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“It wanted—” Felix wets his bottom lip. “It wanted soft-bodied young masters and mistresses.”
His eyes dart to the bathroom door, shut fast in the dead of night. He trembles and Minho hums in question. His eyes have slid shut. He would fall asleep in the water if he had it his way. But he does not. He is in Felix’s care, his speckled hands.
“Someone like me,” Minho says sleepily.
Bookmarked by glint (minillen)
18 Sep 2026
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The first time he saw Minho in his deep plum robe and parasol on the shaded garden path, Felix believed there to be no possible way that those eyes had ever dreamed a thing.
They were the largest he had ever seen, dark as coal and just as dull, his lashes as long as jointed insect legs. They opened far too wide, the irises so large there was space neither above nor below them. They looked like eyes that had only ever known perfumed sleep.
Except, that was not true. Minho was only bone and blood.
Sometimes, he lies back on his silken bed, idle fingers flicking the tassels of his pillows, and tells Felix about his dreams. He beckons Felix closer until his weight lies on the bed that Felix is never allowed to touch and then Minho pulls him closer by the wrist until Felix’s sun-soaked cheek touches Minho’s mouth and Minho whispers I dreamed you wore my clothes and the blue of your chima grew on my bed like a waterlily right where I sit and when you called I came and I came dressed in your clothes my skin the colour of yours and when you parted your legs the chima caved and I put my hand in there it was hot it burned my palm but I didn’t take it away I kept it there and it felt like wading into the ocean at high noon—
And sometimes Felix curses him softly in his lowest voice for the sinking feeling in his gut but most times his mouth is full of Minho.
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“Do you really mean that?”
“I swear on your life, I mean it.”
“Why do you have to swear on my life?”Bookmarked by minillen
15 Sep 2026
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It’s nice, though. To be close to Wonjin, to talk to him like a friend rather than trying to coax him into conversation. Wonjin’s talkative and smiles like he’s just won a lottery, and he has a tendency to smack Woobin’s shoulder when he’s trying to remember a detail.
It’s admittedly strange to be sitting beside him in bed. Wonjin’s laying under Woobin’s covers, smelling of Woobin’s peach-scented lotion, wearing one of Woobin’s t-shirts. Everything about him is Woobin’s. Wonjin falls asleep while Woobin’s replying to emails, his cheek smooshed against the pillow and his lips slightly parted. He doesn’t even twitch when Woobin rests his hand on his hair, stroking as gently as possible.
Woobin shuts the lid of his laptop, shuffling down until his head is right next to Wonjin’s. He’s met pretty people, cute people, handsome people. Most people are a mixture of all three in their own ways, at different levels. Woobin’s not really sure where he fits on that scale himself, but he’s certain Wonjin’s got high marks across the board.
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“He’s sort of handsome, and they say he had a lovely voice too,” someone remarks. “In another life, he could've been an idol.”
If only you knew, Minho thinks.
Or: After Lee Minho makes a wish on his birthday that Kim Seungmin would leave him alone, the universe hears him. The next day, he wakes up to a world where Kim Seungmin is known by the entire world still, but not as a member of Stray Kids.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 13,546
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 33
- Kudos:
- 269
- Bookmarks:
- 56
- Hits:
- 2,168
Bookmarked by glint (minillen)
08 Sep 2026
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How cruel, Minho thought, as Jeongin lit the candle for the birthday cake, for Seungmin to do this. To admit his affection, because in admitting it they had to think about why, and the why was always the worst part.
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“I didn’t peg you for a pervert, ahjussi.”
Chan flinches and steps back. Undeterred, Jeongin nudges into his space. Chan’s wearing loafers, shiny and smooth black leather and Jeongin’s steel-toed boot leaves a scuff across the top.
