emmie 🧚‍♂️

“But that’s Taco Bell?”

You slowed down the mustang, unassured when Changbin guided you to turn left into the entrance of the famous fast-food chain.

But he affirmed with a nod, “drive-thru.”

As promised, he had taken you shopping that day. But in addition to a new white pullover and white pleated skirt from the same model and brand of the ruined ones, he had insisted on hopping from one store to another and paying for any pieces you liked, hence the crammed shopping bags in the trunk. While you weren’t a fashion addict, you did love wearing pretty clothes, and who were you to refuse such a kind offer?

After that, you both ate a late lunch and got a soft serve ice cream from an ice cream truck for dessert.

To mark the end of the whole-day date, Changbin had initiated a wind-down screen time at a drive-in theatre.

He’d planned it. He’d booked the tickets beforehand and prepared pillows as well as blankets on the backseat, even a portable radio to tune in for the movie audio.

And that was the problem.

First of all, there would be concession stands at the drive-in theatre that sold a variety of good stuff including quesadilla if he craved it so bad. Second of all, there was a long drive-thru queue so if he wanted to eat, you wouldn’t mind dine in as there were plenty of spaces in the parking lot and there was plenty of time left before the movie started. Lastly, the theatre you were going to was only a twenty minute drive. There was no reason to stop by.

The only thing that ceased you from complaining was, he let you drive his car.

You had always wanted to drive the gorgeous ford mustang.

And for the record, Changbin didn’t allow anyone in the driver seat of his car except in case of emergency which seldom ever happened.

“We’ve only watched the first film by the way. We’ve yet to watch the second and so on,” you referred to the movie he’d reserved that night. After pondering over which of the two between Disclosure Day and Scary Movie 6, Changbin had picked the latter.

“I almost have,” then you corrected right away, giving emphasis on the first word, “we, almost have. But you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.” 

“You were wearing a thin shirt with nothing underneath and you kept snuggling up to me. Were you expecting me to stay still?” He brazenly placed a hand on your bare knee as your short skirt was only long enough to cover half your thighs. He laughed at the reminiscence of that failed movie night where your legs had been as bare.

“In my defense, I didn’t bring extra underwear and if you were considerate enough you would’ve taken off my clothes first before fucking me like an animal. You didn’t think I’d wear the same panties your cum defiled after shower, did you?” You retorted, “and I was cuddling up to you ‘cause you were warm, not because I wanted another round.”

“Hmph, but you didn’t regret it either.” He brushed his palm higher, “you should leave a couple pairs of underwear at my place.”

You poked his cheek teasingly as you inched the car forward when the queue shortened, “you could end up having a girlfriend or boyfriend over, and I don’t want to ruin it for you just because I forget to get my stuff back. It’s convenient to—ah! Bin, not here!”

But his palm had already slid further up and slipped beneath your skirt before you could hold his hand in place.

When his fingers grazed over what was supposed to be your panties, he paused.

It wasn’t the materials of an underwear or safety shorts— something anyone would obviously expect you to wear underneath seeing how short your skirt was. And yet, his fingers came into direct contact with flesh. Tender. And slightly damp.

He stilled for a while before unveiling your skirt to see with his own eyes, catching you off guard.

Your panties were crotchless.

The sheer fabric was bubblegum pink and lacey and flimsy, sheathing your hips and pelvis prettily while offering your private parts fresh air.

Changbin was certain you weren’t wearing them just for the cutesiness of it. It wasn’t a ‘just in case’. It was premeditated.

The whole time, as the queue was unmoving, you were silently watching his reaction.

“You’re wearing this all day?” His protective side got a little aggravated. Looking back on that day, he recalled the way you awkwardly kept your knees together when bending them to sit down or the way you clutched the hem of your skirt to keep it down when the wind had been blowing too harshly.

You held back a smile, “not all day. But I got rid of my safety shorts after ice cream.”

He exhaled a long, heavy sigh in disapproval, “that’s still a long time before we got in the car. Somebody could’ve seen a glimpse if you weren’t careful.”

“But I’ve been careful.”

The frown on your face was almost imperceptible in the dim evening and in the red strokes from the rear lights of the car in front, but he did catch the slight downward curl on your lips as you stared back at him. Even if he hadn’t looked up, he could’ve heard the frown from the way you spoke.

Turning your mood downcast, especially on that day where everything had been perfectly enjoyable, was the last thing he wanted.

“You have,” his voice softened, “I bet it was uncomfortable any time you had to sit.”

“It was.” He was relieved when hearing your cackles, “I would’ve been in big, big trouble if I had to bend down but I didn’t ever need to.” You held his wrist, thumb caressing his skin, “when putting these on this morning, I was thinking of your hand sliding up my leg when you’re driving. I’m surprised you haven’t touched me all day.”

“Mm, they’re lovely and adorable.” He stroked the sheer fabric at a sluggish pace so as to make you feel every millisecond of it, deliberately avoiding the bare part, “are these new? I haven’t seen these before.”

You nodded, “I thought you’d like it.”

“I love it. More than anything, suit you perfect.”

Your grip around his wrist tightened to prevent his hand from moving any more, “but not here. Too risky.”

“We have time,” he gestured to the long queue ahead.

There were six cars lining up before the speaker. Each car needed at least five to ten minutes before they proceeded to the next window. You assumed the operator was occasionally holding the customer to manage the lane flow ahead. 

“Think you can be a good girl and drive safely while I play with you for a bit?”

You let out a sigh in surrender, not only at that tone of voice Changbin had used to get what he wanted, but also at the appeal of him playing with you for a bit.

Little did you know, he had that day planned. Starting from the time of shopping, lunch, when he’d asked you to drive his car partially to grant your wish to try out his car and partially to limit your movement once he carried out his filthy little scheme—like this time, the drive-thru, and eventually the drive-in theatre in which would have less surveillance system unlike the indoor movie theatres.

One thing he hadn’t calculated was the kind of panties you were wearing.

Although he had to admit the lovely crotchless panties were the cherry on top.

Changbin lap at his fingers. Ignoring the tightness of the seatbelt, he leaned towards the driver side and gave your thigh gentle caresses while his fingers rubbed your folds in circles, making you part your legs wider. Your already damp cunt was getting wetter as his saliva-coated fingers pressed and kneaded your clit.

Noticing the gap ahead, Changbin said, “move, baby.”

You decreased the gap with the car in front before reclining back into the seat, internally hoping the current customer at the speaker was ordering five families worth of food.

Your hand grasped Changbin’s bicep when the pace of his fingers rubbing your clit intensified. You whimpered, feeling your fluid dripping and pooling onto the seat.

But it was nothing compared to when two of his chubby fingers—middle and ring fingers—intruded your entrance in slow, cautious thrusts. You threw your head back, sighing at the intrusion. Finally.

He studied your face and periodically stole glances ahead to make sure there wasn’t a big gap between the cars. It seemed like the operator wasn’t holding customers anymore as the cars began to spend less than ten minutes at the ordering station and the queue shortened quickly.

He pushed his fingers deeper, pumping at a purposefully slow pace to make you feel every inch of his fingers grazing your warm walls. Your cunt automatically clenched when he curled his fingers, your silent gasps turning into moans.

“Feel good?”

You hugged his arm, “good… so good…”

“Can you move your feet?”

You almost didn’t catch what he meant until you peered ahead and noticed the car in front was moving. In the midst of chasing pleasure, the ball of your foot managed to gently press the accelerator before pressing the brake to maintain a safe space.

Two more cars before it was your turn.

The squelches echoed in the tight space immorally. The sight of your wet cunt wrapping around his fingers warmly made him almost lose his mind. He was tempted to bend over and lap at everything you had to offer. But not yet.

One car left.

Realising this, you held his wrist, flinching when his fingers inside you curled once again and touched the right spot.

“Mmh, make me come right now or stay still, Binnie,” eyelids a little heavy, you managed to glare at Changbin, “it’s our turn soon.”

His upper teeth dug into his bottom lip. He quirked up.

He left his fingers buried deep inside you and stayed still.

“Hi, welcome to Taco Bell. What can I get for you today?” The usual friendly voice of the male operator came out of the speaker as soon as you pulled up and the car window rolled down.

Having your attention to ordering, you missed the clicked sound of the passenger side’s seatbelt being unbuckled.

When you were about to speak, you jolted in surprise at the sudden pounding of his fingers that were still inside you. You shot a warning glare in Changbin’s way and at the same time pressed down his wrist in an attempt to stop his movement. However your strength was nothing compared to someone who hit the gym four times a week and frequented boxing training on the weekends.

“I’ll make you come right now. That’s one of the options available, am I not mistaken?” At least he was considerate enough to whisper as to not be caught by the speaker, “go on, don’t make him wait.”

If the situation had been different where you didn’t have to think of a drive-thru operator and plenty of customers queuing behind you, you would’ve tried harder to push Changbin off of you and perhaps offered that smug grin a humble jab.

“Give me a second.” You spoke to the operator.

“Sure.”

While still holding his wrist tightly to reduce his pace as best you could, although it now felt more like you were holding onto him to prevent yourself from moaning, you took a deep breath and spoke, “can I get… chicken quesadilla with spicy ranch…” you surprised yourself with your ability to remember that extra sauce in his order amidst the turbulent tingle at the pit of your stomach.

“...and cheese quesadilla, and nacho fries, and as for the drinks…” you bit your lip when he pushed his fingers deeper and curled them until you felt them nudging the spot that made cold sweats forming on your nape and your toes curl.

How could he expect you to speak properly?

Oh, but Changbin wasn’t expecting you to. As a matter of fact he didn’t care what the operator would think of if he were to catch a hint of your suspiciously trembling voice.

“...strawberry lime and pepsi zero.” You concluded.

Your legs felt languid. You couldn’t catch up to the operator when he was repeating your order before finally, “alright, that is all?”

“Yes. That’s all.”

The operator said something again, probably a thank you, or an apology for the inconvenience due to the long queue, you didn’t catch it because apparently your fuck buddy thought it was such an amazing point in time to give one final deep thrust.

A gasp was trapped in your throat.

“Drive, baby.”

You left the ordering station with trembling legs and uneven breathing.

He slid up your skirt. At this point you were too aroused to stop him and there seemed to be enough time for him to finish what he had started, so you relaxed into the seat while his middle and ring fingers glided in.

His other hand slipped beneath your long-sleeved flowy periwinkle top, skimmed higher, and ran around to reach your back where he unclasped your bra like it was muscle memory. With your bra loose, his palm took hold of your bare breast. His thumb stroked your taut nipple.

Three cars lined up before the pickup window including you and Changbin.

You let out a choked gasp when you felt a wet and thick muscle on your nipple. You belatedly realised the window was still down facing a cream coloured wall, and immediately reached around the door panel to the window switch to roll it back up.

He suckled your breast like it was a pacifier, adding pleasure to the relentless movement of his fingers deep in your cunt. You clutched a handful of his hair, unintentionally pushing his head closer. You were on the edge of your limit. Almost there.

One car left.

Sensing the urgency, Changbin thrusted deep once and nudged at the sweet spot mercilessly, while his mouth suckled even greedily, ignoring the sting on his scalp as you were clutching the hair on the back of his head.

Just before the crew at the window handed over the order for the last car, your legs convulsed, your eyes rolled back, your walls clenched, your cunt released. The moans and whines escaping from your lips were sinful in his ears but getting to behold you so worn out and tired and limp in his car seat because of him, his cock throbbed.

You winced when his fingers slipped out.

He grabbed some tissues and wiped the remnants of your essence clean, grinning contentedly at the sight of the mess. “We should do this more often.”

You hissed, “next time I’ll give you head while you sit there and we’ll see if you could last as long as I did.”

“So you do want a next time?”

You were too tired to talk back.

It looked like there were some sort of errors in the food order of the customer in front as you saw the driver was returning a couple of burritos wrapped in paper wrapper.

It gave you time to take a breath, and Changbin helped you adjust your top and skirt and underwear. He brushed his fingers through your dishevelled hair, making you look as presentable as prior to his indecent agenda.

The operator handed over the correct order to the person in front and placed a hand over his chest in apologies.

Considering relentless multitasking and fast-paced workflow, the employees at fast food restaurants—especially the ones assigned at drive-thru—were usually indifferent despite their friendly smile. In addition there was a long queue that evening, and you wouldn’t mind if any of the crews were to be hurried and concise. However this operator turned out to be way too empathetic than you could’ve ever anticipated.

While you would appreciate it in other chances, this time you’d prefer facing a rather perfunctory employee who had too many in their hands to care about a customer’s well-being.

When the operator received Changbin’s card, he glanced at you worriedly and his lips twitched like he wanted to speak. But he didn’t say a word and finished the payment.

You looked down to make sure you flashed nothing that earned a worried look from the employee, but found your clothes as tidy as they should be. You realised that while your appearance might not give away the shameless deed you and your fuck buddy had just done minutes prior, your face might look like you could drift off anytime.

“You alright, miss? You don’t look OK.” The operator eventually said as he was handing you your orders.

You gave him a nod and smiled, “yeah, just a long day.”

“Leg day today. I kinda pushed her to her limits.” Changbin chimed in as he took the food from you, stealing the employee’s attention who then nodded in understanding and chuckled.

“Ah, you’re her PT?” he inquired, handing you a strawberry lime that Changbin once again took over and placed in the cup holder in the center console.

Changbin shrugged, “not officially, but yeah. I’m experienced.”

Knowing the context, you nearly snorted.

The employee, however, eyed Changbin momentarily before winking flirtatiously, “where do I sign up?”

Ah, if this operator was as smooth with small talk to the other customers, no wonder there had been a long queue.

“He’s off limits, darling,” you cut in, grinning amusedly.

“Ah!” He flitted his eyes between you and Changbin as he was handing the last in your order, pepsi zero, that you settled in the cup holder by the first cup. He raised both hands and laughed, “my apologies, ma’am. Have a good night you both!”

…

And having a good night you both indeed.

Before returning to the main road Changbin took the reins of the driver seat, in consideration of your jelly legs and your state in general.

For the whole of the ride, he would have his hand stroking your knee when he didn’t have to change gears and sometimes he’d take your hand and kiss your knuckles. Your smile didn’t escape his notice.

