to get to the grocery store tonight if he wanted to pull it off.

----------------------------------------------

Three quick knocks rap against your door at 9:00 AM sharp on November 23rd.

With a disgruntled groan, you shift around in bed and pull the blankets up over your shoulder more.

After a few seconds, the door cracks open slowly, the hinges creaking loudly in the silent morning air.

A huff-like laugh forced through the invader’s nose.

Slippers pad against the carpet of your room and the mattress dips down on the side of your bed.

Gentle, warm fingers push your hair off your forehead. Your eyes squint a bit and you snuggle further into your blanket.

“Minhooo…” you whine without opening your eyes. “I have the day off, remember? I don’t need to wake up.”

“Ah,” he hums, fingers still carding through your hair. “But the parade is on.”

Your brain is still booting up. All your movements pause, your eyes snap open and you look at the man sitting on the side of your bed.

He’s in his cooking apron; the blue one you got him for his birthday last year.

“What?”

That smirk of his spreads over his face, his eyes squint the more he smiles down at you. “The parade is on, Y/N, don’t you want to watch it?”

With wide eyes, you stare at your roommate. “The.. parade? The Macy’s Day Parade?”

He hums with a beautiful, genuine smile. “I didn’t think you wanted to miss it.”

You sit up and kick the blankets off, leaping out of bed and down the hallway. Minho’s laughter follows you.

Sure enough, playing on your TV, is the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, from New York City.

“Wha…” you trail off. If it’s 9 AM here… it’s only 7 PM the night before Thanksgiving in New York, how is he…?

Your eyes scan the TV to see the small graphic that displays “2022” in the corner.

He’s playing a recorded broadcast of last year's parade. A laugh of disbelief bubbles out of your chest and you whirl around to look at your roommate standing in the hallway.

“Minho!” You squeal.

“We still have to bake cinnamon rolls, come on.” He waves you to follow him to the kitchen. Your jaw drops and you can only stare at him.

Minho looks over his shoulder and sees you’re not following him. “Are you coming? I’m not baking them by myself!”

Another snort of disbelief forces its way out. Your one hand reaches over and pinches your arm.

“No, I’m awake,” you whisper to yourself.

The sound of the parade announcers talking in their thick New York accent makes you feel right at home. There was a specific sound quality of audio that comes from these events and it brings you right back to the East Coast.

Minho walks into the kitchen and you follow after him with an extra spring in your step.

———————————————

“And here comes Snoopy and his good friend Woodstock!” The TV announcer says happily.

You take another bite of your cinnamon roll, chewing happily and watching the TV. Doongie curled up next to you, tail swishing around.

Minho can’t decide what he wants to watch more: you or the TV. You’re positively beaming, and he hasn’t even told you the best part yet.

He scratches Soonie’s head absentmindedly.

There’s a couple knocks on the door.

“Come in!” Minho calls out.

The door creaks open. “Minho, your timer went off. I think you need to baste the turkey.”

Your head whips around to see Felix poking his head into the apartment. He makes eye contact with you and his smile brightens instantly.

“Hi, Y/N! Happy Thanksgiving!” Felix chirps from the door.

“Thank you?”

Minho stands up off the couch, “Thanks, Felix, I’ll be right over.”

“Gotcha, see you soon, Y/N!” Felix closes the door behind him.

You look up at Minho. “Turkey? You’re making a turkey?”

He stands in front of you and smiles. “I am, you can’t have Thanksgiving dinner without turkey, right?”

“You– Are we..?”

“We are. But not until after the parade, and the dog show, of course. I told everyone to come around 2:00, that works, right?”

You stare up at him, cinnamon roll still in your hand.

“Y… Yeah, that works.” You truly cannot believe your ears. Are you sure you’re not still sleeping? Do you need to pinch yourself again?

“Good, I’ll be right back.”

Minho moves past you towards the door, scratching your head a few times as he passes by. You make no move to fix your hair after he leaves.

Slowly, you take another bite of the roll, eyes spacing out watching the parade.

Inside your chest, you can feel your heart stutter and swell, heat rising to your cheeks and turning your ears red. He’s really doing so much for you, isn’t he?

----------------------------------------------

“Y/N! Come on out, Chan and Jisung are here and Jeongin needs help with the mashed potatoes!” Minho calls down the hall.

Like a kid on Christmas, you peel down the hall, adjusting the earring you’re wearing.

You’re in a black turtleneck tucked into a cute light brown pencil skirt with black tights and fuzzy socks. The most typical Thanksgiving outfit.

Your favorite jewelry adorning your body.

The four boys turn around and greet you happily. Each of them in their own fuzzy sweaters and comfy pants.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” They all say to you in unison.

“Ah, happy Thanksgiving!” You cheer back and wrap Jisung and Chan into a tight hug since they were the closest. “Thank you so much for this!”

Both of them wrap an arm around you with giddy smiles. “It was all Minho’s idea,” says Chan. “If you wanna thank anyone, thank him.”

“Or you could help, instead.” Minho teases from behind the kitchen counter, sliding over a can of cranberry sauce.

“Oh my god!” You squeal and come around to grab it. “Where did you find this? I didn’t think any stores in Korea sold this!”

Minho hums happily and stirs a pot on the stove. “There’s an American store a few blocks away. It’s where I got most of the groceries for today.”

A timer beeps at the same time the door swings open.

“Hot bird coming through!” Felix calls into the room. “I have a turkey too!”

Everyone gives Felix a pity laugh as briskly walks towards the kitchen and places the cooked turkey onto the counter. The smell that wafts through the house is heavenly.

Jisung hands you a glass of sangria with a wink. You clink glasses and take a small sip.

Changbin walks through the door after Felix, holding a stack of about three pies in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” he calls inside as he kicks his shoes off.

Everyone responds with the same greeting.

“Minho, where do you want desserts?”

“Just put them on the side by the main table for now!”

There’s more hustle and bustle next to you while Jisung attempts to use the can opener for the cranberry sauce.

“Y/N, could you help me? I don’t think I’ve ever made mashed potatoes before…” Jeongin trails off in front of a pot of boiled potatoes.

You beam at him and skip over to his side. “I absolutely can, it’s a lot easier than you think!”

Chan walks over to the living area with the couches.

“What do you usually have on the TV at home?” he calls in to you.

You’re dumping all of the potatoes into a mixing bowl while you answer him. “Typically, my dad commandeers the TV and has football playing all day, but I really don’t want to watch old football reruns.”

Jeongin watches over your shoulder as you shake the bowl to settle the potatoes. “Could you grab the butter and milk from the fridge?” You ask him and he nods and walks off.

Seungmin comes in with Hyunjin, both of them holding trays of food.

You greet the two of them happily.

While Jeongin is gathering the ingredients from the fridge, you take a moment to look around at all of the boys in your apartment.

They must have looked up ‘What to wear to Thanksgiving’; each of them is in a sweater and dress pants. Some of them have turtlenecks underneath the sweater, some don’t, but they all look like the same font as one another.

“What can I do to help?” Seungmin asks, him and Hyunjin further crowding the kitchen.

“Go set the table with Hyunjin.” Minho points to the long dining room table, shooing them out of the already small space. Plates, napkins, forks, knives, glasses– everything you can think of, is placed on the corner of the table in stacks and piles.

“I’ll help too!” Felix chirps and makes his way over with the two men.

“Y/N!” Changbin calls your attention. Both him and Chan have beer bottles in their hands, bodies facing the TV. The two of them look like dads with the way they’re standing. “What about a Christmas movie? Is that allowed on Thanksgiving?”

Jeongin plops the milk and butter on the counter next to you.

You call back into the living room. “Yeah, that’s fine! But make it a good one– a classic! Oh! What about Christmas Vacation? That’s my favorite!”

“I’ll find it, don’t worry!” Chan responds.

Another timer beeps, Minho opens the oven and pulls out a tray full of fresh rolls. Jisung finally wrestles the can of cranberry sauce open.

Your heart grows three sizes.

“Ten more minutes on the Pineapple Bake.” Minho says to himself but you hear it.

Your head snaps around so fast it might tumble off your shoulders. “Pineapple Bake? You made Pineapple Bake?”

A flush crawls up Minho’s neck to his ears when he turns and meets your sparkly eyes.

“You had mentioned it…” he trails off and finds something else on the counter to fidget with.

“How did you get the recipe?”

“Ah, well,” he rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I have your mother’s number from when you first moved in and all.”

“You texted my mom?”

“Is that alright?”

The hustle and bustle of the seven other bodies around your apartment fades into the background. Even with Jeongin standing directly next to you, he seems to disappear.

“You texted my mom and asked for her Pineapple Bake recipe?” You choke out again, your eyebrows raising, lips parting in an emotionally shocked expression.

Minho visibly gets a bit more nervous at your repeated question. His jaw clenches and he plays with the tie of the apron. “Did I overstep?”

Without any warning, you cross the few steps of the kitchen towards him and throw your arms around your roommate, burying your face into his shoulder. Small tears of joy well in the corners of your eyes, throat constricting with so many emotions.

After a moment of hesitation, Minho wraps his arms around you and rests his cheek on top of your hair.

“Thank you, Minho,” you whisper to him, squeezing him even tighter.

Minho’s shoulders visibly react from your hug, relaxing from the tension of the past few moments.

He smells like the holidays, the softness of his sweater is so comforting against your cheek. You just want to bury your nose in it and drown in the scent.

“This means so much to me.” Your words are so sincere, he could cry from hearing them. His arms tighten around you, eyes closing to relish in your hold.

He basks in it. Despite a third timer screaming in his ear, he continues to hold you like if he let go, you would disappear forever.

Having you in his arms like this has always been the equivalent of drinking warm tea before bed. It sends a wave of comfort and safety through his entire being.

The timer continues to beep.

“You can thank me after you eat.”

You giggle, any sadness he’s ever felt disappears for a split second.

Hyunjin calls into this kitchen. “Can you please turn that thing off before I go insane?”

Minho sighs, the air blowing into your hair. He keeps you close for a few more heartbeats before letting go.

“It’s time for dinner anyway.”

----------------------------------------------

Everyone was quiet, the TV still playing Christmas movies in the background. The streaming service that Chan had put on had autoplayed movie after movie while you ate dinner and then dessert.

The last surprise Minho had for you was that he also had asked your mother for her Pecan Pie recipe two nights ago.

Everything about today left you floored and speechless. Your heart has never felt this full in your life.

All eight of them sat around the table looking uncomfortably full. The table that was once filled with every side dish known to Thanksgiving enjoyers, every dessert you could dream of, was now littered with empty dishes.

“We should just be thankful for being together. I think that’s what they mean by Thanksgiving, Charlie Brown.” Marcie’s animated voice rings through the apartment.

Again, your throat tightens up with so many happy emotions, you clench your jaw to keep them down.

From directly next to you, Minho must’ve noticed your expression, his hand reaching under the table and resting on your knee, squeezing it once to comfort you.

You look over at him.

His heart catches in his chest.

There’s that sparkle in your eyes. The one that disappeared two nights ago, he got it back. His entire face softens as he stares at you as if you hung the moon and vice versa.

“I need a nap,” Felix groans from his chair.

You hum and look over at him. He’s slumped in his seat, head back, eyes closed.

“That’s the best part of Thanksgiving, sleeping with a full stomach.” You tell him.

“Full is an understatement.” Jeongin adds.

“I think I found a new favorite holiday…” Changbin trails off.

“Ditto,” adds Chan.

“Yeah? Well maybe we can have a Friendsgiving next year and do it all over again.” You tell the table.

Minho groans. “I’ll need more help next time, then!”

Everyone grunts in agreement.

You reach under the table and take a hold of Minho’s hand still on your leg. Your fingers wind together and you beam at him again with that dazzling smile.

“I would do anything to do this again.”

----------------------------------------------

“I still can’t believe they took that many leftovers,” Minho mutters, dipping the sponge in the sink.

“I can’t believe we had that many leftovers.” You dry a dish with the towel and place it on the other clean ones.

The exhaustion from eating is still heavy in your bones; but both you and Minho decided it was better to get all the washing out of the way so that you could just relax for the rest of the night.

It felt like you’ve been washing dishes for hours.

Soft twinkling of Christmas music plays through the speakers of the TV from the movie.

“Minho?” You ask suddenly, your voice is a bit weak and unconfident.

He looks over at you with his undivided attention, one eyebrow raised.

“There’s one more Thanksgiving tradition I didn’t tell you about.”

His eyebrows furrow more and he puts the dish down in the sink full of sudsy water. “What is it?”

Smiling, you put the towel down.

“Will you dance to Christmas music with me? To ring in the Holiday Season.”

Minho’s taken aback for a moment, he laughs– almost in disbelief. “Really?”

You bite your lip nervously, nodding once.

With a playful smile, he grabs the towel and dries his hands. “You want to dance? We can dance, Y/N.”

Squealing, you happily skip to the living room. “Alexa, play Christmas music!” You call out and she immediately begins to play music at the perfect volume.

Frank Sinatra’s ‘I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm’ plays through the speaker. The happy saxophones and trumpets blare and your spirits lift even more than you thought they could.

You bounce on your heels to the beat a few times, swaying with the rhythm in a silly way.

When you turn around, you see Minho stepping towards you to the beat. One of the happiest looks ever on his face. His hair still slightly styled from this morning, just a bit more relaxed as the day went on.

His sweater is so cozy with a black turtleneck underneath, heather gray dress pants on the bottom. Lee Minho looks like the Holidays wrapped up in a warm, cable knit package, and he’s currently dancing towards you.

Once he is up on you, he takes your one hand and places the other on your waist. Both of you look like absolute goof balls, swaying and bobbing to the rhythm of Frank Sinatra in your living room.

The scent of Thanksgiving dinner still hangs in the air; the warmth from the ovens and stove hasn’t faded one bit.

Minho leads you all around the living room in a beautifully clumsy dance. The smiles on your faces never drop, even for a moment. They only grow with each giggle passed from one to another.

His eyes stay locked with yours the entire time. Nothing could interrupt your moment,

You mouth the lyrics to him; it’s English, so he’s not really able to keep up as much. But the emotion is there. And just the idea that you’re singing to him makes his heart soar.

“What do I care how much it may storm,” you sing, “I’ve got my love to keep me warm.”

Minho spins you around, you squeal with happiness with your arm above your head. He brings you back in and grabs your waist with both hands, lifting you into the air and twirling more as the music swells. You place both of your hands on his shoulders for balance.

He gently places you back on the ground, the song ending and fading into the next one.

Michael Buble’s ‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’ follows it up. The rhythm of the song slows down the energy in the room dramatically.

Neither you nor Minho let go of one another. Instead of backing away, the two of you step even closer. Your arms wind around his neck, his hands interlock on your lower back.

Your eyes look all around his perfect face, meanwhile his stay locked on your eyes. He’s so enchanted by you, it feels like you placed him under some sort of spell.

If he could, Minho would do this entire day over and over again until he died, just to see this beautiful look in your eye each time, to hear your glee filled laughter after each surprise.

Instead of moving around the room, the two of you simply sway side to side in time with the beat of the song. Minho spins the two of you very slowly in place.

A beautiful, festive, Christmas bubble begins forming around the two of you.

“I cannot even begin to tell you how much today meant to me, Minho.” You break the silence between the two of you.

He chuckles. “I’m glad I was able to do it for you, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever run to the store that fast in my life.”

Mirroring him, you laugh softly. “I can only imagine what you looked like trying to get everything together.”

He moves his head side to side. “I had a lot of help.”

You shake your head. “This was quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“You deserve it.”

Another laugh from you. He just watches you. He watches each emotion cross your face with such admiration, with such a fond, sweet gaze, it could rot your teeth.

Piano keys tinkle in the music. Michael Buble’s smooth voice wrapping around your private bubble.

“I am endlessly thankful for you, Lee Minho.”

His gaze softens even more.

You’re his soft spot. You– beautiful, wonderful, joyous you– are Lee Minho’s weak point.

Slowly, the swaying to the song begins to slow down as you both get lost within one another. Everything about the scene was like a movie, down to the storm swelling outside your window.

Minho’s eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second.

You grin. His heart thuds in his chest.

“I don’t suppose you got any mistletoe?” you ask cheekily.

His eyes widen for a second, but he quickly catches on to your joke. “That wasn’t on any of the Thanksgiving websites I found.”

“Oh well.”

Without another word, and with the goofiest of grins on both of your faces, you pull Minho in for a kiss.

His entire world stops when his lips meet yours, everything pauses and the only thing that exists is you. Nothing else matters except for the girl in his arms.

The world could end right now and he would be the happiest man on Earth.

Both of his arms tighten around you, one hand comes up to cup your cheek, cradling it softly.

Your arms around his neck bring him even closer to you.

His kiss is everything, it’s sugar cookies rising in the oven, it’s a sunrise on the beach, it’s waking up to the smell of cinnamon rolls on Thanksgiving– everything.

It’s everything you’ve always needed. He is everything you’ve always needed.

Eventually, the two of you pull away from one another, but not without a last few stolen pecks on the other’s lips.

The kisses end up short, you both keep smiling and pulling away, too happy to continue.

Minho keeps his eyes closed, his thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “I think I have a new favorite holiday.” Another peck to your lips.

You giggle and kiss him again and again, “Me too, Lee Minho.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know drabble #lee minho x y/n #lee know reader insert #lee know fanfic #lee know is the definition of if he wanted to he would

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aeyla · 1 month ago

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you’ve already shifted. there’s nothing else to do because you’re already in your dr. right now, you’re living in your desired reality. there’s no need for a process because it’s already done. you’ve shifted, it’s that simple! you are already there!

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aeyla · 1 month ago

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bang chan x reader [fluff, gender neutral!reader]

23:37 - “is this… bang chan… coming to bed before midnight?!” you gasped.

your boyfriend chuckled, rolling his eyes slightly, “yes. shut up. changbin and jisung needed to focus on something with the producing tonight so i’m… free?”

you giggled, watching as he, clad in plaid pyjama bottoms, no shirt and a towel draped over his hair, came and sat on the side of the bed. you crawled out of your duvet cocoon, sitting behind chan’s broad body and beginning to use the towel to dry his hair.

“you should use a t-shirt,” you commented, thinking out loud as you dried the curly locks as softly as you could. “or a softer towel.”

“its okay,” chan shrugged, “i’m gonna straighten it anyway, no point taking care of it.”

“chan,” you said in a stern voice.

“what?!” he laughed, taking the towel out your hands and moving so he was sat against the wall, pulling you to straddle his lap.

“i love your curly hair,” you said, cupping his face, “i want you to be proud of it.”

he shrugged, smiling shyly, “i know you do, but i just—”

“no buts, chan,” you said, getting up to get a brush, and some of the curly hair products that had gone long disregarded by your boyfriend. “why not? maybe you’ll like it once you actually take care of it.”

chan just sighed, shutting his eyes and relaxing into the feeling of you playing with his hair.

“you don’t need to do all of this,” he said, “really. i’ll just go back to not doing it when i’m by myself.”

