#leeknow

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content. dirty talk. oral (fem receiving). fingering. degrading language. spit.

⍣ ೋ notes: thank you for being our first guest here at skzotel! it means a lot to me and definitely means a lot to the staff :) below you will find your detailed investigation report along with an internal service memo in the form of our leaked group chat texts. enjoy <3

INTERNAL INVESTIGATION REPORT Filed by Concierge Aeryn Subject: Staff Conduct – Front Desk / Early Check-In Encounter Staff Member Under Review: Seungmin Requested by: Guest (Room 706) Requested Resolution: Formal Investigation & Internal Service Memo

[Location: Front Desk, 7:08 a.m.]

Aeryn’s heels clicked crisply over the marble floor as she approached the front desk, clipboard in hand, expression unreadable save for the tiniest upward quirk at the corner of her mouth.

Seungmin didn’t look up from his monitor. “If this is about the bathrobe shortage again, tell Jeongin to stop pocketing them.”

“Not robes,” Aeryn replied smoothly. “You, actually.”

Now he looked up. “Excuse me?”

She handed him a copy of the complaint, neatly printed on SKZOTEL letterhead. His eyes skimmed it—then narrowed. “I didn’t ogle anyone.”

“Oh? Because the guest certainly believes otherwise. Said they were too flustered to catch your name tag, which, as I recall, is attached to every suit you own.”

Seungmin leaned back in his chair. “Tall, dark hair, working early at the front desk? Could’ve been Hyunjin.”

Aeryn smiled, dangerous and sweet. “It wasn’t.”

“How would you even know—?”

“Because Security Officer Han very helpfully reviewed the security footage for me this morning.” She paused, then added with a deliberately raised brow, “The full footage. Including the angles he installed without my permission.”

Seungmin winced. “Of course he did.”

“I saw it,” Aeryn said, coolly. “You watched them walk in. Your eyes followed. You lingered. You brushed your fingers across theirs. Twice.”

“That could’ve been—”

“Twice, Seungmin.”

A beat of silence passed between them.

Then: “...Fine. Maybe once. Not twice.”

Aeryn didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she tucked the clipboard under her arm and folded her hands neatly in front of her. “You’ll be heading to Room 706. Apologize. Be charming. Fix it.”

“And if they don’t want me there?”

“You’ll know very quickly,” Aeryn replied, stepping away with a ghost of a smirk. “But given the tone of the request, I’d say your odds are promising.”

[Location: Room 706, 7:12 a.m.]

Seungmin stood outside the door, one hand in his pocket, the other hovering just above the knocker. He exhaled slowly.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, then knocked twice.

The door opened.

And there you were. Robe tied loose. Hair still damp from your shower. Surprised—but not displeased.

He cleared his throat, expression unreadable.

“Guest of 706,” he began, “I’ve been instructed to apologize for... perceived impropriety during your check-in. I may have—allegedly—been too forward with a key pass-off. Or made eye contact longer than protocol allows.”

Your brow lifted, just slightly.

He sighed. “Look. I don’t do this often.”

You stepped aside without a word, letting the door fall open.

He hesitated.

You tilted your head. “Well? Don’t leave a guest waiting.”

Seungmin stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that didn’t match the easy calm on his face.

The room smelled faintly of bergamot and steam—like you’d just stepped out of a long, indulgent shower and hadn’t quite come back to earth yet. There was still condensation on the bathroom mirror, still warmth in the air, and you watched with interest as he surveyed the space like he was taking mental notes for a report.

Typical.

“You have a nice view,” he said casually, nodding toward the open curtains. His tone was professional, but his eyes didn’t leave you.

“I’d say the same,” you replied smoothly, adjusting your robe—but not before letting it fall open for just a second longer than necessary. His gaze flicked down, caught it, then returned to your face without flinching.

Of course he didn’t flinch. He was too composed for that.

Too composed… for now.

“I assume this is the part where you offer me complimentary wine and a fruit basket as compensation for my emotional distress.”

“That’s standard protocol,” he said, stepping further into the room. “But I had a different resolution in mind.”

You raised a brow, pretending to mull that over. “A personal apology?”

“Personal, yes.” He stopped in front of you, close enough now that you could smell the faint hint of spice on his skin, some luxurious cologne no doubt mandated to all staff.

His voice dropped slightly. “Sincere? Not exactly.”

You smiled, slow and amused. “You’re not very good at apologies, are you?”

“I don’t do them often,” he murmured again, echoing himself from earlier.

Your fingers lifted, brushing his lapel. “So you said. And yet, here you are. In my room. Under direct order.”

His breath caught, just briefly, when your hand drifted from his lapel to the first button of his shirt. He didn’t stop you. Didn’t lean in either. Just waited, patient and still, like he wanted you to make the next move.

You popped the button open slowly. “How does the guest know it’s genuine? Your apology, I mean.”

He tilted his head, ever so slightly, and then—his hand found your waist.

Not harsh. Not rushed. But firm. Intentional.

“They don’t,” he said simply. “Unless I show them.”

Your breath hitched.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss that asked for forgiveness. It was the kind that demanded silence. Claimed space. Took its time.

Seungmin’s lips were warm, soft but certain, coaxing yours apart without pressure. He kissed like someone who thought things through. Every movement had a purpose. Every flick of his tongue was measured—until you whimpered, barely a sound, and then something inside him snapped.

His hands dragged you forward, robe loosening with the motion, and his mouth deepened against yours with a hunger you hadn’t expected from the picture-perfect front desk boy. Your fingers found his shoulders, digging in. His hands—God, his hands—palmed your hips, your waist, your ass, dragging your body flush to his.

When he pulled back, he was breathing hard. His hair slightly out of place. His lips pink from the kiss.

“You’re not going to file another complaint, are you?” he asked, voice thick and a little breathless.

You blinked at him, dazed. “That depends.”

“On?”

“How thorough your apology is.”

He laughed once—low, dark, sharp. “I can be very thorough.”

He didn’t ask for permission before pushing the robe off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor like a discarded secret. He took a slow, indulgent second to admire you—then pressed another kiss to your collarbone. Then your throat. Then just beneath your jaw.

Each kiss got slower. Deeper. Each pause dragged heat through your skin, made you ache in anticipation.

When he dropped to his knees in front of you, the look he gave you wasn’t reverent.

It was dangerous.

Seungmin looked up from between your thighs like a man about to ruin someone—and document it for internal records.

He didn’t speak when he pushed your thighs apart—just watched.

Watched as you shifted under his gaze, robe forgotten on the floor, heat prickling across your bare skin under the scrutiny. His hands were cool on your knees, thumbs brushing slow, lazy circles like you weren’t already trembling.

"Look at you," he murmured, almost bored. "One little complaint and now you're desperate to be on my tongue."

You opened your mouth to answer—but he was already dragging his lips up the inside of your thigh, so close, and then pulling away just as fast.

"Did I say you could speak?"

Your breath caught. The look in his eyes had shifted—no longer professional, no longer cautious. This wasn’t an apology. This was punishment disguised as indulgence.

"You think I didn’t notice," he muttered, voice low against your skin. "You wanted me to look. Wanted it so bad you put it in writing. Complained about me like it was some scandal when you were dripping through your panties the second I handed you the keycard."

You whimpered, body jolting when his tongue flicked over your crease just once, cruel and shallow.

"Yeah," he smirked, hearing it. "There it is. Filthy little liar. Filing paperwork like you didn’t want this. Like you wouldn’t beg."

One hand hooked under your thigh, pulling it over his shoulder with casual strength. The other? Slid between your legs and—fuck—he didn’t tease this time. Fingers spread you open, dragging through the slick heat of your cunt like he already owned it.

"God," he breathed, almost laughing. "You’re soaked."

You nearly choked when his tongue pressed in—slow, mean, licking you like he had all the time in the world to unravel you. No pattern, no rhythm. Just long, luxurious passes, licking up everything you gave him without a word of praise.

Because Seungmin didn’t do praise.

No. He licked like he was testing you. Tongue curling just inside, pulling back before you could grind down. Holding your hips still with one brutal grip, tongue replacing his fingers, letting his nose nudge your clit but never giving it the pressure you needed.

"Don't squirm," he said flatly. "You're here to take what I give you. Nothing else."

And you tried—God, you tried—but when he spat onto your cunt, using his fingers to rub it in like you were something messy beneath him, you keened, hips rocking up involuntarily.

Wrong move.

Suddenly, his hand was on your throat.

Not tight. Not dangerous. Just enough to still you.

Enough to make you listen.

"You wanted something to complain about,” he growled. “I'll give you something to report."

Then his mouth was back on you—focused now, tongue flat against your clit, lips sucking just hard enough to make your legs shake, and his hand didn’t leave your neck. Not until your moans got breathy. Panicked.

"You're gonna cum," he said, not asking. "Right on my face. And then I'm going to make you thank me for it."