Less than an hour before showtime you arrived at the entrance gate. He parked the car in the front row of the sedan section that was emptier than expected. There were only two more cars in the same row and three in the second. The SUV section at the back in comparison was completely occupied.

After you adjusted the reclining, Changbin took two pillows from the back seat and settled one on your headrest and one on his. He folded the blanket in half until it was the right width, and draped it over your lower half. “Comfy?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you wanna eat first?”

You shook your head.

From the cup holder he grabbed his Pepsi and sipped. You eyed the plastic cup when it was returned back to the holder, as well as your strawberry lime right next to.

“I can’t give you head if they’re sitting right there, can I?”

The carbonated drink Changbin had sipped earlier had fortunately cascaded down his throat or he would’ve choked at your sudden question that sounded entirely out of pure curiosity. “Excuse me?”

Head still on the pillow, you blinked lazily, “didn’t I tell you I’m gonna give you head?”

He glanced down at the drinks you were staring at. He shook his head in disbelief, “as much as I would love having you suck me off, can you at least sweet-talk me into it? That’s so not sexy.”

“I was just asking,” you huffed, “but OK, let’s say I seduce you and you get turned on and I’m ready to bend over to suck your cock but because there are cups with straws between us, we have to stop and settle these cups on the backseat so the straws wouldn’t poke me in the chest, but then I’d lose the mood and we’d have to start all over. That’s so not sexy either.”

If his jaw could stretch as wide as his height, it would’ve fallen to his feet hearing your straightforward commentary. He was accustomed to dirty talk, but getting to hear those forthright words from your lips when the mood was but obscene (hell, he wanted to make sure you were comfortable) sort of blew him away. To make the situation even more ridiculous was that you chattered while reclining on a big pillow under a fluffy blanket.

All these years being one of your closest ones, Changbin was still left surprised by what was going on in your head.

He stroked a hand through your hair, grinning down at you, before adjusting his own seat to recline all the way back. He tapped his thigh, “come here.”

Without a second thought you unlaced your ribbon-tie shoes. The blanket was messily discarded on the seat as you hovered over the center console and hopped onto his lap. Hands on your waist, he helped you sit comfortably. Although comfortably was difficult to achieve considering your crotchless panties made your cunt directly settle on the rough materials of his denim.

He guided your hand to skim over his white shirt that hugged his upper half tightly, too tightly, showcasing his well-sculpted pecs. Then lower to his abdomen. Then lower, and lower, until it was a bulge under your palm. Without being told to, you unzipped his jeans.

In the tight space and with you sitting on him, he managed to slide down his pants and boxer shorts until they pooled around his ankles.

Both hands on his shoulders, you propped your weight on your knees on either side of his legs, avoiding direct contact of your bare crotch with his bare thighs.

“Are you still sensitive?”

You sighed, nodding.

He massaged your waist, “I’ll pull up my pants again so you don’t have to sit directly on my skin if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No, I just need time.” You slowly went down, sighing when you seated on his naked thighs, “I’m trying not to dry hump your thighs.”

Changbin was going to tease you but seeing how red your cheeks had gotten as you were holding back from grinding down, he shut his mouth.

His flaccid cock twitched when he guided your hands to wrap around the girth. As you were gently fondling his cock, Changbin noticed the slight frown on your face. He could tell why and couldn’t help but giggle.

“You can suck me off later, pretty.” He stroked your chin, kissing your jaw, “for now can you give me a hand?” Literally.

“Are my hands better than my mouth?” It wasn’t supposed to be something that offended you anyway.

“That’s not the case. But I want you to do it comfortably. Later, when we’re home and have enough space so you don’t have to awkwardly fold your body.”

You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes playfully, “do you always have to be a gentleman?”

“Is that enough to meet the requirements of being your boyfriend?”

But you tightened your hold around his girth and were slowly pumping from the base to the tip, pulling a hiss out of him. “Maybe,” you muttered, “all it takes is ask me but you’re too comfy throwing me hints.”

His expression petered out into realisation.

But he didn’t get to voice it out when you spit onto the creases of your palm as improvised lubrication before you groped his shaft.

Less than thirty minutes before showtime.

Changbin was a mess. His cock was rock hard at the mercy of your palms. An evident sticky wet patch formed on his bare thigh as you were grinding and stimulating yourself in preparation of what was coming. His cock throbbed, the tip red.

Without a word he snatched your wrist as an indication to let go, and when you did, he pulled you closer by the waist.

He breathed out a sigh of relief when the tip of his fully erected cock touched your wet folds. You grinded down, smearing your essence on his length.

Inch by inch, he pushed in.

Out of habit Changbin was gentle and careful when thrusting in for the first time, knowing a wrong jolt of his hips might cause penetration uncomfortable for you. But you were already way too wet and on edge and deprived of cock that you would’ve thrown your shame out the window and verbally begged him to use you if he didn’t move.

All you did was look down at him with an intentionally whiny sigh and roll your hips.

That was all he needed.

His hands gripped your waist tight, guiding you to move while his hips rutted from below at a pace that made your back instantly arch and head thrown back in utmost rapture. When he rutted up and burrowed deep inside you, he’d occasionally roll his hips to get the head of his cock rubbing the spot that tingled your stomach.

Heat spread within your skin. Your walls fluttered around him. Nothing coherent came out of your mouth. Your back arched against the wheel and you let your body be completely submitted to the whims of his hands on your hips.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you choked out a sob, nails raking into his shoulders when the stimulation had gotten too much to handle.

Seizing this chance, he rubbed your clit in rhythm to his pounding. You panted and shuddered. Almost there.

More cars turned up nearing showtime.

Finally dissolving into bliss, your walls spasmed, your hips quaked, your eyes rolled back, and you let out a loud moan.

Unknowingly you tried to get away from his grip but he was so close to his own climax that while you were shaking, he buried in deeper and rolled his hips a few times before pounding up frantically.

Overstimulated and tired, your body fell over him and face burrowed on his shoulder.

Your own release trickled out. The squelches sound echoed in the tight space as he breached in over and over again.

“I’m… on the pill…” you whispered barely coherently given how close you were to falling into slumber.

He cradled the sides of your head and detached your face from his shoulder. The tip of his nose brushed against your own, lips barely touched.

“Can I?”

You knew what that question was about.

In reply, you connected your lips with his. Slowly, softly.

One hand holding the back of your neck, he moved his lips with your own to deepen the kiss. Nothing could make his cock throb as crazily as when he was kissing you.

His hips snapped up one last time at last as his lips and tongue caressed your lips in fervour, relishing in the euphoric state of his climax as he was emptying himself inside you.

“Good lords, you feel so good, pretty. Thank you.” He jerked a few times more, hands massaging your neck and waist to soothe you from overstimulation.

When the massive screen lit up and the audio was broadcasted over the portable radio he had earlier tuned in to the theatre’s frequency, he pulled his cock out. You winced at the sensation, body limp over his own, exhausted and drowsy. You rested your head just under his jaw, the sound of his breathing and rapid heartbeat calming you down.

“I wasn’t too comfortable just throwing hints at you.” He confessed, “I wasn’t sure if you see me as someone more than friends like I do you. I’m falling too hard, I was too cowardly that if I took a wrong move, I’d lose you for good and the thought of losing you scares me.”

You cackled, “I wasn’t oblivious like you thought I was either. You flirt a lot but at the same time I can see you hold back. I tried to give you a heads up yesterday by allowing you to kiss me ‘cause I did tell you that kissing on the lips means entirely, definitely not platonic to me, didn’t I? You didn’t forget?”

“I didn’t. And that’s how I know.” He said, “you said all it takes is ask you.”

“Mhm. But even if you didn’t ask, I myself am not worried about it. I can tell everyone you’re my boyfriend and I bet they wouldn’t even be surprised.”

He laughed, somehow Jisung came to mind. “Still, I have to make sure.”

“You do.”

He cleared his throat. “So will you take me as the best boyfriend you could ever ask for?”

In your drowsy state, you let out an amused chuckle, “cheesy!”

He cupped your face and snuggled his face in the juncture of your neck, poking your skin there with his nose and lips, “oh, you’re not ready for me, sweetheart. If I were to be given more time I’d show up at your door with bouquets of roses in my trunk, and a big ass poster, and Rick Astley playing through my car stereo and strangers wearing pink shirts with letters spelling out ‘will you be my girlfriend’.”

You snickered at the thought, “ah stop it! It hurts to imagine!”

“So?”

You scrunched your face, “I’m a fool if I didn’t say yes.”

“And you’re not.”

“I’m not.”

The movie was playing on the big screen, but neither of you cared. Your lips once again connected, eyes closed, hands everywhere to feel each other, slow and demanding.

It made you relaxed. So relaxed that you came back feeling drowsy.

When you rested your head on his shoulder, heartbeat slowed and consciousness fading into the haze of dreams, he kissed your forehead.

He draped a blanket over the two of you. It was sticky and sweaty and he was certain you’d complain once you woke up and your head cleared out. But in the meantime, all you wanted was to be taken over by a dreamless slumber.

His hum and the faint movie audio in the background became your lullaby.

a/n: i feel like this was the filthiest smut i've ever written so far 💀 i'm not sure what you guys are expecting but i hope this part 2 is decent enough to be on here and that you enjoyed reading it 😁

taglist: @hugsandraindrops @silviawarroar @procrastinatingtomato

“Wanna go again?”

But his cock was already rubbing against your sensitive clit when he whispered in your ear. The ragged breath that followed made his question sound more like a desperate suggestion.

Beneath him, you were still evening your breath from the burst of blissed out sensation he’d brought upon you just moments ago. Your eyes closed and lips parted and legs trembling, his release trickled out of your cunt onto his car seat. With the pads of his forefinger and middle finger, he rubbed the thick fluid and smeared it gently over your clit, making you squirm at the sensation.

In the cramped space of the backseat where there was little to no extent to stretch your legs and arms, your body had become weary and stiff, and yet as if enchanted, “yes… yes, please…”

Carefully he parted your legs more to make room for him to move. His strained grunts fanned against the side of your face as he sank the tip of his cock into the warmth that enveloped him leisurely just less than twenty minutes prior. Your whines dammed up his ears as he slid in his length all the way to the base into your warm walls, the thin ooze of your juice made it easy and pleasant.

“You even said please,” he stared at your lips for a moment, before shaking his head to leave the thoughts behind, and kissed your blushed cheek instead, “my pleasure, darling.”

…

THUMP!

A chain of curses flew out of Changbin’s lips as he rubbed the back of his head to ease the sting. It was the umpteenth time he got distracted and bumped his head against the hood of the SUV he was working on since early that morning.

The erotic images from a couple nights prior constantly crept into his mind like a stubborn colony of ants crawling up at the smell of a bread crumb. He snorted at his own incapability to drive away that memory.

What he had with you was nothing more than a sexual arrangement he had shamelessly and half-jokingly proposed on a random movie night after an accidental makeout. Being childhood and long-time best friends, he hadn’t expected you to say yes, let alone so easily as if it was an arrangement for another movie night. Twice a week you both ended up seeing each other to satiate your lustful needs, which progressively intensified to a regular agenda he came to anticipate the more he got to have a taste of you.

But the reminiscent of those passionate nights had begun to take up too much space in his everyday life. He pictured how your body writhed under him, how you called his name time and time again, how your hands reached to caress his neck and bring him close, how your hair was damp with sweat, how effortlessly beautiful you were naked.

He wondered if it would affect him the same if he were to pleasure someone else—someone he wasn’t falling in love with.

Damn that arrangement. If only he had been a little braver that day to propose something more romantic than occasional sex. A relationship, for an instance. But he was too cowardly, afraid that the decades of friendship would shatter just because he looked at you as somebody so much more than just a friend.

His train of thought was cut short by a familiar ragged engine sound in the distance.

Changbin wasn’t a tad bit surprised when he saw a familiar old blue sedan nearing and lining up in the lot of the Car Wash and Auto Detailing where he spent most of his days. Through the wide open windows Keshi’s ANGOSTURA pierced through the warm spring air. The bluetooth he had put in the old car’s stereo two months ago seemed to work fine.

He dropped the wrenches and walked over to greet the driver he had gotten bored of seeing.

“At this point just tell me you can’t stand being away from me too long,” he said when you climbed out of your car. He wiped the grime remnants off his fingers with a washcloth that was already besmirched with stains of motor oil. “But we’re fully booked today. Come back in a week.”

“Is that how you talk to your loyal customer?” He couldn’t hold his grin when you clung to his arm, wearing your fakest heartbroken pout and woeful eyes to get him taking your car in for repair. Again. This was the third time in the last two months.

The car was well nigh crumbling. At first he had always thought there was too much work where it wasn’t worth the sweat he and his team shed and definitely not the large sum you set aside from your paycheck. But the car was one of the last of your brother’s possessions he let you have before he passed away nine years ago. Changbin knew you wouldn’t give up on the ancient vehicle before it totally gave up on you first. And giving up on you was what the car had been doing hence the amount of repairs it needed in a short period of time. It was only a matter of time until the car succumbed to its demise. Until then, Changbin was willing to fix anything there was to fix for you.

But where’s the fun if he didn’t playfully insult the junk you treasured most?

“You’d be faster on foot.” Changbin remarked with a snort after a quick check.

You weren’t aware of the dirty smudges from his coveralls smearing your pleated skirt and white pullover as you kept on pestering him by clinging to his arm. In spite of his indifference, he discreetly relished in every second of that physical contact.

“I’m always on time,” you pleaded, “so please?”

“Chan got himself this antique convertible car of his dream but his carport is too small for two cars to squeeze in,” he spun on his heel and headed off to the repairing station, nodding his chin in the direction where a shiny red Hyundai sedan, Chan’s old car, was parked in the corner, “he wants to get rid of her as soon as possible. What do you think?”

Changbin knew you wouldn’t give a damn. But Chan asked him to talk you into purchasing the car just in case.

As predicted, you gave the red Hyundai an uninterested glance before stalking behind him towards a customer’s car he mended. He pulled out a wrench from the pocket of his coveralls and bent over the SUV’s engine. He added half-heartedly, “save the money and save more from your monthly paycheck for four to five months. I’ll talk to Chan if you’re interested.”

“Or you can take the money and fix my car for me,” you insisted, looking over your shoulder at a black mustang parked in the lot reserved for the staff. A majestic vehicle that was the silent witness of a number of obscene activities shared between you two. “Besides, you haven’t paid your car off yet, have you?”