“well i guess you always need me around then, hmm?” you smiled, your eyes trained on his hair as his eyes watched your face, “you need someone to take care of you.”

chan sighed, shutting up and allowing you to finish dealing with his hair before you cuddled into his side. he pressed a kiss to your head as you fell into silence.

“thank you for taking care of me. i know its not easy.”

you hummed, kissing the hand that was slung around your shoulders, “it would be easier if you stop being stubborn. my beautiful boy.”

chan opened his mouth to protest before you looked up, given him a stern look. he bit back a laugh, allowing your point to stand.

the two of you shifted into a more comfortable sleeping position; face to face, chan’s arm loosely slung around your waist, your leg hooked over his hip. his hand stroked your back gently, your hands balled into fists resting against his strong chest.

“sleep now,” he whispered, kissing your closed eyelids, “it’s late.”

#bang chan #stray kids #skz #bang chan fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan imagine

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aeyla · 1 month ago

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Stray Kids Kinktober Day 6

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Frottage - Bang Chan

Word Count: 8.8k

Summary: Being an award winning actress isn’t as easy as some might think. Award shows themself are one of the more difficult events to tackle. But luckily, during this ceremony, you get to meet some of your favorite idols, and they get to meet their favorite actress.

—————————————————————

“And after the awards ceremony there’s an after party at The Plaza.” Your agent’s voice is strictly business in the back of the limousine.

You’re playing with the fabric of your gown while absentmindedly listening to her.

“Do I have to be on set tomorrow?”

“Yes, your call is at 9:00 AM. Transportation will be at your hotel at 7:30.”

You groan and look up at the ceiling. “Why do they always put these award shows on weekdays?”

“Your weekends aren’t exactly free anymore, either.”

Yes, you’re aware.

The life of an actress was not easy. Especially an award winning one. Right now, you are the hot, new, up-and-coming actress that everyone has their eye on. The actress that every director wants in their movie, their TV show, their commercials– everything.

Currently, you’re in the middle of filming a TV show that has a high fantasy aesthetic to it. You’re the main role in the show, the main badass warrior that everyone roots for. The kind of character that has a million and thirty Tik Tok edits of her.

It’s one of those shows where your character is constantly going through the wringer. The amount of bruises that you have to sport on camera increases each day; real and fake.

Your nerves begin to creep up on you the closer you get to the award venue.

Red carpets were one of the hardest parts of the job. Memorizing lines? Easy. Learning blocking and fight choreo? You do that every day.

Talk to strangers and pose for pictures? No, thank you.

Who were you wearing again?

“This dress is Gucci, right?”

“No, it’s Christian Siriano. I’m glad you asked. Your jewelry is Gucci and your shoes are Prada.”

You stare at your agent blankly, she hasn’t looked up from her tablet once. You were not made for this part of the job.

“Jesus…” you sigh and lean back into the cushioned seat.

“While we’re at it, do you even know what award you’re up for?”

“Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series, right?”

“And?”

“And?” you repeat incredulously. “I thought I was only up for one!”

Finally, your agent looks up with a smirk. “Trick question, you passed. Proud of you.”

You can’t help but laugh and look out the window. “You know I’m nervous as all hell, don’t test me.”

“Don’t be nervous. I’m sure you have this in the bag.”

“That’s exactly what I’m nervous about. I have to get up, walk up those stairs in these Gucci—“

“Prada.”

“Prada shoes. And then make an acceptance speech in front of everyone. Millions of people. No pressure.”

She laughs and looks down at her tablet again. “You’re very charming and everyone loves you, you can talk the paint off a wall, Y/N, just be yourself.”

Grumbling, you cross your arms over your chest. But you can’t sit still in that position for too long at all. You’re too fidgety.

In front of you, there’s a chilled bottle of champagne. You pour it into one of the flutes and sip it entirely too fast for the quality of the drink. ‘Sip’ is putting it gently, you down it.

A second glass is poured, but you choose to hold that one in your hand tightly. Absent-mindedly, you swirl the champagne around, watching the bubbles form and pop up at the top.

A few moments of silence pass, you begin to mutter to yourself to ease the stress. “Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, Prada shoes. Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, Prada shoes..”

The crowd starts getting louder the closer you get to the event. Cameras are already flashing outside your limousine.

“I haven’t even told you who’s going to be there.”

Your agent sounds extremely smug all of a sudden. When you look over at her, there’s a cocky smirk on her face.

“Who?” With that look, you’re not even sure that you want to know the answer.

“Maybe put the drink down before I tell you. Wouldn’t want you to spill it on your…”

“Christian Siriano.”

“Christian Siriano dress.”

After downing the contents once more, you put the glass down.

“Okay, who?”

Her smile grows even wider. “You know Stray Kids, right?”

Your face pales, even under all that makeup all the color drains from your skin.

“They’re going to be there?”

She knows, she knows you’ve been a fan for a while. You were a Stay before fame came your way.

Your agent smiles and nods, the light from her tablet illuminating her face.

“Don’t play with me,” your voice is strained. “That’s mean.”

You’ve been keeping your admiration of them on the down low for so long. Now that you’re in the public eye, you have to be very low key about things.

It was killing you.

“They did a soundtrack song for a show, it’s up for an award.”

You were nervous before. Now you’re downright hysterical.

“They’re going to be there? All eight of them?”

“To my knowledge, yes.”

The limousine comes to a gradual stop. The screams outside are deafening, even through the car doors.

“Will I see them?” You ask, gathering your skirt up to try and assist with a graceful exit out of the limo.

“Probably!” There’s a little hint to her voice that you can’t quite put your finger on. What is she doing? What does she know?

The driver comes around the limousine and you take a deep breath, activating your celebrity face.

It’s never hard for you to muster a genuine smile. You’re humble about your life, you know how lucky you are. Thinking about how far you’ve come is all the motivation you need to let the corners of your lips perk up.

“Ready?” Your agent asks.

“Yes, ma’am!”

The door opens and the roar of the crowd goes insane. You’re practically blinded by the flashes of the cameras.

You do your very best to keep a level head and follow the instructions of the security team around you.

In the meantime, as you walk into the venue, you turn and smile at the fans behind the barricades.

Sending them hand hearts, waving enthusiastically back at them. You look up at your head security guard.

“Can I please go sign a few autographs?”

He looks down at you, obviously annoyed. But annoyed in the fatherly way. Just by the look on his face, you knew he was going to say yes.

You quickly pick up your skirt and walk over to the barricade. The screams get louder and louder the closer you get.

“Hi! Hi!” You greet all the fans as they scream for you. So many different objects are thrust over the fence for you to sign.

You grab a marker and begin leaving your signature over everything in sight: posters, shirts, books.

Several selfies are taken with you. Every single fan is so sweet and kind that you can’t help but spend extra time with them.

They reach out and grab your hands, you hold them back and have conversations with them.

You always do this. It’s something you’re very well known for.

“Miss Y/N.” your security guard says gruffly behind you.

“Okay, okay. I gotta go, guys. It was so nice meeting you, and it was nice seeing you again!” You point to a fan that you recognized from a convention you attended a few months ago.

After blowing a few more kisses, you leave the barricade and head towards the red carpet.

If it was up to you, you would’ve stood there and talked with your fans all day and never gone into the awards ceremony. They’re the reason you’re here, after all.

Walking along the carpet, you plaster a smile on your face and wave to all the photographers. You stand still right in the middle of the space and strike several different practiced poses.

You make sure to look in all different directions and show off the dress hugging your body beautifully.

It’s a dark yellow gown with huge puffed sleeves that sit off your shoulders. The center of the gown dips down to show off your cleavage. The rest of the skirt poofs out in a princess style.

It’s absolutely gorgeous. Crafted to show off your body in the best way.

All the photographers call out your name, all of them trying to get your attention.

You wave to several that you recognize and say hello to others.

Your short minutes on the red carpet run out and you quickly make your way across to the other side to link arms with your agent.

She pats your arm, “Great job! Now for the hard part.”

On the other side of the red carpet there are several different magazines, websites, and other fashion sources lined up with interviewers stationed in front of cameras.

“I studied for this, remember?” you tease her and hug her arm closer before letting go.

The first interview you do is with Vogue, they had grabbed your attention so fast you almost got whiplash.

How’s the show? Who are you wearing? Are you nervous about tonight?

These are all questions you prepared for.

Next interview was with Vanity Fair. You had recognized the interviewer, so you approached her first.

“Y/N!” Her face lights up when she sees you.

“Hi!” you answer just as cheerfully, wrapping her in a big hug and then holding her out at arms length. “How have you been?”

“So good, you?”

“Can’t complain– busy. I’m so glad to see you!”

“Me too! Do you have time for an interview?” She asks hopefully.

“I always have time for you.”

She says thank you and her camera man gets into place. A second microphone is handed to you. Before you can blink, she’s in interview mode.

You smile and listen to her introduction.

“I am here with, Y/N L/N, star of the Emmy award winning show, Kings and Pirates. How are you doing tonight, Y/N?”

You lift the microphone up to your mouth and speak into it happily. “I’m doing great, thank you! Always a pleasure to be talking with you on the red carpet.”

“You flatter me, Y/N! Now tell us the obvious question here: Who are you wearing?”

“I am wearing an original Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, and Prada shoes.”

“The entire outfit is beautiful! An amazing dress to hopefully show off when you win Best Actress tonight…?”

You laugh humbly. “I don’t know, there are so many amazing actresses nominated tonight. A girl can hope, but when I see the other names around mine, I can’t help but be anxious.”

The interviewer opens her mouth to ask another question, but the crowd absolutely erupts in cheers. Louder than when you got out of your limo, louder than some concerts you’ve attended.

“Oh my god, I think someone important just showed up.” You joked into the microphone.

Both you and the interviewer are looking across the carpet, craning your necks to see if you can get a glimpse of whoever just stepped out.

“Minho! Hyunjin! Felix!” Crowd members scream out several names and your heart rate skyrockets.

“Oh my god, it’s Stray Kids.” You accidentally say into the mic.

“Oh wow! Are you a Stay?” She asks you. Your head whips around and a dark blush covers your cheeks.

Laughing nervously, you look down at the ground, suddenly sheepish. “Ah… well, yeah. I’ve been a fan of theirs for years now.”

“Did you know they were going to be here tonight?”

“I was told it was a possibility, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

Joke after joke makes the interviewer and her cameraman laugh.

The interview continues without a hitch. But the entire time all you want to do is turn around and see if you can catch a glimpse of Stray Kids.

Yes, you’re famous. But you’re just a Stay at heart.

You say your goodbyes with the interviewer and turn to move onto the next one.

A gasp catches in your throat as soon as you step away.

All eight of them are right there, doing their own interview with Buzzfeed. They’re smiling and laughing about something.

You’re just able to stare. They’re right there. You’ve never been in the same space as them.

Act professional, Y/N! Stop acting like a fangirl, you’re literally on the clock right now!

Their laughter is contagious and you find yourself smiling as you turn away and walk to another interviewer trying to flag you down.

“… excited to maybe meet tonight? You guys are usually at music award shows, so this is definitely new for you! There’s some new faces that you probably have never seen before.”

“We actually were just talking about this on the ride over,” Chan says to the interviewer, ever the front man. “We’re all huge fans of Kings and Pirates, we watch it together every week when new episodes come out. We joked that it would be an amazing opportunity to say hi to Y/N L/N.”

It’s like the red carpet is pulled right out from underneath your feet.

“But that would be like trying to get a private conversation with royalty, you know?”

You? They want to meet you? They watch your show? Every week? Together?

“I think I just saw her around…” the interviewer trails off, by her tone you can tell she’s looking around for you.

Act casual, Y/N. Pretend like you weren’t listening to every word of their interview closely. Act normal for once in your life.

“Ah, no way.” Chan’s thick accent reaches your ears. He sounds so shy by his tone. Several other members murmur and tease one another.

“Oh, there she is! Y/N!” The interviewer grabs your attention— she technically already had it.

The members begin to get louder when you turn your head to look at the entire group of them staring at you.

When your eyes meet all of theirs, each of them freeze like a deer in headlights. Do they even know who they are?

You can’t tell if you’ve gone sheet white or bright red. Your heart is beating so fast it might explode.

The interviewer waves you over, you look over at the other one you were walking to and hold up a finger to say ‘one moment’ before walking over to the large group of them.

“Hi, hi!” You cheer casually when you come up next to them.

All right members look absolutely starstruck. Jeongin’s eyes look like they might bug out of his head.

They all bow politely when you join the group.

Chan’s bow is a second later than everyone else’s. He’s too busy staring in absolute disbelief.

“Y/N! It’s so nice to see you!” the interviewer says. You think you recognize her from another event.

“You as well,” you respond with a beautiful smile.

“Let’s get you a mic— oh, we have no more— maybe someone— can share?”

Chan is the member closest to you, he immediately angles the mic your way. He does it so fast and eagerly it almost hits right into you.

You giggle and thank him, “Thank you! It’s good to see you too,” you repeat and step a bit closer to him to make sharing easier.

He smells so good. You can feel his body heat radiating onto your bare shoulders. Thankfully, the outdoor chill isn't affecting you much due to your adrenaline being so high.

“Y/N, before I ask anything else, I do need to ask who you’re wearing.”

“Oh, a Christian Siriano original with accessories by Gucci and shoes by Prada.”

“Absolutely stunning,” the interviewer compliments.

A light giggle comes from your chest and you go to thank her. It’s under his breath but you hear Chan say something along the lines of ‘that’s an understatement.’

“I did call you over here for a specific reason, besides the fact that we would love to interview a nominee for Best Actress. It seems you have eight fans all eager to meet you!”

You turn and look over at the members with wide eyes. “Oh my god!” You say out loud and your hand flies to your chest. “I am literally honored!”

“You know Stray Kids?” The interviewer asks.

Well, if they already said they were fans…

You lean down into the mic and laugh, “I have been a Stay for so long, are you kidding?”

Every single one of them don shocked expressions. Chan goes stiff as a board.

You look at each of them with one of the most gorgeous smiles across your face. “When I was called over here with you guys I thought I was going to pass out. I had your discography playing in the room while my stylists got me ready.”

All eight of them move around like little kids meeting their idols for the first time. They each stare at you with literal stars in their eyes.

“The first album that caught my attention was In Life, actually. Haven is my favorite song.”

You rain compliment after compliment down on them.

“It’s truly an honor to meet you, we’re all such huge fans.” Felix is the one that breaks the silence into the mic. The rest of them all nod eagerly.

“Since we’re all fans of Kings and Pirates,” the interviewer brings your attention back. “Do you think you could give us a small spoiler for the new season coming out?”

“Ah,” you laugh and look around a bit, sucking your teeth in thought. “I reaaally shouldn’t, but…” You look to the side to make eye contact with all the members but Chan’s piercing gaze is the one that stole your breath away.

His stylist had done his hair in such a natural, curly way. Every single strand is sitting perfectly on his head. The makeup on his face highlights his features angelically.

Especially that beautiful nose of his.

Each of them wore black tie suits with a bit of personal flair on them. Chan’s entire suit, including the undershirt and tie, was black.

It takes a moment for your brain to reboot, not that anyone noticed. To them, it just looked like you were thinking of a small spoiler to give away.

“I think that fans can look forward to seeing an old face that we previously had to say goodbye to.”

Jeongin eagerly grabs Han’s arm and says something in his ear. The two of them start whispering about what the spoiler could possibly mean.

The rest of them all move around anxiously. Except Chan. He continues to stare at you with his lips parted slightly.

You hold his eye contact for one more moment before looking back at the interviewer with a sinfully sweet smile.

“Wow!” She says over-dramatically on purpose, “I think us fans have a lot to look forward to. Best of luck to all of you with your nominations tonight!”

“Thank you so much!” You chirp into the mic and stand there with a smile while she does her required sign off to go back to the main camera back in LA.

During those few moments, you feel Chan shift his weight so that his entire arm brushes against yours. Goosebumps immediately fly up your shoulder and through your neck.

It takes every muscle in your body not to react to it.

He’s still holding the mic between the two of you just in case you need to speak again. You want to turn your head and look at him so badly.

You want to talk to him in the worst way; ask him questions about the music, even just how his day is, anything.

The cameras cut and you instantly let out a sigh of relief, next to you, you see the eight of them deflate a bit too.

The interviewer says her thanks and the crew takes the mics back from everyone.

“It really was a pleasure meeting you guys,” you say with your hand on your heart again. “Words cannot describe how honored I am to be talking to you all.”

“Are you kidding?” Chan jokes. “We all feel the same way. I don’t think we even thought we would be able to stand near you tonight.”

You laugh and see your agent signaling you out of the corner of your eye.

“Bah! I’m just a girl, really! Best of luck to you guys tonight, I’ll be cheering extra loud from the crowd when you win!”

“The same goes for us,” Chan smiles. He sticks his hand out and you immediately grab it.

Electricity shoots up your arm and you have to bite your cheek to keep yourself from screaming.

Your hands shake and you say your goodbyes to each of the members before walking away to your next interview.

As soon as they think you’re out of earshot, they all begin talking rapidly to one another about you.

“Can you believe it?”

“She’s a Stay!”

“Oh my god, I think I blacked out, did that really happen?”

“You lucky bastard, you got to shake her hand and share your mic with her.”

“Stop acting like a middle schooler.”

Their voices fade into the background the further you get from them. You just can’t help but smile and look down at the floor sheepishly.

---------------------------------------

“I’ll find you after the awards show, okay, hon?” Your agent catches your attention as you walk into the auditorium.

She grabs both of your forearms lightly and kisses your cheek. “Best of luck to you, don’t make yourself look stupid on stage.”

That last part is whispered into your ear and it makes you laugh. “I won’t! I won’t!”

She says her goodbyes once more and you look up at the usher waiting for you.

This award show has its nominees all sitting around large dinner tables. There’s about ten people per table.

For your show, you were the only one nominated for an award tonight, so not even your director or crew was here to sit with you.

The usher held out his arm for you to take and you did so with a gracious smile. There’s a reason you’re known for charming everyone you meet.

He leads you through the vast room. Several fellow actors call your name and greet you, and you respond to each one happily.

“Here we are, Miss Y/N.”

No way. Absolutely no way.

Seated around the entire table are the eight members you saw mere minutes ago, their manager taking the ninth seat.

Sure enough, your name is printed on a sign draped over the back of the chair.

Minho looks up at you first and waves sheepishly. You immediately wave back.

If Lee Minho waves, you wave back.

“Hi again!” You greet them all before turning up and gently laying a hand on the usher’s bicep to thank him. He bows his head once and walks off.

Chan, who was seated next to your empty chair, practically springs out of his seat and stands next to you.

“I can’t believe this,” you tell him with a wide smile. He mirrors it and holds his hand out to the chair.

You laugh while he grabs the back of it and pulls it out from the table.

It takes a little bit of special maneuvering, but you manage to fold your poofy skirt down in order to sit down. Chan pushes your chair back in and takes his seat next to you.

He now sits on your left, Seungmin on your right.

“I guess I would’ve met you guys tonight regardless, then!”

“It seems that way,” Chan answers. He reaches up and rubs the side of his neck with his hand.