You nodded, frantically. Mindless.

"No," he snapped, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. His mouth was shiny with you. His voice was filthy silk. “Ask.”

Your voice cracked. “P-please. Please, let me cum—”

He went back in with no mercy.

This time, he didn’t stop. Tongue relentless, fingers slipping back inside, curling, punishing. Your orgasm hit like a wave dragged over marble—sudden, loud, and humiliatingly hard. Your thighs clamped, your body jerked, and Seungmin held you down and fucking ate it.

He didn’t pull away when you came. Didn’t even slow down.

If anything, he got meaner with it—tongue flicking over your clit in tight, practiced circles while two fingers stayed buried deep, fucking you through the aftershocks like he was trying to draw another one out of you. Like your first orgasm was a proof of concept and now he had something to perfect.

“Sensitive?” he asked, way too casual for a man kneeling between your thighs, wrist working in and out of your soaked cunt. “You gonna cry about it?”

You whimpered, hips twitching, thighs trying to close around his head—he shoved them apart again without ceremony.

“Thought so.”

His mouth found your clit again, more deliberate now. Tongue flat, wide, slow at first—then faster when your hips tried to squirm. He held you still, firm and patient and infuriating, dragging another wave of pleasure out of your wrung-out body like it was owed to him. Like this was all part of his process.

You came again, louder this time. Less controlled. Less pretty.

He licked you through it, chin wet, lips wet, eyes half-lidded like he was bored of your reactions but still hungry underneath it all. And when he finally stood, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then dragged that same hand along your cheek. Not rough. Not sweet either.

Just… a mark. A reminder.

You should’ve been dizzy. Humiliated. You were still trembling, legs weak, heart rabbit-fast in your chest.

But you smiled up at him, slow and sly, voice still ragged as you asked, “Is this the part where I tip?”

Seungmin snorted. Just once. Then he leaned down, kissed your cheek—mockingly soft—and murmured:

“You couldn’t afford me.”

Your fingers curled in his shirt again, dragging him closer by the collar. “Maybe not. But I could file another complaint.”

That got a look out of him. One brow arched. One corner of his mouth twitched like he was suppressing a grin.

“You want to be punished again?”

You tilted your head, lips brushing his. “What if I said yes?”

He didn’t kiss you. Not yet. Just held your chin in one hand and whispered, “Then next time, sweetheart, you’re going to be the one on your knees.”

______________________________________________________________

🗒️ INTERNAL SERVICE MEMO From: Concierge Aeryn To: SKZotel Staff – All Departments Subject: Incident Debrief – Room 706 / Front Desk Conduct Classification: Staff Eyes Only / Group Chat Archive

Team,

Per request of the guest in Room 706 and in accordance with our transparency protocols (and Chan’s insistence on “team bonding”), the following is a transcript of the internal staff group chat from this morning, shortly after certain actions were taken by Front Desk Staff in response to a formal complaint.

Please note: This conversation has not been edited for professionalism, grammar, or good taste. Proceed accordingly.

– Aeryn Concierge, SKZotel

[lotusbee07]

[viasdreams]

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡

slowly falling in love with leeknow !!

a/n: add sporbie to the list of weird pet names via has come up with for these smaus !!!!

fake text m.list ☁︎⋅

[christakisbang]

[yongbokiee-felix]

Channie sent a pic on bubble 🫧

[joannajo1999]

"Two Steps Behind" Lee Know × Reader

Lee Know × Reader

Title: “Two Steps Behind”

Genre: Angst to Fluff | Word Count: ~2.3k

You were just supposed to stop by.

That was it—just a quick visit to pick him up from practice, like you’d done a dozen times before. Minho had texted earlier, something casual like “we’ll wrap up around 7. bring tea?” with a cat emoji. You smiled when you read it. His favorite iced tea was tucked in your bag, still cold.

You weren’t expecting anything to go wrong.

But the moment you pushed open the heavy studio door, the world tilted just slightly.

The music hit first—an upbeat rhythm with sharp beats, echoing off the mirrors. Then you saw them. Minho and Soojin.

You froze in the doorway.

They moved like water and fire—so fluid, yet sharp, every motion deliberate and precise. Her hand slid down his chest in perfect tempo, and he didn't flinch. They didn’t miss a single beat. She twirled back into his arms, her laughter spilling into the air like she belonged there.

And maybe… she did.

You hated how natural it looked.

How natural they looked.

Soojin—his old choreography partner. The one who had trained with him before he debuted. The one who had toured with him for that one special performance. The one who once, only once, you asked about and he just said, “We go way back. She’s like a second pair of legs when we dance.”

Now you knew what he meant.

You took a step back instinctively, willing yourself not to feel that tightening in your chest. Not to compare.

But the door creaked.

Loud. Inescapable.

Minho turned instantly. His eyes lit up. “Y/N!”

Too bright.

Too warm.

Too perfect.

Your fingers tightened around the bottle of iced tea. You stepped inside slowly, not trusting your voice.

Soojin turned and beamed at you. “Hey! Minho was on fire today. We were in the zone.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, barely meeting her eyes. “I saw.”

She tossed her towel over her shoulder and grabbed her bag. “Nice seeing you. I’ll head out first. Great session, Min.” She gave him a high-five—light, casual, but you saw it. The way her fingers lingered just a second too long, the way he didn’t pull away immediately.

You said nothing as she walked out.

But you couldn’t stop your eyes from watching her go.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Minho turned to you. “Hey, what’s up? You okay?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and held up the drink. “Brought your favorite.”

He took it with a smile, but it faded when he saw your expression. “Talk to me.”

“She’s good,” you said, voice smaller than intended.

“Soojin?” he asked, confused. “Yeah. We’ve danced together forever.”

You nodded, staring at the scuffed floor. “Must be nice.”

He tilted his head. “What is?”

“To move like that. To laugh without even saying anything. To… have matching shoes.”

Minho blinked, caught off guard. “Wait… are you jealous?”

You scoffed, setting the iced tea down a little too firmly. “No. I’m just observant.”

The silence stretched thin between you. He stepped closer, cautiously, like approaching a wounded animal.

“Y/N…” he said gently, trying to catch your eyes.

But you couldn’t. You were afraid you’d break.

Afraid you already were.

“I know I shouldn’t feel this way,” you murmured. “But I stood there watching her touch you like she’s allowed to. Like she’s earned it. And I’m just… background. Always two steps behind.”

He opened his mouth, but you kept going, the words tumbling out, each one heavier than the last.

“You talk about how well you move with her, how she knows your rhythm. I can’t compete with that. You two are like a perfect performance, and I—I don’t even belong on the stage.”

His brows drew together. “Is that really how you feel?”

You laughed bitterly. “I feel like a filler. Like the girl who waits outside while you rehearse the most beautiful duet with someone else.”

His jaw clenched, something unreadable passing through his eyes. “You’re not a filler.”

“You didn’t see the way she looked at you. Like she still has a chance.”

He closed the distance between you in two steps, his voice low but firm. “Then I need to make it clear that she doesn’t.”

Your breath hitched.

“I never thought I needed to,” he continued, reaching for your hand, “because to me, you’re not someone I take for granted. You’re not two steps behind, Y/N. You’re the reason I even want to keep moving forward.”

You finally looked up. And the softness in his eyes nearly undid you.

“I’ve known Soojin a long time,” he said, “but she’s part of my past. I’ve danced with her a hundred times. I’ll probably dance with her again. But it won’t mean what this means.”

He took your hand and pressed it over his chest, where his heartbeat thudded hard and fast.

“This? This is yours.”

Your lip trembled, and you hated that it did.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I didn’t realize how it looked. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll talk to her. I’ll set the boundary. Because from now on, you’re not just my girlfriend.”

You held your breath.

“You’re my partner. In everything.”

You blinked, vision blurring. “Even dancing?”

He pulled back with a crooked smile. “Only if you promise not to trip over your own feet.”

You let out a wet laugh, shoving his chest. “No promises.”

He caught your wrist, pulling you flush against him. “Then we’ll be clumsy together.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist as he slowly swayed with you, the music long since stopped but the memory of rhythm still lingering in the air. He hummed something low and sweet, chin resting on your head.

Under the soft studio lights, the ghost of Soojin’s laughter faded.

Because now, it wasn’t about steps or sync or shoes.

It was about the quiet beat of two hearts finding their own rhythm.

Together.

Exactly where you belonged.

[minchanlove]

🐺 : *talking*

🐿️ : 🐺 hyung’s abs!!!

🐰 : take it off, take it off!

🐺 : no no no…

🐰 : Hyung, a lot of international fans are watching via streaming right now, I think it would be great for to show it for their sake

🐷🐰 : asking stay about it

👤 *agrees* *chanting again*

🐺 “WELL IF I HAD TO TAKE IT OFF THEN IMIE ALSO NEEDS TO TAKE IT OFF!”