“No,” he replied casually, getting a little too entertained by your persistence, “but I’m taking care of that just fine, so your point is?”

You leaned against the SUV’s door with folded arms, “you're not very friendly right now.”

Changbin chuckled, “I don’t think we’ve been very friendly to each other these days.”

“Meaning?”

At the sight of your innocently curled eyebrows, Changbin bursted out laughing. His mouth ran faster than his brain sometimes. No regrets. But he was relieved you failed to grasp what he meant. “Forget it.”

“So how long does my car need to be in the workshop?”

He placed both hands on his hips, fingers hooked onto his coveralls pockets.

“A week maybe,” he glanced at your sedan, a mischievous glint flashed in his gaze when he looked back at you, “but like I said we’re fully booked right now and I don’t suppose we’d get even a tad bit available for the next couple of weeks. I’m gonna need more people to fix every troubled part of your car if you want it back faster, that means we’re gonna be short-staffed at the carwash station.”

It was supposed to be a mindless joke that shouldn’t be taken into consideration.

You were supposed to climb into the passenger seat of his mustang.

He was supposed to give you a ride home as usual.

But then you asked if there was a spare uniform and where the locker room was. Changbin laughed and shooed you away to your next agenda, even almost took off his coveralls and drove you home, but Jisung and the other staff in the carwash station had been in fact overwhelmed with the queue of customers even before Changbin could drag some of them into the repairing station to help fix your car.

“I don’t have anything to do at home anyway,” you insisted, winking an eye at him.

He thought it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra pair of hands.

Until you came out of the staff room and he gave himself a mental punch in the face because the only spare uniform was impossibly tight.

One could say the same thing about his coveralls that not only did its tight fit flaunt his impeccably sculpted pecs, it was also parading his perfectly round ass and his bulging arms that the short sleeves could barely provide a cover for. It was safe to say he had attracted a good number of loyal customers with his build alone. Adding his sexy brain and charming nature to the mix, he became a target of flirting remarks and dinner invitations. The workshop had easily dodged financial crisis, happy ending.

But this time it wasn’t about him.

The polo top of the carwash team’s uniform was so tight around your neck that you left the top buttons undone. The hem of the shirt barely covered your waist and couldn’t be tucked into the waistband of the shorts that there was a good portion of skin every time you bent over. And the shorts… they hugged your ass nicely. Way too nicely that it left a pinch to imagination—to his imagination precisely.

Apart from sneaky glances of curiosity, the other staff gave little to no further interest and focused on their respective chores. But that was mainly because they knew who they were going to deal with if they stared too long. Changbin was already hard to please, so fishing out even a little bit of his wrath would be like digging their own grave.

The hood of your sedan was opened. Changbin bent over to check the engine. He tried, because his gaze kept straying away towards the carwash station. It would’ve been better if Jisung had offered spare coveralls. It was getting harder to look away especially from the shorts because he knew what was beneath—

THUMP!

How many more times did he have to bump his head against a car hood? He internally scoffed at his questionable professionalism in your presence.

“You okay?” Chan was approaching with his usual essential tools in hand. “You’ve been very distracted.”

From the grin stretching on the older’s face, it was safe to assume Chan knew exactly what—or who—had caused that distraction but chose to tease the younger either way. “I wonder what makes her terribly oblivious when you’re this obvious.”

“Mhm,” Changbin agreed, “but I used to hide it very well.”

Chan opened the door and checked the dashboard warning lights, before immediately sliding out again. He looked in the direction of the carwash station where you and Jisung were guiding the cars into, “I’m surprised your possessive ass didn’t run riot when she came out in that. Our customers are very pleased with the view, you see.”

Changbin knew what Chan was talking about, but Jisung wasn’t assigned—as per Changbin’s own request—beside you to solely ensure you did your part well. Changbin trusted the younger could stave off anyone who crossed the line.

“My advice,” said Chan, settling a creeper in position, “don’t wait too long.”

Changbin snorted, and Chan slid under your car.

You were spraying excessive dirt off of a jeep as it was loaded into the wash. Jisung pointed at the spots that needed an extra cleaning while spraying dead bugs off of the windshield himself.

As soon as you were done and Jisung was guiding the jeep to steer into the wash, the driver instead rolled the window down and spoke to you.

Changbin didn’t have to come closer to catch the jock’s eyes falling to your lower half more often than they should. You laughed at something the driver had said, whipping your head around and looking directly at where Changbin was no longer bending over and was instead standing by the bumpers of your car with folded arms.

He didn’t want to jump into conclusions and thought you were speaking about him to the man as you could’ve talked about your wrecked car or about Chan on the creeper under your car or perhaps even something else entirely different. It wasn’t until the man offered him an awkward grin and a flash of annoyance before rolling up the window and entering the wash.

Changbin wasn’t curious about what you might have told that man at first. But seeing Jisung busted a gut beside you and shook his head while looking at him, Changbin couldn’t help but internally enquiring what could be so funny.

…

The sun had almost set and the majority of the staff had gone home. After showering, Changbin scurried over to his car. He organised his belongings on the backseat and wiped the leather seat clean (that was already clean). He did the same to the front passenger seat. Then he sat behind the wheel, waiting.

An overwhelming scent of musk from his perfume occupied every nook of the interior of his mustang, and wearing perfume wasn’t part of his routine going home. Usually he would only give his body a quick rinse to wash off the grime and dust after having spent the whole day grappling with stinky engines, and settle on a proper shower at home. Not this time.

He didn’t wait long before the passenger door swung open and you rushed inside with your own bag and a chunky looking tote on your lap. The floral scent of your perfume mixed with his musk made the smell inside his car a little dizzying, like walking in the aisle of an endless row of perfume shops.

“Do you not have anything less bigger?” You tried to adjust the hem of the black hoodie that buried your frame in its thick fleece. There was a reason why you had bolted from the shower room to the parking lot... “And maybe some pants?”

Changbin leaned over to you all of a sudden, causing you to recline back onto the seat in surprise. The back of his hand subtly grazed over your bare thigh when he fastened your seatbelt.

“You look amazing.” He teased, starting the engine and departing to the main road.

The chunky tote bag was borrowed from Jisung for your half-wet pullover and skirt. Changbin had tried to wash the motor oil stains off of your clothes earlier with soap and baking soda, and while the remaining light brown patch, like tea stain, wouldn’t have been noticeable on any darker fabric, it was a different case when it came to white clothes. Of course.

“Sorry about your clothes. I’ll buy you prettier ones.” Said he when you tossed your bag and the tote onto the backseat.

“Partly my fault for hugging you and wearing white to the workshop, but I’ll take the offer. I’m free tomorrow.”

He briefly glanced at you with an annoying wriggle of his brow, “is it a date?”

“What else? Field trip?”

He giggled.

“By the way, the jeep driver,” he cleared his throat, “what did he say to you?”

“Just some stuff about his dick,” you shrugged, then your eyes narrowed in a teasing manner, “you already stared when I looked. Why?”

“Gotta make sure you do your job right.”

“So you were definitely not staring at a particular pair of cheeks?”

His crooked smile was enough of a confession.

He slowly pushed the brake as the vehicles around were beginning to move slower. “And what did you say to him?”

“I said,” you beamed, gaze intently affixed on the smooth outline of his face, trying to catch even the subtlest changes in his expression at your response, “it’s hard to satisfy me when the inside of my cunt is already reshaped into the shape of my boyfriend’s big dick.”

Changbin subconsciously clenched his jaw. Something twitched down there.

“Jisung thought it was funny,” you added, “but then he actually asked if I was serious about your cock’s size. He wasn’t the least bit interested in whether or not you’re really my boyfriend…”

“Everybody thought I am.” He said.

“…or whether or not we actually fuck. Is it way too obvious what we do behind closed doors?” You chuckled.

“Chan and Jisung know I’d be with you most of the time when I don’t have work, and according to Jisung I smell like you sometimes. It’s not rocket science for them to piece things together.” Now Changbin wasn’t sure what he felt when he said these things. It was always obscure to him. He got turned on at the thought that you’d willingly use him whenever somebody tried to flirt with you, but at the same time, the way you talked about these things so casually cracked his ego a little bit.

He was going to say something but you beat him to it.

“I gotta tell them that you start everything most of the time because look, a little compliment for your dick and there it is,” Your eyes dropped to the tent he didn’t realise had formed in the middle of his sweats, “let me help you with that?”

Grey sweats were not made to hide a bulge. Not that he was embarrassed, not after you had so casually praised his cock when you knew all too well how it would affect him. But the thing was, he couldn’t possibly say yes to your kind offer in the middle of traffic, could he?

He could. His needs overpowered his common sense and it showed when he took your hand and placed it over his erection.

You smiled in triumph, giving his clothed cock soft strokes with your palm, deliberately pressing your hand over what felt like the head of his half-erected cock. Your hand slipped inside through the waistband, holding the warm girth in your palm. A couple of gentle strokes later, your thumb rubbed over the tip, playing with the sensitive flesh until not long after there was an evident wet patch on the grey fabric indicating his precum. Just a little more… you could see it from his face and muffled groans.

But your hand slipped out.

“Baby…” Changbin clutched your wrist, stroking your skin with his thumb, “just a little more, please. I’m almost there.”

“I know,” you cooed, “I’ll make you feel better, promise.”

The vehicles barely moved, the sun was dipping below the horizon. The golden hour ebbed into nightfall quickly, guaranteeing secretion now that there wasn’t any more sunlight.

Changbin gave in to the heat of infatuation that would have him overthink once he was no longer affected by your intoxicating touches. He preferred your apartment, or at least the backseat of his car for a proper sex, but it wasn’t the time where he could push you away when you were this good.

In the meantime he had to be satisfied with sitting helplessly in the driver seat while you did all the work.

He clutched the wheel tightly, trying to remain intact into the seat despite the slow pace of your head bobbing up and down as your mouth devoured his girth, eager to swallow all the way down to the back of your throat although it was a difficult feat given the size of his length.

You kept your ass in the air and knees nailed to your seat, the hem of the hoodie rolled down and pooled around your chest. If the car windows weren’t layered with privacy films, the pretty view of your panties and firm ass would’ve been a pleasant entertainment amidst the stress of the rush hour traffic. Changbin wouldn’t have liked it.

While one hand gripped the wheel a little more loosely, the other one slithered across the arched plane of your back and further up to where he felt your wet panties. You whimpered at the touch of his fingers against your clothed cunt, making his fully hardened length twitch in your mouth at the vibration.

You sucked his cock delectably and forced yourself to swallow just a tad bit more until you could feel his tip made contact with your throat. His sweet grunts and gentle caresses on your hair were enough of praises for you, “feels good, take me so well, you’re so good…”

His fingers slipped beneath your panties, one digit sliding up and down your wet folds. He gasped when you pulled your head away completely and swirled your tongue around the head of his length, licking the precum that spilled from the slit. Instantaneously his hand clutched a handful of your hair, pushing you down to swallow his cock again, he was so fucking close at this point you could see the tip of his cock the colour of blood.

“I’m sorry, love,” his fingers ran through your hair softly as an additional apology.

You suckled his cock with a hum, too preoccupied to process what the apology was for.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he reclined back into the seat, subconsciously ramming his hips up until the head of his cock nudged the back of your throat over and over again.

Your scalp began to sting at his grasp, you whined. The sudden vibration once again sent an electric bliss to the pit of his stomach. His cock twitched inside the warm cavern of your mouth.

Tears formed in your eyes before they flew down at the intensity. Changbin’s cock grew a little bigger indicating his release, but you tried not to graze your teeth. He didn’t even realise he was holding back just to feel you longer, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

The muscles of your mouth contracted in greedy suck, your palm squeezed firm around the base of his cock that couldn’t go into your mouth, sensing how close he was to climax.

A swirl of your tongue was all it took for him to topple over. At the peak of ecstasy, he closed his eyes tight and humped his hips to feel more of your warmth and how it was drawing more and more of his release. His growls were hoarse, savouring the pleasant shockwaves you were bringing upon him.

The car behind beeped the horn at the time he slipped back to reality.

There was quite a wide gap between the bumpers of his mustang and the trunk of the sedan upfront.

“Hey…” he stroked a hand on your head, helping you off his cock and settling you back into the passenger seat, even fastening your seatbelt back on. One hand tugged at the waistband of his sweats to rest around his hips again, the other hand held the wheel and narrowed the distance with the car in front.

After managing a safe distance, he checked on you. He leaned over, ridding off the messy strands out of your face and combing your dishevelled hair.

Maybe he regretted it.

Because the tears rolling down your cheeks, the mixture of his cum and your spit gleaming in the corner of your lips, your lazy blinks, could be the sole reason for yet another climax.

That was an exaggeration of course, but his cock did twitch.

“Was I too rough?”

“No,” you sighed, smiling, “I liked it a lot.”

As all the cars seemed to move little by little, Changbin’s foot lingered in the air atop the gas pedal when he noticed a spacious gap between the cars on his left. In a matter of seconds he had reached a decision. He drifted his car into the wide gap and to the gate of a hotel.

“You’re not planning to reserve a room here now, are you?” After Changbin parked his car in the very far corner, you glanced around at the vast outdoor parking of the facility with only a few cars in sight, and looked up at the contemporary architecture of the hotel.

“We have enough space here,” he chuckled, but added quickly, “unless we’re planning on doing this all night then I’ll surely book us a room.”

“Just a quickie please,” you giggled, unbuckling your seatbelt, “but can you stay the night at my place? We can just cuddle and watch a movie and sleep.”

He agreed in a heartbeat, “I thought you wouldn’t ask.”

He unfastened his own seatbelt and reclined your seat all the way down, catching you off guard. He lifted your legs and spread them to make space for him to settle in between. Your panties were soaked.

He slid your panties up and let the fabric hang around your ankle, putting your cunt on display. Mirroring his impatience, you pulled his sweats down, his hard cock stood proud against his stomach as if he hadn’t just released pretty much a big load just moments before.

You pouted, your whine sounded more sensual than intended, “wanna blow you again so bad.”

He rubbed his cock against your folds, “what, you want me to retract back to my seat now?”

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer to you. He smiled, “that’s what I thought.”

