THE BREAK UP BUSINESS — EP. 1

have you heard Seungmin covering Stitches by Shawn Mendes???

INEXPERIENCED.

Han x reader. (s)

Synopsis: One of your subordinates wasn’t performing the way you would have liked, you invited him for a drink in the hopes of encouraging him only to discover that he's inexperienced in other things too. (7,5k words)

Author's note: Let me know if you want a second part. Oh, and happy birthday, Hannie! ♡

"Goddammit!"

The chief's voice is sharp and loud like a crack of thunder but instead of lightning, it comes with a stack of papers hurling toward you.

Fortunately, it's breezing past the side of your head as it scatters in the air and the papers float before they make a quiet landing on the floor.

"Have you been teaching those under your wing right?" The chief yells again, this time personally aimed it toward you with his nostrils flared and his neck gets all red whether from the anger or his collar is too tight, or both.

"Don't make light of our work here!"

It's always safe to apologize first and explain later, it's even better if there are no explanations at all and admit right away that it's your fault.

"We're very sorry, sir!" You sincerely say while keeping your head down, you secretly glance to the side to check on someone and he does the same thing too.

"I'll take responsibility for this," you openly accept the blame as a good senior would do.

"Enough with your apologies!" The chief lowers his voice as he rubs on his wrist and you guess he got hurt from hurling the papers at you with all of his strength.

"Just go back to your work and do it right!" The chief yells once more as he hides the pain around his wrist.

You nod and put on a courteous smile, "Please, excuse us," you say.

You quickly make your way out of his office along with your junior co-worker and none of you say anything until you both turn into the hallway that leads you back to your office.

The person next to you, Han, stops walking and turns to face you, he's looking down at his feet when he apologizes, "I'm sorry. It was my mistake but I dragged you into this."

With a job comes a responsibility and when you get tasked to take him under your wing, you are fully aware that he's your responsibility and his mistake will be your mistake too. Since he's new, it's understandable that he stumbled on things but the problem is he's done it a couple of times already in the last five months he's been working here.

However, you remember you were once in his position and you've experienced how stressful it can be when everyone is pressing you from all sides, you don't want that for him so you try to be a compassionate senior for him.

You gently place your hand on his shoulder and smile at him, "The most important thing is you acknowledge your mistake and apologize. Now, we can just laugh it off," you tell him.

Han lifts his head, showing how sorry he is with his eyebrow downturn and wistful eyes, "We can't just laugh it off," he meekly says.

You put your hand on the small of his back and whisk him away to continue walking down the hallway, "Let's just laugh it off and have a few drinks tonight," you console him.

"Maybe just one drink," he says, feeling concerned with what you mean by a few drinks.

"Let's drink until morning!" You jokingly say, linking your arm with his.

"We can't drink until morning," Han meekly says as you keep dragging him along with you.

"Oh, come on!" You gently slap him on the chest and get surprised by the firm muscles he has under his crisp white shirt, "It's my treat."

-

What's a high-paying job when he earns more stress than money?

Han should consider himself lucky that he has you as a senior. Not only that you're nice, you are so kind and patient with him, you teach him everything he needs to know about his job and the company. You always try to cheer him up when he gets chewed off by the chief. You're not only making this job bearable to him, you make it possible for him to enjoy his work with you around.

"Oh, no!" You gasp as you see the sign taped on the front door of the bar.

"Our sanctuary!" You cry with your lips pursed and your shoulders sagged.

Closed for renovation, it says on it.

It's such a shame that the bar that you both regularly visit is closed on days like this when he needs to drink his sorrow away and just decompress.

"Shall we go somewhere else?" He suggests while scratching the back of his head, raking his brain for any bar he knows in this area.

Your face brightens as the light bulb in your head dings with an idea, "How about we drink at my place?"

"Huh?" His eyes burrowed in slight shock and confusion.

"Come on! It's just around the corner," you don't wait for his answer, you link your arm around him and whisk him away with you.

Turns out, you're not lying about your place is just around the corner. You live in a small house with a miniature garden in the back and everywhere he looks, there's a potted plant sitting in the corner of the room.

It creates such a contrast to the hustling and bustling of the city and the stressful environment at work, it offers a pleasant atmosphere that instantly puts him at ease.

Keeping the window open, the wind chime sings a tune every time a gust of wind brushes in between, sending them clinking against each other.

"How do you manage to take care of all of these plants?" He asks in wonder, foolishly touching the tiny thorns on one of your succulents.

"It's easy," you answer from the kitchen, "You just need to water them."

Han saunters into the kitchen, ready to offer his help as you stand on your tiptoe to get glasses from the top cabinet. He notices the big jar of dark brown liquid with something floating on the surface.

"What is that?"

"That's what we'll be drinking tonight," you answer with a smile.

Being the gentleman he is, he carries the big jar of mysterious drink to the living room, carefully puts it down on the table, and then sits on the floor, looking at it with curious eyes.

"It's cherry brandy," you inform.

"You made it yourself?" He wildly guesses.

"I am," you answer with a proud smile, opening the jar with all of your strength.

As soon as the lid cracks open, Han is already intoxicated by the sweet, alcohol-tinted aroma that is wafting around the room. He watches as you dip the ladle and meticulously pour it into the glass. He knows now that the things bobbing on the surface are the cherries.

"But how?" He asks in wonder as he observes the drink in his hand.

"It's just cherries, sugar, and vodka, put them in the jar, shake them, put them in the dark for weeks, and voila!" You easily share the recipe and the comprehensive steps for making it.

"No, I mean, how do you have time to do all these?" He asks, utterly befuddled.

Work is draining enough to him that he has no energy left to do other things than rest, and when he gets time, he uses it on something as frivolous as playing video games. That explains why he can't relate to your way of life because how?

You look at him and snort as if his question is inane and the answer is obvious. You get up from the floor as you say, "I'm going to get the cheese."

"Please don't tell me you also made the cheese yourself," he jokingly asks because he already has so much respect for you.

This cherry brandy is dangerous. The cherries mask the taste of the alcohol and all Han can taste is the sweet and tangy flavor of the cherries, but he's aware that he's getting lightheaded with every sip of it. The worst part is he can't stop drinking it.

You're using his drunk state as a chance to tease him and he starts grouching, slurring his words doing it.

"What I'm saying is you always change the topic to me apologizing," he whines with his lips forming a cute pout.

"I'm not," you deny, taking a piece of cheese in between sips.

"I know I am incompetent," he grumbles then hisses at the alcohol burning down his throat.

"I beg to differ. I don't think you're incompetent."

"What then? Incapable? Pathetic? Useless?"

"I think you're just... inexperienced and that's okay," you pause to pick a handful of cherries from the jar with the ladle, "I know that you're sorry and you'll keep trying to be better. I have faith in you, Han."

Han didn't know that he needed to hear that until now. Suddenly, the tightness in his chest loosens, and he feels liberated. He can finally breathe and enjoy his drink with ease.

"Let's impress the chief with our next presentation, okay?" You softly smile at him, raising your glass to invite him for a toast.

Returning the spirit, Han smiles and raises his glass, clinking it with yours as he promises himself to prove that you're not wasting your faith in him.

"Damn! This cherry brandy is so good," he praises with his nose scrunched reacting to the aftertaste.

"Can you do this?" You pop a cherry into your mouth while holding the stem between your thumb and index finger.

"Do what?"

You put the stem into your mouth next and begin moving your mouth, almost like chewing it. After a while, you stick your tongue out, revealing the stem is knotted now. It's impressive, yes, but his eyes are focusing on your lips and how they're glistening wet, probably tastes as sweet as a cherry too.

"That's kind of uh..." he's not sure if what he's about to say is appropriate so he decides not to finish his sentence, "Wow!"

"They say that if you can do this that means you're a good kisser," you remark as you fish out more cherries out of the jar with the ladle.

He hesitates but considering that he's not in a workplace and the alcohol dulls his brain, it can no longer tell what's appropriate or not anymore.

"Are you?"

"Mmh?" You hum in question with a cherry tug between your teeth.

"Are you a good kisser?" He daringly asks.

You bite through the cherry and he can the juice flooding your mouth, you're chewing it as you're looking at him, making him wait for your answer in anticipation.

Then you lean forward on the table, you prop a hand under your chin and slightly tilt your head to the side, "Want to try?"

The way you both execute it is like two teenagers doing seven minutes in heaven. You're both sitting facing each other on the floor with your legs folded under you and awkwardly looking at each other.

All of a sudden, you lean in close until both of your faces are merely inches away from each other. Your lips slowly curl into a smile as you stare into his warm brown eyes.

"You have beautiful eyes."

He can't only handle that much and smiles at your compliment, "Thank you."

"But I need you to close them for now."

"Okay," he obeys your order and closes his eyes.

A minute later, Han just realized what he'd done to himself. With his eyes closed, he can't see what you're doing and he can only wait in anticipation with his heart pitter-patter in his chest.

"Where should I start, mmh?"

He hears you mutter and he knows that it's a rhetorical question, you don't need an answer, you do that just to build his anticipation.

In the next moment, Han feels your breath fanning over his ear, sending goose bumps down his neck, then softly, you press a kiss to his left temple.

“Hmm... where to now?” The words are spoken softly against his skin, each one a caress.

He knows it's yet another rhetorical question but it's enough to send his heart rattling like someone sets firecrackers in his chest.

The tip of your nose grazes his skin as you move lower and you surprise him with a kiss on his cheek, making him close his eyes tightly as impatient sears through him.

As if you hear his thoughts, you land the next kiss on the corner of his mouth, so close yet not exactly where he wants your lips to be.