🦊 “WHAT IS THIS!!!!”

not Minho using US (😭) as an excuse so he can see Bangchan's abs and Bangchan using Jeongin to not show it alone

[lovscb97]

— stray kids links [hyung line]

tags: hyung line!stray kids x fem!reader, established relationship, rough sex, unprotected sex (plz wrap it before u tap it), creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, mild dacryphilia, begging, use of collars/leashes, spanking, strength kink, oral sex (f. receiving), squirting, car sex, slight exhibitionism, slight choking, use of nicknames (baby, princess, angel, kitten, etc), degradation (slut, whore, etc), dirty talk, edging, overstimulation, etc

wc: 2.73k

add. notes: hai …. sorry i made this post instead of giving u guys nerd!chan pt. 2 I FUCKIN SWEAR IT’S COMING but it’s just taking the piss out of me n i needed this out for a new post. anyways plz dni if u r a minor like i mean that w my whole chest n also lmk if some of the links stop working or if u can’t see them idk what i can do abt that . but at least i will be aware LMFAOOOOO yea anyways enjoy :3

maknae line ver.

. . .

⥽ … BANG CHAN: 

link one.

chan is packing. he is absolutely packing to the point you felt like he was going to tear your womb apart when you first got intimate with him, his thick cock stretching you out past your limits as fresh sobs fell from your mouth. since then, he's trained you to take him with enough prep, always making sure to milk at least two orgasms from you before he even thinks about letting his dick near your pussy regardless of how hard it might be throbbing. that wait becomes worthwhile though when he finally sinks inside of you, dirty words and throaty groans rambled in your ear as he releases himself deep inside once he's reached his peak. he loves the feeling of your warm walls sucking him in, never leaving you alone until he's dumped his load empty.

"fuck, baby. how are you so tight?" chan hisses incredulously, wet thumb still circling your clit as you shake in his hold. you're extremely sensitive at this point, twitching from the slightest touch after having cum for the third time, but the only thing in your mind right now is your boyfriend breeding you, the request made obvious with how you tighten your legs around his waist to pull him in. "cum in me, daddy. please!" you plead, teary eyes blinking up at chan whose orbs roll to the back of his head at your keen expression. it only takes a few more thrusts before he's shooting ropes of hot cum inside you, gripping himself to ensure he stays in place. you sigh in content at the warm liquid flooding you, and chan just smiles tiredly, leaning in to sweetly kiss you. "i love you, precious girl." he whispers, resting his body on top of you to keep you plugged up for the rest of the night.

link two.

you're chan's favourite destress toy, that much is obvious. every time he comes home from a long day at work, he knows it'll be worthwhile because you'll be there waiting with open arms and your wet hole longing to be filled up. he'll even take you right then and there in the living room sometimes, making sure everyone around you two knows exactly whose name you're screaming. certain days when he's had it particularly bad though, he'll collar you up and attach a leash to it that he can pull back on, bending you over with your ass up in the air as he slams himself into you repeatedly. it gives him immense pride to have that sense of control over you, to be able to manoeuvre you into whatever position he desires. if he's feeling especially mean, he'll edge you until you're crying into the sheets, cooing at how fucked out you look, knowing he's the only one who can make you feel that way.

"please.. i wan' cum, please." you slur out mindlessly, drool dripping down your mouth as chan slowly drags his cock in and out of you, its mushroom tip pressing deliciously against that spot inside. your boyfriend just chuckles from behind you, his hand yanking on the leash that's tied to your collar which makes you lean back in an instant. his hand sneaks down to grip himself as he pulls out for the nth time, and you whine at the loss of fullness in you, bottom lip jutting out as he slaps the head of his cock against your clit. "yeah, princess? you wanna cum? wanna cum all over daddy's dick?" he mocks you, laughing sadistically when you desperately nod your head. he continues to rub up your little nub, and you're soon about to fall over the edge, gratitude on your lips when he suddenly stops. "oh, baby, you're not cumming that easily tonight." chan growls, causing you to shiver under his hold as he pushes you back onto the bed. it looks like you're in for a long night.

⥽ … LEE MINHO: 

link one.

you love pissing minho off. it's one of the little things in life that gives you so much pleasure, aside from when your boyfriend fucks you, of course. minho, on the other hand, doesn't take lightly to your teasing at all. on days where you're acting out by wearing revealing clothes in front of his friends or sitting too close to one of them for his liking, he'll drag you out with some lame excuse and a clenched jaw, mumbling something about how you're both going home now. he doesn't even care that you're probably smug by the end of it, because that feeling of triumph soon dissipates when he has you bent over his lap, veiny hands kneading the plush of your ass before he's landing a harsh smack on it. he'll spank you and make you count your punishment, and if you lose track, he'll just have to start all over again.

"fucking slut." minho tsk's, cold fingers running themselves against the bruised skin of your butt. he takes a moment to admire his work, tracing the red imprints of his hand on your ass and even the outline of your white panties, which are absolutely soaked by now. "min, please! 'm sorry, it won't happen again." you cry out, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes although you can't see it. another series of repeated spanks land on you, and you yelp in response, legs kicking up from the stinging impact. your body burns by now, every touch minho provides it leaving behind a searing sensation, but you know your boyfriend is far from done with you. "we both know that's a damn lie." he clicks his tongue. "you're always acting out, so it seems like i gotta really start putting you in your place, hm?" you're about to protest when he smacks again, drawing a sob from you; the sound goes straight to his core. he licks his lips, a smirk stretched across them as he readies his palm once more. "now, stop crying and start counting, whore."

link two.

it's no secret that minho is a certified ass man. he loves you, but god does he love your ass just as much. everything about it sends him reeling, from the way it's accentuated in the clothes you wear, to the plump flesh of it that jiggles every time he's got you on your hands and knees. you'd argue he puts you in this position at least once every time you two fuck because knowing your boyfriend, he just wants to watch the way you push back on him when he's bottomed out inside you. he'll give you a few smacks here and there on it too, kneading the skin in his palms before he's snapping his hips into yours. most of the time, he'll refuse to cum inside of you, instead pulling out just before he tips over the edge to release all over your behind and back. you're not complaining though, you love the feeling of his seed dripping over it just as much as he does.

"mm, shit, you look so good right now, kitten." minho groans from behind you, cockhead practically battering your cervix with the way he's shoving himself in and out of you. your whines are high in pitch with how he's fucking you, and you stutter to speak when you try and respond. "y-you say that every time." you eventually manage to heave out, and minho chuckles breathlessly, fingers gripping the flesh of your ass in them as he bites his lip, moaning lowly at the way it bounces back against his dick. "can't help it. you're too hot." he grunts, pistoning his hips at a frenzied pace that knocks the breath out of your lungs. it only takes a matter of minutes before you're both cumming, loud noises filling the room as minho pulls out just in time so he can splatter his release all over your backside. his thumb dips into the seed that now decorates your ass, and he swipes to collect it, pushing it into your mouth. a grin decorates his face as you suck on it. "atta girl."

⥽ … SEO CHANGBIN: 

link one.

changbin is a gym fanatic through and through, and with his rigorous work out routine eventually came his well-built physique, chiselled and bulked up to the point you think you would barely recognise his past self. it refects in the way he walks, talks and holds himself; he loves his strength and he loves showing it off, especially to you. that's why every time you're both entangled in his sheets, it results in him urging you to stand up before hoisting you in his arms. some days he'll hold you in them and bounce you up and down his cock, relishing in the way your cries echo through the room alongside the slapping of skin. other days, he'll toss you around and headlock you as he pounds you from behind, groaning filth in your ear as he pushes you to the edge of tipping. either way, you love what he does, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"hng, so strong, binnie!" you wail, hands clutching your boyfriend's broad back and shoulders as your nails dig into his soft skin, sure to leave marks the next day. changbin just grunts at your sounds of pleasure, too immersed in fucking you onto his cock in your current position. he's got you clinging onto him for dear life as he enters you repeatedly, pride blooming in his chest when you acknowledge how hot it is that he can pick you up so effortlessly. "y-yeah, pretty? like when binnie fucks you like this?" he stutters slightly, too wrapped up in how your pussy clings to his girth. you nod your head rapidly, babbling about how close you are and how hard you're going to cum, spraying all over your boyfriend in due time when he slams into that spot hidden inside you. you're not even given a chance to recover afterwards, changbin manhandling you onto the bed on your stomach before he's sinking back inside. "just a little more, baby. binnie's gotta cum too, okay?" he's whining, and you keen despite the sting of overstimulation rushing through, not knowing you're going to end up letting him use you for another hour.

link two.

you've always known changbin is a romantic at heart, his soft-spoken nature despite the daunting aura he gives off due to his frame often sending your brain spiralling. it gives you whiplash, the way he treats you. some days he'll fuck you like he hates you, growling dirty comments to your face and spitting in your mouth as you shake through an orgasm. other days, however, he'll craddle you in his arms, caging your body underneath him as he rocks his hips against yours in deep, fluid motions. one of his favourite things to do during these instances is hold your hand. he loves the feeling of your fingers lacing through his, holding onto him as he delivers sharp strokes inside of you. something about it feels so raw, like both your souls are intertwined in one big hug. he'll kiss you dizzy, burying his face into your neck as you both whimper 'i love you's' to each other.