A wrap was fished out of the dashboard. He rolled the latex around his length.

“You can suck me later all you want,” he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead while his hand guided his cock to align with your entrance, “we’re not in a hurry anyway.”

Changbin thought he might have to keep your car longer in his workshop and make you sit pretty in the passenger seat of his car every day. He wouldn’t mind driving you to work and picking you up if that meant to see you every day.

As the pace of his pounding was progressively getting frantic, his lips moved more affectionately. He left kisses on your shoulder and your collarbones and your neck, making sure to give your skin light sucks until they were adorned by several possessive red marks.

When his lips hovered over your face, he stared at your parted lips. So plump and inviting. He looked up and you were already looking, giving away that you knew where he had been staring.

“Can I?”

It broke the rules.

Kissing on the lips is strictly forbidden as long as the benefits are strictly sexual.

You wanted to give it to someone who shared mutual romantic feelings, you had said the day when the arrangement had been made. Changbin agreed. It was too much to ask anyway.

So, it broke the rules. To make it worse, this wasn’t some sort of a romantic lovemaking where he slowly undressed you on the bed with a night skyline view and a classic love song in the background. This was a lustful quickie as a result of a mind-blowing blow job you had given him earlier.

But you cradled his face in response and he swallowed your moans in an impassioned, wet kiss. His tongue played, and it was rather rough, and yet you could feel it in the kiss that he meant it. That it wasn’t just a kiss he initiated for fun. He wanted it, and so did you.

He could’ve come at the delicious clench of your walls around his girth, but more than that, he felt his heart throbbing abnormally and his stomach tight with pleasure just because your hands cupped his hot cheeks and your thumbs swept gentle strokes on the blushing skin. It was his first kiss with you, and Lords, was it amazing.

Changbin reluctantly pulled away from the kiss to let you breathe. “Okay? Was I too rough? Too much?”

Your lips were a little swollen at this point. “I love it.”

Burying his face in your neck, he grunted, half-high, “gotta satisfy you, yeah?” His thrusts slower but deeper, “gotta reshape your walls into the shape of your boyfriend’s big dick like what you said to that man?”

Something flashed in your eyes, Changbin couldn’t make out what that meant. But you smiled at him, pulling him closer with your legs, hugging him. When he thought you weren't going to say anything, your voice tickled in his ear in a whisper, “my boyfriend’s dick.”

Your cunt swallowed his length all the way to the base. He let you feel the uncontrollable throbs of his cock. He wished he wasn’t hearing things. Boyfriend, you emphasised it.

He rolled his hips a little, making you whine all the more desperately because his cock was pressing right into the spot that gave your stomach a pleasurable knot.

The car seat was wet, stained with your release. At the same time his hips squirmed as he filled the latex with his seed.

He caressed the side of your face, lips planting kisses on your cheeks and forehead.

Boyfriend. He thought to himself. Did you mean it?

a/n: woah it's finally here... i'd put off rewriting this fic for so long. some of you who found me through insta and have read this before, might remember that this was originally leaning more towards pwp, if not very little plot, but since a lot of readers back then wanted a part 2 i thought it'd be better to add more plot. hope you guys enjoyed reading this!

also i was thinking of making a taglist on future posts so let me know in the comments if you'd like to be added! :) <3

Anyway, whatever the reason for Jisung’s returning (for example, fighting with his boyfriend), you hoped he wouldn’t bother you. There was so much in your head already, you didn’t need any of his whinings to add up to your nasty Saturday night.

You slumped down in your chair and increased the volume. Paramore’s Brick by Boring Brick blasted over your headphones as you mindlessly scrolled through the queue of unread apologies and pleadings from your boyfriend on the notification bar. His texts and missed calls had stopped sometime an hour ago. You scoffed.

But then Jisung’s high pitch whines managed to beat out the ponderous rhythm of the pop punk song, sneakily slinking into the tight gap of your headphones.

Whirling in the chair, you finally gave your brother attention with a slight raise of an eyebrow and a very annoyed “what?!”

Jisung was standing at your bedroom door with a toothy grin. But your eyes fell to the thing that perched in his arms.

You maintained a phlegmatic countenance to keep any hints of surprise out of sight, you slid the headphones down to rest over the back of your neck and put your phone down on the computer desk. “Where’d you get it?”

Jisung pet the white furball in his arms fondly. “Cute, right?”

A fennec fox. Only its fur was more white than most of its own kind. Even its bushy tail was pure white. No black tips. Not anything. Like a ball of cloud in your brother’s comfortable embrace.

“He appeared out of nowhere on the sidewalk. I was only petting him and was going to leave him there in case he belonged to anyone, but he followed me around.” Jisung sat on the edge of your bed. The fox looked up at your brother with its big, dark eyes, pleased at the incessant strokes on his fluffy head and gigantic ears.

The fox stared at you then, and you stared back. Glared.

“Felix offered to keep him but his ferrets bullied him.” Added Jisung, unaware of the staring contest between you and the creature.

The fennec fox was a little bigger in size than a fully grown ferret. But Felix had eight of them, some of which were hyperactive and liked playing too much. You remembered the day you paid a visit and four of the ferrets swarmed your legs any time you passed by their periphery and only stopped when you pet their heads. But once a lizard found a way into the kitchen window, those ferrets straight up invaded its personal space… and not in a nice way.

Bullying would be a nice way to put it. While they liked to play with humans, those gremlins were keen on torturing other animals no matter the size. If Felix didn’t keep their murderous intention at bay with his enchantment, his backyard would be a mountain of the wildlife remains.

“You should’ve let the ferrets prey on him.”

Jisung’s eyes widened in horror, “why would I?!”

“It’s ugly and it looks evil.”

Jisung gasped and he put both palms over the fennec’s ears as if it would prevent the creature from hearing your insult. “Who are you calling ugly? Look at this innocent face! So adorable and benign!” His eyes sparkled and lips quirked downwards as he looked at you defensively.

You rolled your eyes at the fox, “looks ghastly to me.”

“Why are you so irked today? Got dumped by Jeongin or what?”

You shrugged, “he’s an asshole.”

“Want me to murder him?”

The fox didn’t make any visible changes on his face but somehow you could see panic in the way he looked up at Jisung. You held back a laugh, “It doesn’t get to that point yet. But I’ll let you know once it does.”

Feeling the fox slowly slinked away from his arms, Jisung brought him closer to his chest again and caressed his head in compassionate strokes. “Anyway what d’you think mom and dad would say about this? Do you think they’d allow me to keep him?”

You spun the chair around, “I’ll make sure they throw him out the window.”

“You’re evil.” Jisung grimaced, pulling the fennec into a tight embrace and brushing his own cheek against the creature, “don’t listen to her, little munchkin,” he spoke in a baby voice, “from today onwards I’m gonna take good care of you.”

You could barely hold back a mocking laugh. You put the headphones back on, blasting your eardrums with your playlist once again.

At least it meant Jisung would leave you alone and wouldn’t dare leaving the fennec fox too close to you. Better yet, keeping the creature strictly in his room.

Fifteen songs later, you finally let your ears rest. Your brother was no longer on your bed and he was nice enough to close the door. When you peeked into the dark corridor, his door was only slightly cracked open. The sound of his soft snores was audible in the otherwise silent night. No signs of the fennec fox.

You locked your door and stood there whispering a couple of charms to keep away any sort of creature; humans and animals from trying to get inside.

You plopped into the bed with a book in hand. Your knees were bent as a makeshift support for the book and you began to get engrossed in the plot.

You tried.

Because you barely read a page when the door to your bedroom was attempted to be opened. But it was both manually and magically locked. You paid it no mind and tried reading your book again, when this time it was hushed whispers at the door drawing your focus away. The sort of whispers like spells and stuff. You sighed.

When the whispers stopped, through your peripheral the door was slowly pushed open just enough for a tall silhouette to slip inside before it shrunk back into a small bundle of cloud that darted across the room towards your bed.

Apparently his charmwork was much more advanced than yours. But what was the surprise when he had successfully mastered Animagus transformation at the age of 10 when most Animagi you knew had only started transforming at the legal age?

The white fennec fox hopped onto the mattress and slithered beneath the sheets.

“Get out.” You hissed without looking away from your book, “or I’ll throw you out the window and you know I mean it.”

The small bulge under the sheets was growing in size.

“We both know you didn’t mean that,” a human head emerged from under the sheets. His white hair tickled your thighs as he swept himself closer to you. His fox eyes stared up at your face so attentively from below as if begging to be forgiven, before a wicked smirk and a soft caress of his fingers on your thigh followed, “besides, you wouldn’t be able to carry me all the way to the window in this form. I can easily manhandle you in—”

His words were cut off by an unforeseen smack of a book cover on his head. “Ouch! Alright! Alright! I’m sorry!”

Even in pain, Jeongin still laughed. He wasn’t trying to stop you from hitting him as he was taking every single smack like he deserved it. And he did.

“You sly fox! Asshole!” Venom dripped in your tone when you finally put the book down. Wrath burned in the way your irises pierced through his wide grin. The audacity. “I waited for hours! You stood me up and used Jisung to get to me!” A punch on his shoulder. “Fuck you!” Another punch on his shoulder.

Before another one, Jeongin held your wrist and kissed your knuckles.

“I’m sorry. It’s the only way I could think of ‘cause I know you wouldn’t have let me in if I showed up at your door.”

“Indeed, and that’s why I locked my door and yet here you are.”

Jeongin winced in guilt. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand softly, “love, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to ditch our date,” he bit his lower lip but you could make out the slight quirk of the corner of his lips like he was holding back a smile, and you almost threw another punch across his shoulder until he took a deep breath for an explanation, “I was kidnapped.”

Silence.

“What?!”

“It’s not like what you’re thinking.”

You huffed, “of course it’s indeed what I’m thinking! I’m a hundred percent sure you were kidnapped when you were transformed otherwise you wouldn’t have tried to repress that stupid smile of yours. So, was it a kid?”

That stupid smile of his wasn’t repressed this time. He grinned. So wide.

“And you were kept inside a locked room? Like his room? Or even a cage?”

Jeongin giggled, “a bird cage. I could barely move.”

“And so you could’ve easily unlocked it.”

“I could’ve,” he giggled again, “but he kept his eyes on me all the time and all the time he watched me he talked about the last days he spent his school hour wandering the town with his bike without telling his parents. My muscles were stiff and my eardrums were bleeding, and that was when his mother called him for dinner. The worst part was his mother saw me in that bird cage and all she said was he’s a brave kid.”

You were grinning now, amused by the story telling.

“So, I didn’t intend to ditch our date.” Jeongin concluded, “though I must say it was stupid of me to wander around in daylight in my fox form.”

“Very stupid, yep. But oh, poor you,” you said mockingly, your hand carding through his silky hair and smothered down to stroke his ears and shoulders, “want me to massage your shoulders? And your back?”

Stripping off his shirt, Jeongin laid in bed on his stomach and you climbed up to sit on his bum, palms softly rubbing over the smooth skin of his back. You kneaded with your thumbs with a little more pressure that forced out pleased whimpers from your boyfriend.

“Too hard?”

He mumbled against the pillow, “nice. Enough. Really good.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed too fast and got mad too quick. Had I picked up your call and replied to your texts you wouldn’t have to get through another trouble following Jisung around just to get here.”

His shoulders weren’t as tight as the first time you kneaded the flesh there. Jeongin propped a little bit of his weight with his elbows enough to let him speak comfortably without getting his words muffled by the pillow. “No, I understand it must be upsetting to you, having to wait for hours without a word from me. I did think of the consequences of getting caught but I thought escaping would be a piece of cake. See? It was my fault. But I surely would appreciate it if you’d listen to my explanation first should something like this ever happen again—though, I hope never.”

You leaned down, kissing his bare neck and shoulder and giggling, “and thank god you were kidnapped by some kid instead of sleeping away and forgetting your promise. T’was funny.”

He flipped, making you fall to the mattress next to him. Pulling you by the waist, your faces were only an inch away that you had to tilt your head back a little to get a better look at his smiley face. “Thank God you find it funny.”

“Yes, but I still want that full-day date.”

Jeongin kissed the tip of your nose in response.

“Make sure you don’t transform on the day.” You added.

He planted another kiss, “promise.”

Jeongin wasn’t planning on going back home that night anyway. For the next hour it was well spent with you both making out, talking, making out again a little wildly that when his hands roamed on spots that made you accidentally moaned you had to stop for a moment to make sure Jisung was still asleep, and more and more kisses until you decided you wanted to wash up before turning in.

🌙🌙🌙

The morning sunlight bathing through the kitchen windows was a mockery to the tears streaming down your brother’s face. His swollen eyes and red face were proof of his totally wrecked heart. Jisung had even called Felix, who had sounded dazed at the situation as Jisung’s ramblings were absolutely incoherent paired with his sniffles, Felix had no idea what was going on even after Jisung ended the call.

You sat on the chair next to your weeping brother, a hand rubbing on his back and lips sealed tight into a thin line, holding back any other emotion that wasn’t empathy. You wanted to laugh.

Across from you, topless Jeongin had his back leaned against the kitchen island with his arms folded over his chest, an amused grin across his face. His shirt was still abandoned somewhere in your room. You didn’t mind. He looked drop-dead gorgeous— OK, this wasn’t the time to admire your boyfriend’s upper half while your brother was bawling his eyes out.

“I swear I shut the windows!” Jisung cried, staring at the boring surface of the wooden table with so much pain in his teary, swollen eyes. “He couldn’t have been able to slide the windows open and jump out and run off!”

“Hey, look at the positive side. You don’t have to argue with mom and dad about whether or not you could keep a wild creature.” You tried to comfort, really, but it invited yet another stream of teardrops out of your brother’s already swollen eyes.

Jeongin walked over and stood behind you, arms wrapped around your neck. He slightly bent down and burrowed his face on the crown of your head that smelled strongly of your shampoo. The fragrant brought him back to early that morning when you both were in the shower, skin to skin, nearly doing a naughty little something, when Jisung banged the bathroom door, wailing and whimpering, “he’s gone! The windows are open! He’s gone! My fox is gone!”

Still dripping wet, you threw Jeongin his boxer shorts and wore a bathrobe yourself. Your brother had been so deep in the misery of losing his newly found exotic fennec fox that he hadn’t minded the red marks all over your neck and hadn’t questioned Jeongin’s presence as soon as you opened the bathroom door.