“Do you want a kiss like that?” Jeongin ventures sweetly. Chan looks down at his mouth and says nothing, but his eyes grow darker. Jeongin usually doesn’t feel this patient with his hookups but Chan is inspiring a benevolence in him. He wants to see what he can unlock, wants to see if he can get his fingers under the smooth bone-white of Chan’s ribs and tug; wonders what will come loose.
Thirty odd years of repression is bound to have something juicy hidden away; the sweet crisp flesh of a forbidden apple, the tight clench of a virgin hole—it’s all the same to Jeongin.
Bookmarked by glint (minillen)
04 Sep 2026
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“I could teach you. I was a good student, ahjussi. I could be a better teacher.”
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Jisung hesitates outside Changbin’s front door. He should leave. He should skitter out of Changbin’s luxury high-rise and rush home and lock his doors and bar his windows and pull his trusty metal bat into bed with him. He should trust Chan when Chan says the problem is being handled. He should trust his own instincts that swore up and down Changbin was joking when, at the gym earlier, he responded to Jisung’s frazzled, “Someone needs to sex me right now!” with “Alright, I’ll do it. Come to my place at nine.”
Jisung doesn't mind being a virgin. But fuck—being a virgin sacrifice would suck.
Bookmarked by glint (minillen)
21 Aug 2026
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“Not making fun of you.” Changbin looks up. “Just trust me for five minutes, would you?”
Jisung swallows, looks away, back again, down, to where Changbin’s hand disappears into his jeans. The face of his fancy, second-favorite watch gleams beside the dull teeth of Jisung’s zipper.
“I always trust you,” Jisung says.
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Allen can’t seem to look Minhee in the eye on a normal day, but somehow, the soju gives him magical capabilities.
Bookmarked by minillen
04 Aug 2026
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“I don’t want you to like me the way everybody else likes me,” Minhee frowns.
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In any case, Seungmin was well aware of the betting. He never partook himself–a move which earned Felix five dollars every Friday–but it wasn’t out of moral superiority. No, he was biding his time and waiting for the opportunity to destroy his coworkers financially.
OR:
The other employees at Seungmin's highly-respectable place of work love to place bets on anything they can. Seungmin has been waiting to wring his coworkers dry, and the arrival of Lee Minho might be just what he needs.
Bookmarked by glint (minillen)
02 Jun 2026
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With a sense of impending doom, Seungmin raised his pant legs. His argyle socks were identical in pattern, but one was dark blue and the other was black. They didn’t match. His breath caught in his throat. How did he let this happen?
Jisung, who was fifteen minutes late (down from his usual twenty!), walked in and froze before turning to Felix with a clear question in his eyes. When Felix leaned over and whispered to him, his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and he dropped his coffee, which had surely cost him at least nine dollars.
He ignored the stain, rushing over to where Hyunjin was still sitting at his desk, looking as though he’d seen a ghost. Felix was close behind him, and the rest of them watched as Jisung cupped Hyunjin’s face in his hands and spoke quietly. Felix pulled Hyunjin into his chest, and exchanged a worried look with Jisung over his head.
Despite their efforts, Hyunjin’s hands knit themselves into his hair. He looked like he was going to have a heart attack.
Changbin, whom Seungmin had yet to see that day, emerged from the kitchen. He saw the coffee stain on the white rug first. “Jisung,” he threw his hands up, “you have got to be fucking kidding me.”
When Jisung didn’t respond, Changbin finally took in the rest of the room. He looked to where Chan was leaning heavily on Seungmin’s desk, then at Seungmin, who was still holding up his pant legs. Finally, he turned to Hyunjin with the scariest smile Seungmin had ever seen in his life. “Was it one or two thousand?”
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The stranger turns towards Minho fully, smoothing down the wrinkle-free front of his black, long-sleeve shirt as he clears his throat.
"I'm Seungmin," he introduces with a slight bow of his head. "I'm a ghost here to haunt you."
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 16,237
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 30
- Kudos:
- 117
- Bookmarks:
- 27
- Hits:
- 1,359
Bookmarked by glint (minillen)
19 Apr 2026
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Instead of Minho's body merely being a vessel for terror and dread, he registers smells this time.