Now, from years of being a fan, you know that’s a nervous tick of his. And with your friendly nature, all you want to do is soothe him.

“It’s like I’m getting a deluxe, VIP fan meeting. When Stay watches the award ceremony they’re all going to put a bounty on my head.”

They all laugh and you turn to look at Seungmin, “Can I have an autograph before I die? I didn’t bring any of my albums with me, though.”

He laughs at your joke and your heart smiles with his beautiful grin.

“I knew I should’ve brought a photocard with me.”

Behind you, Chan shifts around. “You bought our albums?”

You turn back to him, “Of course I did. I wanted to support you guys. Best way to do that is streaming your music and buying the albums, right?”

“Yeah,” he answers nervously, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth. “Yeah, you’re right. Just didn’t think I’d ever meet a celebrity I admired and find out they’re a Stay.”

You giggle and lean forward on the table. “I hope that’s not weird. I think I would’ve exploded if I didn’t tell you guys how big of a fan I was.”

“Not weird at all, just unexpected.”

“I guess I feel the same way, especially after hearing that you guys watch the show.”

“We love the show!” Han tells you from across the table. “Sometimes Minho will cut dance rehearsals early for us to go back and watch it.”

“Seriously?” you ask. “Wow, that really means a lot, you have no idea.”

“It’s easy to be a fan of yours,” Chan grabs your attention. “You’re one of the kindest people we’ve met in a while.”

Oh, you are practically kicking your feet around.

“Fame is a whole other universe to tackle. I wanted to make sure I treat my fans and everyone around me the way I wanted to be treated before all this happened to me. It’s important not to lose yourself. But I know you guys all know that already. You’re masters at it.”

“Hyunjin still lets it get to his head.” Felix jokes.

“What!”

The pre-show continues like this as the rest of the celebrities file in. Many stop by your chair and say hello to you.

With each one, you get up out of your seat, hug and kiss them hello, then sit back down only to be interrupted again.

“You certainly are popular,” Chan comments after you say goodbye to a fellow actor. “That last guy crossed the room to come say hi to you.”

With a giggle, you joke, “Is someone jealous?”

He stiffens for a moment, his back going straight and he clenches his fists on the tabletop for a moment. “No.”

His answer is not firm at all.

Before you’re able to analyze it, producers come out among the audience to tell everyone the cameras are about to begin rolling.

“When is your award in the lineup?” You whisper over to Seungmin.

“Right before yours, actually.”

“Maybe I’ll see you all backstage then.”

You both smile at each other and shift back in your chairs.

Several cameramen come out into the audience with their large sets of equipment. One of them is very obviously hovering by you.

You know he’ll signal you if you’re being shown. The teleprompters strategically placed along the venue also show what is being broadcasted.

Opening music begins playing and the lights dim among the audience. The centerpieces on the tables give off an evening glow.

A waiter comes over and places your drink on the table. You actually had forgotten you requested one before sitting down.

You thank him and he takes his leave.

“What’s that?” Chan whispers in your ear.

“Espresso martini,” you answer. “Wanna try?”

Chan looks over at his manager, who is busy watching the host make his opening speech. He nods quickly and leans down, taking a long sip off the top.

A tiny ‘mmm’ comes from the back of his throat and he looks at you while licking his lips a bit.

“Oh that’s delicious.”

“And dangerous.”

You lift the glass and take a long sip from it and place it back down on the table.

“I got my first major role fresh out of college. I’m still learning how to not rely on alcohol to have fun.”

Chan just laughs and both of you direct your attention to the host on stage.

“-and if all else fails, we have our lovely knight in shining armor to protect us, tonight.”

The camera man turns and has the camera on your face. You smile brightly and blow a kiss into the camera. The entire audience lets out several positive reactions.

When the camera cuts away, you let out a sigh of relief. “I knew they were gonna do that.”

You take another large swig of your drink. It’s almost empty already. Curse these fancy people and their tiny portions.

Chan leans over and suddenly his hot breath is on your skin. Goosebumps rip down your body and you can’t suppress a shiver.

“Careful,” he whispers lowly. “I don’t think you want to be stumbling onto the stage.”

“I think you underestimate my alcohol tolerance, Mr. Bang.”

You both make eye contact.

The audience applauds as the host leaves the stage and the first announcer comes on. Both of you clap and Chan leans away from you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth.

His cologne lingers around your senses even after he’s gone.

Dammit, he’s right. But, my god, you need another stiff drink.

---------------------------------------

“And here are the nominees…” The announcer says into the mic. The entire table is holding their breath.

This was it, this was Stray Kids’ award. Your jaw clenches with anticipation as the names are read off one by one. Individually, you crack each of your knuckles anxiously.

All eight of the members are staring up at the screen, each of them have their own nervous ticks.

You reach under the table to try and comfort Chan a bit, your hand landing on his knee. He jumps in place at the table at the contact.

Without looking at each other, he places his hand on top of your and squeezes a bit.

“It’s going to suck when I have to sit here by myself after you guys win.” you whisper to him.

“If we win.”

“You’re going to win.” You squeeze his knee again.

“And the winner is…”

You suck in a breath, all of them stiffen up. Cameras are pointed at each of the nominees tables.

“Stray Kids!”

Immediately, you spring out of your seat with a gleeful cheer. Clapping your hands together and smiling at each of them.

Without a second thought, Chan wraps you into a grand hug, pure joy written across his face. Your face morphs into a shocked one, but you hug him back happily.

He’s so warm. His hug is so tight.

After a few heartbeats, he tears himself off of you with an unreadable expression. All eight of them walk up to the stage and grab the award from the presenter.

Sitting back down, you take a second to catch your breath.

So badly, you want to focus on their acceptance speech, but all you can think about was the way Chan held you. It went straight to your heart, and thanks to the alcohol in your veins, it traveled a bit south as well.

Nervously, your hand comes up and rubs at your chest by your collarbones, a small nervous tick of yours.

The table feels so empty without the eight of them there. Their manager is the only one left sitting there with you. He’s watching their speech intently.

Both of you stand and clap once more as they walk off the stage. All of them pushing each other gleefully and playing slap ass. It makes you giggle.

All of the lights around the room shift again and another announcer comes into the stage. The same camera man as before comes around the side of the table to stand closer to you.

The announcer goes through their speech about how important actresses are, how each of you stood out, how it was an honorable nomination. Your heart is in your throat, you can feel each thud against your ribcage so closely.

No one was next to you to hold your knee.

“And the nominees are…”

Various clips of the other nominees in their element flash behind their names.

Your name is third. Several different dramatic scenes play out within the five second window. They chose some of your best scenes for that little animation. The next few nominees flash after that.

“And the winner is…”

You suck in your breath.

“Y/N L/N! King and Pirates!”

The entire audience erupts in cheers. Practically everyone stands up on their feet.

You bury your face in your hands in disbelief.

“Oh my god!” you practically yell as you stand up.

An actor from the next table places his hand on your back to help you out of your chair. You smile gratefully at him and make your way up to the stage.

During the entire walk, several different people offer you their congratulations, you thank each of them, shaking their hands.

Climbing your way onto the stage, you make your way over to the announcer, kissing their cheeks as a thank you and turning to speak into the mic.

“Oh wow,” you laugh into the mic, looking down at the award and then back up at the audience. “I know everyone says this, but I really did not expect this! I mean, have you seen any of the other shows?”

A gentle laugh comes from the crowd.

The rest of your acceptance speech is short, sweet, and to the point. The timer on one of the teleprompters definitely motivated you to speak quickly.

As you walk away with your award, music plays behind you. A stage manager comes up to you and ushers you through the wings.

Several more congratulations come your way, you respond to each of them humbly.

You turn a corner and are met with a cheer even louder than the one from the auditorium full of people.

All eight members of Stray Kids are clapping for you, jumping up and down in excitement. Your enthusiasm immediately matches theirs as you come up to them.

“I can’t believe it!” you say loudly, holding the award out to look at. “I think I’m dreaming!”

You turn and look up at Hyunjin, “Pinch me, I have to be asleep!”

He laughs at you and lightly grabs your arm. You yip dramatically and look back down at the trophy. “Nope, definitely awake!”

“If you guys would please find your seats, we need to clear this hallway.” a stagehand ushers your group away. He turns and looks down at you with a soft smile, “They wouldn’t leave until you came back.”

“Aww,” you coo to all of them. Your arm wraps around Jeongin’s, who happens to be the closest at the moment. “You guys are too sweet!”

Your head rests on his arm and you hug it close as a thank you. He pats your hand and bends his arm to escort you back to your table.

A pair of deep brown eyes burn into the side of your head the more you grab onto Jeongin. Not that you noticed.

Walking through the hallways, you see one back hall that has signs for the bathroom.

“Actually, I’m going to run to the ladies’ room before going back to the table. I’ll meet you guys back there. Do you mind taking this back to the table for me?”

You drop Jeongin’s arm and hold the trophy out to him. The maknae is hesitant, but takes your award anyway. You laugh at him and rub his arm before you head back to the bathroom.

“Am I allowed to be holding this?” he asks as you walk away.

The venue was a grand, old hotel, you follow so many twists and turns to get to the bathroom. Was there even one back here?

Did you take a wrong turn? There aren’t even workers back here.

You definitely aren’t supposed to be back here. Turning back and finding another bathroom is probably the best option at this point.

A gentle grasp on your wrist makes your heart jump and a gasp tear from your throat. Frightened, you turn around and raise your hand to hit whoever snuck up on you.

“Y/N! It’s just me!” Chan says quickly, cowering behind his hand just in case you still swing.

“Ugh, Chan! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, I called your name a few times, I guess you didn’t hear me.” You shake your head, he sucks his teeth. “That explains it. Staff told me there’s no bathroom down here, I wanted to grab you before you got too lost.”

Chan chuckles nervously, you laugh too. “That explains it. I guess those signs must’ve been extras that they printed for the venue. Who knows?”

It’s now that you notice he’s still holding your wrist tightly in his hand. His hand is so warm, so soft.

He nervously licks his lips and his eyes look all around the hall, anywhere but at you. His throat bobs with a gulp.

“I don’t ah— I don’t believe I gave you a proper congratulations. So, congratulations on the award. You deserve it.”

“Oh!” You giggle. “Thank you! And a hearty congratulations to you as well, I can’t think of anyone who’s worked harder than you guys.”

Taking another step closer to him, you turn your wrist around and take a hold of his hand.

“I also can’t think of any other celebrities I would want to celebrate with.” The corners of your lips pull into a grin, Chan’s twitch as well. “You guys are so sweet, cheering for me. Made the win that much better.”

Slowly, his ears begin to turn red and his jaw clenches a few times. His chocolate brown eyes flit all over your face and around the hall. His nerves on clear display.

“Yeah, well, you deserve it, so.” Chan clears his throat and adjusts the tie around his neck. “I can’t take credit for it, it was Changbin’s idea to wait for you and all.”

You reach up on your toes and press a long, soft kiss to his cheek. With his lips right by your ear, you’re able to hear him gasp under his breath and then stop breathing.

Underneath your lips, you feel how much heat is radiating off his smooth skin. It’s like you kissed a frying pan.

“Thank you, Channie,” you whisper against his skin.

The hand around yours twitches and tightens.

You press another kiss to his cheek before going to back away.

Quicker than you can blink, Chan’s free hand comes around your body and holds you against him. His hand curls around you to press into the small of your back.

Your head tucks under his chin, ear against the dip of his throat. His heart is beating just as fast as yours.

“Not yet,” he whispers so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “Please, not yet.”

Your heart thuds in your chest at his words. How could you not? The Bang Chan is asking you to stay closer to him for just a little while longer. The same man you’ve admired from a distance for years.

The man who created such a deep parasocial relationship with you that it took a lot of self reflection to bring yourself out of it. And now, here you were, in his arms in real life, tucked away in the hallway of this hotel.

Smelling his expensive cologne and aftershave, listening to his shallow breathing, the entire world seems to stop. If your past self could see this, she’d probably pass out.

Hell, you might pass out now.

You squeeze his hand once and he responds with a grip of his own.

Slowly, you pull your head back to gaze up at him. He stares down at you with the most thoughtful expression.

Eyes are windows to the soul; and right now, his soul is so flustered and fulfilled at the same time.

“I can’t believe tonight is real,” you murmur.

Several times, you catch Chan’s eyes flicking down to your lips. Each stolen glance adds another butterfly to your stomach.

His hand on your back pulls you even closer.

“You keep talking as if you’re not one of the biggest names in the world right now.” he teases and you chuckle softly. “If anyone should be pinching themself, it’s me.”

His breath is cool and minty. Yours is tinged with espresso.

Your tongue comes out and licks your bottom lip before you pull it between your teeth. Chan watches, trying not to make it obvious.

“Can I try something?” Your question is deathly quiet. If it wasn’t for the silence of the hallway, there’s no way he would have heard it otherwise.

“Yes,” he replies immediately. It comes out as a huff; quick, short, and desperate.

“Close your eyes, Chan.”

He listens right away, his eyes snapping shut.

You hesitate for a split second, just taking in his ethereal beauty. Every curve of his gorgeous, blemish free face. It’s not fair.

Both of his hands twitch, his jaw clenches.

You lean up slowly and press a featherlight kiss on his plush lips.

His shoulders seem to sag inwards, a large, relieved exhale leaves his nose.

Fireworks explode behind your eyes, tingles shoot down into your fingertips.

You pull back after a second, his eyes open a bit and Chan stares down at you, his lips parting for a moment.

He stares intently into your eyes, as if trying to read you or see something within them.

Without breaking eye contact, he leans down and kisses you again. You melt into the kiss with half lidded eyes, they unfocus as you fall further into his kiss.

Chan pulls back for a moment to turn his head and capture your lips once more, his bottom lip slotting between yours.

Both of your eyes shut.

Your hands move and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to yours as he kisses you like his life depends on it.

Chan holds your waist with both hands, the heat from his hold going right through your dress.

Each kiss is hot and heavier than the last. His grips at your dress grow needier and needier by the second, he can’t hold you close enough to his body.

Within moments, you’re both opening and closing your mouths, with open mouthed, wet, sloppy kisses. His eyebrows pull together.

Erotic pants fill the empty hallway.

You ever so gently bite down on his bottom lip and pull your head back.

Chan sighs and his half lidded, hazy eyes look down into yours as his lip snaps back after you release it.

He takes two long steps and walks you backwards until your back hits the wall.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips before capturing them in another heated kiss. “You’ll have to tell me. I can’t do it myself. Not when I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Your fingers thread up through his hair on the back of his head and you pull him closer against you.

Tangled tongues and gentle grunts mix together.

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” you ask lowly in between kisses.

Chan groans and presses his entire body into yours.

You felt like you’re on fire with the way you’re so feverishly pulling him closer.

One his hands moves up and down your waist. The puffiness of your skirt getting in the way of his hips grinding directly into yours.

“So beautiful,” he mutters between kisses. “So gorgeous.” Kiss. “Wanted you for so long.”

It’s your turn to moan at his praise, you suck on his tongue and his eyes roll back in his skull.

When you pull away from each other panting, you look around in the hallway. There’s a door right next to you both, where it leads, you’re not sure.

Chan kisses your cheek and then makes his way down your neck with his lips.

“Chan,” you moan out.

“Yeah, baby?”

Fuck. That goes right to your head and makes your stomach flip.

He presses another wet kiss to your exposed collarbone and your head tilts back, knocking against the wall. He’s making it impossible to try and get any words out.

The hand on your ribcage squeezes when you let out a breathy exhale.

“Did you need something?” he mouths against your neck and bites down right after.

Oh, that cocky motherfucker.

“Fuck, Chan…!” You pull at his hair.

He brings his head up with a dopey look on his face, eyes half lidded and hazy.

“Hm?” he hums and leans in, pressing another kiss to your check.

One of your hands comes down and runs over his chest. You grab a hold of his tie and twist it around your hand before yanking on it. Your lips are right next to his ear and you make sure to let out hot exhales.

Chan gasps and presses a hand on the wall next to your head to keep his balance. A shiver wracks his body.

“You’re starting something you can’t finish.” The low, gravel timbre of your voice shocks even you for a moment. It’s raspy and sexy. It has an effect it has on Chan immediately. His pupils dilate and he takes a sharp intake of air.

“Oh, princess,” Chan bites your earlobe before blowing against it lightly. “I’ve never started something I didn’t intend on finishing.”

God, his voice. It’s like running your fingers over velvet. You yank his tie to the side and drag him towards the room like he’s on a leash.

Chan lets out a surprised grunt, but follows you nonetheless. Just like your little puppy begging you for your attention.

The entire walk over to the door, his hands are on your body. Anywhere Chan can reach, he’s touching you.

When you push open the door, you’re happily surprised to find an empty dressing room. All the lights are off– perfect.

Once you both are inside, the door shuts and you push Chan against the back of it. Your lips desperately smashing together.

He’s everywhere on your body. His hands don’t stay in the same place for more than two seconds before he’s groping somewhere else.

Blindly, he reaches for the door handle and clicks the lock in place.

Your fist is still tightly curled around his tie, you wind it around your hand a few more times while your tongues tango. Sinfully wet noises emanate from your locked lips. Your other hand runs down his chest to unbutton his blazer.

Chan pushes off the wall and shucks the blazer off his shoulders, dropping it onto the ground.

Never once do his lips leave yours. He’s intoxicating, you can’t get enough and neither can he.

He backs you up again until your ass hits a counter.

In one smooth movement, Chan reaches down and grabs your waist and lifts you onto the countertop. Your legs part and he stands in between them.

“This fucking dress,” he growls against your lips and nips your bottom one lightly. Desperately, he begins grabbing at the fabric, bunching it up around your hips. Underneath, you’re still clothed in stockings, corsets, spandex shorts, and many more.

He doesn’t seem to care. With both hands now grabbing your nylon-clad thighs, he brings both of your legs to wrap around his waist.

As soon as both of your hips meet, moans leave both of your mouths and you swallow each other’s. He’s hard as a fucking rock against you. So many layers of clothing separate the two of you from one another, it’s endlessly frustrating.

You pull his tie even tighter and one of his hands comes down to grip the edge of the counter for balance.

Your hips roll against his once and he has to tighten his grip so much his knuckles turn white.

“Do it again,” he whines against your mouth.

Who are you to say no?

Again, you roll your hips up into his. This time, his hard cock rubs right against your clothed clit. It’s just enough to send a ripple down your legs and into your toes and they curl in your Prada heels.

You don’t stop in between hip rolls this time, you do it again and again and again. Each one feels better than the next.

It’s like your head goes underwater, deep within the riptide of the oceans of pleasure.

And by the noises that are coming out of Chan’s mouth, you know he feels the same way.

His hips begin to meet your thrusts with his own. Both of you are grinding into each other like teenagers in your parents’ basement.

But you both are so needy at this moment that you’ll take anything you can get to scratch that insatiable itch.

With each thrust, his exhales get heavier and heavier, whimpers and whines come out in between them.

Your head kicks back against the mirror behind you after one particularly delicious roll. There’s no way you’re even on planet Earth right now with how much he’s making your body thrum.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he moans out and kisses your bare shoulder.