The tears on Jisung’s face made Jeongin feel bad and want to laugh at the same time.

Jeongin sneaked a kiss on one of the red marks on your neck and ruffled your brother’s hair fondly as he walked away.

“What makes you think he couldn’t have opened the door and walked out normally instead of throwing himself out the window?”

Jisung’s tears were forced to halt at the strange idea. He stared at Jeongin’s back as the latter nonchalantly ambled towards the fridge for a quick breakfast.

“What do you mean by that?” Jisung inquired in between sniffs.

Jeongin swirled around, catching the view of your teeth sinking deep into your bottom lip indicating how hard you were trying not to smile. 

You knew what he was doing. The boy always makes a big fuss of the simplest occurrences he stumbles upon while you’re doing his makeup. Oftentimes it would lead you to share your own predicaments you haven’t even told your closest ones yet, and he was always so giddy to be the first one to know. One time he tagged you on a post of himself and you posing weirdly in the mirror with a caption, yapping buddy.

But unlike the usual where you would actively comment on his chitchat show, you were not speaking this time apart from occasional hums and nods. Your lips were sealed shut. Your hands kept working.

Upon realising he wouldn’t acquire the information through a slip of tongue, his frustration then revealed itself in the form of a long sigh in surrender. “Chan missed you.”

You almost snorted, and for the first time since Felix had arrived to get his makeup done, you decided to entertain him. You bent down and stroked the brush where his lids needed the last touch of glitters. “You’re his owl now?”

“No,” he admitted, “he didn’t ask me to tell you anything but he wouldn’t stop talking about you my ears would actually be bleeding in the long run,” he glanced at the door through the the mirror where a staff had trotted in with a heap of navy robes in arms, so thick that only half her face was visible. His tone went lower at the additional presence in the room, barely a whisper, “you’ve yet to write nor call him back. What’s up?”

The staff put down the robes on the couch in the corner alongside a neat pile of blankets prepared for when the members needed a nap. She flashed you a smile before pressing her phone against her ear and speaking to someone on the other end of the line.

You leaned back to inspect Felix’s face, making sure the eye makeup was symmetrical. “We are not a couple and I’m not obliged to contact him back, that’s what’s up.”

Felix frowned, “yet.”

Maybe you had to be a little daring with the label; fuck buddies, friends with benefits, stress relievers, all that but a mere ‘not a couple’ because Felix always seemed to think that whatever you had with Chan now was solely a phase before an actual relationship. But shit, fuck buddies sounded bitter in your head, and it wouldn’t taste any sweeter on your tongue.

Your laugh was sour, “I’m not crossing the line.”

Felix’s lips twitched, ready for a confrontation but… speak of the devil.

The dressing room was suddenly boisterous with more staff and the other members swarming in. Sparkly, monochromatic garments that were priorly organised on the rolling racks were taken away into a bigger dressing room next door by the stylists, your makeup assistant sat some of the members down at the vanity and started working on them, while some other staff were busy moving things here and there to make room for a makeshift, temporary snack table.

Seungmin said something to Changbin that made the older put him in a headlock before they both were dragged away for makeup. Jisung was showing Minho a newly released anime. Hyunjin was playing with Jeongin’s hair while a stylist was trying to adjust a silver necklace around the taller’s neck.

And the last one to step inside as usual, was Chan.

The last member to be dolled up would usually make the most of the extra time to nap but Chan, ever so sleep deprived, was already slipped into his stage outfit.

Givenchy had sent their latest fall-winter collection exclusively for him. The stylist had picked out a dark, puffy top for the first performance which they forthwith altered, cutting the sleeves off to conveniently emphasise his well-built upper half particularly his arms that seemed to to have gotten a lot more muscular than you’d remembered. Paired with his newly dyed jet black hair, it was hard not to look.

A stylist assigned to the leader was on her knees when you sneaked a glance through the mirror. She was tucking the hem of his black cargo pants into the ankle of his Rombaut high boot, a black leather band dangling around one of her wrists.

Felix furtively nudged your hip with an elbow to swerve your attention back to him, face contorted into a restrained sneer at your umpteenth attempt at having a glimpse of his leader’s figure through the mirror. He mouthed, “told you.”

He was talking specifically about the arms. It was embarrassing that you so quickly caught up on that.

Against your better judgement, you took another glance in the mirror and were met with a curious gaze and a dimpled smile. Your walls wobbled for a moment just like they always would at the sight of that smile. But you nailed your feet into the ground and held your walls steady until it was silent and they stood solid again.

You looked away and bent down to embellish Felix’s freckles with strews of sparkles.

If you listened closely maybe you’d hear a long, disappointed sigh in the air.

After fixing the final sweeps of a nude gloss on Felix’s cupid bow, there came Seungmin and Jeongin who filled you in with all the horror stories from the old dance practice room. Most of which you had already heard from Felix who was an absolute coward when it comes to ghosts. You listened intently and laughed with them regardless, ignoring the way a particular pair of dark brown eyes steadily observing nearby.

But after all the youngers tailed behind their manager to a dressing room next door where everyone else had gathered to put their outfits on, it was suddenly so quiet. You didn’t realise almost all of the staff except one had left to make ready for the show one last time before the arena’s doors were finally allowed to open.

Too quiet. Except for a muffled commotion coming from the adjacent room, mostly Jisung who was arguing with someone again, Minho’s siren warm up ritual, and Hyunjin’s head-splitting giggles at something Changbin might be doing to him.

You pivoted around the vanity to arrange the palette for the last person on your list, and you could feel his gaze secured on you.

“Here, let me,” Chan politely offered a hand to take the arm band from the stylist when she was adjusting its length, “I think the others will appreciate an extra hand next door.”

Glancing at her watch, she easily agreed and scuttled away.

Chan scanned out the corridor, greeting a staff member on her way to the room at the end of the hallway, before gently closing the door when there was no longer anyone around.

You didn’t miss the sound of the door locking.

There were barely any exchanges the entire time he was sitting at the vanity while you were working on his makeup. His hands, however, had a hard time keeping still as they were roaming around, stroking playful caresses across your thighs and skimming further up beneath your skirt where they kneaded the soft globes of your ass.

“You were staring.”

“Hm?”

Chan repeated, “you were staring when I came in.”

“I was,” you admitted, “like I was looking at everyone else when they came in.”

“Mm, yeah?” He severed his back from the seat, lips barely brushing against your earlobe. You had just swept a pop of colour on his cheeks but you were the one who got red on the face. Unfair. He nipped at your earlobe, “did you look away when they stared back?”

A couple more brushes on his cheeks outwards to blend the blush. You tried to ignore the way his plump lips persistently kissed the side of your neck with a dry chuckle, “would’ve looked like a creep if I didn’t.”

“I missed you,” Chan leaned back in his chair again, the smile never left his face. “You were awfully quiet.” The lack of mere hello’s when you had seemed to be pretty comfortable talking to the rest of the members but him, he meant.

Your palm was on his shoulder as a small brush swept its way across his eyebrow, trying your best to keep it gentle despite the abrupt snap somewhere in your chest. The first remark felt way different on his tongue than them on Felix’s.

You snorted playfully, “well it’s not appropriate to scream, is it?”

A pair of crooked dents on his cheeks came into view as he grinned cunningly at a memory flashing in his head, “you did when we messed around the last time at—”

A slap on his chest. Hard. But he giggled at the embarrassment dispersing across your cheeks in red. Your eyes widened at him and lips jutted out in a disapproved look, momentarily gazing up at the closed door. A group of people had just walked by by the sounds of their hasty treads outside.

Chan peered up at you, hands kneading your ass again, “we almost got caught the last time ‘cause you didn’t have my fingers in your mouth to tone down your beautiful moans. I made you feel so good you couldn’t—”

A stinging slap on his shoulder. He winced in pain this time, although the stupidly sweet grin was unwaveringly plastered on his face. You couldn’t be more annoyed.

“Might consider moaning your full name for everyone to hear next time.”

It was an empty threat and you both knew that. You wouldn’t possibly be so stupid to risk your job only to wipe that wicked smile off of his face, no.

His hand slipped further south, pulling you by the thigh to stand closer between his legs. “So you do want a next time.”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff but he stroked the back of your thigh almost too fondly you could’ve melted if you hadn’t been there for work. He grinned, “I’ll be all ears though.”

You carried on with your work, ignoring the heightening heat in your abdomen that came with his playful teasing and touchy hands. But it didn’t help that he also looked insanely attractive in the fit.

You definitely had issues. Because it was probably the hundredth time the stylists had picked out sleeveless top for his stage outfit, and you had certainly seen so much more than his bare arms, yet it still affected you like it was the first time.

As if sensing that you were almost done once you placed the eyeshadow palette back onto the dresser, he pulled you back to sit on his lap, burying his face on your chest. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I missed you.”

Your hands found their place on his head to play with his hair. Sometimes you wanted to ask why he almost never wore his natural curls on the stage. You liked his curls. A little too much, even. “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?”

His words were a little muffled against your shirt, maybe his makeup would stain, “I locked the door.”

“I noticed,” you cackled, tearing yourself away from him and beginning to organise your stuff back into their respective cases. “But if you missed my ass and cunt you’ll need to wait ‘till we get back to your dorm. We’re not gonna ruin your makeup.”

Chan winced at your words. At the first few words, specifically.

He didn’t say anything but his hands once again found you.

Apparently Felix hadn’t been joking when he said Chan was into lifting weights as of lately, but the effortless cradle of his arms beneath your ass as he hauled you up onto the dresser still had you gasp in surprise. You almost forgot about the leather arm band he had taken from his stylist earlier, until it was dangling precariously in between his thumb and forefinger right before your face.

“Will you do the honours?”

With a raised brow you took the accessory and pulled his left arm closer, “you just need an excuse for me to touch you.”

He grinned, “mm, you caught me.”

The whole time you were adjusting the arm band around his bicep in silence, the whole time he was studying your face in silence. Without looking up, you scoffed, “now you’re the one staring.”

He hummed, “it’s hard not to when you’re so pretty.”

Your nose scrunched, unimpressed. You made the grip of the arm band slightly tighter than it should be but if Chan felt pain, it was only a miniscule compared to an abrupt nudge of your palm against the bulge in his pants he wasn’t even aware of. “I’m only pretty when you need a stress reliever,” you chuckled, back flush against the mirror and eyes affixed to his own, “so tell me what I can do to make you feel better without ruining your makeup. I’m not redoing that.”

Chan sighed. Every ounce of mischief that had gleamed in his face melted away along with his playful grin. Words at the tip of his tongue, but all that was let out was another sigh.

You weren’t left waiting for too long. His lips found their place on your neck as he ground his crotch against your clothed cunt. His growing bulge fondled where you felt most sensitive, and from how wet your panties already were, he knew he wasn’t the only one getting aroused in the room.

“You can make me feel good, yeah,” he sighed, detaching his face from your neck and rolling your skirt further up, “just stay still and look pretty, I’ll do the work.”

It sent the butterflies in your stomach going haywire more than you would ever want to admit, so you kept a straight face and pulled him close as he unbuckled his belt. You hoped the dresser was sturdy enough to provide not only your weight but a bit of extra pressure in the near future.

“Are you on the pill? I don’t have—”

The desperation that reflected through the immediate nodding even before he finished his sentence would have definitely gotten you in an endless circle of teasing if he weren’t just as desperate. Instead, “fuck,” he grunted, lips seeking for a certain spot below your ear he knew so much would send you otherworldly bliss. All while his fingers tugged at your wet panties to the side as he blindly guided his length to align with your awaiting entrance.

He wanted to keep sucking at your weak spot to distract you from the imminent pain that came with penetration, but it felt too good for him too that he eventually peeled his mouth away from your neck and rested his forehead on your shoulder with ragged breaths. “You feel so fucking perfect. So pretty and perfect.”

It was slow for the first few thrusts, hands roaming around to feel the other’s body, occasional kisses along the skin of the other’s neck, but never close enough to where your lips were. I missed you too, you wanted to tell him, but words of affirmation and feelings and emotions were only reserved for a committed relationship. Which you both lacked.

“Haven’t worked out in two days.” Chan grunted in between thrusts that gradually increased in pace.

What you didn’t expect was being lifted up off of the dresser, forcing your arms to involuntarily wrap around his neck and hold on.

The next thing you knew, a cold wall was pressed against your back and how deep his length was buried inside you in that position. You mewled when he started to pound into you again, face buried in your neck, planting marks all over the skin down your collarbone.

He spread your thighs further apart, nailing you onto the wall. The hands on your thighs smothered down to your ass again, gripping the plump flesh so hard you were sure there would be bruises the next morning.

He pulled away, lustful eyes burrowing into yours.

Your hooded eyes struggled to keep open, devouring the hypnotising sight of Chan fervid on relieving his needs. The sleeveless vest earned you a sinful view of the muscles and veins bulging along the surface of his biceps as his arms held you up. The leather band around one of his upper arms taunted you with its tight grip that made the bulges of his muscles all the more prominent. Beads of sweat ran down the side of his face before they dripped onto your thighs. He was godly.

How could you trade your feelings for such a beautiful, unholy sight…

“Keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

He thrusted particularly hard that knocked a whimper out of your throat, grinning, “like you’d devour me clean.”

Your chuckles came out breathlessly, “but I am devouring you.”

Another hard thrust drew a louder whimper out of you, and your nails dug into his shoulders. The sound of people walking back and forth outside the room was cue enough to bite back your moans, and when he found a spot that made you see stars and unintendedly moan, your palm slapped against your mouth for assistance.

Chan wasn’t too happy with your muffled whines. With only one hand and his hips pinning you up against the wall, his other hand pulled your hand off of your mouth, replacing it with his lips instead in a fervent kiss.

“Thought you said you wanna moan my full name for everyone to hear? Didn’t I say I’ll be all ears?”

“Fuck you.” But it sounded much gentler than you had intended to. “I’m not losing my job.”

You gasped at a particular sharp thrust, glaring at his triumphant grin. But then cold sweat ran down the back of your neck when you heard footsteps just at the other side of the door. The room wasn’t soundproof in the first place, but the way you could hear the footsteps so clearly made you all the more alarmed.