Then you rest your hand on his jaw, holding him in place as you press an innocent peck on his lips. A tingling sensation bounces around in his chest and a second after you pull away only to sink your lips on his again.

This time, you take the lead, you're showing him how it's done, drawing the kisses out. When your tongue slips between his lips, he goes stock-still. He can't comprehend that your tongue is in his mouth, hot and wet, swirling around his tongue.

This is it. This is kissing and kissing is this good. Oh, man, no one tells him that it's this good!

When you break the kiss, he almost lets out a whimper of complaint from the sudden loss of contact.

"What do you think?" You ask, biting your lower lip but he notices a grin peeking around the edges of your mouth.

"The best kiss I've ever had," he honestly admits.

You let out a soft laugh, "We're not at work. You don't have to suck me up," you say, not entirely buying his words.

"B-but I'm not lying," he assures you with his eyebrows downturn and his dark eyes looking at you.

You take your glass of cherry brandy and have a small sip, "Well, if the only other person you've ever kissed is your mum, then I'll take you on that," you jokingly say.

Something catches in his throat and it's the truth. Han doesn't plan on telling anyone about it or ever for that matter but he deems you're trustworthy enough to keep this secret for him.

"I'm a virgin," he meekly confesses.

The handle of the ladle slips off your fingers and it clatters to the bottom of the jar, "Pardon?"

"I have never had sex with anyone," the hesitation makes his voice quiver at the end of his sentence.

You bring your glass close to your mouth but not drink it, "When I said you're inexperienced, I didn't think that it included the dating area."

Now it feels like he's just told you his defect and his nerves are being replaced by a wave of regret. His eyes wander off, his voice turns small.

"Was that a turn-off?"

You take a cherry from your drink and shove it into your mouth, as you chew on it a sly smirk rises on your face. You lick your lips and then lean forward, "If I say that I'll pop your cherry..."

Your hand reaches for his face and the pressure of your fingertips on his chin makes him face you again, leading him to believe you want eye contact.

"What would you do?"

-

The tension is climbing fast when you both enter your bedroom, he can't even see his surroundings as both of your lips are locked in a rapturous kiss and you lead him in one direction, the bed.

The moment you have him lying on the bed and you pin him under, his skin gets hot and sensitive, his pulse drumming with eagerness. His cock digs in his slacks, reminding him that it's real and it's not some fantasies he's making up in his head. He is sure he's been turned on before but he can't remember when, even if he did, he's sure it wasn't this much.

From there, it's raining kisses on his lips, and in between the aching presses of your lips, your tongue caresses him, making his skin tingle. When he tries to capture your tongue to take into himself, you evade him. You tease him more by brushing at his lips and dip your tongue inside for a mere second, then quickly withdraw, making him almost groan in frustration.

Okay, he gets it, you're a good kisser so stop playing, he complains in his head.

The way you smile against his lips only means that you know what you're doing and enjoying it. Impulsively, Han decides to seal your mouth with his and touches your tongue with his, an explosion of taste in his mouth, sweet, tangy, tart, so. fucking. addictive.

As he's drunk in your kisses, you run your hand down his body and eventually discover his member poking through the front of his slacks.

"Wow!" You lowly gasp yet continue rubbing his clothed bulge, "You're already this hard?"

Since it's his first time, he doesn't know how to properly react or respond, but he's familiar with this feeling tugging inside him, insecurity.

"I'm sorry," he meekly apologizes.

You gently cup his jaw and stare into his dark, round eyes, "What to be sorry for?"

To assure him, you place a long, lingering kiss on his lips and then sit straddling him on the bed. You untuck the hem of your blouse out of your skirt and bring your fingers to the top button.

"My junior pops a boner on me..." you maintain eye contact with him as you continue undoing all the buttons on your blouse, "Then I can't just look and do nothing."

It's a mystery how he doesn't get blind from seeing your bare upper half body but he knows his eyes are almost out of their sockets the second you take your blouse off, revealing your soft mounds hanging beautifully on your chest.

You're already gorgeous with your clothes on but like this, it's too much for him. He swallows hard as you glide your hand down your sternum and he sees how your fingers lightly graze your nipple as you cup the underside.

You take both of his hands and put them on your breasts, then, you let them go just to see what he's going to do with them.

Nothing. He does nothing but look at his hands holding your breasts and you almost grin at how he looks at them with eyes filled with childlike wonder.

You tilt your head to the side, "So what do you think?"

"They're so soft," he innocently answers.

You hold his hands and move them together, fondling your breasts together with him, you gesture his thumb to play with your hardening bud. Soon, he's doing it himself, kneading on your breasts and once in a while, rubbing his fingers over your nipples.

After a while of letting him touch them, you deem he's ready for more, "Want to kiss them?"

His eyes glance up from your chest to your eyes and then stifle a nod. You scoot a little to the back as he rises from the bed, and this new position brings his mouth close to your breasts.

Sensing his hesitation, you say, "Go ahead. Put your mouth on them."

As he stares at them in silence, Han swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing inside his throat before softly landing his small, pouty lips on the valley of your breasts, a long peck that leaves a searing feeling on your skin and then buries his head in between.

A ragged breath escaped your mouth as you encircled your arms around him, drawing him closer. You tangle your hand in his hair, dark, loose curls, caught between your fingers.

Seconds stretched into minutes and Han hasn't done anything but rests one side of his head on your sternum.

"You're not falling asleep, are you?" You jokingly ask.

"No," his voice is small and low, almost like a whisper.

You reckon he needs some pointers on ways to play with them, you glide your hand to the back of his head and tilt his head slightly upward, just enough to make him look at you.

"How about we put them in your mouth?" You ask with your hand softly scratching the tendrils of hair on the nape of his neck.

You lead him by placing your hand on his jaw and with your thumb, you trace his lower lip, then slowly, you part his mouth open with it. You let him do the rest and he catches up fast, he opens his mouth a little wider and takes your ample flesh, then closes his mouth around it.

Han is following his instincts, he tightens his grip around you and pulls you closer so he can feast on you. He has your breasts in his face, his mouth, rolling on his tongue. He can play with them all day.

As you gaze down at your chest, you see his lips wrapped around your nipple and his hand kneading on the other, both stimulations sending you twist and arch your back, your ass making friction on his crotch.

"You like them, huh?"

Without detaching his mouth from your nipple, he answers, "I like this."

He moves his mouth to the other nipple and sucks on it, "and this."

It's such an erotic sight that you feel a tingle down there. You bring your hands to the side of your breasts and push them to the middle so he can suck them all at once.

Han doesn't need more pointers, he knows what he wants and going for it. More importantly, he knows this is no fantasy playing in his head. This moment, you, and his undeniable attraction to you are all real.

He's slowly yet surely claiming your body in any way he can, he drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth, kissing you like it's his lifeline and he's hanging on a thin thread.

A murmuring sound hums in your throat as you kiss him back while your hands go down his back, taking the tail of his shirt out of his slacks. You draw your hands back to the front, unbuttoning his shirt and your patience wears thin as you get to the last one, you end up ripping it open.

A sigh escapes your mouth as you place your hand on his bare chest, but it's the swell of his chest muscles that distracts you from your exploration. You never touch hard rounded flesh like this before and his skin is searing hot under your fingertips. Gosh! You want to touch him all over.

As you sink your mouth into his again, you run your greedy hands over his arms, his chest, and his abs. You also admire his exceptional shoulders-to-waist ratio.

On the other hand, Han isn't prepared when you stroke over the fly of his pants, a jolt of pleasure coursed through him and his cock twitches in excitement, and a hoarse groan falls out of his mouth. His mind goes haywire as you unbutton and unzip his slacks, then you withdraw the hard length of his cock. He's almost losing it when your eyes go dark with so much want.

"Oh, so hot," you breathlessly gasp as you wrap your fingers around his swelling member, "mmh... so hard for me."

It's obvious that you have the experience, you seem to know where to touch, what would please him the most, the rhythm he prefers, and know when to pick up the pumping of your hand around his length.

"Am I doing good?" You casually ask, acting like you don't see the effect of your stimulations on him.

"Good," his voice is trembling with so much intensity.

As much as he likes it, he doesn't want to risk coming all over your palm, he wants to explore more of you and more ways to do that to you.

"Want... to... touch you," That's all he can mutter after forcing his brain to form a coherent sentence.

"Want to touch me?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"There," he lowly whispers that he doubts you can hear it.

You give him a haste kiss before answering his request by sitting on your knees, you swiftly undo the hook fastening at the side of your skirt and then ease the zipper over the sweet curve of your hip. Instead of sitting back down, you get off his lap and slowly lay yourself down on the bed. You raise your hips to lower the skirt down and then out of your legs.

"Now, come here," You're patting the space next to you.

It puts him in a trance seeing you lying naked on the bed with only your white underwear on, the fabric is so flimsy it leaves nothing to the imagination.

After a struggling minute, his brain finally manages to process your command, he lays next to you. You waste no time but gently hold his chin, then bring his head close for a kiss.

Maybe it's because you're too good at this that makes Han feels he needs to rise to the level. He does more than a kiss, he licks, he nibbles at your lips, and his tongue daringly invades your mouth to get as much of that sweet taste of you.

A hand finds him and you're taking it with you, placing it on you, guiding him to where you like to be touched. Your neck, across your chest, the underside of your breasts, around the navel and you keep leading him south, not stopping until his hand meets your clothed sex.

"It's wet," he blurts out as he feels the dampness of your underwear against his palm.

"It's even wetter underneath," you mutter against his lips.

Curiosity gets the best of him, he checks right away to see if what you said is true. He slips his hand under the fabric and immediately gets the answer. You're drenched and it gets all over his fingers the more he touches you.

"Oh, my God..." you arch your back against his hand, offering more of you to touch.