"baby.. fuck, baby." changbin moans, his breath fanning hot against the sticky skin of your shoulder from where he's nosed himself in. his hand clings to yours amidst his movements, and you mewl loudly when he thrusts particularly deep inside of you. "i love you. love you so much, my baby. my pretty, perfect angel." your boyfriend pants, head moving to bring his lips to yours in a messy meeting. it's filled with so much love and care, your mouths moulding perfectly against one another's as you exchange kisses. your stomach feels like it's filled with butterflies, but you're not sure if that's because of how fucking in love you are with him or because of changbin rocking his hips into you. either way, you pull apart from him, trying to say it back in the middle of your noises of pleasure. "l-love you so much, binnie. fuck, you always give it to me so good." you praise, and changbin visibly shivers, burying his face back where it was between your neck to continue making love to you until at last, you're both coming undone together.

⥽ … HWANG HYUNJIN: 

link one.

one thing you adore about your precious lover boy is his mouth. his pretty, plump lips that kiss your tears away, or his dangerously addictive tongue that's always finding it's way between your thighs when he feels like it, which is basically all the time. hyunjin can't help that you taste so sweet, or how you're always so perfectly wet for him by the time he's journeyed down to your legs where you truly need him. he'll spend hours buried between them, parting you with his slender fingers and holding you open for him to lick into. he finds extreme satisfaction in the way you push back against his body when he's having a go at you, too weak to move him in your futile efforts of running away from his mouth once he's had you cum twice without stopping. he'll continue anyways though, because to him, there's no better treat after a long day.

"hyunie, s-slow down." you whimper, the lewd suckling sounds of your clit being wrapped in your boyfriend's mouth resonating through the room as he messily eats you out. his movements are filled with fervour and desperation, something you'll never get used to experiencing despite how long you've been together. each time almost always feels like you're starring in some obscene porno with the way hyunjin always drawls out the most nasty sounds from you. this instance is no different either, because before you can even react, you're spraying droplets of clear liquid on his face, your boyfriend groaning into you at the feeling of you squirting on him. he cleans it all up with great pleasure, breathing heavily as he finally rises from his position to slot himself between your legs. his lips find yours in a dirty kiss, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. "you're insatiable." you murmur when he pulls away, and hyunjin chuckles, mouth hovering over your jaw as you tremble at his next words. "not my fault my baby's got the tastiest cunt in the world."

link two.

hyunjin is a freak through and through. you've known for a while that he gets off on all sorts of things, and one of them is primarily the risk of being sneaky in public, regardless if it's planned or not. there have been one too many occasions of the latter where you've both been out on a date together with you looking a little too good, too good to the point that the waiter starts flirting with you and leaving hyunjin seething. it's only high time after that until he's dragging you out of the restaurant and into his backseat, too lazy to even undress properly before he's sinking inside of you to fuck you as he sees red. he'll get so possessive too, groaning how you're his and his only whilst pulling you back by your hair. it's true that your boyfriend is a big lover, but when times come down to this, he'll drill into you like he absolutely loathes you.

"dirty slut, letting me fuck you where anyone can see. you'd even let that server find you like this, wouldn't you?" hyunjin grits out, his sweat dripping onto your back as he shoves his long length in you. you're sure the windows are fogged up by now, his car rocking with his movements, but neither of you care about that. "n-no, only want you to see. just you, hyune." you whimper, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the way his cock slams in you with each thrust. your boyfriend lets out a low moan at your words, yanking you back by your hair to lick at your neck. "that's right, princess. only i get to look at this pussy, hm? only i can f-fuck it right, yeah?" he grunts, slender fingers coming up to wrap around your throat as you nod shakily, taking a deep breath as hyunjin squeezes slightly. "gonna cum in this cunt and fill you up with my babies so everyone knows who you belong to. then, i'm taking you straight home to fuck you full again. got that?"

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[valkyriexo]

Pheromoan | Lee Know

ᑉ³pairing; Best friend Lee Know x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Fluff, Smut

ᑉ³warnings; SMUT MDNI ( not spoiling it but it’s smut just … it’s smut)

ᑉ³Authors Note; A huge thank you to @skzdreamer13 for beta reading—you're the best! 💖 Just a quick heads-up: I switch between Minho and Lee Know throughout this fic, so keep that in mind while reading. Hope you enjoy, and feel free to share your thoughts!

Lee Know’s house was quiet when you arrived, the evening air sending a chill down your spine as you stepped up to his door. You knocked twice, shifting on your feet as you waited. A few seconds passed before the door swung open.

And then....

He just stood there.

He looked frozen in the doorway, one hand gripping the doorknob, the other gripping his phone. His gaze locked onto you, and for a moment, he didn’t move. His fingers twitched slightly, like he’d forgotten what he was supposed to do next. His brows pulled together, eyes flicking over your face like he was seeing you for the first time.

“…Hi?” you prompted, raising an eyebrow.

He blinked once, twice. Then, like shaking himself out of a daze, he stepped back, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

Still a little thrown by his reaction, you stepped inside, kicking your shoes off and setting your bag down near the entrance.

The scent of coffee lingered in the air, strong and familiar.

Just like him.

You turned to face him, catching the way his fingers curled slightly around the hem of his hoodie. His gaze flicked up, meeting yours for half a second before dropping again.

You narrowed your eyes. “What’s with you?”

Minho exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, suspicion taking over. But before you could press further, he turned on his heel, walking toward the kitchen.

You frowned but followed him anyway, watching as he moved around the kitchen with that effortless grace he always had. He reached for a mug, fingers curling around the handle a little too tightly, and you swore you saw the slightest tremor in his hands before he busied himself with the coffee machine.

“You want coffee?” he asked.

“I thought you didn’t like making coffee for other people,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Minho scoffed, keeping his back to you as he poured the dark liquid into a mug. “I don’t.”

A pause.

“But you’re already here.”

Your lips twitched at his halfhearted grumble, but the nagging feeling that something was off didn’t disappear. He was avoiding looking at you, focusing way too much on pouring the coffee, like it required all of his attention. Brushing it off, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table as a grin tugged at your lips. 

“Okay, you are not ready for what I’m about to tell you.”

Minho finally turned, setting your mug down in front of you before grabbing his own. He lifted it to his lips, fingers curling slightly around the ceramic. “Yeah?”

“Well,” you continued, already getting into it, “So, you know how Yuna lives in the same apartment building as me, right? Like, literally two doors down?”

Minho nodded slowly, bringing the cup to his lips, blowing softly over the steam. “Mhm.”

“Well.” You leaned in, dropping your voice as if someone might be listening. “I was leaving for work this morning, just stepping out into the hall, minding my business...when bam! Who do I see walking out of her apartment at six in the morning, wearing yesterday’s clothes?”

Minho’s fingers twitched around his mug, but he took a slow sip, his expression unreadable. “Who?”

“And I don’t mean ‘oh, he’s just an early riser, out for a morning stroll’ kind of vibe. No. This man stumbled out of there looking wrecked. Shirt all wrinkled, tie shoved in his pocket, hair a mess......like he’d just rolled out of bed.” 

Minho swallowed hard, then subtly shifted… just an inch. His eyes flicked to the side before returning to his cup.

You didn’t notice.

“And listen,” you continued, waving a hand for emphasis. “At first, I wasn’t even thinking SCANDAL!!! I was just trying to get a good look at this man. Like, good for you, Yuna, finally with a man, you know? I was ready to send a whole ���you go, girl’ text.”

Minho cleared his throat, barely audible. His fingers flexed against the mug before he slowly lowered it, resting it on the table.

“But then,” you said, dragging it out for effect, “I saw who it was.”

Minho’s grip on his cup tightened.

You leaned in, eyes wide. “Minho.” 

His jaw tensed.

 “.....It was Park Jin-young”

Minho’s nostrils flared just slightly.

“And then—then—he saw me. The second we made eye contact, his entire soul left his body. Like, this man panicked. He froze, looked back at her door like he could somehow undo reality, then speed-walked down the hallway like a guilty teenager sneaking out after curfew.”

Minho finally moved...lifting his cup back up to his face, but instead of drinking, he pressed it against his lips like he needed the heat to ground him.

You kept going.

“And Yuna?” You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, she was even worse. I caught her peeking through the door crack, wearing somebody’s oversized hoodie.....definitely not hers, by the way.....like she was trying to assess the damage before committing to showing her face.”