Chan on the other hand didn’t seem bothered and kept going.

“Chan… slow down…” you whined, chest painful from having to hold back the screams at the blazing strokes of his cock against your walls.

He slowed the pace, nose brushing against yours, “did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, panting, then settled your forehead down onto his shoulder.

Chan didn’t waste any more time and sped up again, catching you off guard. You let out an obscene cry in surprise, followed by a chain of moans at the pleasure as he was rolling his hips to get his cock hit every spot.

You were too lost, teeth dug into his shoulder, body limp and pliant, cheeks burning, ass stinging. You let him give you everything there was to offer to get you to your high.

Your legs trembled intensely when it happened, chest heaved and teeth left marks all over his shoulder that led to his own peak as well. He moaned in your ear when he finally released.

If Chan had been patient enough to wait until the event was over and he could sneak you into his dorm, you would’ve loved to stay in his arms a little longer after such an intense session. Unfortunately he loved risks.

“Get me down.” You demanded.

And he did as asked, although his protective hands still lingered around your waist knowing that your legs would most likely give out the moment your feet touched the ground. He wasn’t wrong, but you didn’t refuse either. You clung onto him as he sat you down on the sofa and began to clean you up.

When he looked up, you instantly frowned. His face twisted in concern, “what’s wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?”

You huffed, “you ruined your makeup.”

There wasn’t much to fix but a stain of lipstick whose shade didn’t match the one on his lips smudged messily around his mouth. Red and swollen, it almost looked like his lips were stung.

He was visibly relieved at your comment, however. “We still have time.”

Then, as he looked down at where his hand was mindlessly rubbing circles on your thigh, he mumbled, “you’re always pretty.”

“Hm?”

“You’re always pretty,” he repeated, looking up at you, “you’re not just a stress reliever if that was what you thought you were to me. You’re not only pretty when I need you like that, no.”

“No,” you hummed in agreement, “I’m a friend, too, and definitely your makeup artist.”

Chan wasn’t amused. “You know what I mean.”

You snickered, “you were the one suggesting to keep it casual, Chan.” The words hung in the air for a while before you added, “and I don’t mind. I like it this way.”

Maybe there was so little truth in what you had admitted but eventually you realised there was no harm in not putting any romantic labels to your relationship as he had suggested beforehand. It wasn’t like he would be able to reserve his attention on you if you were to end up romantically given his line of work that compelled him to allocate his focus on so many things at once. You weren’t sure if you could get used to being pushed back into the last on his list all the time so you thought, being romantically involved with him would have just wounded you and him more than if you pushed your feelings down.

The less your feelings get involved, the less you’d get your heart broken.

Chan stayed silent for a moment. Thoughts swam in the depth of his irises as they bored into yours. Then, “alright. We’ll keep it this way.”

He flinched at the gentle knocks on the door. How ironic that he was more affected at being caught when there was nothing to see in the room, but had been awfully confident when your moans were straight immoral. You giggled.

A familiar deep voice made through the thin board of the door. It was so clear that you could imagine Felix pressing his lips against the door to speak. “If you horny imbeciles are done, better get out now before the others realise you’ve been gone too long. And you’re expected for technical equipment check in like five minutes, Bang Chan, chop chop.”

You vividly remembered how he’d brought over a stack of his own personal favourite fictions to the table. You vividly remembered the contented grin on his face as he listened to your distaste towards the protagonist’s lack of self respect in a babbling mess. You vividly remembered how he’d resisted to let go of your hand as you both talked, jumping from one topic to another completely different subject until the dreary tone of night had morphed slowly into more welcoming shades of pale blue. You vividly remembered how you both had walked home hand in hand that early morning.

Every single minor detail about that night was carven in the recollection segment reserved and coded especially for your precious ones.

But it seemed like it no longer had a room in his memory.

Chan had his elbows easing up on the edge of the table while his chin propped on both palms as he was speaking. A pile of novels and two cups of tea were set aside.

Across the table was a woman.

The same woman Chan had introduced when you’d walked in on them chatting in his studio during lunch break three months prior. The same woman who’d triggered the first and most terrible argument in the history of your three-year relationship two months prior. And the same woman Chan had told you not to worry about.

The woman took a sip from her cup and leaned forward, mirroring Chan’s posture.

Her perfect pouty, red lips turned up into a teasing smile as she was telling something that made him laugh so hard his little dimples came into view and his eyes turned into a pair of the prettiest crescents.

Chan looked so happy.

You used to make him laugh like that, too.

“We were just talking about work.” He had said that a month ago when you’d walked in on them in his studio. Again.

Eyes don’t tell lies, Chan.

You wished you had said that. Instead, you had smiled at them and left his lunch on the desk before walking out. You wished you were a little braver.

You looked away at the same time Chan stood up and offered his hand for the woman to hold before they headed towards the cafe entrance. You started the engine.

Four detours and the songs in the playlist Chan had made for you blasted alongside the constant sound of the rain beating against the windshield. You pulled over to a familiar neighbourhood where Chan’s studio was only a few blocks away.

The digital watch wrapped around your wrist read nine minutes past the time Chan was supposed to clock out of work. Four detours should be long enough to give him time walking all the way from the book cafe. Besides, the sidewalk would be a little less crowded in this weather.

Then the door opened.

Chan grunted as he was struggling to fold the wet umbrella and tuck it in the vacant space under his seat. The lovely little dimples you were beginning to long for were as usual, nowhere to be seen.

“Long day?” You started.

He nodded without sparing a glance. He fixed his hair and rubbed off the wet patches all over his jacket, before turning to you when he realised you hadn’t started the engine.

Hey, what’s wrong?

But it would be something only the old Chan would say.

And it was annoying how you could exactly guess what the present Chan would say instead. “What, are we not going?”

You pulled up the best smile you were confident to feign, looking away from him, “let’s just go home.”

You could feel his eyes on you.

“You’re tired. Our date can wait.”

As if it wouldn’t have been the first date in six months that you had been anticipating all way too eagerly in hope that it’d stitch the broken seams of your and his hearts back together.

“Okay.”

Oh.

Leaning towards the driver seat, Chan mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ and planted a chaste kiss on your cheek. Even the cold in his heart had made its way to his lips.

When you were about to start the engine, Chan had already reclined back and had his eyes glued to the glum skies. Warmth slowly trickled down your cheek as you stared at the back of his head, having forgotten what his soft curls felt like beneath the soft caresses of your palm.

“Chan.” You called in a voice just above a whisper.

He looked back at you and hummed.

And there it was the dark brown irises that used to glimmer when he looked at you, now vacant and distant. Like a cold droplet carved razor-sharp at the end, it pierced right in the middle of your chest all the way through your back. As if a reminder that the last thread of hope you had been holding onto was lost long ago, at that moment when he had first let her take your seat in that book cafe you had thought was reserved just for you.

“I love you.” You said.

Jisung slackened the tightness of his arms around your chest, but pressed his face closer to yours, kissing the side of your face down to your neck at snail’s pace. When he got to your collarbone, to the part where striking red and purple scattered about, he couldn’t help but licked them all gently. You chuckled, hand tangled in his tresses.

“Sorry,” he propped himself with an elbow, looking down at you, “I can’t get my hands and lips off of you.”

“Do I taste that good?” You teased, hand brushing through his hair then slithering much, much lower to his chest that was as bruised as your own. The love bites were especially crowded around his tattoo. So pretty. He’d asked for them last night, begged, because he’d thought the hickeys around the ink would look erotic in the mirror. He hadn’t been wrong.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he giggled, nipping at your jaw. His breath fanned against your skin in silence for a moment, before, “would you stay the night at my place?”

“Can I?”

“I’d love it if you come with me and stay the night… or a couple nights, really. We can go back to your place first to grab your clothes if you want; or if you’re comfortable, my closet is yours.”

You hummed drowsily, “there’s still time to talk about that, can we just cuddle peacefully now?”

“About that…” Jisung squirmed, grabbing your hand to be then guided lower to the south beneath the sheets in between your bare bodies. When your hand touched a familiar shape, your eyes crinkled in amusement, albeit a little drowsy. “Can you… assist?”

“As long as I get to suck it.”

He emitted a ragged breath when your thumb pressed against the tip, smiling, “you’re such a dream.”

The hotel room filled with but unimpeded moans and the sound of your mouth diligently fondling his raging cock. Jisung placed a palm on your head, keeping you in rhythm, while the other fisted the sheets at the impending burst of pleasure you were soon giving him. And the sun had yet to rise.

Felix.

Felix hardly left you alone.

When you got out of bed to shower, he was pressed flush against your back while his head settled on your shoulder, drowsy voice asking why you couldn’t stay in bed longer. In the shower when he couldn’t stop his hands from roaming your body, you were already resigned to the idea of him taking advantage of the moment and starting yet another round of intimacy. And yet he was just caressing your skin, rubbing your back with soap, massaging your shoulders and scalp, until all there was left to do for you was stand relaxedly under the running water.

After the shower, he remained nearby. You did your skincare and helped him with his, all while his hands always had to land on you, as if afraid that you’d disappear if he didn’t physically feel you. It was endearing because your boyfriend normally yearned for physical connection at all costs, but it felt like it was getting so much more severe after your first lovemaking the night prior.

While his touches felt really nice, you were beginning to question what made him twice as clingy. So when you both sat on the bed where you were combing his dried hair, the question just flowed past your tongue in a playful fashion.

His canines were fully on display as he grinned so widely straight away at your question. His hand that was already on your waist, stroked tenderly, “I’m just so happy, that is all.” He grabbed the comb and snatched it off your hand, just to pepper kisses all over your palm and knuckle, “I’m so happy and grateful that you trusted me.”

Sometimes you’d forgotten that Felix wasn’t very articulate when it came to communicating his feelings, and that he would prefer physical contact as a way of telling you. But that simple remark he had so casually said stirred something in your stomach, pulling the corner of your lips downwards into a visible frown. “Of course I trust you.”

“It’s a big deal… isn’t it? Having sex with me?” He bit his lip, “it’s not just another embellishment in our relationship. It means you trust me to see and feel your fragility. It wasn’t just sex for me. I’m just— I’m so happy to get to do it with you.” He lowered his gaze to where he rubbed a thumb over the back of your hand. From that angle, the tinge of red that bursted across his freckled cheeks were even more apparent.

“It wasn’t just sex for me either, but be honest with me—” that made him look up, his face almost unreadable except for the natural blush, “—you’re just now reminiscing about last night, aren’t you?”

Felix grinned, easily. “I can’t get it off my head.”

Your eyes rolled in amusement. When you scooted away, he almost thought it was a rejection of what he was going to propose, but then your hands gripped the waistband of your sweatpants and slid them down. An invitation.

Seungmin.

The hot water flowing from the shower was almost scalding against your skin even in the coldest morning. But you couldn’t be more relieved when the layers of sweat and cum and your own fluid, gross and sticky on your skin, were thoroughly rinsed away.

You ignored the dull pain between your legs and calmly stilled with your arms hugging your own waist, letting your body temperature adjust to the water’s. You sighed in content as you felt your sore muscles eased.

But your alone time was cut short when the door was pushed open.

Seungmin slipped off his boxer shorts, drowsily studying the silhouette of your body behind the fogged up glass panel, before sneaking into the shower stall. His warm arms encircled around you, gently pulling you into his chest.

He had his face sunk down in your nape, ignoring the hot water that was gradually soaking his dark tresses.

“Didn’t I tell you to wake me up if you need anything? I’d be more than glad to carry you everywhere.” He mumbled against your skin while one hand headed south, massaging a spot close to where you felt particularly sore. You shuddered at his touch. “Still hurt?”

“You fucked me like it’d be our last time,” you stated lightheartedly with a giggle.

“You felt too good.” He licked the sensitive spot under your ear and sucked it lightly to test the waters, “sorry I got carried away. What can I do to make up for it?”

“Are you seriously apologizing?” You laid your head more languidly on his shoulder, and he took it as a green light. “You were not the only one who had an amazing time last night.”

You felt his erection prod you right in between the buttcheeks, teasingly sliding back and forth, drawing sensual sighs out of your mouth. You thought you’d be embarrassed for being so desperate for his touches in spite of how utterly ruined you had been just a few hours prior, but then you arched your back and threw a hand back to clutch his hair, encouraging him to do more.

While his lips were preoccupied with leaving kisses and bites, one of his hands was busy caressing your clit and the other stroking the base of his length in preparation. You whined, a little impatient.

When the tip of his length slowly sank into your entrance, your body involuntarily quivered at the sting and pleasure that his girth was bringing upon you. Sensing this, Seungmin planted soft kisses along your neck while his hand kept rubbing your clit at a steady pace, lulling the pain away with more and more pleasure.

He quietly groaned in your neck as he sank completely, his cock warm in your velvety walls, “I’ll be gentle, but tell me if it gets too much to handle.”

You could only nod in response, already drowned in bliss his cock and fingers were giving you.

Jeongin.

A heap of pillows tucked around your slumbering figure. You nuzzled into the soft pillow case, almost dozing back to sleep.

Almost, because you took a deep breath in and realized it wasn’t your boyfriend’s baby powder scent you were inhaling, but a mild detergent fragrance. And it wasn’t his chest you were nuzzled into, but a big pillow that was almost as wide as his shoulders but so much softer than his pectoral muscles.

It wasn’t your first time staying over at his place so you were, more or less, becoming familiar with his routine. But you weren’t expecting that he would still abide by his time schedule even after the intense physical exercise the night prior that had continued until minutes before dawn. Minutes, you were not exaggerating.

You should’ve known better. Jeongin was Jeongin, and he would get stressed out for missing a task he’d planned.

You didn’t have to roam around his place to look for your boyfriend when you had his whole morning routine memorized. And 6 to 7 a.m. meant an armchair by the window in the living room and a mug of hot tea on a small coffee table right beside. Reading glasses sat on his nose, and that week’s book of choice situated on his lap.

And there he was, right where you supposed he would be. The Kite Runner had been read a quarter of the way, you scowled at the depressing choice of his morning reading.

In only an oversized shirt and panties, you were approaching in lazy steps. Jeongin gazed up briefly to offer you a smile, before looking back down to place a bookmark on the page he was reading.