You pull on his tie absentmindedly while you cry out when he thrusts even harder.

“Wanna hear those moans with you on my cock,” he hisses when your legs tighten around his waist. “If I’m making you feel this good without touching you, think of how loud you’ll scream when I can finally fuck you into my mattress.”

“Chan-!” you whimper, your eyes squint closed, mouth falling open.

How is he so fucking good at this? Those dancer hips are merciless. It sends just the right amount of pleasure through your body.

“You know that Vogue photoshoot you did last month?” he moans into your ear, his lips right next to it.

Your Vogue photoshoot was a borderline boudoir shoot. Only a black sheet covered you in most of your shots.

All you’re able to do is whine out an “uh-huh”.

“Babygirl, I can’t even think about that shoot without my cock getting hard. God, fu–huck! Shit.”

He’s going to make you cum just by grinding on you. You can feel it coming closer and closer.

One of his hands travels up your body to grab at the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your jawline while he licks and nips at the other side.

“Want you to pose like that for me. I want you all to myself.” He sounds like he would eat you whole if he could. And fuck, you would let him.

He could tell you to get on your knees and bark right now and you would.

“Close, Chan…” you whimper.

Just hearing that he’s going to make you cum makes his eyes roll in his skull. Every single wet dream of his is coming true under his own two hands. He has Y/N L/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, his cock pressed against her clothed cunt, her skin in his mouth.

Is this what winning felt like?

“You gonna cum for me babygirl?” he hisses and bites your neck.

“Yes! Shit! Don’t stop, please!”

When you try to meet his thrusts, your hips stutter, they’re unable to keep up with how fast he begins moving.

“Need you to cum, babygirl, need it so bad. Need it like I need oxygen.” Chan’s hand moves and he pulls your lips together.

He’s all consuming.

Three more thrusts and your body seizes, your orgasm gripping you so tightly that you think you might black out.

You break free from his kiss to throw your head back. It thuds against the mirror. Your legs tighten around him so much he can barely move.

Chan rolls his hips a few more times, letting you ride out your mind-blowing orgasm. Each one is slower and more sensual than the last.

After a few seconds, your legs loosen up a bit around him. Chan trails softer kisses down your neck, over both of your collarbones, then back up to your cheeks.

They’re gentle and sweet. So different from the way he was absolutely devouring you mere moments ago.

“Chan,” you pant out. “Let me help you.”

“Soon, baby. Not here.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold card– a hotel roomkey.

Chan leans forward and presses a long kiss to your swollen lips. While he’s attached to you, he slips the roomkey into the top of your dress where your breasts sat.

“The Mark, room 103. Fuck The Plaza, you have your own afterparty to attend to.”

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids kinktober #skz kinktober #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan #fanfic

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aeyla · 1 month ago

Text

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 7

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Virginity - Jeongin

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: Long distance friendships work most of the time. But what about when that friendship was supposed to be more? What about when the distance spans over several time zones instead of cities.

—————————————————————

He’ll always be the one that got away, that’s what you tell yourself.

But it’s not like he’s gone completely, no, Yang Jeongin is still in your life every single day. He’s just not physically present now.

The two of you went from spending every single waking moment together to then only seeing him when he’s able to come home during breaks in his idol schedule.

Which is basically never.

When he left Busan, he took your entire heart with you.

The night before he left for Seoul, you told yourself over and over again that you were going to confess to him. That you weren’t going to let him leave for stardom without knowing how you felt.

And if he didn’t feel the same, then the distance would help.

And if he did… then who knows what would happen.

But, when the moment came. And Jeongin was hugging you goodbye in his childhood bedroom, you froze.

“Jeongin, I need to tell you something,” you murmur into his chest during a tight hug.

His hand runs down the back of your hair, his nose digging into the top of your head to smell your coconut shampoo.

“What is it?”

Your heart was beating so fast, you thought it might explode. With the way your ear was pressed against his chest, you’re able to hear his heart thudding against his ribs as well.

He’s probably just nervous about leaving, that’s all.

Every thought flies from your head. Not a single word of your practiced speeches in the mirror come to mind.

He’s leaving. He’s leaving. He’s leaving.

“Y/N?” Jeongin tries to catch your attention by squeezing you tighter.

“Just…” you trail off, blinking the tears away from your eyes. Your throat constricts and gets tighter and tighter. “Just don’t forget about me when you’re famous, okay?”

Jeongin rocks you both from side to side, a thoughtful hum coming from his throat.

“I don’t think I could forget about you even if I tried, Y/N,” he whispers into your hair. “I’ll text you every chance I get, FaceTime and calls too. You know I will.”

The desperation in his voice causes the tears to finally fall down your cheeks. The other half of your soul was leaving.

Who was going to walk to school with you? Split another menu item with you so that you both could have two different things? Watch scary movies with you and launch popcorn everywhere?

“I know, Jeongin.” A hiccup shakes your chest. “You’re going to be famous before you know it. And you’ll have other famous people lining up to be your best friend.”

“Yeah, well, that spot is already taken.”

Jeongin pulls away from you slowly to look down at your tear-ridden face.

“No amount of distance will change that, okay? I’m serious.”

You bite your lip and look down at the floor with a pathetic nod.

Two fingers hook under your chin to bring your eyes back up to his. They’re glossy and brimming with his own unshed tears.

“Cross my heart,” he hushes and draws an ‘X’ over his chest with his free hand.

“Cross my heart,” you sob and mirror the action.

“Now, stop crying. You know you’re an ugly crier.”

“When are you leaving, again?”

-------------------------------------

It’s embarrassing to say, but you did have little faith in Jeongin to keep the promise.

But you’ll be damned. Because he did so to the best of his abilities.

No, you two were not attached at the hip anymore, sipping soda through the same straw. But you remained as close as ever.

Conversation never dulled over texts.

Sure, there would be periods of time where you would only hear from him once or twice a day. But that’s normal, especially with longer distance friends.

Also, with a schedule like his, it’s a miracle that you get to hear from him at all.

The first year was the hardest. When your birthday passed and he wasn’t physically in the room with you at midnight for the first time, it felt like a dagger to the heart.

Yes, he was on FaceTime with you, but it wasn’t the same; and you both knew it.

Life continued. It didn’t stop in his bedroom like you thought it would.

The ache faded. You adapted. He adapted. But your friendship remained constant.

-------------------------------------

“America?” Jeongin asks bewildered on the phone.

“It’s a full ride, Jeongin! I’d be stupid not to accept it.”

You’re laying on your bed, painting your nails with the phone in between your shoulder and your ear.

“I mean, yeah, but like… didn’t you also apply to the University of Seoul?”

“I did, but they’re not offering me a full ride. You know my family’s financial situation, I have to go where the money is.”

“But… but what about plane tickets and such? Wouldn’t the cost just balance out?” he stutters. His tone sounds strained and choked.

You almost wish you were on FaceTime right now so you could see his expression. He was never good at hiding secrets from you, you can read him like a book.

“Not really… I’d probably just… live there for four years and come back when I’m done,” you mumble and then blow on your wet nails. “Jeongin, I really wasn’t expecting this type of reaction…”

The sadness of your voice can’t be helped.

Jeongin had no idea you applied for the photography program at the California Institute of Arts. It was on a whim that you sent your application in.

He makes a choked noise on the other end of the phone. “I-I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m happy for you, I really am! I’m over the moon excited! California! That’s-“ he clears his throat. “That’s incredible.”

He’s crying. Yang Jeongin is crying right now.

You sit in silence for a moment and stare blankly at the wall in front of you. With each word that comes through the phone you can feel your heart breaking.

“I can’t believe it!” He continues with his fake happiness. “California! Woo… just- just like in those movies we used to watch to-together!”

Clenching your jaw to stop your own tears, you pull the phone away from your face and tap the FaceTime button.

The line rings a few times before you hear Jeongin gasp and stutter even more.

“I have to go, Y/N. Chan is calling me to do something!”

“I didn’t hear—“

“Bye, Y/N!”

The line beeps three times to signal he hung up. Your phone displays the failed FaceTime call.

Numbness floats through your chest for a moment before something harshly tugs on your soul.

He was expecting you to come to Seoul. To come closer to him, wasn’t he?

You drop your phone onto your bed and continue to sit there, staring into space.

Yes, you wanted to go to Seoul with him, you desperately wanted to do that.

But, you need to think in the long run here! Four years longer away from him in exchange for a lifetime free of debt.

It’s only four years, max.

Tears prickle your eyes and you grit your teeth to try and stop them.

Shit, Jeongin. Come on.

-------------------------------------

You went to America. You made the hard choice, but the right one. And you know it, too.

Jeongin knew it too. Hidden underneath all of the grief of you moving even further from him, he was endlessly proud and happy for you.

But now, instead of a two hour train ride, you were an eleven hour plane ride away. Your day was sixteen hours behind his.

Now, if he texted you and asked what you had for dinner, you would tell him about last nights’ meal or what you were thinking for later.

There were only about two hours a day where you were able to talk at the same time and it was killing him slowly.

When your classes for the day were ending, he was waking up for the next day. When you were getting ready for bed, he was finishing lunch.

If he wanted to FaceTime you at the end of his day, it was the middle of your work day.

You were losing each other.

He was able to do two different cities in the same country, but two continents was its own animal.

Jeongin would lay awake in bed at night, knowing you’re up and moving around. It would haunt him while he tossed and turned.

Because in his mind, you’re also the one that got away. You were the only reason he almost didn’t audition to become a trainee.

But, your entire life, you talked about attending the University of Seoul for college. So, he bargained with himself and became a trainee because eventually the two of you would be together. Right?

No.

Now, you’re in America. You’ve been in America for two entire years.

Making new friends, meeting new people, experiencing everything without him.

The knife twisted in his gut when he started noticing the same name floating around your conversations when you spoke about friends.

Ryan.

It was always ‘Ryan said this’, ‘Ryan did that’, ‘Ryan showed me this’. Jeongin wanted to scream and pull his hair out.

It was only a matter of time until he got the phone call he was dreading.

-------------------------------------

Jeongin had just sat down in the living room of the shared dorm when his phone rang. His seven other members were flitting in and out of the room.

They all knew you very well. Jeongin talks about you so much they would swear you were everyone’s childhood best friend.

The few times you were able to visit him in person before leaving for America, everyone always got along famously.

He answered your FaceTime call immediately.

“Hey!” you say as soon as you see his face. “Are you busy right now?”

“No, not at all. We don’t have anything until later today. What time is it?” Jeongin looks at the clock. “It’s almost 9 PM by you, what are you getting ready for?”

You placed your phone down on your desk. “Well, ah— that’s actually why I’m calling you, I need your advice.”

Felix and Seungmin both walked into the living room, talking quietly and sat down on the couch opposite him.

“What’s up? Are you okay?” Jeongin asks.

Both the other boys perk at his tone and look over.

“I’m um… going on a date tonight. Ryan had asked me out with him tonight. So I wanted your advice on what to wear, since you’re a fashion God.”

The floor beneath him crumbled. His heart fell through the sofa and into the Earth. Even his fingertips go numb.

A date? You were going on a date? With Ryan? You were going on a date with Ryan.

You were going on a date. With Ryan.

“Jeongin?” You ask again when he doesn’t answer for a few moments. His eyes are completely unfocused and spaced out.

He snaps out of it and clears his throat. “What um— What did you have in mind? It’s getting chilly out, right? Maybe wear a sweater? What about that cable knit one I got you?”

“Jeongin it’s LA! It’s always 70 degrees here.”

“But the restaurant might be cold.”

“I’ll bring a jacket then.” You laugh at him, unaware at the absolute anguish he was feeling. “I was thinking something like… you know that black skirt? That with this new tube top I got aaaand my knee high boots.”

“No.” He answers quickly, your face falls. “Why don’t you do the top with jeans?”

“It’s a nice place.”

“M-Maybe a dress then.”

“Jeongin.”

Seungmin And Felix were watching everything unfold in front of their eyes. It was like a car crash, they couldn’t look away.

Jeongin kept going, “I really liked that long sleeved red one you wore for Christmas last year.”

“Jeongin..”

“And if that doesn’t work I just think the sweater is the best option here.”

You stay silent, letting Jeongin finish his ramblings.

There’s a solid fifteen seconds of silence between the two of you before you spoke up on the other line. “Are any of the other boys in the room with you?”

Jeongin immediately looks over at Felix and Seungmin. “Yeah, Min and Lix are here.”

You nod a few times, refusing to look at the camera.

“I gotta go, Jeongin. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Y/N.”

“Bye. I’ll text you when I get home safe.”

“Y/N, wait!”

Three beeps signal the end of the phone call.

He sits there for a long moment, just holding his phone in his hand before he drops it onto the coffee table.

His heart is shattering into a million pieces.

Jeongin buries his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

Both of the other boys sit there, unsure of what to do next. They glance at each other and then back to Jeongin, who hasn’t moved.

“Jeongin…” Felix calls out gently.

The boy lifts his face up from his hands and looks over at his friends. “What am I supposed to do? A date. She’s going on a date. And I’m on the other side of the world.”

His throat bobs with a gulp and he pulls at his pants anxiously.

“Jeongin.” Seungmin tries to grab his attention. “I think she was just looking for support.”

He’s right. He’s completely right, but Jeongin is so blinded with jealousy he can’t think straight.

“I’ve loved her since we were thirteen and she’s going on a date with someone else.”

“You don’t even know if it will last.” Seungmin tries to comfort him.

“They’re already super close, she talks about him all the time, it’s always ‘Ryan, Ryan, Ryan’. He’s her new best friend, not me. She was supposed to come here, to Seoul, not go to America. And we were going to.. we were going to–” He chokes up and can’t get it out.

Jeongin abruptly stands up from the couch and snatches his phone off the table.

“I’m going for a walk.”

And with that, he was gone.

-------------------------------------

He won’t answer any of your texts or calls.

It’s been two weeks since your date with Ryan and you still haven’t heard from Jeongin.

It feels like a giant punch in the gut.

All you want to do is talk to him but he’s nowhere to be seen. He hasn’t even sent you a text to say he’s busy or when he can finally talk again.

Just radio silence.

You thought about texting one of the other members to try and get through to him, but it feels so high school that you decide not to.

All you want to do is talk to your best friend.

But he doesn’t want to talk to you, it seems.

It has to be because of the date. There’s no other explanation behind it. Everything was fine until you told him you were going on a date.

You’ve been here for two years now! Did he expect you to stay single forever?

Just because he has a dating ban, doesn’t mean you do too.

The more you think about it, the angrier you get. The smoldering ashes of your rage don’t dim. Not one bit, they just simmer and flicker on.

It all bubbles and reaches a boiling point one Friday where you’ve had entirely too much to drink.

Your friends dragged you out to a frat party where you drank yourself stupid. Nothing eventful happened at the party, but when you stumbled into your apartment and you were left alone with your phone, it all hit a head.

[March 3 11:48 PM]

Y/N: I’m home safe.

[March 4 4:22 PM]

Y/N: How’d your day go?

[March 5 7:31 AM]

Y/N: Jeongin please talk to me. I have so much to tell you

[2:01 PM]

Y/N: I saw a cute lil baby Fox on my way to class this morning, made me think of you :)

[March 13 6:12 PM]

Y/N: You’re just going to keep ignoring me, huh?

[March 19 3:58 AM]

Y/N: YanG Jeongin.

Y/N: you can’t fucking ignore me forever

Y/N: or maybe you can.

Y/N: is that what you want???? Me to be gone????? All these fucking years of friendship down the drain????

Y/N: well fuck you too, I guess

[4:02 AM]

Y/N: I got hired for your stupid fucjing group’s world tour. For when you come to America

Y/N: I fucking begged my professor to give me the gig for a project. It’s an internship. Was gunna see you next week and everythinfg

Y/N: surprise, asshoke

Y/N: and now you won’t fucking talk to me. Do you realize how petty you’re being? How childish? Over what? A guy?????? I cant fucking back out now, my professor would kill me.

[4:09 AM]

Y/N: the whole tour I was gunna spend with you

Y/N: fuck you, Yang Jeongin.

Y/N: and your stupid fucking childishness.

Y/N: why cant you just be fucking happy for me for once.

Y/N: it took me so long to get over you. Why do you keep doing this to me?

[4:14 AM]

Y/N: Was I supposed to wait forever?

-------------------------------------

Jeongin stepped out of the shower and looked at his phone.

Fifteen unread messages from you. It’s 4 AM in America, why are you awake right now?

He was so embarrassed over the way he acted two weeks ago that he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you.

But my god, he only made it worse.

Jeongin goes through every single emotion while reading your texts. You were going to be one of their photographers for the Manic tour?

You were going to travel with them?

His thumbs quickly tap his phone and as he’s about to click the phone call button, he freezes in his tracks.

‘It took me so long to get over you. Why do you keep doing this to me?’

‘Was I supposed to wait forever?’

His entire face drops, the excited palpitations of his heart turn sour and what feels like a knife is stabbed through his chest.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He stares down at his phone for what feels like an hour before he hurries out of the bathroom and right into Chan’s room.

Chan looks over at his member with a startled expression.

“Jeongin? Everything alright?”

“No, no everything is not alright.” He thrusts his phone into Chan’s hand. “What do I do? What should I say?”

Chan looks down at the phone with wide eyes, he quickly scans over the text. His face seems to go through all the stages of grief that Jeongin’s did, just a bit more watered down.

“You have to call and apologize, Jeongin. She’s definitely a bit drunk right now, but you need to call her.”

Jeongin gulps and his hands clench and unclench several times before he takes his phone back from Chan.

“Can I sit in here while I do it?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He sits down on the edge of Chan’s bed, staring down at his phone like a deer in headlights.

Chan just stares at him, not knowing what to do.

“What do I even say, Chan?”

“How about you start with ‘I’m sorry I was a dick and ignored you’?”

Jeongin groaned and curled in a bit, his jaw clenching with anxiety.

His thumbs move around the screen, but they don’t tap the call icon.

Chan watches. “It’s in the top right.”

“I know!”

“Well you weren’t doing anything.”

“Agh!”

Before he could second guess himself, he tapped the call icon and held the phone up to his ear.

It rings … and rings… And rings…

It doesn’t even go to voicemail. Jeongin’s heart drops through Chan’s bed.

He brings his phone away from his ear and checks that it’s your number he dialed.

It is.

He hangs up and immediately tries again.

It rings … and rings… And rings…

Chan’s eyes follow him closely. His face falls when he figures out what’s going on.

“Jeongin…” he whispers and wheels his chair closer to him on the edge of the bed.

Jeongin doesn’t listen. He hangs up and tries again with shaking fingers.

“I’m sure it’s just a bad connection, right?”

It rings … and rings... And rings…

He hangs up again with a cry.

When he looks down at your conversation he sees another notification.

[8:15 PM]

[Y/N has stopped sharing their location with you.]

You blocked him. You really blocked him.

“She’s drunk, Jeongin. Give it until the morning, yeah?”

Jeongin stares at his phone for a long moment. “Yeah.”

-------------------------------------

The next morning was filled with embarrassment and shame on your side.