He feels encouraged to please you more, he pulls your underwear to the side and slips one finger into you. Low murmurs tumble from your lips and it tells him that this is what you want. He works a second finger in, and the stretching sensation has your head falling back and your heels dug into the bed.

"Curl them," you instruct as you push into penetration.

Han doesn't obey your words right away, he allows his fingers to ease in and out, feeling you out and catching you off guard, he curls his fingers inside you, startling a breathless gasp from you.

With your eyes closed, you lick your lips and then ask, “Are you sure it's your first time?"

His insecurity kicks in again as you show sheer doubt in your question, “What do you mean by that?”

You open your eyes and slyly smile at him, “It means so far you’re very good at it.”

The moment he hears that his insecurity turns into confidence. He applies slow, measured movements and does what he thinks would please you, using your lewd noises as the guide. The motions seem to calm you even as they put you on edge.

Your hand hikes its way up to his arm then nestles in his tousled hair, "My, my! You really are a capable boy when you try," you praise with dazed eyes and a sly grin.

This should offend him but it does nothing but stroke his ego in the best way. Other than that, he just wants to please you more and more even though he has no idea how. The better question is: what to do next?

"Do you mind taking my underwear off for me?"

He doesn't answer but hurriedly gets himself to do it, fingers tugging at the waistband of your underwear, then slowly, pulling it down your legs. The scrape of his nails on your skin sends a shudder down your spine.

"There you go!" You delightfully exclaim once the underwear is off of you.

You get comfortable on the bed, propping an elbow on the mattress as you lie slightly to the side, "Now, take your clothes off."

He's just realized now that his shirt is still loosely draped around his shoulders and his slacks are bunched around his thighs with his hard-on hanging out of his boxer.

With naughty eyes, you watch as he removes the pieces of clothing until there's none left but miles of miles of honey skin. You run one hand down your front then part your legs open, you don't seem to be embarrassed touching yourself in front of him and he finds that very sexy.

Little does he know, what you're about to do next is far sexier.

You put your hands on the back of your knees and then slowly, you pull them apart, exposing your glistening wet core to him.

Han admits that he hasn't seen enough to know but he's sure he's looking at one of the prettiest pussy he's ever seen, glistening wet, pulsating with so much desire, and so damn inviting. Looking at it makes him swallow air, hard.

He wants to play it cool but he fails at it, he wants you so much, he becomes this one big ache of wanting.

As he's about to lower himself on you, you block him from coming closer with your hand on his chest, "Oh, we almost forgot the condom."

You twist your body to the side, hand reaching for the handle of your bedside drawer and pull it open. To cut time, he grabs it for you from a box full of condoms inside the drawer.

"Want me to put it on?" You offer.

"Yes," he shortly answers, not caring if he sounds so eager.

You tear through the foil wrapper and take out the rubber, you give his length a gentle stroke before rolling the rubber down, then you pinch the end to make room for his completion.

You lay back on the bed, head resting on the pillow and a smile lingering on your face, showing him that you're comfortable enough to continue.

"You know what to do next," you say as you rub your hand up and down his forearm.

As he hesitates, you wrap your hand around his cock and rub it between your folds, milking more essence to prepare you for penetration. You're getting impatient for him but you let him decide when to enter you.

After a while, Han finally aligns his cock to your entrance, and with a shallow breath, he pushes just enough until his tip disappeared inside you.

Oh, the face he makes as he enters you, it's priceless.

"I can take a little more," you assure him with fingers lightly scraping the skin of his arms.

"I just—" he bites back a groan and tugs his lower lips between his teeth, "Give me a moment. This is my first time."

As you lay underneath and hear that, you find him hot and cute at the same time, butterflies explode in your stomach and fly around in amok.

"Kiss me," you sweetly ask, bringing his head close with your hand holding his chin.

Han fulfills your wish, lowering his mouth on you again as you wrap your arms around him. As he calms down from the rising tension, you bring your hands down to his hips and nudge him to push more into you.

"Oh..." his groan is hoarse and raw, spilling into your open mouth.

"I want all of you inside me," you whine against his lips.

Conveniently, what you want aligns with what he wants, he pushes the rest of his length inside you until he's fully sheathed in your warm, velvety walls.

A shaky breath escapes his mouth and he buries his head in your neck, you can hear every shudder of his breath, getting heavier with each passing second.

The two of you savor the moment—not speaking, not moving, not doing anything, just being with someone. The room is so quiet you hear the cars driving by outside and the occasional sounds of the wind-chime from the living room.

With a passionate kiss on your lips, he begins moving, he withdraws then thrusts, and the pace turns quick all of a sudden. You understand that this is his first time but he can't fully enjoy it when he's going at a light speed in a second.

"Hey, slow down," You calmly say with a soft peck on his lips and jaw, "don't rush."

He abruptly stops moving for a second and lets out a low sigh, "Sorry, I can't help myself."

Why he has to be this cute in a heating moment like this? You can't help but smile and peck his small lips again. You keep your hand on his neck, feeling the blood rushing in his veins.

"This is our first time," you say, "I want it to be special."

"Okay," he says with repeated nods.

Our first time. That sounds like you're hinting that this will be the first of many. Han feels a flutter all over his body hearing that.

Our first time, he replays it in the back of his head for his own amusement.

Keeping your words in mind, he continues where he left off, thrusting into you again at a moderate speed until he finds his pace. You give him the closeness he seeks by spreading your legs wider and wrapping them around his dainty waist.

In between kisses and moans, you tenderly gaze into his eyes and ask, "So, how do I feel?"

He forces his brain to try and compute words, "You feel hot... slippery and tight."

He pauses to clear his throat and adds, "You feel so good."

"I know," You softly smile and land a peck on his lips, "You feel so good inside me too."

Gosh! If he knew that sex felt this good, he would have done it sooner. He believes that it's all because of you. There's no guarantee that it would feel this good with someone else.

The way you keep clenching tighter around him means that he's doing well but on the other hand, it brings him closer to the edge. How long does sex usually last? He doesn't know but it seems like he can't hold himself back anymore.

"I'm sorry but I think I'm about to come," he says through his gritted teeth.

You hastily kiss his lips, "do you want to cum, mmh?"

Now that you asked him, he doesn't feel good about saying yes because you seem like you still want to continue. He changes his mind, convincing himself he can hold back a little longer.

"No, I can't— I shouldn't," he mutters while shaking his head.

"You hold back so much despite it being your first time," you say with a sly smile.

You put your arms around his shoulders, clinging to him, and swiftly, you roll him to the side, forcing him to lay back on the bed while you get on top of him.

"Alright then..." you sigh as you run both hands down his chest, "Try not to come as hard as you can."

Han should've taken your warning seriously. He gaps so loudly as you start rolling your hips against him, back and forth, then in circular motions, painstakingly slow. He's hopelessly grasping at the last shred of sanity left in him.

It's impossible to hold back anymore when you're fucking him good and he's watching you enjoying it with your breasts bouncing along to the slightest of movement, your nails clawing at his chest and the sexiest part of all is that blissful smile plastered on your face.

For a timeless moment, Han hovers on the brink, breathless, until the orgasm crashes over him and he grips at your thighs as you drive into him relentlessly. He hasn't finished with his orgasm yet he can feel your muscles fluttering around him and clamping him down.

With a hoarse groan, you surge into him one last time and come around him, then slowly, you lower your shaking body to the bed.

Without thinking, Han holds you close like you are his. He puts his arms around you and you burrow your head into the crook of his neck as you hold him back.

"Congratulations!" You whisper.

"Mmh?" He asks with dazed eyes.

"Your cherry has been popped!"

-

Han jolts awake the next morning, he's seeing you sleeping next to him, in your room and the sun is shining so brightly outside. The first thought that comes to his mind is he's late for work and panicked.

He rises from the bed and gasps, "Oh, God! Did I oversleep?!"

You put your hand on his chest and pull him to lay back on the bed, "It's Saturday," you sleepily croak.

"Oh? Right..." His panic turns into embarrassment and he blames his body clock for that.

You scoot close to his side and put your arm across his chest, fingertips lightly trailing his collarbone. It feels nice, and snug. Why would he try to leave this heavenly feeling of lazing on the bed with you?

But he's aware that he should also consider that you might want your personal space back and he doesn't want to overstay his visit.

"I uhm... I probably should go," he says yet not moving an inch.

He hears you draw a breath then drop your hand to cup his jaw, "Okay."

Again, Han remains still on the bed, lying so close next to you and in your warm embrace. You suddenly lift your head and roll to the side, overlapping his body with yours.

"Before you leave, want to shower with me first?"

This is unexpected but he's not complaining at all. He reminds himself to keep calm and try to come up with a playful response.

"So we can have sex again?"

You crack a laugh at that and rest your chin on his chest, you gently tap his cheek with your index finger, "Now that you're no longer a virgin, you think you're so hot, huh?"

It hasn't completely sunk into him that he had sex for the first time last night and the reminder makes his heart flutter.

He keeps his cool and nonchalantly shrugs, "Just a little."

-

As much as he tries his best to resist it, Han keeps following you with his eyes.

Yes, he's aware of how creepy it is and he wants to act normal, it makes it obvious that he feels something toward you.

Or rather, why are you able to act normal about this?

He admits that he likes that part about you, you are aware that this is a workplace and there shouldn't be personal business involved within.

However, Han can't help but wonder if he's the only one still thinking about that night.

Now that he thinks about it, you and him never really agreed on what to call this relationship, is it just casual or do you want to take it further, and is not talking about it an adult thing to do?

"Ugh, I don't know," he doesn't mean to let it out loud but thankfully, no one is there to hear it.