Minho’s fingers drummed against the table.....slow, measured taps.

His knee started bouncing.

“She gasped. Like, full-on, hand-over-mouth, eyes-wide, like she just got caught committing treason. And then—do you know what she said?”

He inhaled deeply, pressing the cup harder against his lips, eyes unfocused.

“She had the audacity to look me dead in the eye and say—” You threw up air quotes. “‘It’s not what it looks like.’”

Minho exhaled sharply through his nose. He shifted again, subtly angling himself away from you.

You scoffed, oblivious to his distress.

“Like, girl. It is exactly what it looks like.”

Minho’s fingers tapped against his cup, slow and deliberate. His jaw flexed, then loosened, then flexed again.

“And listen, I know it’s technically none of my business, but JYP? JYP?! Of all people?” You shook your head in disbelief. “I mean, come on. She could have—”

“Are you wearing a new perfume?”

You stopped mid-sentence.

“…What?”

Minho’s voice was lower now, rough, like he was barely keeping himself together.

His fingers curled even tighter around his cup, his knuckles just barely turning white. His jaw flexed, and when he finally did look at you, his pupils were slightly blown, his breath coming just a little too fast.

“Your perfume. It’s different.”

You stared at him, momentarily thrown. That was what he had to say? That was what had him completely zoning out while you were delivering the hottest scandal of the year?

Lifting your wrist instinctively, you sniffed your skin. It smelled like…

....well, nothing.

“I literally wear the same perfume every day,” you said slowly.

Minho didn’t respond right away. Instead, he exhaled. Long, measured, controlled. Then, without another word, he stood up from the table, taking his coffee with him, and walked straight to the sink, bracing his hands on the counter.

You blinked. “Minho? What is wrong?”

He shook his head once, exhaling hard through his nose. “Nothing.”

But his grip on the counter told you it was definitely not nothing.

Was there something on your dress? A stain you hadn’t noticed? You subtly glanced down, smoothing your hands over the fabric. No, everything looked fine.

…Wait. Your breath.

Panic flared in your chest as you clamped a hand over your mouth. Oh, God. Had younot brushed well enough? You discreetly exhaled into your palm and took a quick sniff.

Nothing.

So what the hell was going on?

Minho didn’t turn around right away. Instead, he stayed at the sink, his back to you, fingers curling around the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. His shoulders rose with a deep breath—then fell, slow and controlled, as if he was trying very hard not to spontaneously combust.

You frowned. “Minho?”

No response.

You tilted your head, about to push again, when, suddenl, he moved.

Without a word, without even glancing at you, he took a single step to the side. Then another. Then another.

Your eyes narrowed. “........What are you doing?”

Minho ignored you. Another step. Then another. Like he was casually relocating to the opposite end of the kitchen for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

Your brow furrowed as you tracked his painfully slow retreat. He wasn’t even subtle about it. By the time he finally stopped, he was standing absurdly far away—back pressed against the fridge, arms crossed tightly over his chest, coffee cup abandoned on the counter like he didn’t trust himself to hold it anymore.

You stared.

He stared back.

A full five seconds of complete, suffocating silence passed between you.

Then—

“So,” Minho said, voice a little too even, “Yuna.”

You blinked.

“…Huh?”

Minho nodded, as if he was conducting a business meeting and not acting like a man on the verge of a breakdown. “Yuna,” he repeated. “You were talking about Yuna.”

Your lips parted slightly. Then, slowly, you leaned forward, squinting at him. “Are you—?”

“I think,” he cut in, voice clipped, “you should finish your story.”

Your mouth hung open for a second. Then, your gaze dropped pointedly to the ridiculous amount of distance he’d just put between you.

“You want me to finish my story,” you repeated flatly.

“Yes.”

“From over here?”

A single, sharp nod. “Yes.”

You blinked again.

Then, after a long pause—“Okay, what is wrong with you?”

Minho’s jaw clenched. “I already told you. Nothing is wrong.”

You scoffed. “Nothing? You’re literally standing in another area code right now.”

He exhaled, closing his eyes for half a second before forcing them back open. “I’m just comfortable here.”

“Comfortable,” you echoed.

“Comfortable,” he confirmed.

You let out a breath, eyeing him like he was losing his mind. And honestly? Maybe he was. His hands were gripping his own arms way too hard, like he needed to physically hold himself back from something. His jaw was so tight you were surprised it hadn’t cracked.

What the hell was happening right now?

You took a slow step toward him.

Instantly, he stiffened.

You took another.

His back pressed further into the fridge.

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re acting so weird right now.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Minho inhaled sharply, looking like he wanted to melt into the wall. His fingers flexed against his biceps, then dug in tighter. You swore you saw the tips of his ears turning pink.

“You’re not finishing your story,” he said suddenly, desperate to redirect. “What happened next?”

You tilted your head, suspicious. “You really care that much about Yuna and JYP?”

“Yes.”

A slow blink. “...Minho, do you have a fever?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Finish the story. I'm so interested. ” He said with a deadpanned face.

You raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully. You weren’t sure what kind of internal battle he was fighting right now, but whatever it was... it was serious.

But fine. He wanted to play this game? You’d play.

You took another step forward.

Minho’s eye twitched.

Suppressing a grin, you propped your hands on your hips. “Where was I?”

His throat bobbed. “Yuna.”

“Oh, right!” you exclaimed, feigning excitement. “So Yuna’s standing there, looking guilty as hell, right? And she knows she’s caught, but she’s still trying to act like nothing happened. And I’m just standing there, like—” You threw up your hands. “Girl. What are we doing here?”

Minho didn’t respond.

Because you had taken another step.

And now, the space between you was dangerously small.

You pretended not to notice the way his whole body locked up. “But do you know what the worst part was?”

Minho’s fingers curled tighter. “W-What.”

You leaned in slightly.

His breath hitched.

“She tried to change the subject,” you murmured.

Minho swallowed.

Your lips curled. “Sound familiar?”

Silence.

He was having a crisis.

But it had nothing to do with JYP or Yuna

Because whatever perfume you were wearing, whatever scent was clinging to your skin, was messing with his head.

It was subtle, but there. Just enough to seep into his senses, curling around his thoughts like smoke, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

“You,” he bit out." Are a problem"

You froze. “…What?”

His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring slightly as he looked at you—really looked at you—like he was on the verge of something dangerous. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He looked frustrated,like he was mad at you, but not in the way he usually was.

“This—” he gestured vaguely at you, at the space between you, “—this isn’t normal. I don’t look at you like this. I don’t—” His voice faltered, hands curling into fists at his sides. “I don’t think about you like this.”

Your heart stuttered.

Like what?

Minho let out a low, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “But I do, don’t I?” His eyes flicked to yours, something raw and real in them. “I have for a long time.”

Your stomach flipped, your breath catching in your throat as realization started to dawn.

“Minho…”

His name barely made it past your lips before he was stepping closer.

His scent, warm, familiar, ..... and him... wrapped around you, overwhelming in a way that made your pulse jump.

“I thought I could ignore it,” he muttered, voice tight, like the words were being dragged out of him. “Thought I could just—pretend.” He huffed out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. “But then you show up here, wearing that damn perfume, looking at me like that, and I can’t.”

You felt lightheaded.

Like that?

How were you looking at him?

“I don’t get it,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Minho’s lips pressed into a thin line. He hesitated—just for a second—then exhaled, slow and shaky.

And then—

“…I like you.”

Your entire brain short-circuited.

“…What?”

His eyes finally met yours, dark, sharp, sincere. His jaw was still clenched, his fingers still curled like he wanted to touch you but couldn’t.

But his voice?

Low.

Graveled.

Deadly serious.

His voice, lower than you’d ever heard it, brushed against your ear as he spoke.

“I like you,” he repeated, slower this time.

Your stomach flipped.

Minho let out a quiet chuckle, breath warm against your skin.

“Still confused?”

You stared at him, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

Minho liked you.

Minho.

Your best friend.

The person who had always been there. Who made fun of you relentlessly but never let anyone else do the same. Who acted like he didn’t care but always, always noticed when something was wrong.

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

Minho let out a slow breath, his expression shifting....something resigned creeping into his eyes.

“Say something,” he muttered.

You didn’t know what to say.

So instead—

You reached out, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie.

Minho sucked in a sharp breath.

You hesitated, searching his face, then—

Screw it.

You tugged him forward, closing the space between you. The second your lips met his, he froze.

For a single, breathless moment, he didn’t move….like his brain was still trying to process that this was actually happening. That you had just pulled him in, kissed him like you’d been waiting for this just as long as he had.

A sharp inhale and a split-second of hesitation later... and then his hands were on you. 

One curled around your waist, the other tangling in your hair, pulling you closer like he’d been holding himself back for far too long. His lips pressed against yours, firm and certain, like he was making up for all the time he had wasted pretending he didn’t feel this way.