When you rolled over with a groggy mind and upset stomach, the first thing you did was check your phone.

You were still in your dress from last night, your makeup was now smeared all over your face and onto your pillowcase.

A few texts from friends, a couple from Ryan, Instagram notifications, Snapchat, nothing from Jeongin.

Your face pulled into an ugly sneer for a moment before it quickly morphed into horror when you tapped on your conversation.

“Oh my god.”

You sat up quickly in bed, and almost immediately regretted it with how your stomach lurched and head spun.

Rereading all the texts, you wanted to slam your hungover ridden head over and over again into the wall.

You stopped sharing your location with him? Why would you…?

Oh, shit. You blocked him, didn't you?

Your hand runs through your matted hair nervously and you stare down at your phone.

“You dramatic bitch!” You curse yourself and gnaw at your lip.

What do you do? What do you do?

Obviously, you tap around to his contact and unblock his number.

The texts immediately flood in.

[March 19 4:25 AM]

Jeongin: Y/N, im so sorry

Jeongin: please answer

Jeongin: Y/N please unblock me

[4:31 AM]

Jeongin: I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to go about apologizing

Jeongin: you’re halfway across the world right now, Y/N, please.

Jeongin: why can’t you just be a two hour train ride to Busan anymore.

[4:38 AM]

Jeongin: I miss my best friend, please

Jeongin: I’m so endlessly proud of you. I brag about you every single day.

Jeongin: that picture you took of the Seoul skyline is still my background. The one with our hands.

Jeongin: I like that it makes me think of you each time i open my phone

[4:44 AM]

Jeongin: i knew you couldn’t wait forever, that’s why it hurts so bad, Y/N

Jeongin: why did I choose this path? It hurts so bad, Y/N

Jeongin: i care about you so deeply

Jeongin: you’re the only one for me

Jeongin: when you left for LA, you took every part of me with you.

[4:57 AM]

Jeongin: im so proud of you, Y/N. I guess I’ll just see you starting next week for the tour.

Jeongin: i’ll wait for you

Jeongin: cross my heart

“Fuck,” you whisper, your voice cracking. Tears welling up in your eyes.

Is he serious?

What are you supposed to do right now?

A text from Ryan comes in as you’re staring at your phone.

[12:41 PM]

Ryan: did you still want to come over tonight?

-------------------------------------

A week passed.

Another entire week without talking to Jeongin.

It was like color was slowly draining from your world.

You know you should reach out to him, but shame and embarrassment kept blocking your path to your best friend again.

But now, you had no choice.

You stood in front of a large office building, your bag slung over your shoulder, heart in your throat.

Once you stepped inside this building, it would be the first time in over two years that you and Jeongin were inside the same walls.

If you had pictured this moment just a month ago, you would’ve been kicking open these doors and sprinting through the halls until you finally laid eyes on him again.

But now, you find that it feels like your feet have melted into the concrete sidewalk.

Looking down at your watch, you see that you still have another thirty minutes before you have to be in the meeting. And your mouth is painfully dry.

A bell dings to your right and you see a coffee shop.

Perfect.

You quickly turn and walk into the shop, the same bell dinging to announce your arrival.

The barista welcomes you in, takes your order, and tells you your total.

As you’re fumbling for your wallet, an arm reaches out from behind you and swipes their card to pay for your coffee.

“Oh, thank you! You didn’t have to—“ you turn and your breath catches.

None other than Bang Chan stood behind you with that charmingly bright smile.

“Hi Y/N,” he beams.

“Chan!” you squeal and wrap your arms around him. You completely forgot everything for a moment, especially when he envelopes you in his strong arms. “What a nice surprise!”

“Hi, Y/N,” he says into your hair.

A throat clears behind you so you jump apart to apologize to the barista. She just laughs and takes Chan’s order.

The two of you stand off to the side to wait for your drinks.

“How was the flight in?” you ask, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“I’ll be honest, I slept through the whole thing, so I’m not sure.”

“It’s probably the only sleep you’ve gotten this week, hm?”

Chan laughs and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t deny it.

The barista calls out a name.

Chan shifts from foot to foot. “I know what happened.”

You tense up and look down at your feet.

“How much does he hate me?”

If you’re being honest, you really don’t want to hear the answer.

Chan scoffs, “Hate you? He doesn’t hate you. He’s just hurt, Y/N. The same way you are. You both hurt one another.”

Looking off to the side, you cross your arms. “Yeah, well. He started it.”

“Don’t be childish.” He nudges you playfully with his elbow. “Distance is hard for close relationships. It was a miracle that you two went this long without a fight.”

You nod your head and bite your lip.

“I miss him so much.”

“He’s just across the street, you know.”

You laugh which causes Chan to laugh.

The barista calls out your name and then says Chan’s right after.

“Come on, Y/N,” he loops his arm through yours and you both walk out of the coffee shop and into the office building.

You sip your coffee nervously, the taste is barely hitting your tastebuds with how preoccupied your mind is.

The elevator ride up to the appropriate floor is simultaneously the longest and shortest ride of your life.

What’s the worst that can happen, Y/N? He punches you in the face? Pushes you down the stairs? Maybe grab your coffee out of your hand and dump it over your head?

As if he ever would.

The doors open and you both step out of the elevator.

Loud voices carry down the hall and you giggle.

“It’s been so long since I’ve heard you guys in person and not over a phone.”

“It’s louder in person.” Chan sighs and leads you down the hall.

Each step is a death march of sorts.

The conference room door swings open before Chan could grab the handle.

Your heart rate spiked and then flatlined.

Jeongin stood there with wide eyes and parted lips. He stared at you with every single emotion known to man.

“Hi Jeongin,” you whisper, holding your coffee tighter.

He says nothing.

Jeongin steps out of the doorway and wraps you up tightly in his arms. One hand on the back of your head, the other on your waist.

A surprised noise leaves your lips and your eyes widen.

The coffee cup is taken from your hand by Chan who slinks into the conference room, the door closing softly behind him.

Without a second thought, you return the hug.

When your arms wrap around him too, a sigh of relief leaves Jeongin’s mouth and his shoulders slump inwards even more.

He didn’t expect you to hold him. He didn’t expect you to even want to see him.

Your arms tighten around his body and it feels like ice thawing from his heart.

Jeongin’s throat tightens and he buries his face into your hair, inhaling deeply.

He hasn’t held you in so long. He’s missed your touch so badly.

Jeongin, who hates skinship, couldn’t wait to have you touch him.

Your hand begins to rub circles on his back and he melts into you like a puddle.

“I’m so sorry, Jeongin,” you whisper.

The dams of his heart begin to crack and break. Every pent up emotion he’s felt for the previous three weeks bubbles to the surface. He stifles a sob and holds you tighter.

“No, please, I’m sorry, Y/N.” His chest sputters with a cry.

You pull back from him and look up at him with red, glassy eyes. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?” you push out a laugh in between tiny cries.

You’re trying with all your might not to let the tears fall down your cheeks.

Jeongin isn’t doing much better. His eyes are red and you can see the tears brimming in them.

Three weeks, you haven’t talked. It was the longest span of time the two of you went without speaking ever.

You reach up and cup both of his cheeks. Jeongin’s eyes close and he leans into your touch.

“I missed you so much, Jeongin.”

He winces at your words and his lips pull into an even deeper frown,

Jeongin brings his hand up to cup yours against his face. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” he repeats.

You step closer to him and press your lips to his cheek. Jeongin gasps under his breath and stiffens underneath you. The skin underneath your lips heats up.

“I forgive you, Jeongin.” You smile and back away from him. He watches you closely with wide eyes. “It’ll take more than that to get rid of me, you know?”

He smiles sheepishly and nods. “I forgive you too, you know.”

The elevator pings behind you and your new boss walks out with another important looking man.

He smiles kindly at you. “Let us get this meeting started, no?”

-------------------------------------

The first concert went off without a hitch.

Because of your position, you’re traveling with the entire crew and the members. Sleeping in the same hotels, going to the same restaurants, using the same transportation.

Sometimes you feel like a ninth member.

The boys all stood on stage with their hands interlocked to take their first final bow of the tour. You smile behind the camera and make sure to get all of them in the shot.

Jeongin spots you from the stage and smiles directly at you in the media pit. Your smile pulls even brighter and you focus the camera on him for some solo shots.

He winks once before turning to wave goodbye to some Stays in the floor seats.

Your heart flutters, it’s the happiest you’ve been in weeks. Hell, maybe even months.

All of the members exit the stage soon after and you walk with your security escort backstage.

You’re able to hear them before you see them. They’re as loud as ever, yapping about how well everything went, how happy they were to see so many Stays, how they can’t wait for the next show.

When you turn the corner to the dressing room with a bright smile on your face, they all turn and look at you.

“Congrats, guys!” you cheer and clap for them.

They all beam and say thank you.

Jeongin crosses the room to stand by you. He still has his beanie on.

“What did you think?” he asks happily.

“I loved it! I think I took close to two thousand pictures. Maybe more. I’ll have to go through them on my laptop later.”

“That can wait!” Minho calls from the back of the dressing room. “We’re celebrating tonight!”

“Celebrating how, Mr. Lee?” you tease and hear his signature giggle.

“With booze and games back at the hotel.” Jisung answers for him.

“Oooh,” your mood brightens. “I’m always up for that. You’re right, pictures can wait.”

“Great, then it’s settled.” Jisung claps his hands together once. “One hour, we all meet in my room.”

-------------------------------------

They were not joking around with the amount of booze on his hotel counter. You would swear you were at another frat party.

In your cup, you were nursing your third rum and coke of the night. You made the mistake of asking Changbin to make this one. After the first sip you knew this one was going to have to be taken slow.

Everyone was sitting in various seats in the room, some on the bed, some on chairs or the floor. The TV was playing a movie that no one was paying attention to.

“Okay, Felix, truth or dare.” Hyunjin asks.

“Truth– no, dare– no, truth.”

“Final answer?”

“Truth.”

“Who was the last person you stalked on social media?” Hyunjin asks, taking a sip of his drink.

“Ah,” Felix thinks for a moment with pink cheeks. “Oh! An old friend from Australia.”

“Just a friend?” Minho jokes.

“Yes, yes, just a friend.” Felix laughs, waving him off. “Y/N, truth or dare?”

You perk up from your seat on the couch. Jeongin sat on your left, his entire side flush with yours.

“Um, truth, I don’t feel like getting up.”

“What’s your body count since you went to America?”

Your eyebrows raise and you cock your head to the side.

Jeongin stiffens up noticeably next to you, he practically jokes on the drink that he was taking a sip of. “Felix, you can’t just–”

“Two.” you answer quickly and take a large swig of your drink.

Jeongin’s head whips around to look at you as if you just shot everyone in the room. You stare back at him with a confused face.

“What?” you ask, getting defensive. Embarrassment crawls up your neck. “I know it’s not a lot, but I’ve been focused on class and everything, you know?”

“No, I just– I didn’t think that–” Jeongin stutters and looks everywhere but at you. “I didn’t know and you–”

“Tell you everything? I didn’t think you wanted to hear about it.”

“Was it Ryan?” he blurts without thinking.

Your face pulls into a shocked, angry expression. “Excuse me?”

“Was one of them Ryan?” he presses further. The alcohol gave him loose lips.

“Why would–”

Chan interrupts the two of you, “Anyway! Your turn Y/N.”

You stare at Jeongin for another couple of moments before looking away at the group of men. You shake your head in disbelief before taking a deep breath.

“Seungmin, truth or dare?”

-------------------------------------

“You know you didn’t have to walk me back to my hotel room, it’s only one floor up.”

Jeongin insisted on walking you back up to your room when everyone started turning in for bed. The hotel hallway was eerily quiet compared to the noise filled room that the two of you just left.

“You never know what could happen in a hotel hallway.” He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

The two of you take the stairs up to your floor and walk in silence until you reach your room.

“Oh, wait. There was a picture I took tonight that I want you to see! Really quick, come on!” You quickly unlock your door and drag him into your room.

Jeongin stumbles in and looks around. Your room is spotless, just a few clothes strewn about.

You walk over to your camera sitting on the desk and pick it up, looking through the pictures for the one you wanted to show him.

He watches you closely, your face is only illuminated by the small screen display. Your tongue is sticking out between your lips in concentration.

Two? You slept with two people since you’ve been in America? Jealousy began churning deep within his gut and coursing through his veins.

He’s been so busy with being a trainee, then debuting, then training and rehearsing and recording that he hasn’t… he hasn’t been able to be with anyone. Nor has he wanted to. Because none of the people he could have were you.

Jeongin was so hopelessly devoted to you.

Your phone dings on your desk and you look over at it, an angry sneer twitches at your lips and you roll your eyes and then look back at your camera.

“What was that?” Jeongin asked, stepping closer towards you.

You look at Jeongin, then at your phone, then to your camera. “Nothing, you don’t need to worry about it.”

Jeongin lifts a brow curiously. You look back up at him and roll your eyes.

“It’s Ryan.”

Oh, Jeongin saw red for a moment. But, he kept it to himself to the best of his abilities.

“How’s that going, by the way?” Jeongin asks. He really does not want to know the answer. But, morbid curiosity got the better of him.

You hesitate, your finger stops moving on the camera to scroll through the album.

“It didn’t work out.” you tell him without looking up.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

You bite your lip and look up at him. “Are you? Are you really, Jeongin?”

Jeongin is taken aback by your small outburst. “Y/N, I–”

“Because you seem to be super invested in him, Jeongin.” you lower the camera, staring Jeongin in the eye. “Every time I bring him up, your eye twitches. You can’t fool me, I know you too well. I know you hate the guy.”

“I don’t hate him.”

“Then what if I did fuck him?”

Jeongin scoffs and looks away angrily, he crosses his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t care.”

Oh, he cares so much. His skin is fucking crawling.

“Look at me, Jeongin.”

His jaw clenches and he hesitates.

You put your camera back on the table and cross the final few steps until you reach him. You reach out and grab his chin between your thumb and pointer finger, forcing him to look at you.

Jeongin’s eyes widen and he stares at you.

“Look at me and tell me you don’t care.”

His face twists in anguish. He stares deeply into your eyes, flickering back and forth between them. His mouth screws up in a frown, eyebrows pulling together.

He gulps.

“Say it.” you push. “Say you don’t care if Ryan fucked me.”

“I…” he opens his mouth and promptly shuts it. He swallows again. “I can’t.”

“Why?” you hush.

The grip on his chin tightens even more when he tries to look away from you.

Alcohol thrums through both of your bodies to create a pleasant buzz and lift your confidence levels with one another.

“Why, Jeongin?”

“Because!” he cries out. His arms uncross and he grabs both of your shoulders tightly. “Because maybe I want to be the one fucking you! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

You’re taken aback for a moment. Truly, you didn’t expect him to be so crass.

“Because maybe I would lie awake in bed at night thinking about being your one and only.” Jeongin steps towards you and you back up until your knees hit the edge of the bed. “Because you drive me fucking crazy and I want you all to myself. Because I can’t stop thinking about fucking you into my mattress every single night!”

Your hand drops from his face but he snatches it up in his own larger one.

“Do you understand how bad I want you?” he whispers harshly. His nose is scrunched up and he’s talking through gritted teeth. “I’ve wanted you so badly for so many years. I can’t even look at anyone else because you exist. I’ve only ever had eyes for you. No one else exists, no one else makes me feel like you do.”

“How do I make you feel?”

Jeongin stares at you for a moment before he brings your hand down to press at the crotch of his pants.

Through his sweats you can feel just how hard he is. Both of you whimper at the touch.

“I want you so bad, it hurts.” Jeongin begs. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I want you to be my first. I can’t be your first, let me be your last.”

Your heart is hammering against your ribs.

Is this really happening?

“Please, Y/N,” Jeongin whimpers. “I’m begging you.”

He’s begging you to take his virginity right now? Right now?

“Now?” you ask, bewildered.

His dick twitches in your hand and he closes his eyes in what looks like pain, but you both know it’s pleasure.

“Please.”

The tension in the room snaps.

“Jeongin.” you grab his attention.

His eyes snap open and look at you.

“Kiss me.”

He gasps, cock jumping in your palm again before he smashes his lips against yours with a grunt.

He’s absolutely devouring your mouth with his. It’s wet and sloppy and completely inexperienced. But what he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm.

Moans are slipping from his lips left and right as your tongues intertwine together.

Your hand slides from his dick up his body to tangle in his hair. Your other reaches up and you grab one of his from your shoulder to place it on your waist. He paws at your shirt with his long fingers.

You nip gently at his bottom lip and he moans.

“Am I dreaming?” he whispers against your mouth.

You reach around and pinch his side. He yelps and jumps a bit.

“No, not dreaming.”

He swoops down and locks your lips once more. Your fingers massage his scalp and comb through his hair.

You part from his lips for a second to yank your shirt off. Jeongin watches you with hungry eyes, he’s trying so hard to maintain eye contact with you, but he keeps glancing down at your chest.

“Yours too.” You point at his shirt.

It looks like he practically ripped the thing off. It flies off the top of his head and onto the floor. His bare arms come around your exposed waist, his lips searching for yours.

He’s frantic in his movements, like if he isn’t kissing you, he might die.

You grab his hands and bring them up to your bra clasp.

“I don’t–”

“Learn.” you hush against his lips and suck on his bottom lip. He moans and his fingers grasp at the clasp clumsily.

He’s so focused on trying to unclasp your bra that you take the opportunity to kiss his jawline with an open mouth. Your teeth nip at his sharp jawline and he gasps.

Down his neck you trail your hot, wet kisses.

With each passing moment, you can feel his desperation growing and growing. A frustrated whine comes from his chest when he can’t get it.

You bite his collarbone harshly and his knees buckle slightly, but he keeps himself up.

“Y/N!” he cries out, pulling so hard at your bra you think it might snap in half.

You giggle and have mercy on him. You reach behind yourself and unhook your bra in one movement.

It drops to the floor and this time, Jeongin has no reservations about staring at your naked chest. His lips part and his own chest starts heaving with pants.

Another laugh comes from you.

His eyes flicker up to yours for a split second.

“Are you going to touch me or just stare?” you tease him with a sultry smirk.

Both of his hands come up and cup both of your breasts in greedy handfuls. You moan at the sensation and wrap an arm around his neck, bringing your lips back to his.

Jeongin fondles your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples gently. Your back arches into his touch.

“Do it again,” you breathe out. He immediately follows your command, pinching and rubbing at the sensitive buds. Every single one of your noises is swallowed by his wet, swollen lips.

His kisses leave your lips and travel down your neck. They’re too gentle and innocent for your liking.

“Fuck, bite me, Jeongin.” you beg.

Without any hesitation, his teeth sink into where your neck meets your shoulder. You cry out and roll your hips into his.

The hands on your tits stutter in their movements before speeding up, the lust consuming his brain.

He bites again and again just to feel your hips move against his, to hear your moans right next to his ear.

The tent in his gray sweats seems painful at this point. He continues to rut against your body for any sort of relief.

Threading your fingers through his hair, you pull his mouth off your neck. HIs lips break their suction seal with a pop and he looks into your eyes.