His eyes hovering over you again, he slightly swivels his office chair to the side and watches you checking files from one of your juniors. He finds it attractive that you have a crease between your eyebrows whenever you're focused on something and the way you flip the page then hold it between your fingers, oh, it does something to him.

"It looks good," you say as you put the files back, "You can proceed with this one."

Your junior takes the file back from you and holds it in front of her as she asks, "Will you come to our company dinner tomorrow night?"

You don't even consider it but answer right away, "Yes, sure, I'll be there."

Your junior responds with a warm smile, "That's great!"

After your junior leaves, you collect some files from your desk, get up, and bring them with you as you make your way toward his desk.

He doesn't know why but he shoots up from his chair as if he gets caught doing something. You stop by his desk and you have no idea how thankful he is, imagine if you walked past his desk, he would be so fucking embarrassed.

"Han, these are the documents for the next meeting," you say, showing him the files you're holding, "Can you organize them for me?"

"Absolutely!" He answers without a beat.

He thinks you have nothing else to do for him but you linger by his side and then slowly lean into his side while keeping the files open, covering half of your faces.

"Isn't the day after tomorrow is your birthday?" You ask.

His breath hitches either from the proximity or the fact that you know about this birthday, "Yes. How do you know?"

"Oh, well..." You slightly shrug instead of telling him the answer.

Taking him by surprise, you lean in closer and then place a soft kiss on his cheek. His breath catches in his throat and he feels a hiccup coming. He looks around to see if anyone saw that but the official remains lively as usual.

"What's that for?" He manages to ask while holding his cheek as if he is trying to hide the mark even though there is nothing but the searing feeling it leaves on his skin.

"An early birthday present," you simply answer with a smile then walk back to your desk.

Han used to dread company dinner because it requires him to drink and he's bad at drinking.

The first round is at a barbecue place, the drinking is moderate, and he can slow down the drinking by shoving food in between.

On the second round, they're going for a karaoke bar and that's when it gets tricky, someone will somehow notice if he hasn't drunk enough and force him to get on their level. If only they had any ideas that he'd be likely blacked out from drinking as much as them.

By the time the second round ends, Han finds himself stumbling on his way out of the karaoke bar. He's not drunk but he knows he's one drink away from it. Someone grabs his arm and without looking, he knows that it's you. No one likes to link their arms with him, except you.

"Hey, do you want to get out of here?" You keep your voice low to not let anyone else hear it.

"Yes," he answers without thinking and frankly, you can take him anywhere you want.

"Round three! Let's go!" The team manager shouts, half slurring his words and leading everyone to go.

"But–but how about...?" He stutters, pointing at their co-workers walking away and he's afraid that the two of you might get in trouble for ditching everyone else.

"Don't worry about it," you assure him, walking to the other way of where everyone else is going and at the end of the street, you hail a taxi.

It's obvious that he doesn't know where you're taking him until you tell the taxi driver to pull over and he steps out of the taxi, finding himself at the front of a hotel.

He follows you as you walk across the lobby, coming toward the reception to check in for a stay. The process only takes a few minutes and you get handed a keycard.

He can simply ask you why you're taking him here but it would be so naive of him, right? The most important thing is he likes where this is going.

Arrive at your floor, you lead the way to the room and even though he's still feeling a little lightheaded, his eyes can't seem to look away from watching your back figure as you walk in front of him with your hips swaying side to side and that pencil you always wear to work does nothing but accentuate the shape of your—

"I'm sorry, Han," you suddenly apologize as you walk up to a door and he guesses it must be the room you're assigned to.

"Yes?" He asks, confounded.

Instead of getting into the room first, you turn around on your feet and stand with your back facing the door while holding the keycard in your hands.

"You see I don't really know what you'd like for your birthday so..." your voice turns lower the more you speak but it's the soft gaze and the way you're looking at him through your lashes that suddenly makes it hard to breathe.

"I was thinking we could go shopping together but I can't help myself."

There's no physical contact whatsoever but he gets hot all over, he licks his lips as his eyes flick to your lips that tempted him to kiss.

"I've been thinking about being alone with you and all the things we could do together."

He is right to not ask the question but God, he likes the answer to it.

"So... will this do?" You ask, your eyes filled with wild, naughty glints.

Instead of answering, he takes the keycard from your hand and puts it close to the scanner on the handle of the door, it automatically clicks open.

Now, you know the answer. He couldn't ask for a better birthday present than what's going to happen in this hotel room.

-

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25-28/∞ gifs of my north star ♡

Left on Read

── .✦ content warning : SMUT! MDI!!! fem!reader; kinda angst; mild burnout; miscommunication; light argument; explicit sex;

✮⋆˙ pairing: idol seungmin × fem!reader

✮⋆˙ word count: 2,1k

✮⋆˙ synopsis: “He shuts you out. You show up anyway. Tension snaps, words cut, and then it's just hands, mouths, desperation — because silence never kept you from choosing him.”

✮⋆˙ A/N: heyy!! I personally didn't like this one – cause I hate writing short ones – I just wanted to post something so the blog doesn't ""die"". if you have some requests or thoughts you want to share, please feel free to send me a message and lmk what you think. don't forget to like and reblog it!! xox ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

The lights in the apartment clock flashed 00:42 AM. I sat curled up on the couch, my phone screen glowing in my palm as I stared at the latest message I had sent him.

No response. Again. I had already double-checked if the messages were delivered. They were.

I sighed and typed another one, shorter this time.

[00:42 AM] Y/N: Are you still at the studio?

[00:56 AM] Y/N: Seungmin?

[01:09 AM] Y/N: Do you at least ate?

Still nothing.

My lips pressed into a thin line. I tapped on Chan’s name instead and sent a quick text:

[01:14 AM] Y/N → Chan: Is Seungmin still at the company?

The reply came almost instantly.

[01:14 AM] Chan: Yup. Still in the recording booth.

[01:15 AM] Chan: He’s arguing with himself about how his vocals suck.

[01:15 AM] Chan: You should probably come take him home before he erases the whole track.

My jaw tightened, fingers clenching around the phone. This wasn’t the first time. I tossed a hoodie over my tank top, grabbed my keys, and headed out.

The city passed like a blur outside the window as I drove, hands tight on the steering wheel, jaw clenched. Maybe this was insane. Maybe he just needed space. Maybe I was overreacting. But I knew him. And if there was one thing Seungmin was good at, it was pretending he was fine when he wasn’t.

The building was mostly empty at that hour, the distant hum of ventilation systems the only sound as I made my way through the halls. When I reached the studio, the door was slightly ajar, a soft trail of Seungmin’s voice leaking through.

Chan was in the producer’s chair, arms folded, head leaning back like he was halfway to sleep. He turned when he heard the door creak. His eyebrows rose. “Wow. He really pushed you, huh?”

I dropped my bag onto the couch with more force than necessary. “He’s not answering me. Again.”

Chan shrugged with a tired smile. “He’s locked in perfectionist mode. Keeps saying his tone sounds wrong. I’ve told him to stop at least four times. He argued. I gave up.”

I crossed my arms. “Is he eating?”

“No. He’s eating self-hatred and... vocal fry.” That earned a half-smirk from me.

Chan stood, slinging his jacket over one shoulder. “He might listen to you, though. I mean... if the pissed-off girlfriend look doesn’t make him flinch, I don’t know what will.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Coward.”

“Correct.” he said, grinning as he walked to the door. “Good luck. Don’t destroy any equipment.”

When the door clicked shut behind him, I finally turned to the booth. Seungmin was inside, headphones on, replaying the same take, muttering under his breath as he adjusted the mic. He hadn’t noticed me yet. I moved closer to the glass, arms folded.

Eventually, he turned—and froze. Our eyes locked. He blinked, surprised, pulling off his headphones. I didn’t wait for an invitation. I opened the booth door and stepped in.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice rough. Seungmin blinked, pulling the headphones off. “It’s late.”

“Yeah. No shit.” I stepped further in. “Did you plan on ignoring me until morning or…?”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t mean to. I’ve just been working—”

“You always say that.” My voice cracked, just barely. “I get it, Min. You love what you do. But I’m not just some… background character in your day.”

A beat passed.

“I just... needed to get this right.” he muttered.

“You’ve been doing this for days. Skipping meals. Coming home after I’ve fallen asleep. Acting like I don’t exist.” His jaw clenched. “You think I’m mad because you’re working? I’m mad because you won’t let me in.” He didn’t answer. “You don’t have to carry everything by yourself, Seungmin. Not when I’m right here.”

He exhaled slowly, voice strained. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Yeah well, too late for that.”

He looked at me, finally meeting my eyes. And for a second, he looked smaller. Tired. Vulnerable. “I’m sorry.” he said. “For shutting you out. For making you feel like you don’t matter. You do. More than anything.”

I softened, stepping closer. “I’m sorry too. For making you think you can’t fall apart in front of me.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something more, but the words didn’t come.

“Let me hear it.” I said. He hesitated, then pressed play. The recording played softly in the background. His voice filled the booth—raw, imperfect, beautiful. I didn’t look at the monitor. I watched him. When it ended, silence hung between us.

“You sound like you mean every word.” I said. “It's good. Better even.”

He let out a shaky laugh. “You always say that.”

I reached up, brushing her fingers against his cheek. “Because it's always true. That’s the curse of caring too much.”

He leaned into my touch without thinking.

“I missed you.” I whispered.

“I’ve been here.”

“Not really.”

He looked at me again — really looked this time — and everything about him softened.

“I’m sorry.” he said quietly. “For not replying. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I wasn’t listening.”

I stepped forward, my voice lower now. “Sorry if I made you feel like you’re never doing enough. That’s not what I think. That’s never what I think.” The tension in his shoulders. The tired edge in his voice. I leaned in, closing the space between us slowly, giving him time to stop me. He didn’t.