His breath was warm, his grip just shy of desperate, like he was afraid you might pull away.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Because Minho kissed like he had something to prove. Like he was trying to carve himself into your bones, make sure you knew exactly what he had been holding back all this time. It was slow, intoxicating, and just a little rough.

And God, he was desperate.

Your back hit the counter before you even realized he was moving you.

And when he finally pulled back, just enough to let you breathe, his forehead rested against yours, his grip on your waist unwavering. His breathing was uneven, lips just barely brushing yours as he exhaled.

You swallowed hard, staring up at him, lips tingling, heart racing.

Your lips parted, your mind racing to catch up, but Minho was already moving…his hands sliding up your waist, his lips ghosting over your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth—

Teasing.

Testing.

Waiting for you to break first.

And God, you were so close.

“Minho,” you whispered, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his hoodie.

He groaned, a low, almost pained sound, before pulling back just enough to look at you in the eyes.

“You have no idea how hard I’m trying to be respectful right now,” he admitted, voice rough, ragged.

You swallowed, heart hammering.

Your breath was still uneven, lips still tingling, and yet Minho was staring at you like he was barely holding himself together. His fingers flexed against your waist, and you swore you could feel the heat of his skin even through the fabric of your dress.

“Say something,” he murmured, quieter this time. “Or I’m gonna start thinking that was a mistake.”

Your heart lurched. A mistake? The way he kissed you, like he’d been waiting forever, how could he even think that?

You shook your head quickly. “No.”

Minho swallowed, his grip on your waist not as confident as before. “No?”

“No, it wasn’t a mistake.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his dark eyes scanning your face for any sign of doubt.

And he was standing in front of you, looking at you like he wanted to ruin you.

He was searching…waiting…giving you one last chance to stop this before it went too far.

But you didn’t want to stop.

So you pulled him down, closing the space between you in a kiss that was nothing like the first. This one was desperate, hungry, a silent plea for him to understand everything you couldn’t put into words.

Minho groaned against your lips, his control finally snapping as he kissed you back just as fiercely. His hands tightened on your waist before sliding up, fingers skimming over your ribs, your back, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his body, the way he moved against you—it was dizzying.

His fingers dug in just enough to make you shiver before he lifted you onto the cool surface in one smooth motion, stepping between your legs and caging you in with his body. 

The sudden shift sent a gasp tumbling from your lips, and Minho swallowed it whole, his mouth never leaving yours.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough.

His hands slid down, skimming the hem of your dress before slipping beneath, his fingertips dragging fire up your thighs. Your breath hitched as he gripped them, pulling you closer until your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. The low groan he let out sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach.

His lips left yours only to trail lower, ghosting over your jaw, then down the curve of your neck. He paused there, his breath hot against your skin, his hands flexing against your thighs like he was battling himself.

Minho groaned, a deep, guttural sound, his control snapping like a frayed thread.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered, voice strained, sending a delicious shiver down your spine. His hands continued to trail, and one made its way to your clothed heat.

Your breath hitched as you felt him rub you through the fabric.

Your fingers slipping under his hoodie, nails scraping lightly against his skin. “And what does that make you?”

Minho lifted his head, his dark, blown-out eyes meeting yours.

“Absolutely fucked.”

His eyes locked on yours, and suddenly, everything slowed down.

It wasn't desperate anymore.

It wasn't rushed.

He was staring at you, his eyes dark, his lips parted slightly, and you realized, in that moment, exactly how long he had wanted this.

For months.

For years.

For longer than he had ever let on.

He was looking at you like he had waited forever for this.

"You're sure?"

"Yes," you breathed. Your chest was rising and falling fast, your heart pounding.

"Okay," he murmured.

And then, in one fluid motion, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and tugged them down.

You shivered, the air cold against your skin, and Minho let out a sharp exhale, his hands trailing down your thighs, spreading your legs wider.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice rough, heavy.

His fingers slipped between your wet folds, the pressure of his thumb on your clit making your breath catch in your throat.

As he continued his teasing, you could feel yourself giving in, the pleasure clouding your judgment. Your hips rocked against his hand, seeking more, and a moan escaped your lips as he slid a finger inside of you.

The feeling of his fingers inside you, curling up just the way you liked, was almost too much to bear.

"I want to taste you," he whispered, his voice filled with desire. You watched as he kneeled before you, his head dipping between your legs. His tongue finding your clit as his fingers plunged deeper into your pussy. You cried out, your body writhing in pleasure as he licked and fingered you. 

He hummed against your clit as his tongue teased your tight hole.

“oh my fuck.” Your eyes closed tightly as his tounge continued to explored your pussy, darting out to swipe along your folds.

Your moans becoming a melody to his ears.

"You taste so good," he said, his voice muffled

Your hands grip his hair, tugging at his dark hair and forcing his face deeper. It was as if he knews all your sweet spots, as if you had done this before, thrusting his long digits inside of you once more.

He gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer as he began to thrust his tongue in and out of you, fucking you with his mouth.

You were trembling now, the pleasure almost too much.

It wasnt long before your mouth fell open in a silent scream and your cunt clenched around his fingers, walls spasming as you reached your orgasm and your cum trailed down the expanse of your thigh.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he growled.

But Minho wasn't done with you. Not even close.

"I need you," he groaned, his voice hoarse. "Please."

You couldn't refuse him. Not when he was looking at you like that, with pure, unadulterated want.

He stood up and you could see his cock straining against his jeans, his breathing ragged.

You leaned forward, your lips capturing his in a heated kiss, tongue sliding into his mouth. He moaned against your lips, his fingers tightening on your hips.

You reached down, fumbling with the zipper of his jeans. You managed to unbutton them and shove them down his thighs, revealing his achingly hard cock.

You wrapped your fingers around his length, stroking him slowly, reveling in the sounds he was making.

He groaned, his hips jerking against yours, his breathing becoming more ragged as you continued to tease him.

"Do you want me?"" he said, his voice hoarse.

You lifted your hips, allowing him to position himself at your entrance.

He held your gaze, his eyes filled with desire and want.

You nodded. "Yes."

He pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply as he slowly slid his cock between your folds, the tip smearing his precum along your entrance before he pushed in, slow and deep, stretching you out. You gasped against his lips, the feeling of him filling you overwhelming.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, his voice shaking, his hands tightening on your thighs. “You’re... Fuck. youre so tight, baby-”

His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer as he began to move, his cock stretching you.

You could feel the heat of his length throbbing inside of you, the friction sending sparks shooting down your spine.

"You feel amazing," he growled, his voice strained.

He was holding back, trying to take things slow, but you needed more.

"Minho..." you whimpered, your body writhing beneath his.

"I'm right here, baby," he murmured, his fingers gripping your hips tighter.

He moaned, his thrusts growing harder and faster. Your fingers gripped his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more.

Your eyes rolled back with each deep slam of his cock into your squelching wet cunt, and your free hand scrambled to cover your mouth in an awful attempt to muffle the loud noises spilling out of your mouth.

"Don't." he grunted. "I want to hear every moan."

Your body was trembling, your cunt clenching around his cock.

"Please, baby," he groaned. "Let me hear you."

You could feel his cock twitch inside of you, the familiar tightening in your stomach as the pleasure built.

""Ahh- Fuck. I'm gonna-gonna n-n-nn"

You could feel yourself nearing the edge, the pleasure threatening to consume you.

His thrusts became harder and faster, driving his cock deeper inside of you.

"Oh my-"

The pleasure was overwhelming, coursing through you, consuming you, sending sparks shooting down your spine and a wave of warmth to pool in your belly.

Your vision blurred, and for a moment, it was like everything was suspended, the world going still.

As you rode the waves of your climax, your body tensed and convulsed, the pleasure crashing over you in waves.

Minho groaned, his body shuddering as he came.

He was still thrusting in and out of you heping you ride out your orgasm. you could see where your bodies were connected and the milky white ring that was forming at the base of his cock.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breathing ragged as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close.

You could feel his heartbeat, thudding wildly against yours.

His warmth surrounded you, his arms tightening ever so slightly, as if he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go. Your fingers curled into his hair, nails grazing lightly against his scalp, and he exhaled, the sound somewhere between a sigh and a shudder.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. The only sounds in the room were your breaths, still uneven, still tangled together.

Minho pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder before shifting, just enough to look at you. His dark eyes searched yours, and for the first time all night, the usual confidence in his gaze had softened into something quieter.

His fingers traced idle patterns against your skin, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should break the silence.

“…Are you okay?” His voice was low, almost careful.

Your heart clenched. You knew Minho—knew the teasing, smug exterior he put on for the world. But here, now, there was none of that. No walls, no masks. Just him.

His gaze dropped, his fingers flexing on your skin again. “I’ve been trying so hard to pretend I’m fine just being your friend. To act like I didn’t want more.” He let out a soft, humorless chuckle.