He already looks so fucked out it sends a bolt through you.

“Let me make you feel good,” you whisper against his lips.

If it’s his first time, you want it to be memorable.

He doesn’t put up a fight at all. His mind is completely gone, he just nods over and over again. You could tell him ‘jump’ and he’d say ‘how high?’.

Your hands slide down his sculpted chest, mapping out each of the muscles. Jeongin keens under your touch, closing his eyes and sighing in pleasure.

When your hands get to the top of his pants, you quickly slide them down, taking his boxers with them.

Gray sweats pool around his ankles and his long, hard cock bobs as its set free from its fabric confines.

Jeongin hisses when the cold hotel air hits him.

You lean up on your tiptoes and capture his lip between your teeth for a moment at the same time you grab his dick gently.

The whine he lets out is sinful.

He’s been dreaming of your touch for so many years, and now that your hand is finally wrapped around him, he can’t believe it.

You release his lip and it snaps back into place.

Slowly, you slide your hand up and down his cock. So much precum is weeping from the head of his cock. Every movement pulls a noise from Jeongin.

“Sit on the edge of the bed, Jeongin.”

He gulps and obeys your order, his cock standing proud between his parted legs.

Jeongin watches you closely as you sink down to the ground onto your knees. He fists the sheets on either side of his body with white knuckles.

He has to be dreaming. This has to be one of his wet dreams where he wakes up with ruined pants and sheets.

Settling between his thighs, you run your hands up his legs. Jeongin watches your movements with a fucked out expression. The way your fingers glide over his skin raises goosebumps.

One of your hands comes out and grabs his cock with a gentle, yet firm, grip. His eyes snap shut and he can’t stifle the moan that punches from his chest.

His cock is so slippery from his own precum that your hand glides over the skin easily.

You pump him up and down for a bit, alternating your grip from firm to gentle, changing the tempo from fast to slow.

His hips won't stay still on the bed, he can’t keep still even if he wanted to. The pleasure from your hand is fucking killing him. It’s all consuming.

You smirk. “Jeongin, look at me.”

He cracks his hazy eyes open just to see you lean forward and lick a fat stripe up his entire cock.

Jeongin cries out and his head tilts back. His hips jump around and his legs feel like they go numb.

You open mouth kiss down the sides of his shaft.

The pleasure shoots up his spine, he can practically taste the electricity.

Just when he thinks it can’t get better, you wrap your entire mouth around him and sink down to take as much of his cock as you could without gagging.

His hand flies to your hair and grips tightly. The strands weaving through his lithe fingers.

Up and down, you bob on his shaft, making sure to let the saliva pour from your mouth and down over his balls.

Jeongin doesn’t even realize how hard he’s pulling your hair until you moan around him. He cries out at the vibrations and pulls even harder.

Your other hand wraps around whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

He’s on cloud nine, he can barely breathe. Every intake of breath takes his full concentration, you’re making him feel so fucking good.

No matter how many times he’s touched himself and imagined it was you, it could never compare to the real thing.

His eyes follow your head, watching his cock disappear into your mouth as you stare back at him with those sinfully innocent eyes.

You’re going to be the fucking death of him.

He’s only able to last for a few moments with your mouth on him before Jeongin is panting out.

“Y/N, you- you gotta, ha– You gotta stop or– or I’ll– fuuuuck– Im c-close and I– hng! But I wanna–! I wanna–! I wanna fu-huck you!”

You swirl your tongue around his head and pop off his cock, sit dribbling down the sides of your mouth.

“You wanna fuck me, Jeongin?” you ask him with a sweet tone. It fucking kills him.

“Yes,” he pants out, “It’s all I want.”

“You’re gonna let me pop your cherry?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes. After you ask that, you lean over and bite his inner thigh.

Jeongin yelps and tightens the hand in your hair.

An embarrassed flush covers his neck and ears. “Please, Y/N.” he whimpers.

Smirking, you stand up from the floor and make quick work of your own sweatpants. Jeongin watches you like a starved man at a buffet. His tongue darts out of his lips and licks them when your panties drop to the ground.

“How do you want me, baby?” you ask him sweetly.

He tears his eyes away from your naked pussy to look up at you. He gulps.

“How do I…?”

“You want me on top? You want to fuck me from behind? You want to be on top? How do you want me, sweet Jeongin?” Your hand comes out and caresses his cheek. “How do you want our first time?”

His cock jumps at the thought of you in each of those positions.

But one sticks out.

“Need you underneath me,” he whispers, keeping eye contact while his hands come up to rest on your hips.

Your hand cards through his hair. It’s so fluffy.

“Whatever you want, Jeongin.”

Leaning down, you press your lips to his in a sweet kiss. It’s the tamest one you’ve shared tonight.

When you break apart, he chases after your lips, but you crawl onto the bed, laying down and making yourself comfortable on the pillows.

Jeongin follows your movements with innocent, fucked out eyes. He licks his lips again and his eyebrows pull together as he watches you.

You part your legs and run a finger through your sopping wet folds, making a show out of displaying yourself to him. He watches it like a hawk.

Slowly, you bring the finger up and stick it in your mouth, tasting your own juices.

“Come on, Jeongin. You said you were going to be my last.”

He turns and scrambles onto the bed, crawling over you and smashing your lips together desperately. Both of your legs wrap around his waist while he devours your mouth with his own.

His tongue is everywhere in your mouth, licking your own, invading and licking the roof of your mouth, coming out to lick your lips.

When you whimper, you feel his cock jump against your heat. Your hips roll onto his and his hips buck downwards into yours.

Both of you are moaning, panting messes when he pulls away.

“I don’t have a condom.” he says painfully.

“I’m on the pill.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jeongin, please fuck me already. I’ve waited my entire life for this.” you smile up at him with shiny eyes.

His eyes search yours with an equally sentimental look in them.

He nods once and lines himself up with your entrance. His head rubs along your folds a few times, making himself slick.

Your head tilts backwards into the pillows.

“No, please, look at me.” he begs breathlessly.

Immediately, your eyes snap open and you gaze into his.

Two heartbeats pass and he presses into you, his cock invading your soaking walls. The stretch feels so fucking good, you’re so horny for him.

Jeongin is the one that has the harder time keeping his eyes open, his pupils are blown out. His jaw drops in a strained moan, face screwing up almost painfully with how much pleasure is coursing through his veins.

His hips stutter a few times until he bottoms out.

“Holy fuck,” he whines. His hands clenched into fists next to your head.

“You feel so fucking good, Jeongin,” you praise him, your own voice is fucked out.

“I’m not going to last,” he cries and buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t worry about me,’ you coo.

His hips buck again and he whimpers into your skin.

“Jeongin,” you call to him and he lifts his head. His hair is so ruffled and messy, lips are swollen and wet, cheeks covered in a permanent blush. “Fuck me until you cum.”

His eyes roll back in his head and his hips pull out and slam right back into yours. Both of you cry out, your back arches.

Jeongin continues to fuck into you at a sloppy, harsh pace. His eyebrows furrow in concentration. He looks down at your tits bouncing with each thrust, his head dips down and he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Jeongin!” you cry out and arch into him. He moans around your nipple, biting it gently and rolling it with your teeth.

His thrusts are getting frantic.

He pulls off your tit with a pop and comes up to your face.

“Need you to cum with me,” he murmurs before capturing your lips. “Need it, need it, fuck! I need it, Y/N!”

“Give me your hand.”

He balances his weight on one of his hands and holds out his other one. You guide him down to your folds and press his long, beautiful fingers against your clit.

“Mmmm…” you moan when you guide him to rub in circular motions.

He feels you clench around him and he whimpers into your open mouth.

“Just like that, Jeongin.” you rasp. “Keep that up and I’ll cum on your cock.”

“Jesus.”

He rubs faster in some moments, slower in the others. His mind is swimming in the clouds. Everything feels so fucking good.

Your whines get louder and louder, each one more higher pitched than the last.

“Close, close, close…” you breathe out against his lips. “Hah!”

Thank god. He’s been this close to blowing his load for the last four minutes, but he needed to feel you. He needed it.

“Yes, Jeongin! Yes!”

His thrusts get harder, his rubbing on your clit matches the timing.

You reach around his back and scratch your nails up his back.

“Come on, Y/N.” he whines. “Cum for me, Y/N. Need to feel you cum around me.”

Your pussy clenches down on him impossibly tight, your head is thrown backwards and your mouth stretches open in a silent scream.

It throws him over the edge, he spills into you with one of the most feral noises he’s ever made in his life. It tears from deep within his chest.

He cums forever, painting your insides white.

Jeongin buries his face in the crook of your neck as you both come back down to Earth. Your heavy breathing fans out over his back.

One of your hands starts rubbing up and down his naked skin. It’s warm and inviting and he wants to curl into it forever.

He eventually pulls his face away from your neck and looks down at you with stars in his eyes.

“Good?” you ask.

Jeongin laughs and leans down, pressing a kiss to your nose. “It was perfect.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

#skz smut #stray kids kinktober #stray kids smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz kinktober #yang jeongin smut #jeongin x reader #stray kids fanfic #jeongin smut

2K notes · View notes

aeyla · 1 month ago

Text

SHUT TF UP THIS WAS SO CUTE

Language Barrier

Pairing: Lee Minho x Reader

Word Count: 7K

Tags: fluff, first meeting, first kiss, strangers to lovers

Summary: When the power goes out while you’re in an ATM vestibule, you come to realize you’re stuck inside until the police come to open the door. But there’s one problem, you don’t speak a lick of Korean, and the man inside doesn’t seem to speak an ounce of English.

———

A/N: Please note that sentences that are Italicized are meant to be in Korean and sentences that are regular text are in English.

‘How are you?’ - English

‘I’m fine thank you, and you?’ - Korean

—————————————————————————

Luck was not on your side today.

It’s not like you’re an unlucky person as a whole, no, that’s not it. Today was just one of those days that when you say ‘How could this get any worse?’, the universe takes it as a challenge.

Perhaps you should’ve just kept your mouth shut after you spilled coffee on your blouse this morning. But, you’ve always been such a ‘glass-half-full’ sort of person that you tried to take every inconvenience in stride. Everyone has their limit, though.

Before you came here on a business trip, you had heard about the Korean Monsoon season.

Everyone and their mother told you about how much it would pour, how it would feel like the skies suddenly opened up. But, you didn’t take anyone’s warning seriously. You would wave them off with a scoff.

“It’s just rain,” you thought. “How bad could it be?”

You’re eating those words now as you run through the streets in your nice, newly-soaked, professional heels. Your slacks are sticking to your legs, making the fabric ten times heavier. With your bag held over your head, you look around frantically for the bank.

It doesn’t help that it’s close to 10 PM and visibility is already horrible at this time. Yes, you should have gone earlier, but you were distracted!

Where is it? Where is it?

There!

You spot the glass doors and practically sprint up to them, grab the handle, and rip the door open.

A giant sigh of relief comes out of your lips as you step inside the tiny vestibule.

The only other man inside the place jumps a bit at your noise. He glances over his shoulder at you, but immediately turns back to what he’s doing at the ATM. You pay him no mind as you shake the rainwater off of your bag.

It’s after hours at the bank, meaning the only thing open and available is one ATM inside the room between the bank itself and the streets of Seoul.

Soft beeping comes from the ATM as the other man presses a few buttons. There’s an umbrella on the floor at his feet.

After brushing the water off your jacket, you bring your bag in front of you and start fishing out your card. Countless items inside your bag are now completely soaked.

Ugh, there goes all those business cards you collected at the meeting. Most of the ink is bleeding off the cardstock. Maybe, if you try really hard, you can make out the phone numbers on the cards.

Is that a 6 or an 8?

Or maybe the email addresses will be easier to understand. Surely, it just their names and their company’s–

There’s a bright flash of lightning followed immediately by a booming clap of thunder at the same time the lights in the ATM vestibule flicker and go out completely.

You fight the yelp that bubbles in your throat. The man in front of you seems to lose the fight against his reactions and lets out a tiny yip.

His shoulders come up and he seems to bristle like a cat.

“You’re kidding,” you mumble, looking up at the lights. It was almost pitch black inside now, save for the tiny emergency lights that kick on on either side of the glowing Exit sign.

The man lets out a grumble and a sigh.

You look over and see that the ATM has completely shut off. Figures.

The storm must’ve triggered some sort of power outage. Great. Now you’ll have to find some other ATM.

Why, oh why, did the restaurant that your boss wanted to take you to tomorrow morning have to be cash only?

Whatever, there should be a bank a few blocks from here.

Your heels click on the tile as you make your way to the door. When you grab the handle and pull, it doesn’t budge.

There’s a beat.

You try again, really putting your back into it this time.

“Am I stupid or what?” you whisper to yourself, trying the other door and pulling equally as hard.

“They’re not going to open,” the man behind you says. “The fail-safe locks probably kicked in once the power went out. It’s a security measure.”

You turn around and look at him with a blank look on your face. “Oh, ah, um… s-sorry, no… no Korean.”

The man blinks at you. “You don’t speak Korean?”

You blink right back at him. “Um…” All you can do is shake your head with wide eyes and a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry,” you repeat.

Another series of blinks are exchanged.

“No… Korean?” he asks slowly. His English sounds so unsure.

You nod. “No… no Korean.”

A tiny, exasperated sigh comes from his lips and he looks around, as if anything inside this tiny little room would be able to help him communicate with you. Meanwhile, you turn back to the door and give it another sharp tug to no avail.

“No,” he says firmly, drawing your attention back to him. He motions down to the door handles and then shakes his head.

“No?” you repeat, a bit confused.

“No.”

Honestly, the primitive conversation between the two of you would be somewhat laughable if you didn’t feel frustrated beyond belief.

“Why?” you ask, becoming annoyed. Obviously, he knows something that you don’t.

The man blinks at you and shifts around nervously on his feet. His hands motion around as he tries to conjure up a sentence in English. “N… No. Closed?... Closed.” He nods, saying the word rather confidently.

Yes, you know the door is closed. But, why?

After a second, he sees that whatever he said evidently isn’t good enough, so he points back to the ATM, to the light that is now off due to no power, and then to the locks. You follow his pointing and the cogs in your brain start turning slowly.

“Fail-safe locks,” you state and then finally release the door handles.

“Fail… Fail-safe locks,” he repeats slowly. “Fail-safe locks.”

“Fail-safe locks?” you parrot his Korean back to him and he nods.

A small hum comes from your chest and you take a step back from the door finally. “How long do you think–” you cut yourself off when you look over at him. The man is staring at you, not following a word you’re saying.

Your hand comes up and you brush some wet hair off your forehead and then scratch the back of your head as a nervous tick. There’s no point in even asking the question, he won’t be able to understand anything you’re saying.

If you were in his shoes, you’d probably be a bit annoyed too. But at the same time, he’s already been kinder than most would be in this situation.

He’s locked in an ATM vestibule with someone who doesn’t speak the same language as him– in his own country. He’s been more than kind. Most people would just wave you off and forget trying to communicate at all.

But here he was, talking slowly and making sure you can understand what he’s saying. He’s going so far as to point around the room to make sure you understand.

The man notices you give up and he lets out a tiny sigh, turning to then peer out the glass doors at the streets of Seoul. There’s basically no one out there, everyone has taken shelter from the squall.

“We’ll have to wait until the police come to open the door.” He pats at his pockets, searching for his phone.

Even with how terrible your Korean is, you still pick up on a few words. “Police?” A beat. “Police?”

“Yes,” he answers in English, taking his phone out and tapping the screen a few times before holding it up to his ear. The man continues to look through the glass doors, watching all the different cars drive by, none of them police cars.

You decide to turn around, walking around the tiny room.

All of the lights are off except for the emergency lights. They cast a dull glow through the entirety of the vestibule. There's barely enough light to see from one side of the room to the other.

Rain starts hammering against the glass as the man speaks into his phone. “Yes, hi, hello. I am currently trapped with another woman inside the ATM vestibule of Metrobank Seoul… Namdaemunno… Yes, that one.”

Your ears perk up when he mentions the name of the bank and the address. Ah, he must have called the police. His face pulls into a slightly annoyed look, but he doesn’t speak with a hint of it through the phone, at least, not that you’re really able to tell.

The man says a few more words into the phone before he hangs up with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair and then down his face in an exasperated fashion before turning to look at you. His mouth opens to say something, but he thinks better of it and he grimaces even more.

Your own features pull into a sympathetic expression and you look away, slightly embarrassed. Should you have learned more of the language before coming here? Absolutely. But at the same time, you didn’t have much time to prepare once you were told you had to travel here for business.

He shuffles from foot to foot and looks around, shoving his hands in his pockets and desperately trying to remember every English class he took in school.

“Police…” he says slowly, thinking through every word he wants to try and say. “Police are… busy.”

“Busy?”

“Yes. Busy. Busy with… car…” He brings both of his hands together and claps and then makes an explosion noise with his hands.

“A car accident?”

He snaps his fingers and points to you, as if you’re a team during a game of charades.

“Car accident,” he says in Korean.

“Car accident,” you repeat and he nods.

Despite the reality of the situation, you smile. The humor in all of this does not escape you. You decide to try and meet him halfway, even with your butchered pronunciation.

“Police… time… long?” Your head cocks to the side and you point to your watch. He shakes his head and shrugs in exaggerated movements.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. The accident was that bad, huh? No wonder the power went out then, the car must have smashed into electrical lines after that loud clap of thunder. This probably means all of the traffic lights and such are out too.

The police are most likely directing traffic and making sure no one gets injured; two idiots stranded in an ATM vestibule are the least of their concerns. Honestly, you can’t be in a safer place. Well, unless this guy is a murderer, but you haven’t gotten a harsh vibe yet.

You sigh and lean against the wall near the corner across from the ATM. Your body slides down to the floor and you stare straight ahead. It seems like you’re going to be in here for a while then.

The man takes one last look outside the doors before walking in your direction. He leans against the adjacent wall and takes a seat on the floor with you. His shoes almost touch the side of yours. It’s at this time that you let yourself take a moment to really look at him.

He has to be around your age; older than a college graduate but younger than someone settled into their career. Something that definitely doesn’t escape your attention is how… pretty he is. His skin is near perfect and so is his hair. Everything, down to the clothes he’s wearing, is absolutely flawless– and he’s only in sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie!

Next to him, especially in your current drowned rat state, you probably look like something worse than a hot mess. You quickly comb your hair off your forehead once more and pull at your soaking wet clothes sticking to your skin.

The man’s lips purse for a moment and he opens his mouth as if to say something, then promptly stops, opting for a grumble of frustration.

After a moment, an idea flickers through your mind and you hold up one finger to him to say ‘one moment’. You reach down into your pocket for your phone and take it out, tapping at a few screens and bringing up the Translate app.

‘What’s your name?’ you type into the phone and it immediately translates it into Korean below it. You turn your phone around and hold it up to him.

The man looks at you, then your phone, and his eyes light up. If you’re not mistaken, you even see a little bit of relief flash over his features. A tiny smirk pulls at one corner of his lips before he looks back at you.

“Minho,” he answers and motions to you.