Our lips met — slow and deliberate, like we were savoring something we weren’t sure we’d be allowed to taste again. There was nothing rushed about it. It was all breath and longing and the echo of weeks spent in silence. His mouth moved against mine like a silent apology, and I kissed him back like I wanted to undo every minute of distance with nothing but my lips.

The way he touched me wasn’t hungry at first —it was careful. Like I was glass. Like he was afraid I’d shatter and disappear. His hands rested at my waist before sliding up, tentative, brushing under the hem of my hoodie. The heat of his palms made my skin jump, and I gasped into his mouth when his thumbs grazed my ribs.

I pulled him closer, fingers threading into his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. His soft groan vibrated through me. It was the kind of sound you only make when something feels too good to be real.

And it did feel unreal.

The studio was quiet, lit only by the soft glow from the control board. The world outside didn’t exist anymore. Just me, him, and the months of tension unraveling with every brush of skin.

He broke the kiss first, breathing hard. “You should go home.” he whispered — but his arms tightened around me like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

“Not happening.” I murmured, my lips ghosting across his jaw. “You don’t get to shut down and pretend I don’t exist just because you’re scared.”

His eyes fluttered shut, like he was fighting something heavy inside him. “I’ve been so fucking lost lately.”

“Then let me find you.” I pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere behind us. My hands moved automatically, relearning him—his collarbones, the heat of his chest, the slight tremble in his stomach when my fingers dragged down his abs. His breathing hitched.

“You’re shaking.” I said quietly.

“I haven’t touched you in weeks.” he replied, voice wrecked. “I’ve been thinking about this every damn night.”

My hoodie was next. He peeled it off slowly, reverently, like each inch of skin he uncovered was sacred. When he kissed my shoulder — just below my collarbone — I felt my knees weaken. Then he looked up, eyes dark, lips parted. “I don’t remember how to take it slow.”

“You don’t have to.”

I pressed my body to his, grinding slowly against the bulge in his jeans. He cursed under his breath, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. When he kissed me again, it was messy and breathless. No more restraint — just weeks of built-up tension crashing into us like a wave.

He backed me toward the padded bench, lips never leaving mine, hands everywhere — waist, hips, the underside of my breasts. He pushed me down gently, then stood between my legs, looking down at me like I was some beautiful secret he didn’t know how to deserve.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” he whispered, almost angry with himself for not saying it sooner.

He kissed his way down my body—hot, open-mouthed kisses on my chest, my stomach, the insides of my thighs. When he pulled my underwear down with his teeth, I thought I might combust right there.

He looked up at me from between my legs, eyes smoldering. “Let me taste you.”

I barely had time to nod before his tongue slid over me — slow, firm, deliberate. My hips bucked involuntarily, and he moaned into me like the taste alone was enough to undo him.

His tongue worked me open with practiced ease— lapping, teasing, circling my clit just right before sliding two fingers inside me. I gripped the edge of the bench, gasping, back arching as he pushed deeper, curling his fingers until I saw stars.

“Seungmin—fuck—don’t stop—”

“I’m not going anywhere.” he growled against me. “You’re shaking so pretty for me.”

And I was — legs trembling, breath ragged, vision blurring. He kept going, steady and relentless, until my orgasm hit me hard. I cried out, fingers tangled in his hair, thighs clamping around him as I came with a force that made the world tilt sideways.

He didn’t stop until I was panting, sensitive, trying to push him away with shaky hands.

Then he stood, wiping his mouth, looking thoroughly wrecked — and incredibly proud.

“My turn.” I said, breathless.

I pulled him down by the waistband of his jeans, undoing the button with slow, teasing fingers. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, and when I wrapped my hand around him, he hissed through his teeth.

“You’re killing me.”

“You like it.”

“Too much.”

I stroked him slowly, dragging my thumb over the head, watching his jaw clench and his eyes flutter shut. When he looked down at me, his control was visibly cracking. “Turn around.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Bench.” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Hands on the bench. I need you.”

The words made heat pool in my stomach. I did as he said—bent over the bench, back arched, looking over my shoulder at him.

He lined himself up behind me, running the head of his cock through my folds. “You’re dripping,” he muttered. “Fuck. You feel ready?”

“Don’t make me beg.”

He slid in slowly — inch by inch until he was fully seated inside me. We both groaned. My hands clenched the edge of the bench as he pulled out halfway, then slammed back in, making the whole booth shake.

“I missed you.” he rasped against my ear.

“Shut up and keep fucking me.”

He obeyed, thrusts hard and deep, filling me completely. The sound of skin on skin, his breath in my ear, the ragged moans he tried to hold back—it was too much. And not enough.

I pushed back against him, meeting every thrust, panting his name between gasps. One of his hands slid under me, fingers finding my clit again. I jolted. “Oh my god — Seungmin — ”

“Come again for me, baby,” he growled. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

And I did. Harder than before. My vision went white, body clenching around him, drawing him deeper. He cursed loudly, fucking me through it, and moments later, he stilled — burying himself deep as he came with a broken gasp, his chest pressed to my back.

We stayed like that for a long time, breathing in sync, sweat cooling on our skin. He kissed my shoulder again, softer this time. More tender than desperate.

“You okay?” he whispered.

I nodded, twisting just enough to see him. “That was... good.”

He pulled me into his arms, tucking me against his chest like he couldn’t stand the thought of space between us. We stayed like that, still tangled, breathing each other in.

Eventually, I smiled. “I guess I really did have to come get you.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Please keep doing that.”

I kissed him again, softer this time, and in the quiet hum of the booth, it felt like the rest of the world could wait.

𝕄𝕦𝕗𝕗𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕄𝕠𝕒𝕟𝕤

⋆˚✿˖° ˖°✿⋆˚

Fem!Reader x Kim Seungmin

Summary: You and Seungmin are roommates and he goes wandering in your room looking for something but ends up finding something else and getting aroused.

Warnings: accidental stimulation, masturbation, edging, hair grabbing, oral (Male receiving), sort of face fucking, you help him masturbate, he gets embarrassed, Seungmin whimpers, He doesn't know how to contain it, lmk if I missed anything else!

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: This one was recommended! I really hope y'all like this one as well. I'm gonna try to post as often as I can but I really don't have a great schedule😞. This one is also kinda short I apologize.I’ll have another one soon hopefully 🫶.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

You and Seungmin have been roommates for almost a year, so you've learned each other's schedules. You work from 8-4, and Seungmin stays home to do his online courses.

Seungmin tends to look for things in your room because he is always home and gets bored, wanting a reason to wander around the apartment.

He doesn't do this often, but this time when he did, he found something that is not usually left out for anyone to see, considering how tidy you are.

Seungmin found himself in need of something to write on and he knew that you had a few sketchbooks that you wouldn't mind him using.

He found what he was looking for but he also found your panties on the floor of your room. It was on the side of your bed laid out for him to see, it's like you wanted him to see it.

It's not like he meant to see it or, better yet get a boner from it. He doesn't know why it's happening but he doesn't hate it. The image of you taking off your panties pops up in his head as he looks at your underwear.

He couldn't help himself from getting off on your panties. He pressed his hip against the side of your bed, his back following, sliding down until his knees reached his chest.

After getting on the ground he spread his legs out, enough for him to have space to comfortably touch himself. Then he pulls his shorts down enough for his cock to be out.

Seungmin reached his hands to the bottom of his stomach, tucking his fingers under his boxers and grabbing his hard cock, palming it gently while staring at where your pussy had been at one point.

He reaches down and grabs his shirt, bringing it to his mouth so it won't be in his way. Seungmin starts to slowly stroke himself as he reaches for your panties. He can't help himself, he doesn't know why he's doing this, his body is just moving on its own.

His strokes start to become harsher, seeing your panties just did something to him. Knowing that your pussy was once there he couldn't help but bring them up to his face, imagining him being in your pussy. Eating you out so good to the point you whimper out his name.

His dick twitches in his hand from the thought. He uses some of his pre-cum to help him pump his hard cock.

“Fuck Y/N”

He whispered for you, groaning out for you. He was close to cumming but didn't want to yet. He let go of himself, watching his dick twitch.

After a few seconds, he starts to stroke himself again, his whole body flinching as he gently touches himself. He brings your panties down to his dick, teasing himself with them.

Seungmin slowly puts your panties around his hard dick, his whole body reacting to every touch. He felt himself around you, stroking himself with you. He wanted you so bad.

All while he was doing this he didn't hear the front door open. He had been edging himself on for so long that he didn't even realize the time. You've been home for a while.

He lets out more whimpers not knowing you’re home. You could hear him calling out for you, you thought maybe something had happened so you slowly walked up to your door.

You opened the door just enough for you to see inside. Seungmin didn’t even look up at the door as you peeked through it. The image of him was so fucking hot.

He was sitting on the side of your bed, his shirt in his mouth, his shorts down to his knees, his cock in his hand.

Seeing your panties in his hand shocked you. It made you want to help him, he felt like this because of you right?

You open the door gently, watching seungmin glance up at you with begging eyes. He realized what he was doing for a second and got embarrassed, trying to cover himself.

“I uh.. Its not what it looks like y/n! I didn't mean to I…it just kinda happened..”

You don't say anything and start to walk up to him. You look into his lustful eyes, you could tell he wanted you to do anything to him.

Looking down at his cock you could see so much cum leaking from him. He was a mess for you, your panties now covered in his cum.

“Seungmin, let me help you okay?”

He nods his head in approval as you look down at his dick watching him twitch. You put your hand on his hips rubbing around his base before touching his cock.