Your chest ached. You reached for him instinctively, your fingers brushing against his jaw. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

His eyes flicked back up to yours, something flickering in his expression. Hope. Relief.

“Yeah?” he murmured, like he needed to hear it again.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Minho exhaled, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone with the kind of gentleness that made your heart stutter.

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something—something important—but instead, he just kissed you. Slow, lingering, like he was savoring the moment, grounding himself in it.

And then, just as slowly, he pulled back.

You swunging your legs a little where you still sat on the counter. Minho reached for his jeans, slipping them on before turning back to you with an unreadable look.

Then—

“…What perfume was that?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

Minho tilted his head. “The one you wore today.”

You frowned, thrown off by the sudden topic shift. “I don’t know? I just grabbed one from my dresser.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You just grabbed one?”

“…Yeah?”

Curious now, you hopped off the counter and dug through your purse sitting near the entrance and pulled out the small glass bottle. You turned it over to check the label—

And immediately froze.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Minho caught the change in your expression immediately. “What?”

You hesitated.

Then, barely above a whisper—

“…It’s a pheromone perfume.”

Silence.

Minho didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

Then, very slowly—

“You what?”

“I didn’t know!” You held up the bottle defensively. “I just thought it smelled nice! I had no idea—”

Minho dragged a hand down his face. “So that’s why I couldn’t focus today.”

You bit your lip. “…Maybe?”

He exhaled sharply, staring at you like you had just changed the entire trajectory of his life. Then, rubbing his temples, he muttered, mostly to himself—

“This whole time, I thought I was losing my mind.”

You winced. “Uh—”

Minho turned his gaze back to you, dead serious. “You’re never wearing that again.”

You pouted. “But—”

He narrowed his eyes. “I swear to God.”

You grinned, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over your hands as you hopped down from the counter. “Fine, fine.”

Minho eyed you for a moment longer, then sighed, pulling you into him again, his chin resting on top of your head.

You giggled. “So… does this mean you are obsessed with me?”

Minho stilled for half a second.

You barely had time to react before he leaned in, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered—

“You have no idea.”

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[strrykais]

1-800-hot-n-fun [lee minho]

lee minho wasn’t one to believe in the red string of fate theory, but maybe the red string was a little black cat that lead him to you.

stray kids masterlist

ⓒ strrykais

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content. use of vibrator. bit messy.

⍣ ೋ notes: hullo guest of room 801. i see you have requested a personal communication line with our general manager christoper. i'll have to forward him your request and see. don't worry though, i'm not sure he is capable of denying you anything :)

INTERNAL INVESTIGATION REPORT Filed by: Concierge Aeryn Subject: Staff Conduct – Unauthorized Use of Executive Amenities Staff Member Under Review: General Manager Bang Chan Requested by: Guest (Room 801)

[Location: General Manager Christopher's office, 2:12 p.m.]

The door to General Manager Bang Chan’s office clicks shut behind her—quietly, purposefully.

It always unnerves Aeryn, how the soundproofing works. How the outside world cuts off so cleanly, as if the very walls themselves conspire to protect him. Or hide him.

She’s holding the letter in one hand—folded precisely once, no wrinkles, no smudges—and a soft pink clipboard in the other. Because aesthetics matter, even in war.

Bang Chan looks up from his laptop, brows raised slightly, not in alarm but in a kind of cool anticipation. He’s in his tailored charcoal suit, shirt unbuttoned just enough to suggest he’s had a long morning—but not long enough to explain the state of his tie (missing) or the faint imprint of someone’s lip gloss on his jawline (left side, cherry red).

“Concierge,” he says smoothly, standing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Behind her, the door opens again.

“Sorry,” Seungmin mutters, stepping in with a deadpan expression and a steaming cup of black coffee. “Figured you’d need this.”

His gaze flicks to Aeryn’s clipboard. “Ah. Suite 801.”

A pause. Bang Chan exhales through his nose and reaches for the coffee, the very picture of composed.

“I take it this is about the... formal enquiry?”

Aeryn offers him a smile far too polished to be kind. “That’s correct, sir. The guest has raised some questions regarding the nondisclosure terms surrounding your last... engagement. Specifically as it pertains to any equipment added mid-stay.”

Seungmin coughs.

Chan’s lips twitch, dangerously close to a grin. “Is that so?”

“She’s also requested a formal investigation and a full reconstruction. For documentation and research purposes.”

There’s a silence. The kind that only exists in a very expensive room, built to contain very expensive secrets.

Chan sets his coffee down. Rolls up his sleeves. Unbuttons his cuffs.

And then—finally—meets her eyes.

“Well,” he murmurs, voice low and just a little rough. “I suppose I’d better walk you through it.”

[Location: General Manager Christopher's office, 12:12 p.m.]

It starts with an extension request.

A polite one. Professional. You even knocked on the General Manager’s door like you hadn’t shown up in nothing but a barely-tied robe and a mischievous smile. As if the slight sway in your hips wasn’t deliberate. As if your bare legs weren’t a test he was already too aware of.

He opens the door himself—of course he does—and looks at you like he knows. That stare of his: sharp, calculated, interested. Always in control.

“Come in,” he says, stepping aside. His tone is polite. Neutral. But you catch it—the flicker of something darker beneath the words. Something curious.

You sit. He doesn’t.

“What can I help you with, Miss…?”

You tell him your name, lips twitching.

There’s a pause. A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Right.”

You explain your request—wanting to extend your stay, preferably in the same suite. He listens attentively, nodding, folding his hands like a proper manager. But his eyes… they never leave your thighs.

“I’m afraid there are procedures for that sort of thing,” he says finally, walking around his desk. “Especially if it’s… a special room like yours.”

And then, almost casually: “Have you signed the NDA yet?”

You blink. “I—no?”

He nods like he expected that. Like this was part of the script.

“Then we’ll need to take care of that first.” His drawer opens. A sleek document appears on the desk, printed on pale pink letterhead. “Sign here.”

The pen he hands you is gold. Heavy.

You sign without reading it.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, quiet enough you almost miss it.

Then: “Would you mind standing for a moment?”

You do. Confused, but intrigued.

He circles you slowly. Looks you over like you’re an art piece. No, a luxury amenity. Then, he brushes your robe off your shoulder, lets it fall slightly—no resistance from you. He hums when he sees the lack of anything underneath.

“No undergarments?” he asks, voice silk.

You smile. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” he says. “In fact… I think it helps speed up the process.”

Before you can ask what he means, he nudges you gently backward—until the backs of your thighs hit the edge of his desk.

“Lie back,” he instructs, already loosening his tie. “We’ll keep this… efficient.”

You’re halfway reclined before he reaches for something in another drawer—velvet-lined, discreet, and utterly not standard issue. He holds up a slim, blush-pink vibrator. High-end. Sleek.

“Just a small evaluation,” he says, tone mock-professional. “To assess your suitability for extended accommodations.”

And then he turns it on.

The first contact is a whisper against your clit—barely-there, maddening. He watches your hips twitch, listens to your breath hitch, and smiles like a man who has all the time in the world.

“This setting is for guests requesting late check-outs,” he murmurs, dragging the toy in slow, steady circles. “It’s gentle. Teasing. Nothing too disruptive.”

You’re already panting, your thighs falling open wider for him.

He presses a button. The vibrations intensify.

“This one’s for those staying more than three nights. More persistent. Demands patience.”

You gasp, legs trembling, fingers digging into the edge of the desk.

He leans down, mouth brushing your ear. “Shall we see what happens when we activate the ‘executive suite’ tier?”

He clicks it again.

It pulses deep. Relentless. Your hips buck, and he places a hand firmly on your stomach to keep you still.

“Now, now,” he soothes, voice low and cruelly calm. “Stay still for me. You wanted to extend your stay, didn’t you?”

You try to speak—try to say yes—but it breaks into a whine, breathless and high. He slides the toy lower, dragging it up and down your soaked folds before circling your clit again with a precision that makes you see stars.

“You’re soaking my desk,” he remarks, almost fondly. “I should write you up for that.”

You can feel it building—fast. Too fast. You lift your hips for more, chasing it.

He pulls the toy away.

Your whole body arches in protest. He tsks.

“We’re not done evaluating.”

He brings it back, lower speed this time. Draws it up slowly. Watches you squirm.

Then—without warning—he slides two fingers inside you, slow and deep. Your body shudders, clenching around him instantly. He groans low, the sound almost reverent.

“So responsive,” he mutters, pumping them in time with the toy. “You don’t even realize how much you’re giving me.”

You’re close. So close.

But he doesn’t speed up.

He keeps you right there, on the edge—over and over, until your body is trembling, sweat slicking your skin, whimpers spilling from your lips.

“Please,” you gasp.

He raises a brow. “Please what?”

“Let me—fuck, please—I need to cum—”

“Hmm.” He leans in. “I suppose we can add that to your amenities.”