“Y/N,” you reply. “Nice to meet you, Minho.” You hold your hand out for a handshake.

Minho looks at your hand and his smirk gets wider before he grabs your hand and shakes it gently. The skin on his palm is so soft. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

After shaking his hand, you bring your phone back up to your face and type another sentence into the translate app.

‘I’m very sorry for not knowing Korean, I’m here on business.’

Minho looks at your phone, reading the statement before shaking his head and pulling out his own phone. He types away and then holds it up for you to read.

‘No need to apologize. With my line of work, my English should be better. It’s a very hard language to learn.’

A little laugh huffs from your nose and you nod and type.

‘Try learning Korean.’

Minho laughs with you and his smirk grows into a playful smile. Jesus Christ, this man is gorgeous. He looks down and taps a bit on his phone and then he holds it up to you. With the way his smirk pulls at his lips, it almost reminds you of a devious little cat.

‘I could tell you were a foreigner when you first came into the bank.’

Your eyebrow raises. “Oh, really?”

He’s chuckling when he brings his phone back to type more and then hold it up for you to read.

‘You don’t have an umbrella.’

Laughter leaves your lips when you read that and your head tilts back to rest against the wall. The wetness from your clothes is beginning to seep into your bones. Plus, the feeling of the fabric sticking to your skin is starting to become overstimulating.

But, you try and keep it together. You don’t really have another option at the moment.

You type a message back to Minho.

‘People tried to warn me about the Monsoon Season. As you can see, I didn’t listen.’

He reads your message and sucks his teeth with a smirk. Minho shakes his head and motions to the glass doors, as if to say ‘Look!’.

“I know, I know!” you laugh and look outside at the sheets of rain pouring from the sky. Puddles have turned into small ravines flowing down the sides of the road. Any car that passes by creates a huge splash as they pass through them.

Every once in a while, the sky will light up and thunder will follow it quickly.

Minho laughs with you. “Next time… you listen.” He nudges your leg with his foot.

You look over at him. “I will, trust me.”

A long look is shared between the two of you. There’s this tiny nagging feeling at the back of your mind, it’s that same feeling you get when you see someone in public that you swear you’ve seen before. Maybe he just has one of those faces?

No, you definitely haven’t met him before. You would remember if he was someone you shook hands with in the last few days. A man that gorgeous would never slip under your radar, you’re certain.

Minho stares back at you, eyes flitting about at your soaking wet hair matting to your skin. It looks like his one hand twitches for a moment and then he shifts in his seat.

Back to the app.

The two of you type away on your phones and hold them up at the same time with the exact same question on them.

‘What do you do for work?’

Again, the two of you let out little huffs of laughter and he motions to you as if to tell you to go first.

So you do, you type down on your phone a little answer for him.

‘Right now, I’m only the assistant to a CEO for a huge company. Wherever he goes, I go. I write all his contracts; everything he does goes through me first. I’m more of an administrator than an assistant, though.’

Minho reads your answer carefully and then types out a small response with a tiny crease in between his brows.

‘Why do you say ‘right now’?’

A sad smile spreads on your face as you look down at your phone to type out a response.

‘I studied hard and have a Mathematics degree. But no matter where I apply, they say I don’t have enough experience. Back in America, the job market is absolutely horrible. So, I’m stuck.’

Minho’s eyes scan through your message and a frown pulls at his lips. He looks back up at you, meeting your eyes and then back to your phone before he begins to type his own message.

Your silent communication warms your heart a little bit. The glow from his phone lights up his features and you study him carefully. His teeth poke out from his top lip– it’s absolutely adorable.

He seems to think for a long moment before his thumbs fly over his screen.

Rain is coming down in sheets outside the door, it’s the only other sound inside the room besides the light clicking of the haptics on his phone.

You reach back and once more run your fingers through your hair– it seems to be drying now, but not in a good way. The humidity of the rain is apparent in the way it's starting to frizz up.

Minho turns his phone around after a moment of typing.

‘I’ve heard about how hard it is to get a job in America, I’m very sorry it’s so unfair. For what it’s worth, I think there’s nothing wrong with the job you have now. Hard work is hard work no matter if it's an assistant or a scientist.’

His words strike a chord within your heart, they tug at your chest and at the corner of your lips which twitch into a wistful smile on your face.

“Thank you,” you say to him in Korean, looking directly into his eyes. Minho smiles back at you when he hears it.

“You are welcome,” he answers in English.

His smile seems so warm for a stranger. He looks at you as if you’re an old friend, not like a woman, still soaking wet from the rain, sitting on the floor with him inside an ATM vestibule. He’s so genuine.

After a few seconds of just looking at him, you bring your phone up to type once more.

‘Your turn. What do you do?’

Minho stares at your phone for a long time, seemingly reading the sentence over and over again. His bottom lip pulls between his teeth and he seems to weigh something in his mind.

His brown eyes flick to yours, then back to the phone, then back to you again before he looks down at his phone.

You never realized how much just body language alone can convey.

He types slower, his thumbs not moving as quickly as before. Why does he seem so apprehensive?

Eventually, he turns the phone around.

‘I’m an idol.’

“Oh,” you say softly. Your shoulders shrug a bit and you cock your head to the side. “Like a K-pop idol?”

Minho nods in response. “Stray Kids.”

The name rings a bell, it’s just one you’ve heard floating around for a few months now. You think one of your friends is into them, but you can’t remember. She’s into so many different groups, it’s hard to keep track anymore.

You type in your phone.

‘I’ve heard the name before. Weren’t you guys at the MET Gala?’

With a breathy chuckle, he nods. A smile spreads across your face.

‘Wow, I’m trapped in a room with a celebrity then. You know, people write stories like this.’

Your joke definitely lands because he snorts a huff of laughter as you type on your phone a little bit more after that.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t take pictures and post them all over Twitter or anything. This will just be a funny story for me to tell my friends when I get back home to America.’

“Thank you,” Minho says softly with genuine gratitude in his voice. God, you can’t even imagine what it’s like being an idol. There probably wasn’t a single place he felt safe going to anymore. There are always cameras just waiting to take his picture.

‘When do you go back to America?’

‘In a few days. My boss loves to extend his business trips at the last minute. So, I could be here three more days or seven more days. It’s very hard to pack to come on these trips.’

A bittersweet expression settles on his handsome face.

You think for a long moment before typing away at your phone and showing it to him.

‘Have you ever been to New Jersey? That’s the state I’m from.’

Minho’s lips purse as he thinks for a long few moments. Very slowly, he nods, almost unsure. He types in his phone, then thinks for a moment, then types again.

‘I think we’ve been there twice. Is Newark in New Jersey?’

Excitedly, you nod. “Yes, that’s up in North Jersey!” You’re so excited that you forget to type down on your phone. “Oh!” you say with a laugh, looking back down at your phone.

‘Yes, that’s in the northern part of the state, about an hour or so from my hometown. I grew up in the central region, right on the beach. It only takes ten minutes to get to the beach from my house.’

Minho’s smile widens and he looks at you with a slightly envious look in his eyes. You giggle in response.

‘Two other members love the beach, but they’re from Australia.’

‘Australian beaches are probably not that different from American beaches. But I’ve never been to Australia. Have you?’

Minho nods and you see him close his translation app and switch over to his camera roll. His fingers quickly begin scrolling up through the countless amount of photos he has on his phone.

Not wanting to invade his privacy, you look away from his phone and out the doors in the vestibule once more. Not a single soul is walking– or running– along the sidewalks anymore.

Due to the power outage, there’s not even street lights illuminating in the puddles, it’s almost eerie looking. But, surprisingly, you don’t feel uneasy at all. Especially not with Minho sitting at your side.

Said man hums to get your attention, shuffling closer to you, and you look down at his phone. The picture is absolutely gorgeous.

It’s a photo of the beach, you’re assuming in Australia. The red sun is peeking above the horizon and painting the sky a beautiful wash of reds, pinks, and purples, all of the colors melting into one another. The clouds are wispy and glow in the morning sun.

The ocean seems so beautifully blue, even the foam at the crash of the waves is beautiful.

In front of the ocean is a gaggle of boys, it looks like there’s about seven of them. Each of them have bright, beautiful smiles on their faces reaching their eyes.

You’ve never been able to feel joy radiating from a photo like this, it seems to be contagious since you find a smile pulling at your own lips.

“This photo is beautiful,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of it.

Minho hums, maybe he understood what you said. His thumb moves and he scrolls to the next picture where two of the boys have taken one of the others by his legs and arms and seem to be pretending to toss him into the surf.

A soft giggle comes from your lips and you find yourself leaning towards him a bit to get a better look at the photo. Truly, you didn’t even notice your shoulders brushing against each other, and by his lack of reaction, it seems Minho didn’t either.

“Friends?” you ask him in your choppy Korean.

Minho looks over at you, his face closer to you than before. His eyes widen a bit at your proximity, but he doesn’t back up at all.

“Family,” he corrects you in his soft English.

An even warmer feeling spreads through your chest and you look back down at the photo. They must be his band members, but they just look so much closer than that. It reminds you of all of your friends back home.

Before you can even think twice, you’re opening your own camera roll, scrolling through an endless sea of memories before finding one specific morning you woke up to go watch the sunrise on the beach.

A tiny, awe-struck noise comes from Minho when he looks down at it.

“Sunrise,” you say and then think for a moment. You’re not sure of the Korean you want to say. “Favorite… time.”

He’s so patient when you speak, it absolutely melts your heart. There’s a different air about his softness with you too. He’s not treating you like a child just learning how to speak, no, he’s just being… nice. He’s being sweet and genuine and it speaks volumes about his character.

“Sunrise,” he says in Korean.

“Sunrise,” you repeat, looking up at him. His eyes were already trained on your face by the time you looked up. A tiny dusting of pink covers your cheeks. How long has he been looking at you?

A happy smile spreads over his lips, the edges curl up playfully. He nods. “Sunrise. Sunrise.”

“Sunrise.” Your voice says softly once more before looking back down at your phone.

Swiping through a few more pictures, you show him the boardwalk that runs down the beaches by your house. Everything from shops, to amusement park rides, to lemonade and ice cream stands litter the entirety of the shore.

He points down at the ferris wheel and shakes his head. “No,” he says simply.

“No?” you ask with a laugh. “Why not?”

“No… no high,” he shakes his head and motions his hands around to emphasize his point.

“Best picture,” you giggle holding your hand up in the air to emphasize the height aspect, then you’re swiping to the next picture taken from the top of the ferris wheel. This time, it was sunset. “Sunset.”

“Sunset.” A pause. “My… My… favorite time.”

A soft hum bubbles up in your throat. He loves sunset whereas you love sunrise. How cute.

“Sunset is beautiful,” you say slowly. Your eyes are still on your phone when you swipe to another photo.

“Beautiful,” Minho whispers softly.

Humming, you nod. “Yes, beautiful.”

A soft puff of air comes out of his nose and fans out over your cheek. When did he get this close? You look up at him and almost bump his nose with yours.

Minho’s head flinches back a bit at your sudden movement, but he makes no move to get further away from you.

He sighs softly, his eyes flitting all over your face, taking in every one of your features. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Your eyes widen, that pink blush making its way back to your face. You can’t even help the tiny, giddy giggle that bubbles in your throat. You look down shyly, biting your bottom lip.

Tender, gentle fingers lift your chin back up. Truly, you didn’t notice how cold your skin was until his warm touch spread on your skin.

Is this really happening?

A shiver races down your spine and a soft shudder comes out of your lips. Minho’s eyes look down at your lips and then down at your arm where goosebumps begin to raise.

He pulls away gently, making your brows furrow. Did you do something wrong? Maybe you misread his–

He’s shrugging off his hoodie.

Oh, he thinks you're cold.

Before you can even think to tell him you’re okay, he’s pulling your shoulder forward a bit so he can drape it over your back, bundling you up in such a pleasant, soft warmth. With small, fussy movements, he’s closing the hoodie around your body.

Perhaps you didn’t even notice how cold you were until you were suddenly surrounded in a warmth that can be compared to the fuzziest blanket you own. Not to mention the absolutely delightful scent that wafts upwards into your nose from the fabric.

It’s such a clean, cozy, calming scent. It’s like you buried your nose into the Mahogany Teakwood candle at Bath and Body Works.

Your eyes stay trained on his face while he bundles you up tightly. His hands gently grab your arms and rub up and down a few times to create even more warmth.

“Better,” he murmurs, finally looking up to meet your eyes.

How is it that a stranger has wormed himself into your heart like this? His tender gaze makes your soul feel calm, like those pictures of the morning surf under the sunrise.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to him. Your hands come up to grab at the hoodie, curling into the fabric.

Minho smiles back at you, you can see how his smile grows as he watches you relax into his clothing. There’s no space between your shoulders as you rest against adjacent walls, your two bodies have melted into the corner.

There’s a clap of thunder outside, but neither of you move. Your feet shuffle on the floor as you bring your knees closer to your chest. His legs adjust around yours, feeding them under your bent knees and tangling your limbs up further.

It’s so hard to break Minho’s eye contact, but you do it slowly, looking down at your phone and opening up the translate app once more. His soft breathing hits your cheek with every exhale.

‘You’re too nice to a stranger.’

Minho hums, almost in agreement. He picks up his phone and types back.

‘I’m usually not.’

You read the statement and then look at him, your head cocked to the side. Your brows furrow in confusion, but he types more before you can even ask another question.

‘I don’t know why I feel drawn to you.’

The text looks right back at you. Your heart flutters in your chest and you know that your cheeks get redder and redder by the second. Still, you can’t contain the giddy laugh that makes its way past your lips.

You bite the inside of your cheek to try and hide the smile, but it only makes Minho smile wider. His hand slowly comes up towards your cheek. Right before he’s able to make contact, he stops, hovering over your skin and gazing into your eyes.

A silent question is asked through his eyes. It’s a language that you don’t need any sort of app for. An answer is communicated right back.

Soft, tender warmth spreads over your cheek, radiating all throughout your body in the most gentle glow. His thumb caresses over your cheek bone, swiping gentle strokes back and forth.

You feel the same as him, that’s the strange part. There’s something so alluring about him that you just can’t put your finger on it. He’s pulling you in like a magnet and you don’t even want to fight against it.

There’s so many words sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you know that each and every one of them would fall on deaf ears. Nothing that you can say in the moment would make sense to him.

Exhales are shared and mingled together in the minimal space between your faces,

“Beautiful,” he whispers for your ears only. Not like there’s anyone else to hear it except the ATM sitting dormant in the corner of the vestibule. Not even the mice in the walls would have been able to hear his murmur.

Love at first sight was something you always gawked and scoffed at. You always thought that it was such a Hallmark invention, that there was no way you would be able to just look at someone once and immediately fall head over heels for them.

But here you were, sitting on a dirty floor, feeling your heart beating faster and faster in your chest. Letting your face be cradled by a man you didn’t know two hours ago. By the man who patiently worked with you to communicate.

How is this even possible?

You can count on one hand the amount of things you know about one another.

Minho, who is a famous idol in Korea, who loves sunset and hates heights, who has the most expressive brown eyes you’ve ever seen.

Minho, who did whatever he could just to talk to you when he could have just as easily sat in silence on the other side of the vestibule.

His hand slowly drags down your cheek, each finger gliding down your skin towards your jawline to lift under your chin.

Another silent question passes through both of you in the one language you seem to both be fluent in.

Your eyes flick down to his lips and he hears you loud and clear.

Minho leans in slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight touch. But, despite how soft the kiss is, heat spreads through your body in a grand wave, rushing through your fingertips and into your toes.

The first press is long and sweet, the two of you simply melting into the sensation of being locked together.

He pulls away only for a moment, his eyes gazing down at your lips before he swoops in again, this time his movements a bit quicker.

His hand returns to your cheek, guiding your head to tilt to the side to gain better access to your lips.

A soft sigh leaves your nose and your own hand travels up to grab at his shirt gently, just needing to hold onto him in any way possible.

Minho responds to your sigh, his lips moving a bit faster against yours. Both of your lips part and close, moving like mirror images of one another. Every few kisses, your noses brush against one another, but it doesn’t deter you from your actions at all.

Slowly, your hand travels from his shirt up to his neck, running up the side of his flushed skin. He feels feverish to the touch and it only spurs you on to keep moving. At the contact on his own body, Minho lets out a tiny grunt against your lips, his kisses stutter for a moment but he’s back to kissing you after just a moment.

Up, up, up, your hand travels over his moving jaw, to his cheek, then moving back to thread in his soft, brown trusses of hair. God, everything about him is just so perfect. It’s like you’re combing your fingers through the softest of cotton.

His kisses are getting deeper, little sighs come from both of your mouths as the passion continues on. Minho’s body turns towards yours a bit more, his knees canting up and almost forcing your legs onto his lap.

Tentatively, you feel his tongue poke out from between his lips, licking gently at your lower lip. You don’t even hesitate to give him access to your mouth. A gentle moan claws its way up your throat as his tongue licks into your mouth.

The hand on your cheek grips you a bit tighter, holding your face to his– as if you would want to try and move away from Minho and his addicting kisses.

“I just can’t help it,” he whispers in Korean against your spit, soaked lips before capturing them once more. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”

All you catch is your name and it sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t even need to know what else he said, his tone says it all. The way it comes out in a breathy exhale is enough to send your mind reeling.

“Please,” you murmur into his mouth before he presses his lips to yours once more with the same amount of passion and need in his actions.

More and more rain hits the glass doors, becoming the only sound that can be heard in the room except for your shared exhales, pants, and breathy moans.

Slowly, the kisses begin to calm down. Minho pulls away for a moment to take a long breath. His thumb moves to brush against your lower lip like a butterfly landing on a flower.

His eyes open just a crack, gazing down at your mouth with a hazy look in his eye. As he slowly catches his breath, he presses his forehead against yours, his fingers brushing along the heated skin on your face.

“Forgive me, I didn’t do things in order,” he whispers. “I should’ve taken you out first.”

Your eyes open and you look at him in confusion. “Hm?”

His jaw clenches before he swallows and he takes another long moment to look over your face, his features soft and welcoming.

There’s some movement as his other hand blindly pats around his lap for his phone. He can’t physically tear himself away from you long enough to even look down.

Another tiny laugh comes from your lips.

Your fingers move out of his hair to come around and gently run over his features, brushing against his jawline, to then trace up to his lips and up the length of his nose, memorizing each and every detail.

Minho melts into your touch, his face moving closer to your touch, seeking you out.

His hand finally finds his phone and he grabs it blindly, flipping it around in his lap and tearing his gaze away from your face to glance down at it.

Thumbs are flying across the screen to type at his translate app. He’s typing so quickly on his phone that you can't help but laugh a bit.

Before he’s able to turn the phone around, there are a few sharp knocks against the glass of the vestibule. The two of you practically jump out of your skin and your heads whip over to the doors.

Red and blue lights are flashing outside and it looks like two police officers are standing outside, peering in at you both. They wave when they see they’ve caught your attention.

Minho looks at the police officers, then to you, then back to the officers, and then back to you once more. His mouth opens and closes a few times and he tries to form a few words but you’re untangling your limbs from one another.