His hips buck into your touch, whimpers slipping out from his mouth as you tease him. You didn't know that he had already been on the edge of cumming for a while.

You stroke him a few times before leaning forward to take him in your mouth. His hips bucking every time you move your head.

He grabs a fist full of your hair as you suck him off. His hips start to buck forward and fuck into your face, his grip tightening on your hair, whimpers flowing from his mouth.

You bring your head back up, gathering up spit in your mouth to help you stroke his dick again.

“Ngh y/n please”

His begging made you want more than just what you were giving him, but it was already late and the two of you had things to do tomorrow.

“Can you cum in my mouth seungmin? Please?”

He nods his head yes as you go down on him again, taking in his full length. His hand pushed your head down the closer he came to cumming down your throat.

With a few final thrusts into your face, he came down your throat, painting your mouth white. You moan into his thrust causing him to whimper from the vibrations.

You look up at him as you bring yourself up to his view, allowing him to watch you swallow his cum.

“Fuck y/n….your such a good girl for me…”

You smile at him as he strokes your face, both of you trying to catch your breath from what just happened.

“Maybe we could do this again seungmin, but maybe let me help you more..”

“Fuck yes y/n”

After a while of catching your breath, you get up to get a towel to help clean up yourself and him. He kept apologizing about what happened saying how he didn't know why it happened, but you didn't mind it at all. After all, you've been waiting for this moment.

Hey stayblr, I've been thinking of ways we can unite to help Palestine in the current genocide. With Israel closing borders again, no aid is allowed in and local organizations on the ground urgently need our help. So, i thought of rallying to raise donations for Palestine, big or small, as every dollar counts and can truly make a difference.

Initial target : 4000 dollars ✅

‼️ FINAL TARGET: 5000 dollars.

To be split between Care for Gaza, UNRWA and Palestine Children’s Relief Fund.

We’ll raise the target goal according to our progress!

update as of 12/07/2024- [10:00 a.m.] : 4435.29 dollars !!

For transparency, donations will be received through my Kofi, with daily updates on our progress. Here are the links to UNRWA’s, Careforgaza’s and PCRF’s work in Gaza!

Palestinians are saying that this is the worst phase of the genocide yet. They need as much of our help as we can give them, so please, let’s all stand together for this.

If you cannot donate

- please reblog and share around!

- stream hind’s hall (all proceeds will be donated to unrwa!

here are the receipts of our 1800$ donation to UNRWA, 1000$ donation to Careforgaza (to their paypal acc), and 1000$ donation to PCRF.

series: love me two times

businessman minho! x former one night stand reader (and soon to be spouse)

chapter 1: whiskey, regret, and other engagement traditions

read introduction here

word count: 3100 words

WARNINGS: strong language, sexual content (maybe eventual smut if i have the strength to), emotional manipulation, toxic family dynamics, power imbalances, alcohol use, eventual gun violence, blood and injury, blackmail, surveillance, themes of control, secrecy, betrayal, emotional repression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, psychological tension under the guise of romance, dubious business dealings, mentions of public scandal and reputation damage, manipulation via arranged marriage, and consistent, unapologetically bad decision making from most, if not all, characters involved. british humour. in case you all pussy out from that.

A/N: oh my god she's here. chapter 1 is here. i have no clue as to how this is going to end but i put my whole soul, heart, brain and dick into this fic. (which is a lot, mind you) thank you for the support on a whimsical little intro i wrote at my grandparents' house while my dog slept on my feet. thank you thank you thank you. chapter 2 coming next weekend. hopefully. also omg sho's first non lower caps fic

playlist. (coming soon)

─── Lee Minho had always been a man who thrived in chaos. Corporate wars, high-stakes meetings, and PR disasters were his playground. But even he couldn’t have predicted the one nightmare he’d spent years running from would land right back in front of him, wrapped in a perfectly tailored suit, flashing a smile that had ruined him once before.

He could handle anything…

Except the one person who had, through one night alone, known exactly how to bring him to his knees.

Lee Minho liked to think of himself as a man who could handle anything.

Corporate warfare? Child’s play. High stakes negotiations? His playground. He could charm billionaires over black coffee and through a simple peak of his collarbone, crush competitors with a smile, and walk out of a scandal cleaner than he went in, usually with a headline the press couldn’t stop foaming over.

Adaptability was his superpower. Precision, his trademark. Control? Non fucking negotiable.

At least, it had been, until you happened.

Again.

He stared at you, his supposed fiancé(e), the ghost of one of his most notable past mistakes, and thought—briefly, desperately—that maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he had worked himself into a stress-induced psychotic episode, and in reality, he was rocking back and forth in his office chair while his assistant frantically called for medical assistance. Would he be embarrassed that this would be the second time this would be happening? Maybe. Would he atleast be overjoyed by the fact that you weren't standing before him, far more gorgeous than all those years ago? Absolutely.

But no. This was real. You were real. This was happening.

You were still standing there, looking just as horrified as he felt, though, annoyingly, still unfairly attractive. Time had been disgustingly kind to you. And you had that same look in your eyes as before, the one that told him you were about seven seconds away from causing him severe emotional distress. And possibly a boner. Although he wasn't drunk enough for that. Not yet, atleast.

His brain short circuited as he watched you approach the table. You, of all people. He had been expecting a stiff, glass-of-champagne, charity-gala kind of person. Not you—the human embodiment of bad decisions and incredible, incredible sex.

Minho could laugh. His parents had unknowingly betrothed him to his favourite one-night stand. Brilliant.

“You have got to be fucking with me,” you finally said, sliding into the chair across from him.

“I wish I was,” Minho muttered, picking up his glass of whiskey and downing half of it in one go.

“So,” you said, resting your elbows on the table. “Long time no see.”

Minho blinked at you. Long time no see? You were acting like you’d bumped into him at Tesco, not like you were about to be married to the man you once absolutely ruined in a hotel room after a night of reckless decisions and expensive cocktails.

You, who had once dragged him into a bathroom stall at some questionably pricey nightclub and ruined him for every person he fucked after. Which he unashamedly agreed, were a lot. And the worst part was perhaps, that he remembered everything. He remembered the way you had looked at him that night, like you knew exactly what you were doing, like you had been born to make him suffer in the best possible way. He remembered your voice, the way you had laughed at him when he’d tried to act cool and ended up tripping over his own shoes, too fancy for him at the time. And he remembered the morning after, waking up alone, the only trace of you being a note scrawled on hotel stationery that simply read:

cheers for that. 10/10. no notes.

Minho had never been so simultaneously offended and impressed in his life.

And now? Now he was supposed to marry you? Spend forever with you...or atleast attempt to?

He took another large sip of whiskey.

“So,” you said, eyes sparkling with amusement. “How’s life been treating you? Still a bit of a man whore, or have you finally learned to keep it in your tailored trousers?”

Minho inhaled sharply through his nose. “I am a legitimate businessman.”

“Ah, so still a man whore,” you mused, nodding sagely.

Minho chose to ignore you.

"This… is a mistake," he muttered, running a hand through his usually well tamed hair. "This has to be a mistake."

"Oh, absolutely. Because otherwise we'll have to tell our parents we can’t get married because we’ve already seen each other naked," you say, leaning back in your chair with an unimpressed look. The very same that had drawn Minho to you that night. Because who did you think you were? Ignoring his wit and charm as he sat in the club's sofa, basking in attention and alcohol? The arrogant lad had decided that night, to prove himself to you. And prove, he did. A decision he didn't otherwise regret...until now.

Minho groaned and tried to reach over to his glass of whiskey, only to realise you were already drinking from it. "I swear to God, this is karma. This is divine punishment for my past sins."

"Well, considering your past sins include half of Central London, yeah, probably," you said with a shrug, swirling the now empty crystal glass.

He glared at you, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. You, in contrast, beamed at him with the kind of saccharine sweetness that suggested you were enjoying every second of his suffering. Minho noted internally, that you'd make a terrible actor, given that while the smile made it seem as though he was the only one seconds away from throwing up, your bouncing knee gave you away.

Minho, for his part, looked as though his soul had momentarily left his body. He blinked slowly, like someone trying to wake from a very specific, very inconvenient nightmare.

"Right," he said eventually, clapping his hands together in a sharp, business-like motion, as though trying to galvanise himself into action. "Let’s get this over with. How are we going to get out of this engagement?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, as if the matter were no more serious than choosing what to have for lunch. "Run away to Spain? Fake your death? Oh! You could seduce my grandmother so she convinces my father to call it off?"

"I am not seducing your grandmother."

"Coward."

Before Minho could offer a retort—no doubt a scathing one—a waiter, appeared at your table. He was the very picture of refined hospitality: all polite smiles, pressed shirt cuffs, and the faint waft of expensive cologne that trailed behind him like a signature.

"Good evening. May I start you off with a drink?"

"Whiskey. Double. Actually, just bring the bottle," Minho said, without so much as a blink, eyes still on you.

"Make that two," you added, not missing a beat, but still being polite and stable enough to break eye contact with Minho and smile at the waiter.

The attendant gave a courteous nod and retreated, leaving behind a faint trail of bergamot and judgement.

Minho exhaled slowly and dropped his head into his hands for a moment before glancing up at you, utterly defeated.

"This is going to be a disaster," he muttered, as if saying it aloud might somehow lessen the blow.

Minho barely had a moment to wallow in the tragic comedy of his predicament — engaged, against all logic, to a person who had just suggested seducing their own grandmother — before reality doubled down.

It came in the form of a booming, far-too-cheerful voice that could only belong to one man.

“Ah, Minho, you’ve met your fiancé(e)! Wonderful!”