“Good sleep?” He inquired, and he truly meant it. Because last night, the first ever intercourse with your boyfriend, had been quite passionate that your legs felt a bit wiggly even now. Jeongin noticed, his mischievous gaze wasn’t able to overpower his inborn sunny grin however.

“Would’ve been better if you woke me up and invited me to your reading corner.” You sulked.

He giggled at your pout, putting the book on the table to welcome you on his lap. “I’m inviting you now.”

You climbed on him, your head settled on his shoulder. “Read,” you said drowsily, “don’t mind my existence here. If I get too heavy… mm, deal with it.”

Despite having been stone cold sober the night prior, the recollection of what had happened after the intercourse was vague. And it was all on Chan for having instigated a few more rounds after the first until your mind had been all but befogged with euphoria. The only thing you could remember in the fuzzy state was that he’d scooped you off the bed and carried you to the bathtub. Everything else was an outright blur.

However the clean sheets and clean clothes said enough of how well he’d treated you, leaving no room for complaints.

The bed quaked as Chan stirred behind you. His bare, solid chest flattened against your clothed back, his arm crept around your abdomen, and his face nestled into the back of your neck. The sound of his soft snoring followed soon after.

You reached down to intertwine your fingers with his, inadvertently rousing him from sleep once again.

“You awake?” His voice was a few octaves lower than his normal speaking voice which you found insanely attractive.

It wasn’t the first time you heard it. Sometimes he would call you early in the morning and you’d hear the exact same tone. But it was the first time you heard it while lying beside him—in his arms and in his bed, while he was shirtless, while his breathes fanned against your neck, while you just gained your consciousness, while you could still vividly remember from the time he’d discarded pieces of your clothes one by one the night prior. You thought you’d lose your mind.

You sighed, “mhm.”

“Hmm.. sleep more.” But his body betrayed his words. He tugged at the collar of your shirt—his shirt—a little to the side with a gentle nip of his teeth, allowing him more access to your bare shoulder. He draped a leg over your side and pulled your lower half towards his own. His thumb caressed the back of your hand as he left a trail of pecks along your shoulder.

It felt almost sweet, until he was grinding against you and you realized that his morning wood was incessantly poking your buttcheek. Occasional sighs escaped between your chuckles, “baby, you need help?”

Your question restored his bearings that had briefly slipped for a moment there.

“I’m sorry,” he snickered, realizing how sudden his arousal turned up after having just told you to come back to sleep, “don’t worry, it’ll go away by itself.”

And so you spent the rest of the morning in bed, only waking up when the sun was high. Specifically, when Chan started to kiss up your jaw and neck, nipping and sucking, way too passionate to be called innocent wake-up kisses.

Minho.

Waking up to an empty bed after an intimate night did nothing but ruin your mood.

You were wrapped warmly in a blanket that reeked of Minho, almost as if he was there with you. But your arms swept across the mattress in search of a sign of him only to be disappointed. Before your anxiety ascended at the thought of him leaving you all alone, a shuffling sound outside the bedroom alerted you of another presence.

As you made your way towards the door that was left partially open, you discovered traces of clothes and undergarments strewn across the floor. You looked down at yourself, fully clothed in cat print pajamas. You didn’t even realize. He must’ve dressed you after a bath last night.

An appetising smell of chicken stock pervaded the air when you stepped out of the bedroom. Minho was in front of the stove, back facing you. On contrary to your fully clothed body, he only sported black boxers that hugged his ass tightly, leaving the rest completely naked.

The back muscles moved like a wave as he was stirring something on the stovetop, probably a chicken stew or porridge. You couldn’t be too sure. What you could be sure of was the scratches across his bare back, some were shallow and the others were a little deeper. Courtesy of your nails digging and raking the previously smooth back the night before. Although it wasn’t entirely your fault since he’d made you cry and choke with utmost pleasure.

His neck was embellished with purple marks, making your hand subconsciously reach up to touch your own neck that was marked with just as many love bites.

You sneaked behind him, encircling your arms around his torso and squishing your cheek against his ruined back. He was unfazed at the sudden intrusion.

“How did you sleep?” He asked with one hand stroking the back of your hand while the other remained busy stirring the dish.

“You know I hate waking up alone,” you huffed, “I thought you left.”

He tittered at your complaints. He took half a spoonful of the chicken porridge he was making and tasted it, before turning off the stove. He loosened your arms and turned around to face you, walking you back until your ass was in contact with the island counter behind you.

Keeping his hands on your waist, he inspected you from head to toe with an impish smile, “in my defense, you looked so cute sleeping in my pajamas I didn’t have the heart to wake you up,” he carded a hand through your hair and kissed your forehead, “you should stay the night more often.”

You relaxed in his hold, both palms running absentmindedly along his biceps, “and what, let you make me stay up all night again?”

“Oh, but you loved it?” His cute, crooked front teeth that were shown off as he grinned might be the reason why one of your hands pinched his cheek without thinking. He giggled at your impulsive move.

You nodded with a small laugh, “never said I didn’t.”

You were hot on his heels for the rest of his breakfast-prepping. You’d help him clean up and set the table, before following him around again, completely attached to him. And sometimes, he would pat your head, rub your back and kiss you here and there throughout.

And when it was time to sit down and eat, he insisted you sit on his lap.

Who are you to say no?

Changbin.

“Binnie, I’m trying to make breakfast.”

And it was repeated umpteenth time in case the man who was clinging to your back like a koala to a tree trunk thought the sunny side ups on the stovetop were for decorations.

The toasts had already been plated prettily on the counter with slices of ripe avocados, two cups of black tea weren’t as hot as you’d prefer but still warm enough to soothe your stomach. It was a simple breakfast for two reasons, one of them was it was easy to make and the second was because your boyfriend’s kitchen lacked a little bit of everything for any other filling breakfast menus.

It would take you less than half an hour to set everything ready on the table and have a slow morning to spend with Changbin, but the latter didn’t look and sound interested if the firmer grasp around your body and his whines were anything to go by. It was as if you were met with a completely different person from last night; who’d made you sob and writhed under the mercy of his harsh poundings.

“Let’s go back to bed…” there it was again, his petulant, complaining whine that discreetly had your heart trembled.

You hummed to swallow down the smile, unyielding in your stance, “and what?” You turned off the stove and turned around, putting the cooked eggs carefully atop of the sliced avocados so it wouldn’t slide down and ruin your plating. Changbin might not put all his weight on you and actually put an effort to drag himself around behind you, but his arms around your middle still restricted you to move more freely. “Once we’re in bed again we both know what will happen.”

“Your fault,” he huffed out a sigh. He didn’t have to fill you out why.

You were wearing the white dress shirt he’d worn last night with nothing underneath. So when he’d walked out the bedroom earlier, morning-kissed by an alluring view of your curves that were presented through the sheer materials, he thought it was only natural that he’d feel something tingly stir in his stomach.

“You look fucking amazing,” the low moan he breathed out against your neck was deliberate, “gorgeous.”

“Not that I haven’t worn your clothes before,” you tried to argue, affectionately.

“Not my dress shirt.”

It’d be a lie to say you didn’t enjoy his desperation to your unintentional seduction.

“Breakfast later,” he grumbled, one hand eventually giving in to its willpower and slipping beneath the hem of the dress shirt. The pad of his fingers massaged your inner thigh and rode up to press gently onto your swollen folds, “please?”

“But you need to leave in like—” you paused, dragging him along with you as you stepped into the living room where the clock was hung on the wall above the tv, “less than two hours.”

“That’s all I need.”

Feeling how your back was finally relaxed against him, Changbin walked you to the bedroom.

Breakfast could wait.

Hyunjin.

Hyunjin was sitting on the window nook with a sketchbook on his lap.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes with the back of your hands, and for a moment, his pencil stilled in the air an inch from the paper of his sketchbook as his eyes were locking on your figure. The corner of his lips tilted up at the sight of you struggling to prop your upper half on your elbows and of your face scrunched in annoyance to adjust to the morning sunlight.

“G’morning, princess.”

You blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep away the blur in your field of vision, slowly regaining your eyesight and seeing Hyunjin smiling at you. The outrageous morning sunlight didn’t seem outrageous anymore when it poured softly around his frame like a halo. You blinked again, trying to take in the full view of his naked upper half washed beneath the warm rays.

Dragging the comforter along, wrapping the thick blanket around your naked form, you climbed out the bed and limped your way towards him.

Lifting his sketchbook off of his thighs, he spread his legs wide to beckon you into sitting in his lap. The pillow that was situated between his back and the wall was squeezed up as you flumped down into the space between his legs, back pressing against his chest and head on his shoulder.

One of his palms smothered towards your inner thighs and gently massaged the area to soothe the soreness he’d caused the night before, all while pampering you with featherlike smooches along the surface of your exposed shoulder, making you giggle. He pecked your cheek and let his chin fall on your shoulder.

Placing his sketchbook down on your lap, he resumed the sketch where he’d left off.

“Did you sleep well?”

You nodded and yawned, slowly dozing off again in the comfort of his arms, “why are you up so early?”

“Would’ve slept more, but I felt like drawing.”

Your eyes fluttered open at his words, trying to adjust to the bright sunlight now that you were right next to the window. You looked down at his drawing in curiosity, slightly tilting your head.

Hyunjin put his pencil down once again to let you see the whole of his sketch. You blinked, your brows wrinkled, and your lips puckered into a small pout at the pencil lines on the cartridge paper.

Because the sleeping figure in his rough, unfinished sketch was you. And you lit up instantly.

“That’s me!” You chirped happily. There were countless sketches of you, some of which you had put up on your bedroom wall to gaze at his talent on daily, and some others were kept neatly in a file folder on your bookshelf. But every time, you were excited to see more.

It felt good to see yourself through his eyes.

Your fingers gently ran down the textured paper, simply amazed, “this is like, what, the fifth drawing of me sleeping? Specifically sleeping?” And it was only the second month of your relationship.

She was nearly unapproachable. Or she didn’t let herself appear approachable. The psychic had a disembodied stitched-together hand called Thing on her shoulder—that everyone thought was cool and terrifying at the same time—as a sort of pet, she was especially given a black and grey striped uniform instead of the standard violet that made her stand out, and she spoke deadpan humour that oftentimes drove away most people.

Meanwhile Felix loved to be approached. The tip of his platinum hair was highlighted pink and blue, his socks were always of bright colours, and his werewolf pointed nails were painted in pastels.

If their fashion preferences and general appearances couldn’t tell enough already, they were also the polar opposites in terms of personalities. She inclined towards a small group of friends and was appealed to macabre. While Felix favoured the company of many and loved sparkly, radiant things.

Hyunjin couldn’t entirely hold him down, regardless. Because even though Felix’s curiosity about her had already started since the first day he had been admitted to the boarding school where she had downright deadpanned his choice of colourful pullover, it had never grown past mere curiosity until a month prior, on Valentine’s day, when he’d seen her closely for the first time again in a long while.

Felix remembered that one February 14th so vividly.

How her black-and-grey school uniform made its premier appearance in his periphery. How the whole class had gone silent as she placed down a massive box of chocolate assortments on his desk. How her flat tone was music to his ears, “I don’t know what you like. Just eat them.” How the brief gaze of her mesmerizing, dark irises combusted fireworks in his chest. How the heavy treads of her black platform leather shoes as she strided outside were followed by strained titters from her peers in the hallway. How Thing that perched on her shoulder flirtatiously waved him goodbye seconds before the last strand of her hair disappeared in the hallway.

That day was the day Felix began to believe in love at first sight.

Hyunjin had been the inevitable victim of Felix’s unending wonderment about her cryptic presence ever since. The siren had had to deal with balls and balls of salmon pink yarn every time he paid the werewolf’s dorm a visit and watched him knitting endlessly. Hyunjin just hadn’t seen it coming that the jumper was meant to be given to her. In hindsight, Hyunjin would’ve taken part in sabotaging Felix’s craft, too anxious for the werewolf’s wellbeing should his hard work be outright rejected and should it break his heart.

After all she was allergic to colours. And Felix was but the presence of colours.

“Just curious though, why orange?”

Felix turned to Hyunjin with a dramatic gasp, pointing at the rainbow pullover he had on over the striped violet blazer with his forefinger, specifically at the muted orange on one of the sleeves. “This, is orange.”

He shoved the paper bag onto Hyunjin’s face right against the tip of his sharp nose, “and this, is salmon pink,” the werewolf gave his tongue a disappointed click, “I expect more from an artist like you, Hwang.”

“So, why salmon?” Hyunjin scoffed, emphasizing the last word, “no offense to your preferences, but your colours would look dreadful and horrid on her. I’m currently imagining it and…” the siren scrunched his nose, “nah.”

“I’m imagining it and she looks lovely!” Felix chirped, his sparkly blue eyes roaming dreamily over the dark ceiling of the hallways above.

The Botanical Sciences class she was attending was just around the corner. Hyunjin’s sharp irises scanned the students in groups who had just marched out of the class in case she moved past coincidentally. “Just be careful she’s not necessarily—”

The familiar severed hand crawled across the paving stone floor, avoiding a horde of leather shoes, before it reached Felix’s polished one. Thing’s fingers drummed against the vamp of his shoe gently, pleased to once again meet the happy little werewolf, before slithering back away to its legitimate owner.

Felix squeaked out her name at the sight of a group of three students having just walked out of the class. He darted towards his target in a black quilted sweater over the dark uniform.

“...nice to anyone.” Hyunjin sighed, opting to wait behind one of the corinthian columns. He was not particularly fond of the psychic’s presence, too bloodcurdling for his irradiant nuance, he thought.

Beside her was Jisung, her gorgon friend who always had a beanie on his head to hide his snake hair, and Chan, her extremely attractive vampire friend that had charmed twice as many as a siren could ever have with their singing.

As if the sweet chirp of her name that rolled off Felix’s tongue wasn’t a distressing alarm for her to run off, just like how she would’ve if it were anyone else that called her name with the same sugary tone, she turned and patiently watched the werewolf’s little jumps approaching. Thing had apparently crawled back up to its rightful place on her shoulder by the time Felix stood there before her.

However her face slightly contorted in question and mild disgust when a bright yellow paper bag was shoved onto her chest, the first time any colour more vibrant than the boring shades of black and white ever getting so close to her allergic skin. She sneaked a glance inside and thought it was an odd pink knitted jumper. She raised a brow at Felix without a word.