And then he does it—cruel little circles with the toy while his fingers curl just right and your whole body locks up, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. You sob out his name as your legs shake, thighs clenching around his wrist, your back arching off the desk.

But he doesn’t stop.

Keeps going through your orgasm, holding the toy against your overstimulated clit as you twitch and moan and try to wriggle away.

“Too much?” he asks, feigning innocence. “Then maybe we need to reconsider your extension—”

You whimper something incoherent, begging, panting, desperate.

He finally clicks the vibrator off.

Removes his fingers. Watches your slick drip down them.

Licks them clean.

“I’ll approve your stay,” he says, straightening. Adjusting his cuffs. Then, without hurry, he reaches for the top button of his shirt. Undoes it. Then another. His eyes, dark and knowing, never leave yours.

“But I’m going to need a more… thorough evaluation.”

A pause. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip, and he smirks.

“Let’s discuss the premium package.”

______________________________________________________________

🗒️ INTERNAL SERVICE MEMO From: Concierge Aeryn To: SKZotel Staff – All Departments Subject: Incident Debrief – Suite 801 / General Manager Conduct Classification: Staff Eyes Only / Group Chat Archive

Team,

Per guest request (and because Seungmin couldn’t keep his mouth shut for five minutes), below is the transcript of this morning’s staff group chat regarding the… situation in Suite 801 involving General Manager Bang Chan.

Please note: The following messages have not been edited for professionalism, confidentiality compliance, or emotional damage. Names have not been redacted because frankly, if I had to be in that room with him and Seungmin, you all get to suffer with me.

Proceed accordingly. – Aeryn Concierge, SKZotel

series taglist: @nightmarenyxx

[lotusbee07]

[viasdreams]

⊹₊⟡⋆

telling bsf skz you had a sex dream about them !!

a/n: :3

[kucikitty]

SKZ And Which Body Part They Love The Most~

18+ Mature Content Up Ahead. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Written for F!Reader~

•| ⊱✿⊰ |•

Bangchan - Neck. He loves fucking you deep, burying his face in your neck and taking in your scent. Especially if you’re wearing that perfume that drives him insane. You’ll be hearing nothing but his deep moans and grunts every time you two fuck.

Minho - Ass. OBVIOUSLYYYYY. I mean this one was a given, written in the scripture actually. Ride him reverse cowgirl style and he’s going to bust in thirty seconds. Don’t bend over in front of him (or do) cause his hands will be on your ass. Actually they'll be on your ass no matter what you do.

Changbin - Waist/Hips. Bonus points if you got love handles. He loves to grab onto them as he fucks you deep. Changbin is a thicc lover, I said what I said and I will NOT change my mind!!! He also loves when you wear tight dresses, so it shows them off even more.

Hyunjin - Feet. Alright y'all don’t come at me but I’m a firm believer that Hyunjin has a foot fetish. Wear those heels he likes and he’ll be groveling at your feet. He loves to kiss the soles of your feet when he fucks you in missionary, your legs against his shoulders. Hey you’ll get foot rubs whenever you want with this one so…

Felix - Thighs. Doesn’t matter the size as long as he can slide his dick between them, that’s all that matters. He also loves when they’re wrapped around his head while his tongue is deep inside your pussy. Squeeze his head with your thighs, he does not give a single fuck. If anything he wants the pain.

Han - Tits. The size doesn’t matter either. Tits are tits to Han. He loves to play with them and he especially loves latching onto your nipple, sucking and biting at it while you ride him to the break of dawn. He’s a drooling whiney mess when he sucks on them. He would just grab your boob for the comfort of it honestly. Anywhere too.

Seungmin - Pussy. Seungmin’s a certified munch. Point blank period. He will eat you out till the sun rises and finger you till your eyes roll back. Sometimes he’ll reach in your bottoms and play with your pussy just because he can.

Jeongin - Hands. He loves your hands and especially when they’re all over him touching every inch of his body. It’s a plus when you have your nails done, he loves how they scrape against his skin. He especially loves seeing your fresh manicured hand wrapped around his cock. (Ruby Red color is his favorite).

[yongbokiee-felix]

Hannie posted on instagram

Via @/_doolsetnet

“Undisclosed B cut? (?)

NARS X NYLON JAPAN”

[strayingawayy]

ugly crying ft. gentle purring...

...the one where you're doubling over with sobs but minho's there. and so are your three fur babies.

warnings: ugly ass crying, mental breakdown, mention of hospitals

a total vent fucking fic that is incoherent tbh. reader just has a terrible fucking breakdown. if you need comfort for that from minho, feel free to read. happy fucking monday.

you wish mental breakdowns came with a goddamn warning sign.

you’re simply sitting on the chair, staring blankly at the tv, your hands limp against your lap. you feel off, like something’s wrong, but you can’t really place it. you knew something's coming but you didn't really predict that it's gonna be this bad.

then it crashes down.

the sob that rips out of you is violent, like something being torn from deep inside your chest. you don’t even have the presence of mind to slap a hand over your mouth to muffle it, it comes out, loud and raw, and the force of it sends you doubling over, choking.

"oh, fuck-"

minho is there. he always somehow is.

you didn’t even hear him come into the room, but suddenly he’s crouching in front of you, hands braced on your arms, his big , brown eyes wide and alert.

"hey, hey, what the- what’s wrong jagi?"

you can’t answer. you can’t even breathe properly. your chest heaves, but it feels like no air is getting in, and the crying just gets uglier, gasping, wailing, shaking so hard your knees knock together.

minho barely hesitates.

he’s pulling you forward before you can fully collapse, guiding you off the couch before you slide off of it. your legs fold uselessly beneath you as he brings you to the floor, your whole body slumping forward until your forehead presses against his shoulder.

"shit," he mutters, his voice softer now, realising you need his tenderness now more than ever, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you close. "okay, okay, breathe. just. breathe, jagiya."

but you can’t.

the stress, the frustration, the godforesaken helplessness. it’s been building for weeks. you’ve been following the doctor’s orders, keeping it together, trying not to be a burden. but now it’s crashing over you, suffocating you, and there’s nothing you can do except sob, breath hitching, hands curling uselessly into minho’s shirt.

"i fucking- i can’t- i dont wanna-minho, i-"

you’re not even making sense, the words breaking apart between sobs. your whole body shakes against his, and he lets you shake, lets you hold onto him because he's the only thing keeping you from falling apart in shambles right now.

"shhh," he soothes, voice steady, fingers carding through your hair. "it’s okay. i’ve got you."

but for once, it’s not okay. none of this is okay.

the hospital. the seizures. the way your body doesn’t feel like yours anymore. the restrictions, like chains wrapped around your wrists, pulling you down, making you feel heavier than ever.

"i hate this," you choke out, another sob tearing through you. "i hate- hate hate hate hate it!" you yell out, palms hitting the floor with every word before minho pulls it away and holds your hand against his heart instead.

his grip on you tightens for a moment before he shifts, guiding you into his lap with practiced ease. it's like he’s done this before. like he knew this was coming. you'd been strong for too long after all.

"i know," he murmurs, pressing his lips to your temple. "i know you do."

"i can’t. i need to do things, i need to work, i need-"

"no, you don’t," he says, firmer this time. his arms squeeze around you, grounding you. "you need to breathe and you need to rest."

"but i can’t just-"

"you can. and you will."

his voice leaves no room for argument, but it’s not cold. just steady. certain. he’s willing you to believe it, to trust him.

you can only let out another wrecked sob, burying your face against his chest, and he lets you. lets you cry, lets you break, lets you lose it completely in his arms.

and then, soft padding. a quiet, inquisitive meow.

you barely register it through your crying, but minho huffs out a small, amused sound.

"oh great. now you’ve upset the kids."

you lift your head just enough to see them, your babies, soonie, doongie, and dori, all three of them, tails twitching, ears perked up as they stare at you with wide, concerned eyes.

your breath hitches again, another sob threatening to break free, but soonie steps forward and plops down right against your leg, pressing his warm weight against you. doongie follows immediately, rubbing his head against your arm, while dori hops right into minho’s lap and paws at your hoodie, almost upset that he's not the center of attention.

you let out a choked, broken laugh, and minho smirks.

"see? even they know you’re being ridiculous."

you glare at him through your tears, but it’s weak, and he just smirks harder, reaching up to wipe your damp cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie.

"you’re allowed to fall apart," he murmurs, the teasing laced with something softer, more real. "but you’re not doing it alone."

your face crumples again, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks, and he's gently pulling you in, tucking you against his chest, warm and safe as you hiccup.

"cry as much as you want," he says, fingers tracing soothing circles along your back. "i’m not going anywhere."

and with the company of your three meowing babies, and the big kitty holding you tight, you know you'll find it in yourself to feel okay again. and until you don't, they'll be there. and they'll be there, even once you are.