The words rang through the restaurant and Minho flinched so hard he nearly knocked over the cutlery. He didn’t dare turn around. There was no need. He knew that voice. That was the voice of a man who thought forced betrothal was not only acceptable, but downright romantic.

His father.

Minho visibly recoiled, gripping the edge of the table as if bracing for impact. He had to physically resist the very natural urge to bang his forehead repeatedly against the pristine linen tablecloth.

And then, his parents descended upon the table in full force — exuding money, control issues, and the smug satisfaction of people who had just solved a problem by creating three more.

His mother was dressed in a sleek, couture suit that probably required its own bank account, looking every inch the woman who judged people based on the mineral content of their bottled water. His father wore the expression of someone who’d just sealed a lucrative merger and genuinely believed his son should be grateful for it.

And then there was your dad.

Looking every bit like the kind of man who once tried to bribe a headmaster with a case of vintage wine and a framed photo of himself shaking hands with a minor royal. So what if you weren't the best at studies during school? Was it really your fault that your Physics teacher was a bigger bitch than daddy dearest here?

Minho had never met him before, but he looked exactly as one might expect the father of someone like you to look—sharp suit, sharper glare, and the quiet intensity of a man who considered emotional vulnerability a personal failure. He radiated a kind of heavy, generational disappointment, like someone who’d been sighing over your life choices since the moment you learned how to form opinions of your own.

“Hello, sweetheart,” your dad said, planting a quick kiss on your forehead, affectionate in the way a CEO might congratulate a junior employee for not burning the office down. Then he turned to Minho, assessing the man who was supposed to be his future son-in-law with a look that would've made 16 year old Minho audibly whimper.

Your husband-to-be, drawing out every ounce of his professionalism, business acumen, and carefully cultivated adult composure, managed to respond with:

“Hi.”

Brilliant. Smooth. Absolutely nailed it. James Bond could never.

Your dad, unsurprisingly, looked as though he’d just been personally insulted.

Minho’s own parents, however, were beaming across the table, undoubtedly proud of their matchmaking skills.

“This is perfect,” his mother gushed, settling into her seat like she’d orchestrated the entire evening herself (she had). “I knew you two would suit each other.”

Minho let out a laugh that could only be described as emotionally strangled. Suit each other? Yes, absolutely. Because nothing screamed long term compatibility like a one-night stand from his blackout phase that he'd spent the past few years actively repressing, only to now be legally tethered to it in holy matrimony.

“So,” your dad said, leaning back in his chair with all the gravitas of a man about to sign a trade deal. “Shall we discuss the terms of this marriage?”

Terms. Terms. Marriage. Minho wasn’t sure which part of that sentence he found more horrifying — the casual contract language or the undeniable implication that none of this was a joke.

Minho looked at you, searching your face for some kind of solidarity. Instead, he found you sipping your whiskey like it was just another Wednesday, eyes half-lidded, posture relaxed—like this whole thing wasn’t giving you heart palpitations.

But oh, it was.

You weren’t calm. You were resigned. You’d played this game before. You knew exactly how your father operated: charm first, control second, and condescension somewhere in between. This wasn’t a dinner—it was a business meeting. And you were already sick of it.

“Well,” his father said briskly, “the wedding will take place in three months.”

Minho choked violently on his drink. “Three months?!”

“Yes,” his mother replied smoothly, not even blinking. “Any longer and people will start gossiping.”

Gossiping. Of course. Because obviously, public perception was the real villain here.

“Three months is plenty of time,” your dad added, nodding with the calm authority of a man who hadn’t even asked how you felt about any of this.

Minho's brown eyed flickered to you again, looking for help. A hotline number. A hint of rebellion. Something. Anything.

You just smiled at him.

It wasn’t kind.

“Now then,” your dad continued, “what about a prenup?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Minho’s father nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll have our legal teams draft it immediately.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all well and good,” Minho cut in, finally finding the will to form sentences again. “But- do I get a say in this?”

His mother tilted her head in that familiar, patronising way that suggested she thought his input was adorable but entirely unnecessary.

“Minho, darling,” she said, her tone one of pure condescension, “this is for your own good.”

Your dad chimed in, nodding. “If either of you had a reliable romantic track record, we wouldn’t be here. But let’s be honest-” he waved a hand vaguely in your direction “-you don’t, and-” he turned to Minho, gaze sharp and deeply insulting,“-you certainly don’t.”

You smiled tightly, jaw clenched just enough that it hurt.

Minho felt his soul attempt to vacate his body. Right there. In the middle of this overpriced, mood-lit, jazz-playing nightmare of a restaurant. He was going to die. And the only thing good about a death here would be that Art Blakey was playing in the background.

“So it’s settled,” his mother said brightly, with finality in her voice, “Three months from now, we’ll have a wedding.”

Minho turned to you. You turned to him.

You raised your glass in a slow, sarcastic toast.

“To our bright and happy future,” you said, voice honeyed, but eyes suddenly cold.

And your father smiled like he’d just won. Because unbeknownst to the two of you, he had.

•━━━━━━━━━━━•

Minho had made a lot of terrible decisions in his life. A truly impressive number. Enough to warrant a multi-part documentary series, probably titled Lee Minho: A Lifetime of Questionable Choices—with dramatic re-enactments, ominous voiceovers, and a theme song that sounded like a slow motion car crash. His friends could probably star in it too.

But agreeing (not really) to marry you?

Oh, that was shooting straight to the top of the list. Hall of fame. Permanent exhibit in the Museum of Regret.

Because it had been barely twenty four hours since the disaster that was your engagement dinner, and already, he felt his life being ruined, one sarcastic comment at a time.

“So, how long have you two been engaged?” Felix asked innocently, if one could call anything Felix did innocent, while stirring sugar into his overpriced cold brew.

Minho looked up from his coffee, eyes already tired. He’d made the mistake of inviting you to brunch with his friends. In public. With witnesses. Clearly, he’d suffered a blow to the head.

“Oh, it’s been wonderful,” you gushed. You reached over to squeeze Minho’s hand like you actually meant it. Maybe you did. Minho didn't want to bother with the details if it meant another migraine. “We’ve been informally engaged for a whole, what, twelve hours now? It’s been magical. Truly life altering. I can’t wait to be legally bound to this man forever.”

Minho squeezed your hand back. Hard.

“Yes,” he deadpanned. “Overjoyed. Thrilled. Best day of my life.”

Felix, the little gremlin, grinned, his mind already turning your worrying marriage into a soap opera. “Well, it’s about time you settled down, hyung. You’ve been a menace to society for years.”

“First of all, that is highly inappropriate. I am a legitimate businessma-”

“Mate,” Chan, Minho’s business partner, cut in. “You once forgot a woman’s name mid-bloody-date.”

“And she had to remind you,” Hyunjin added, sipping his neon-green liquid. Whatever it was.

“And you still got her number,” Seungmin chimed in, looking vaguely offended on behalf of all women. You'd be sure to send his number to your recently heartbroken friend.

Minho groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why had he thought bringing you to brunch was a good idea? Why had he brought you into public? With his friends at that? He had practically announced a 'Bully-Lee-Minho' day himself.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said brightly. Too brightly. “He’s very devoted now. Wakes up every morning and just stares at me in awe, whispering about how lucky he is.”

Felix gasped, awestruck at the beauty of love at first sight. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” you said, smiling. “He even cries a little.”

Minho nearly inhaled his coffee. “I do not-”

“He does,” you said solemnly, giving his hand another squeeze. “It’s beautiful.”

Chan leaned back in his chair, way too entertained. “Well, I can’t wait for the wedding. Have you set a date?”

“Not yet,” Minho said quickly, cutting you off before you could say something like ‘we’re thinking next week, on a volcano.’ “We’re taking our time.”

“Oh, obviously,” you added, ever helpful. “We have to enjoy the honeymoon phase before I find out all his deep, dark secrets. Like his skincare routine, or lack thereof. Which I'll have to change either way. Or his browser history.”

Hyunjin gagged. “Please. Spare us.”

“No, no,” you mused, eyes alight with mischief. “I think he’s hiding something. Like a secret past. Maybe he was a failed K-pop trainee. Maybe he’s got a tattoo that says ‘Live, Laugh, Love.’ Or he owns a mug that says Boss Babe.”

"I actually gifted him that." Chan added, sipping his protein smoothie.

“Or if he has a pet rock named Gary, considering one of his girlfriends was Australian,” Hyunjin added and Chan nods proudly.

“Or an old TikTok account where he lipsyncs to early 2000s emo hits,” Seungmin said.

“I knew you gave eyeliner energy,” Felix muttered.

Minho buried his face in his hands. “Please. I am begging you all to stop.”

You just leaned in, resting your chin in your hand as you smiled sweetly. “Aww. He’s shy.”

Minho resisted the urge to walk directly into London traffic.

But even as the table erupted into laughter, and your brunch turned into an impromptu roast, something shifted. A cold thread of unease slid down Minho’s spine.

You were laughing, yes. Playing the part perfectly. But beneath the sparkle in your eyes was something else—something guarded. The way your smile didn’t quite reach all the way. The way your shoulders tensed every time someone mentioned the wedding, like the word itself had claws.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, not entirely. Maybe it was the text from your father that he had watched you ignore minutes ago. Maybe it was the transparent pants Hyunjin had worn years earlier making a reappearance in his head for some reason. Or maybe it was just his own overworked brain, spinning a conspiracy out of nerves and too much caffeine.

Whatever it was, Minho decided to shelve it for later. He had reports to review. Contracts to sign. A mountain of paperwork waiting for him and exactly zero emotional bandwidth to spare.

He’d figure it out. Eventually.

For now, he’d go home, finish his paperwork, and go to sleep.

Not knowing that what he’d wake up to would be far more fearsome than your father’s moustache.