“White day!” His face beamed with a radiant grin and eyes sparkled in unfaltering enthusiasm as he exclaimed.

“I didn’t get the chance to thank you for the chocolate last Valentine’s but I hope you wouldn’t mind that I shared them with my classmates including my friend Hwang Hyunjin over there.” He pointed at the tall boy who was standing stiffly against a pillar and a little too far.

She hummed, “oh, the ugly man of the night.”

“People genuinely want to be with him. He rarely sings to attract them.” Felix defended.

“You’d be surprised.”

Thing dawdled into the paper bag and tugged at the jumper, rubbing the soft fabric between its forefinger and thumb. Its palm faced her briefly before turning back to the jumper in confusion, as if calculating whether or not the colour would suit her.

“It’s pink.” She announced.

“Salmon pink,” Felix corrected, “works great with black and dark grey like your wardrobe.” Then he nodded at the paper bag, “dark tones suit you best but I do honestly think you’d look amazing in vibrant colours as well. Just for the accent, you know.”

“Looks like a rainbow vomited here.” She deadpanned.

“Looks like something you’d take out of your own closet. You made this yourself?” Chan asked with a wide dimpled grin.

Felix looked his way, noticing how the vampire’s usual crimson irises glinted softer, “mhm!”

“Looks like it’s reciprocated then.” Jisung chimed in, draping an arm over her shoulders to which the latter dodged right away with a single shrug and a glare of warning.

“Of course!” Felix confirmed abruptly, making Chan and Jisung choke on their own spits, “where I come from reciprocating Valentine’s gifts we receive is a form of courtesy and gratitude. Though it seems like White Day isn’t commonly celebrated here.”

“Did you get any more Valentine’s gifts?” She inquired.

“Nope! But I—”

“Good.”

Felix glanced at the screen of his watch when his alarm for the next class went off, having realized the nick of time he had before Werewolf Reproduction class.

“Well, I hope you won’t throw it away,” he grinned, “just return it and tell me if you decide it’s too hideous for you, I’ll knit you a black one next time! Bye, Thing!”

Felix waved them goodbye and skipped his way back to Hyunjin who had been waiting anxiously out of earshot.

🍫🍫🍫

The next day Hyunjin was waiting at the entrance of the quad as usual. Felix’s striped blazer swirled in a gust of the spring wind at his sides as he was sprinting across the field from the dorm, a navy ribbon tying his hair in a half ponytail.

They were running late for the first class of the day.

“You slept in again did—” Hyunjin was about to drape a hand over his shoulder but halted suddenly, his grin faltering, mouth agape at something—or someone.

Felix followed his gaze. But it was as if the sun had just shone a few inches over his head, he beamed. His lips dramatically curled into a broad smile, his eyes sparkled and his chest swelled in pride.

She was wearing a salmon pink jumper.

Perhaps it was because she was always inexpressive that it was fairly easy to notice the light shade of crimson that uncharacteristically tinged her cheeks and ears as she was drawing near. Thing hopped off her shoulder and onto Felix’s platinum head at the proximity, its fingers tickling the crown of the werewolf’s head, making him giggle.

“It’s hideous. Make a black one.” She deadpanned as a matter of factly and walked away without waiting for Felix’s response, mingling with Chan and Jisung who were giggling in the hallway.

“You’re not returning it?” Felix half shouted.

She didn’t say or do anything.

And Felix grinned.

He couldn’t be any more amused and satisfied.

Instead of widened eyes and parted lips and a stuttered breathing like the reactions he’d gotten from most people, you beamed and happily greeted him with an unashamedly loud and sincere “oh, wow, you’re really pretty! And nice hair, too!” before following Changbin to the living room.

Your compliments were honest. But clearly lacked worship. And where’s the ulterior motive in the eyes begging to get fucked? Thought anyone wants him in bed? Minho blinked, glancing at your back.

And then it was the umpteenth time you came to hang out. You and Changbin doodled on your respective sketchbooks but you’d been too distracted to carry on. You were blatantly staring at Minho’s hands chopping some vegetables on the kitchenette across from you. The next minute you casually told him that he had the sexiest hands you had ever seen.

He couldn’t help but choke on his own spit coughing profusely as his knife clattered against the cutting board. Changbin eyed you with a clear “what the fuck” look evident on his disgusted face.

Because when people say something about Minho’s hands, it would be that they were nice or soft or chubby or just anything else other than sexy. You shrugged, “I said what I said.”

You weren’t joking. His arms might not be as beefy and massive as Changbin’s, but you thought they were the perfect amount of toned and well-defined. The veins protruding along the skin of the back of his hands and forearms especially when he was straining might be the cause of your sudden moan. The width and length of his hands were below the average of an adult male that you likened them to kitten paws sometimes.

But his fingers… Well, they were thicker and longer in size than most people you hooked up with. And most definitely much thicker and a little longer than yours.

So yes, when you said his hands were the sexiest you had ever seen, you weren’t joking.

“You should stop saying I have nice hands.” Minho commented with a laugh one day.

You were filling in your glass with ice water from the fridge as he leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed against his chest.

“Oh, but I never did.” You denied, before sneaking a quick glance at him with a chuckle, “I said they’re sexy.”

“And you mean it?”

You turned on your heel with a glass full to the brim, “from the myriad of hands I’ve observed, yes, yours belong to the sexy category.”

He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, brows furrowing amusedly as an idea that’d been invading his thoughts lately travelled down to the edge of his tongue, threatening to be let out. And he did, “so you have a hand kink.”

You hopped onto the counter and paused for a moment, taking a gulp from the glass, letting the cool liquid freshen up your throat as you stared up at the ceiling. And then you shrugged, “yeah, that makes sense.”

If Minho was surprised at your nonchalance at the accusation, it wasn’t shown through his face as his grin widened and he laughed. You glanced over at him with a raised brow, “what?”

He shook his head, “do you usually go around telling people you like their hands and admit it right away when they tell you that you might have a hand kink?”

“Not people. Just Changbin and you.”

“You like his hands too?”

“His hands are sexy.”

“Sexier than mine?”

“Gotta be honest, no.”

“I always love your honesty.”

“You mean you love the compliments.”

“So you like my hands better?”

Your eyes narrowed with interest, all while the distance between you and Minho had eventually gradually scaled down. He was practically standing between your legs, and the glass in your hand was the only barrier between your chests. You took another sip of the cold water, “depending on what needs to be done.”

“I’ll make it easier. Whose you’d prefer to have around your neck?”

“What the fuck kind of conversation did I just heard?” Changbin stood behind you across the island counter with a pair of ice packs attached to the back of his thighs. Yesterday was his leg day.

Minho shrugged, “just kinks and stuff.”

Changbin’s face contorted in disgust as he walked around to grab a can of diet coke from the fridge. He sauntered back to his bedroom, leaving the scene with a shout, “I don’t care if you bang each other. Just not in the kitchen!”

Minho shouted back, “suggestion accepted!”

You rolled your eyes with a giggle, pushing his chest away with a pad of your finger and about to hop off the counter but you caged you in. He took your glass and put it on the counter, leaning in to speak lower despite his roommate having been out of earshot.

“So whose hands you like better?” You thought it was just another flirting attempt, unless there wasn’t a sign of it on his face when he said that. Instead, his eyes were searching for yours as he was waiting for an answer.

You smiled.

Perhaps you had a hand kink. Combined with the attractive Lee Minho? And you’re dead.

You were settled in his lap, back flushed against his chest as he reclined back against the leather headboard of his bed. His legs intertwined with your own, holding each of your legs apart as his hand smothered along the inner of your thigh. His other hand rested around your throat, keeping the back of your head stilled on his shoulder as his lips moulded with yours.

Once his thumb added a slight pressure to the side of your neck, you released a shaky breath into his mouth. And he smiled against your lips.

He discarded his shirt, leaving himself with only his boxer shorts. The whereabouts of your skirt and shirt were vague in your head. Probably in the doorway of his room where he’d had you pinned against earlier, or somewhere at the foot of the bed where he’d dragged you from to settle between his thighs. Somehow you just ended up in only your panties and bra.

He caught your lips again. His hand trailed up to the warmth of your center, fingertips gently rubbed against your clothed cunt before he hooked a finger around your panties and dragged the thin fabric to the side. You pulled away once the cool air caressed your bare entrance, head thrown back on his shoulder and releasing a long sigh as he began stroking your clit.

He nibbled the shell of your ear. The hand on your neck cradled your jaw, pulling your head off of his shoulder for you to look down. “Watch.”

And God, were you so soaked already.

Even in the dim of his room you could still see how his palm and fingers were glistening, his slick-wet skin reflecting the lights from the night lamps at each side of his bed. But hotter than all of that was the protruding veins that bulged along his arm all the way to the back of his hand as his fingers persistently rubbed your clit, each stroke leading his middle digit to dip deeper into your entrance. You squirmed and mewled, legs lightly shaking at the mere sight of it.

There had been a few nights out with alcohol in your system where someone would have their fingers deep inside your walls and make you moan out loud. Minho wasn’t the only person who’d laid a finger on your sensitive area trying to get you off, but nobody had ever managed to get you drenched with only the tip of their finger barely inside you like he did now, no. To his credit, there wasn’t a drop of alcohol in your system. Only a few gulps of cold water.

The amount of slick you produced pooled in the creases towards the center of his palm. You gripped his wrist tight, whining out loud cries of his name as he kept assaulting your clit with perseverance. His lips stretched wide into a pleased grin, chin resting on your shoulder as he himself watched his middle finger slowly sink into your entrance.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

His thirst for compliments. Seriously.

The answer was, his. His hands were just so oddly sexy it was ridiculous. But curse him and his overflowing confidence and overwhelming self love. You might want to tease him a little.

You bit down onto your lower lip as you watched his finger sink deeper and deeper, your walls clenched at the intrusion. Your grip around his wrist loosened, letting him go inside of you further. You let out a long exhale, and hummed, “Changbin.”

And all the increasingly pleasant tinglings coiling up in the pit of your stomach forcefully boiled away as he pulled his finger out. You turned to him with furrowed brows of disapproval.

“Better ask Changbin to make you feel better than I could ever do then, darling. I’m afraid I’m not up to your standards.” His lips pursed into a feigning frown as he spoke. But in contrast to his disappointed pout, he brought his hand up to his lips, licking his drenched digits clean with a sensual movement of his tongue without breaking eye contact.

You wouldn’t lose to him. You’d get what you wanted. You weren’t the only one affected here, if the slight poke on your backside was anything to go by.

You mirrored his pout, palm wrapping around his wrist and bringing it back down between your thighs. He let you, but only until his palm hovered over your folds, barely touching you. His face twisted with an impish grin, “you know the magic words.”

Still with a feigning pout, you leaned close to plant kisses up his jaw, then settled your head back down on his shoulder. Your face nuzzled the side of his neck. “Of course I love your hands better, silly. Isn’t it obvious enough?”

“Better than everybody else’s?”

If you had learnt something else about him tonight, it was that everything seemed to be a competition for him. Or he was just eager to have your sole attention on him. Tsk.

You hummed.

His fingers thrusted once.

Then twice.

“Words, baby.”

You grinded down, shifting backwards to where a tent of his erection poke your backside. He groaned at the slight contact, then humping forward to get more friction, while simultaneously adding the second finger in.

You giggled, “better than even my own hands.”

It was all he needed to give you what you wanted. His middle and ring fingers were sliding in and out of your walls in an unforgiving pace that made your thighs quiver. His other hand found its place around your middle. You looked down, purring when you watched his fingers only get wetter and wetter as they kept disappearing and reappearing inside of you.

“Oh—” you sighed, nails clawing at his arm, “good… feel so good…”

As if his fingers weren’t already tormenting enough, his hips began jerking forward, his clothed bulge grazing and rubbing between your ass.

Your eyes threatened to slide close at the tingles in your stomach that gradually evolved into an overwhelming bliss the more he assaulted you from both sides. And yet you couldn’t give up on keeping track of the indecent sight down there; his thick and long digits invading your walls and poking deep into your bundle of nerves, his whole hand coated with your juices and the drenched sheets beneath you.

It was too much. His fingers were too much. His throbbing clothed length was too much. The sight was too much.

And then you convulsed, your walls clenched hard. Head thrown back, curses and his name and an endless of “good… good… good…” spilling out of your parted lips. It wasn’t a plain white ceiling above your head, but stars and white and sparks.

His fingers curled, drawing more of your juices to dribble out of your hole.

When had been the last time you came you hard with just two fingers inside you? But it was two thick fingers and veined hands of Lee Minho we’re talking about here.

You heard a loud pop beside you. Minho was licking clean his slick-glazed fingers. “Tastes so sweet,” he hummed in delight.

Even in your fucked out state, your mind went towards the prominent erection that kept twitching against your backside. Hell, you could even feel his precum even through his shorts and the thin lace of your panties.

“You haven’t— you haven’t come… you…” you said between ragged breaths, attempting to turn around.

He chuckled, sliding his shorts off and helping you lay on your side between his legs. He carefully pulled you closer where your head could comfortably rest on his bare thigh.

He combed through your hair that was half wet with sweat, moving the stray strands out of your face before stroking your cheek softly. Maybe you shouldn’t have only paid attention to his sexy, veined hands because oh my God he looked godly from down here. Perhaps you eventually grasped the obsession people had over him.

You almost gave into the gentle touches of his hand on your face, head still hazy with the most blissful orgasm you’d had in a long while— if it wasn’t for a distracting view presented right there for only you to gawk at.

Your hooded eyes fixated on the glory of his length that stood proud against his toned abs. Your hand reacted faster than your hazy brain, mindlessly reaching for the base and stroking it lightly.

Your eyes were big and pleasing when looking up at him, wordlessly and helplessly asking for permission. He snickered.

“Pretty,” he caressed the side of your face down to your jaw, “so pretty for me.”

Then he brought his hand up to his face. He licked his thumb. The pad of his forefinger tipped up your chin, and his thumb rushed over your parted lips, coating the plump flesh with his spit.

His unoccupied palm led your hand to properly wrap around the base of his cock, guiding you to stroke and palm the head. And when you thought he was about to jerk himself off using your hand, he dragged your face closer with his other hand and hovered the tip of his cock over your lips, precum slowly dribbling out of its slit.