In a moment, you’re both on your feet as the officers work on unlocking the doors from the outside.

Minho gently grabs at your arm and you look down where he’s touching and your heart sinks a little. His eyes look a little questioning and desperate.

“Oh,” you say sadly. You shrug off his jacket, and hand it back to him. Minho’s eyebrows pull together and his lips part. He looks down at the jacket and then up at you.

“No,” he says firmly.

“Are you two alright?” The police officer calls inside in Korean.

“We’re okay,” Minho responds without breaking eye contact with you. He puts a hand on his jacket still dangling over your arm and pushes it back towards you.

“Minho?” you ask, looking at him and then at the officer approaching you both.

“We apologize for the delay, but we knew you two were safe, so we had to prioritize,” the officer says.

You blink at him blankly for a moment before then looking back at Minho.

“She’s a foreigner,” he says to the officer, finally looking away from you. “She doesn’t know Korean.”

“Ah,” the officer responds. “My apologies. You can tell her that she’s free to go.” He nods at the two of you and motions towards the door. You take his hint and slowly begin follow him.

Once again, Minho tugs on your arm and you pause, turning around to look at him. He’s holding his phone up to your face with a pleading look in his eye.

‘Can I please buy you a drink?’

A wide smile spreads across your cheeks and you can’t deny the relief that you feel inside your chest. The moment your lips twitch upwards, Minho immediately mirrors it.

“Yes,” you respond. “I love to go.”

He chuckles at your choppy Korean once more before taking his jacket out of your hands and wrapping you inside it once more. This time, he grabs the hood and pulls it up over your head.

With a satisfied hum, he nods and laces your fingers together.

“Come,” he says confidently.

“Lead way.”

#lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #lee know x y/n #lee minho x y/n #lee know reader insert #skz x y/n #lee know fluff

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aeyla · 1 month ago

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Remedies

OT8 x Reader

Genre - Comfort WC - 746

Summary - These are ways that I think the boys would help you to get over your mental and/or physical struggles Content Warning - Themes of mental and physical illness/struggles, mention of hospitals, mentions of medications/needles, mentions of food

A/N - I wrote this on my living room floor just now because I’m sick of being sick. I’m sick of being chronically ill, and I needed some comfort, so I thought I’d share it for anyone else who could use some comfort, too. I based these off of my experiences with my illnesses/disabilities. If you can relate then I just wanna say that i see you and you're strong. Keep fighting 💕+ I tried to write this to be gender neutral, I think I nailed it

✧ Masterlist ✧

Hugs from Jisung when your panic attacks have subsided. He whispers sweet praises of “You're okay” and “You're so strong” while he rocks you in his lap. You're still on the floor where he found you. His shirt soaks up every tear and his soft kisses on your forehead bandage every wound. You tell him that he can go, you apologize for causing a commotion, but he just holds you closer.

Laughing with Changbin while he tries to distract you from your symptoms flaring up. He's loud and silly on the couch with you. He's careful not to go overboard, he watches you to make sure that you're still comfortable while he makes silly voices and dances around for you. He's not ready to watch you cry yourself to sleep from the pain but he'll be ready to make you laugh again when you need it most.

Kisses from Chan while you're at your doctor's appointment. Your leg is shaking and he's soothing gentle circles into your back while he kisses your knuckles. He knows that you're scared, he is too. You have no idea what the doctor will say but he knows one thing for sure, no matter what the results are he'll be right by your side. He'll fight with you every single day and he'll kiss the pain away.

Adventures with Hyunjin when he realizes that you're avoiding going outside again. He knows that you get paranoid. He knows that every corner that you turn feels unsafe so he holds your hand. He skips across streets with you and dances on the white lines of the cross walks. He pulls you into shops that you've been too scared to visit yourself and buys you everything that you touch. He molds new memories with you with his bare hands. He'll do it everyday if he has to.

Cooking with Minho when he sees that you've been watching your diet too closely. He's gentle with you. You taste test everything together, he feeds you with silver spoons and kisses your nose with every hesitant swallow. He stands behind you while you stir the contents in the pots and plucks flour at you to see that pretty smile that he loves so much. He feeds you from his fork and he wipes away the mess. He makes it feel like it all goes down easy.

Reading with Seungmin when he comes to visit you in the hospital. He knows that you feel like you're going mad in here. He knows that you want to get up out of bed and walk out of here with him, that's what he wants too. Instead he holds your hand while you rest your head on his shoulder. He reads you each word with a softness that somehow drowns out the beeping of your monitors and the commotion on the other side of the curtain. He transports you to a place where you aren't sick. To a place where it's just you and him.

Cuddling with Jeongin when you feel that dark cloud consuming you again. He knew what was wrong when you let your alarms ring on for the third day in a row. You're huddled under blankets together, unmoving and quiet. His arms circle your waist and he pulls you closer. He weighs you down to reality. He makes you feel something besides the bubbling emptiness in your chest. He hums to you when the tears start to fall. He hums and holds you tighter. He won't let you drift away.

Singing with Felix while he helps you with your medication. There's so many to take that you've been overwhelmed with it all so he puts on a playlist and grabs all your pills. He lays them out and organizes them just how you need them. He uses the TV remote as a microphone, passing it to you when he sees you staring at the medicine littering the tabletop. He has you sing for him when he gives you your injections. He makes them as quick and painless as he can, always joining you for a high note as he sticks the band-aid on for you. He spins and hugs you once you're done for the day. He doesn't have to give you any praise, you can feel the love in his touch. You can hear it in his voice and see it in his actions. He's always going to be there to make it all feel easier.

If you liked this and wanna see more of this content let me know!

Thank You For Reading! Please Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕

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aeyla · 1 month ago

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Kinktober Day 6: Corruption Kink

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Bang Chan x reader

•

“This one’s Ursa Major, Chan says, pressing a gentle kiss to the birthmark on your arm. “And this little one is Hercules.” He rotates your arm is his grasp, grazing his lips over the birthmark on your inner wrist and placing another tender kiss.

“What about this one?” You question, flashing him a smaller one just below your elbow.

“That’s all the constellation names I know,” Chan replies with a breathy chuckle. “So this one can just be mine.”

He pulls your arm up to his lips, earning a laugh from you, as he awkwardly angles your arm and seals his words with a chaste kiss to your elbow.

You smile at him from where you’re laying, across from him in his bed, one hand tucked under the pillow, while the other mindlessly traces patterns onto his skin.

This sight makes your heart flutter- your boyfriend alongside you in his bed, looking particularly handsome in a black t-shirt and sweatpants, his brown hair tousled casually around his chiseled face. He makes your heart skip several beats, but he also intimidates you, being one of your first very serious boyfriends. Sure, you’ve kissed guys and dated around. And you’ve also slept with a fair few men up to this point. But Chan is different. He treats you far better than those other men- he buys you nice things, he satisfies you physically and he respects you more than anyone has before. That’s not to mention he gets you insanely horny at the smallest touches, even his voice serving as erotica sometimes, making you press your legs together for some sense of relief as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear and grazes his fingers along your skin.

“Got any other birthmarks I should know about?” Chan questions, reaching a hand out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“A few,” you reply, shooting him a small smile. “They’re just not visible in these pajamas.”

“Yeah?” He says, propping himself up to hover over you again. “Do those ones want constellation names, too?”

You hum in response, pulse already racing at the implication of undressing in front of him. It’s an exciting combination of arousal and anticipation, and you briefly wonder if you’ve ever known somebody who keeps you on your toes like this before.

“Maybe,” you reply, massaging a hand through his curly tresses. “But you have to find them.”

“I can do that,” Chan whispers in reply, already working kisses down your neck, the ache between your legs already wet for him at the sounds of his plump lips attaching to your flesh and working you in a frenzy.

His calloused fingers move to the straps of your tank top, where he slides them both off and begins working little kisses along your shoulders and collar bones. You whimper at the contact, wanting so badly for him to relieve the growing ache between your legs, but you’re simultaneously too shy to ask for it, and fear that you’re inadequate to lead him on the way he wants.

It’s no secret to you that Chan has another side to him- he’s dated plenty of girls, engaged in a myriad of lascivious acts with them and he knows exactly what he wants at all times. You, on the other hand, know next to nothing about what you like, aside from the few times a boyfriend has casually fingered you or given you subpar head. It’s your innocence you fear will drive Chan away when he realizes; he likely wants someone who’ll do the tricks he already knows drive him crazy.

As his hands find their way to your breasts, you stop him suddenly, pulling away and flickering over his gaze nervously.

“You okay?” Chan asks, looking down at you breathlessly as he attempts to read your expression.

“Yeah,” you reply, reluctant to say the rest of your sentence. “I just…”

“You just what?” Chan says, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. In fact, I can just put on a movie for us and we can cuddle, yeah? What movie you feeling?”

“No,” you say, pulling him back toward you when he faces the television.

“I want to,” you emphasize. “I’m just not as… experienced as you. And I want you to do it the way you want.”

Chan smiles down at you, chuckling lightly when he takes notice of the way your eyes practically sparkle as you look up at him, pleading for him to use you however he wants.

“You want me to be in charge?” Chan clarifies, toying with the hem of your pajama shorts.

“Yes,” you reply assuredly. “I just want you to… use me.”

Chan groans a little at your words, his mind already running rampant with thoughts of you under him, all fucked-out in pleasure.

“I don’t want to overstep your boundaries-”

“You’re not,” you assure him, giving his forearm a little squeeze. “I’m asking you to. I’m already wet for you, baby. Please, just use me.”

With one hand, you guide his hand down your shorts, running the pads of his fingers over your panties and letting him feel your preemptive arousal for him. He smiles a little at the sensation, his cock hardening at the sight of you all needy and begging for him.

“It’s hard to say no when you’re begging like this,” Chan states, grazing his lips over yours.

“Then don’t say no,” you reply, finally closing the gap between you two and kissing him.

Chan gives into you fully now, his plump lips pulling yours between his teeth and nibbling hungrily, moaning against you as he pushes you further down against the bed and works kisses down your neck again. He pulls your flesh mercilessly between his teeth, sucking loudly and pulling away, trailing dark purple bruises down your skin and groaning at the sight. His hands tangle themselves in your hair, pulling your locks into a makeshift ponytail away from your neck as he exposes more of you to kiss, more of you to bruise.

“This what you want?” Chan asks in a low voice, grunting against your skin as you whimper weakly in his grasp. Your skin is tender to the touch now, the bruises burning delightfully as he practically bites you, trailing down until his lips graze your breasts.

Chan wastes no time pulling off your tank top, latching his lips on one of your hardened nipples as he tweaks the other one between his fingers, gradually toying until he’s pinching you in his grip. You groan at the sensation, shivering a little as his gentle sucking quickly transitions to nibbling, his teeth grazing your nipple before biting gently and earning a startled gasp from you.

Chan looks down at you through hooded eyes, his expression unlike one you’ve ever seen on him before. His eye bags are somehow more prominent like this, not a hint of a smile on his face as he gauges your reactions to the stimulation, breathing heavily when a moan or a muffled breath escapes your lips. He looks almost animalistic like this, eager to please you the way he wants to, your innocence and purity set aside as he uses you like you requested.

As his tongue swirls around your nipples, your back arching into him in pleasure, his hands snake down to your pajama shorts, practically ripping them off of you and dipping inside your panties, where his fingers attach themselves to your clit.

He starts in circular motions, his mouth reattaching to your breasts as you grind up against his hand to chase the delicious friction. And then without warning, his fingers are inside of you, pumping in and out of you as he steadies your hips against the bed with his palm flat on your stomach.

“Stay still, baby,” he orders. “You asked for this. Don’t fucking move unless I tell you to.”

You nod breathlessly against him, trying your best to steady your movements as he works his fingers in and out of you. But you’re eager to feel him all over you, already dripping at the sensation of his fingers caressing your walls with every thrust, your sopping cunt emitting lewd sloshing noises as he picks up the pace and fucks you even faster. You can feel your first orgasm approaching quickly, your walls clenching around him as he nibbles on your breast particularly hard, earning a fervent moan from you. And then without any time to warn him, you’re cumming around his fingers almost instantly, coating his fingers in a generous trickle of your arousal as you writhe below him. It’s a new record for you to have cum this fast with someone, especially considering it’s your first time having somebody take the reins like this. But Chan continues pumping in and out of your swollen cunt, angling your face toward his and forcing your gaze on him.

“You ever tasted yourself before, baby?” He asks curiously, continuing to smear your arousal around you.

“N-no,” you breathe out, already turned on at the thought of it.

Chan smiles down at you, bringing the two fingers from your pussy up to his lips, swirling his tongue around his own fingers before shoving them in his mouth and licking his digits clean. You whine a little as he does, desperate for him to fulfill his ask like he mentioned.

“You want to taste?” Chan asks, his voice muffled as he talks with a mouthful of his own fingers. “Beg for it,” he then says, his voice coming off as cockier than usual as he looks down at your helpless state.

“Please,” you beg, your mouth salivating at the way his lips glisten with your arousal. How badly you want it to be you tasting your juices like that, desperate to relish in the same pleasure he is. “Please let me taste myself,” you ask again, whining in his grasp.

“So needy,” Chan says in an amused tone. “All for me, yeah? Never tasted yourself before?”

You shake your head no, your eyes flickering desperately between his plump lips and his slender, wet fingers. “Guess this’ll be your first time,” he says, pulling his fingers out of his mouth. “Open your mouth for me.”

And you do, parting your lips and sticking out your tongue for him, but he doesn’t follow with his fingers; instead; he grips your throat, forcing your gaze on his, leaning over you and parting his lips over yours, too.

He gathers a generous wad of spit in his mouth, pursing his lips together as he lets it trickle from his mouth into yours, a string of saliva connecting still present as you feel your salty arousal hit your tongue and slide down the back of your throat.

“Swallow,” Chan orders, gripping your throat a little harder as he watches you bring your lips together and force the saliva-cum mixture down your throat. Your heart races with excitement as a smile grows on his face, watching intently as you stick your tongue back out at him, your mouth void of any remnants of your arousal.

“Good girl,” Chan says, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Your heartbeat quickens again as Chan sits up now, pulling down his sweatpants and freeing his hardened cock from his pants and then his boxers. He looks painfully hard for you, a string of precum dripping from the tip of his cock as he finally stands up off the bed, nearing the edge and motioning to you.

“Bend over,” he orders, guiding you by your waist. “On the bed.”

You reluctantly assume your position, your feet hitting the ground as your chest falls over the duvet, glancing back at Chan as his hand meets the base of his cock.

“Like this?” You question, hair falling into your face as you watch him pump himself a few times.

“Yes,” he replies, reaching out to take your hands in his and pinning them behind your back. “I want your face down,” he says, guiding you so that you’re pressed against the mattress, your back arched up to give him better access to your cunt as he holds your hands behind your back.

“Have you ever been fucked like this, baby?” Chan asks in a gentle tone, taking a step forward to that his cock is resting at your entrance.

“No,” you admit shyly, your walls fluttering in anticipation.

“Just relax for me, okay?” He tells you, continuing to pump himself over you, your breathing growing ragged in anticipation.

“This is your first time, so we’re gonna use the light system. Say red if you want me to stop, yeah?” He explains, groaning a little as he smears his precum down his shaft. “You look so good for me, all ready for me to use you. Fuck, I could watch you like this all day.”

You whimper at his praise, nodding back at him as he taps the tip of his cock gently against your entrance. And then he finally slips inside of you, bottoming out with ease as you take him wholly.

“Fuck, you’re soaking,” Chan says, adjusting his grip on your wrists and holding them in front of himself as he begins to move. He starts with gentle thrusts, the lewd sound of his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy teeming all around the room and making your head spin with pleasure. His cock kisses your cervix as he pumps inside of you, groans escaping his lips as he fucks you a little harder and tightens his grip on your wrists.

“That feel good, baby?” Chan asks breathlessly. “Talk to me.”

“Y-yes,” you reply in a shaky tone, a stream of drool escaping your lips and trickling onto the mattress below you. You can barely get a word out, feeling entirely too fucked-out in pleasure by your boyfriend, the feeling of him using you making your walls clench with every movement.

He slows his pace a little bit, reaching down to caress your spine with his hand and gauge how you’re feeling.

“Color,” he says plainly, his thrusts much shallower now.

“Green,” you breathe, another pool of drool escaping your lips onto the duvet below you. “Harder,” you manage to breathe out, your entrance already missing the fullness of his cock when he’s railing you like this. You know this is going to be a regular occurrence from now on, dripping in anticipation as you wait for him to move faster again.

“What was that, baby?” Chan asks.

“Harder,” you say again, whining into the mattress. “Fuck me harder, please. Feels so good.”

Chan chuckles lightly at the sight, your drool pooling alongside the trickling mascara around your eyes, your breasts bouncing with every thrust as he pulls you closer to him and picks up the pace again. He’s never seen you like this before, completely submitted to him, reduced to a whiny, drooling mess, all for his aching cock. But he loves the way he’s driven you to this, knowing very well it won’t be the last time he makes you beg for him to corrupt you.

“Fuck, baby,” Chan breathes. “I’m gonna cum.”

You can’t say anything in response, pornographic moans escaping your lips in harmony with his grunts, so close to your release now as he pounds into you, the room filled with sounds of slapping skin and breathless lovers.

Chan’s hands pull your makeshift ponytail against him, giving one particularly hard thrust as he lets out a fervent moan at the friction. And then as he holds you still, his cock twitches inside of you, emptying a generous load of his cum inside of you and coating your walls entirely in his milky white arousal. He holds you still, thrusts slowing down to let you breathe, and massaging little circles into your back as he finally feels you tremble and find your release around his still-hard cock, dribbling arousal on him and the carpeted flooring.

You shiver in a mix of pain and pleasure when he finally pulls out, caressing your waist with his hands and guiding you up again.

“You okay, baby?” Chan asks, giving you a little kiss on your exposed back and trailing his fingers over your spine. “Sit down for me, yeah? Gonna get you some water and a towel.”

You do as you’re told, legs still trembling as you sit on the edge of your bed and catch your breath, the ache between your legs quickly replaced by a languorous sensation to be close to Chan once again.

Chan’s calloused hands work little massages into your shoulder blades as he holds you against him, grazing his lips over your skin and smiling against you.

“You did so well,” he says, pulling the blanket up higher so that your torso is warmly covered by the knit.

“Felt so good,” you hum in response. “We’re definitely doing that again. I want to keep trying new things with you.”

“I can do that,” Chan says, grazing your hand with his fingertips. “We’re not in any rush.”

You nod at his words, laying back against him and shutting your eyes in a state of blissful weariness.

“For now,” he continues, running a finger across your neck. “We have a few new marks to assign constellation names to.”

You chuckle softly against him, your eyes remaining shut as he speaks in hushed tones.

“I thought you ran out of constellation names.”

“I did,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to a purple bruise painted on your flesh. “They can just all be mine.”

He moves to kiss another one, careful not to apply pressure to your bruised flesh.

“This one is mine,” he presses a little kiss, moving to the next. “This one is Channie’s. And this one belongs to me…”

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