Far, far worse.

Because somewhere, in a dimly lit security office, a grainy CCTV recording, dated four years ago, timestamped 2:14 a.m., was being uploaded by hands far too eager and far too vengeful.

A bed. A hotel logo in the corner. Two familiar silhouettes.

And the unmistakable beginning of the scandal that would burn everything to the ground.

...

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♡torturé pour l'éternité - Han Jisung

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: author! Jisung x fem! reader

summary: you've been hired to clean for a tortured writer who never leaves his office. Angry and antisocial, can you find a way to soften his hardened heart?

warnings: alcohol mentions, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional

a/n: I decided to go a different way with the arranged marriage trope and I hope you guys like it!

Somewhere deep in the French countryside lived a man. A mysterious, troubled and misunderstood man. He often felt overwhelmed by even the most basic human interaction. So overwhelmed in fact that he isolated himself away from the world. The world that never seemed to want him.

Through his pain, he wrote. He built worlds with just the flick of his pen. Han Jisung.

You were hired just a week ago by Jisung's publisher to clean his home so he could “focus solely on his next novel” as she do elegantly put it. When you first started cleaning, you noticed that the house was a mess, not just your typical bachelor pad mess, but a mess of someone who had given up on life. Dishes piled up in the sink, clothes were thrown all over the floor, and ashtrays were overflowing with cigarette butts. You would clean for a few hours and leave. Once a day, every day. But you had still never seen him, the illusive author.

One day after a few hours of cleaning, you finally finish and decide to take a break, sitting down at the kitchen table with a glass of water. That's when you hear the creaking of the stairs as Jisung descends, his footsteps slow and heavy. He appears in the doorway, looking tired and worn out. He rolls his eyes at the sight of you. "You're still here," Jisung mutters, his voice dripping with displeasure as he looks at you sitting at the kitchen table. He enters the kitchen, his presence filling the room with a palpable tension. "I thought maids were supposed to be invisible.”

Your eyes take in the sight of a someone that was more ghost than man now. He swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand as his eyes scanned you up and down. “I'm sorry Mr. Jisung,” you started, “I'm almost done here. Would you want me to make you something to eat?”

Jisung scoffs at your suggestion, his eyes narrowing. "You think I need you to take care of me?" He pulls out a chair and sits down heavily, his gaze never leaving yours. "I've been taking care of myself just fine without you." He pauses, his jaw clenched.

You stir at his sharp words but swallow hard as you stand and make your way to the sink to continue washing the dishes.

Jisung watches you with hooded eyes, studying your movements in the kitchen. Despite his initial hostility, he seems unable to completely ignore you. After a moment of internal struggle, he speaks, his voice slightly slurred, “who hired you anyway?”

“Your publisher. She wants you to focus on your writing. How is the novel coming?”

Jisung's expression darkens at your question, his fingers drumming impatiently on the table. "It's fine," he bites out, clearly annoyed at the intrusion into his writing routine. He glances at you disdainfully, his eyes lingering on your appearance before looking away. You continue to scrub away at plates and cups. You have a kettle on the stove for tea and you had opened the window to let some fresh air inside. His curiosity piques as he observes you diligently washing the dishes, ignoring his rude behavior. He finds himself wondering why you're so insistent on taking care of things that aren't your responsibility. He swigs his glass of whiskey, his mind racing with unanswered questions. As you finish up the last plate, you wipe your hands clean and turn back towards Jisung still seated at the table. “I'm finished for the day, sir.”

He looks up at you, his eyes slightly unfocused from the alcohol, but there's a hint of something else there - confusion, perhaps even a flicker of interest. "You're... finished," he repeats, as if testing the words. He hesitates, the whiskey making him second-guess his usual cold demeanor. He opens his mouth to dismiss you, but instead finds himself asking, "Have you eaten?” You smile softly at Jisung's hint of kindness and turn towards the fridge. “I haven't eaten yet, but I made this turkey sandwich for you. We could split it?” You set the plated sandwich down on the table. Jisung's eyes widen slightly in surprise as you place the sandwich in front of him. No one has shown him this kind of consideration in a long time. He stares at the sandwich, then back at you, his expression unreadable. “Why... would you do that?”

“Because, everyone deserves kindness.” You answer gently. His eyes betray a brief flash of something raw and vulnerable - something that quickly turns into irritation as he covers it up. "Don't act like you actually care about me. You're just here to clean my house," he snaps, though there's less bite to his words than before. “Yes, sir.” You giggle softly to yourself as you grab one half of the sandwich and sit down at the table with him.

He finds himself sitting across from you, sharing a sandwich like it's the most normal thing in the world. He can't remember the last time he shared a meal with someone, let alone sit in silence without feeling uncomfortable. He steals glances at you as you eat, his mind racing.

The next day when you return, you start your cleaning routine in the living room first. A location that has not seen light or laughter in quite a few years. You work on during first, clearing cobwebs in every corner you can reach. The sound of cleaning downstairs disrupts Jisung's writing once again. He grits his teeth, annoyed at the interruption. A part of him wants to yell at you to be quiet, but another part is almost curious. He stands abruptly, stalking to the balcony overlooking the living room. You pause your cleaning for a moment as if sensible Jisung's presence in the room. You turn and look up at his slender frame pressed leisurely against the balcony railing. His eyes narrow as they meet yours, trying to maintain his usual cold demeanor despite the warm flicker in his chest at the sight of you. "Keep it down, will you?" he shoots back, but his voice lacks its usual venom. "When will you learn to be quieter?” You hold back another giggle as you too try to keep your composure. “Yes, sir. I'll be quieter.”

Jisung watches you clean and move around his house. A warmth to you that he's never experienced before. As days turned into weeks, he found himself sitting in the living room while you cleaned. He would read a book out loud to you while you wiped windowpanes and dusted the fireplace mantle. You would ask him about himself, where he grew up and what his favorite season was. It was all so simple. The two of you together was like love but Jisung knew that “I love you” could not properly portray what you had done for him. He would spend years writing the exact words to express to you what love truly was to him now. You had found him and save him. And he could never thank you enough for that. But he would spend each day telling you that you were, without question, his long awaited love.

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menace!boyfriend k.sm. (a much needed headcanon)

: ̗̀➛ pairing — seungmin x gn!reader : ̗̀➛ word count — 530 : ̗̀➛ content — fluff, seungmin acting like everyone's annoying little brother

a/n — these pictures of kim seungmin killed me. who told him to look this good with a bowl cut???? i hope you guys enjoyed this!!

menace!seungmin who was definitely your friend before becoming your boyfriend.

menace!seungmin who suddenly yells "boo!" and grabs your shoulders to scare you during the quietest scene of a horror movie. if you screamed, he would laugh his heart out and you promise yourself to never watch a horror movie with him ever again.

menace!seungmin who would definitely act the silliest while you're drinking water to purposefully make you laugh while your mouth is FULL and dodge when you spray it out of your mouth and nose

menace!seungmin who brings food to your mouth like a gentlemen but then shoves it into his own mouth

menace!seungmin who throws a snowball at you in the winter and has it go down your back. but then on that same evening, he would hug you in bed with the heat of his body warming you up as if he didn't just freeze your butt off earlier.

menace!seungmin who refuses to ask you directly when he wants to see you so he "forgets" stuff at your house so he can go over to get it

menace!seungmin who walks in on you in the bathroom and starts a casual conversation like you aren't sitting on the toilet.

menace!seungmin who will never make a normal entrance whenever you've got a date planned. he told you to meet him in front of the movie theatre? he'll jump out of the corner to surprise attack you when you're there. he told you he'd pick you up? he's hiding beside the door when you open it, waiting to jump at you. if you dated him in high school, he'd definitely be the type of guy to cover your eyes and say "guess who?"

when you two are at dinner alone or with a group of people like your family, menace!seungmin will always put his foot on yours under the table and not let you go

menace!seungmin who will flick his wet hands at you while walking out of the bathroom to annoy you and he got you to do it to him every time as well

menace!seungmin who has you becoming a mini-version of him. you'd adopt his vocabulary and attitude so you joke about how he's being a bad influence on you.

menace!seungmin who is obsessed with kissing your hands. if you have your hand in his, he'll bring it up to his lips with any chance he gets. before crossing the road, waiting for the street food to be ready, going up in the elevator, you name it. sometimes if he's feeling silly he'll bite your hand while he's at it.

menace!seungmin who can't look into your eyes for too long or else he'll fold so he always ruffles your hair or gently pushes your head away if he ever feels like the eye contact is becoming too much. you don't know this so you just assume he likes to make your hair messy like the bitch he is.

menace!seungmin who's love language is being annoying but if he ever catches anyone else doing it to you, he'll fight their ass

menace!seungmin who loves you to the ends of the earth and will never fail to tell you

nothing feels more human than loving you

pairing: hyunjin x reader

themes: android!hyunjin, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, mentions of hitting once, happy ending

I had a really hard time editing this because it wouldn’t save any of my edits. There were supposed to be more dividers so the flow may be choppy. If there are errors pls forgive me.

pls comment/reblog if you like this fic!

The world around you had lost its humanity.

You grew up reading fairy tales, always immersing yourself into a world that was too good to be true. Now that you think back on it you found that was your easiest way to cope with the world around you. Even as an adult you still found yourself getting lost in a book more times than not, choosing to indulge in a world that was seemingly perfect; where everyone was equal and nothing could go wrong. It was a nice escape from reality, nostalgic in some ways.

However, you found that you didn’t really need that escape as much as you used to; finding that escape in someone rather than the pages of an old book. As you reflected on your childhood, reading was your main escape; a way to cope with things around you.

That was until you met Hyunjin.

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