He wishes he didn't; he wishes he could tear his nose clean off of his face. Scent is the only sense he has right now, and the metallic tang of blood stings his nostrils in its intensity, making him gag. He claws desperately at his arms with his nails, trying to shred himself out of his skin. The horror remains, growing in its severity now that he can use his nose. It sits high in his throat, constricting, suffocating — or maybe that's the screaming he must be doing, even though he can't hear it.
The panic wreaks havoc low in his stomach. When he tries to cover his nose or breathe through his mouth, it doesn't help, the rusty, sickeningly sweet odor making itself known despite his efforts.
A light appears in his dark vision, indistinct but visible, and Minho chases it.
The light brings with it a crisp, sea-salt scent of fresh snow.
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Some truths: Changbin owns property. Jisung doesn’t (currently) have a girlfriend.
Some lies: What Changbin and Jisung have isn't that sort of devotion. It's not dating, it's not marriage. It's not—romantic. Not really. Not unless Changbin digs down into himself deep enough to hit oil and let it gush, spilling uselessly above ground. He can't afford that. Jisung can't, either.
Bookmarked by glint (minillen)
23 Mar 2026
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“Not like we're–” a laugh instead of the word “gay.” It's the attitude that has followed them to still fumbling in the dark now. Maybe Changbin's mistake goes back that far. Jisung had been young and brash and more easily bruised. So had Changbin. He didn't know better at the time.
Did he know better at twenty? Both of them drunk--all of them drunk, honestly, but them specifically stumbling to a secluded part of a pension in Japan to make out and rut against each other until Changbin came, and Jisung said, panting just as hard as his cock in his jeans, “Hyung, there's this girl. You know, Ryujin's friend? She sucked me off a couple weeks ago. It was crazy!”
Changbin's mess in his pants went cold rapidly. He thought about one-upping Jisung by telling him how he'd lost his virginity–the kind that counts–several months prior to a girl he'd known back in middle school. He bit his tongue. It tasted like maturity when instead he held it in and dropped to his knees on the tatami to give Jisung his second ever blowjob.
Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three. Where was the point at which he should have known better? They learned how to get around their idol barriers to meet up with women. The two of them messing around should have stopped then. What was the excuse they could even use to justify it? It was no longer the easiest way to get laid.
Jisung's twenty-second birthday, he rolled Changbin facedown and begged him to let him stick it in. Sure, whatever, happy birthday. Fumbling, again, with each other in ways that would be embarrassing to do with any other sexual partner. There's less expectations, less artifice, less performance. Changbin cackled at him when he missed his hole on the first try. Jisung smirked at him the next day when he limped into practice.
On and on. Changbin gives over to him.
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“Hyung… I need you to fuck me.”
For a full three seconds, Changbin’s mind refuses to process the sentence. It hangs in the air, absurd and impossible, like a fragment of a dream that has bled into reality. He almost laughs. It must be the punchline to some elaborate, sleep-deprived joke. But then his gaze drops from Jisung’s flushed, determined face to his hands. They are trembling, a fine, constant shake that betrays the steel in his voice.
So, this is not a joke.
The air leaves Changbin’s lungs in a soft, soundless rush. “What?” The word is flat, disembodied, the only one he can manage.
Seo Changbin has been in love with his best friend Han Jisung for years. So, when Jisung asks for hands-on lessons in intimacy for his novel, Changbin agrees (for the sake of art and friendship, of course).
Series
- Part 1 of of neighbours and fiction
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 29,944
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 33
- Kudos:
- 126
- Bookmarks:
- 19
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- 1,373
Bookmarked by glint (minillen)
14 Feb 2026
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Changbin’s face is a mask of professional comprehension. He nods at the appropriate intervals, his gaze flicking between the screen and the speaker with an appearance of deep consideration. Inside, a quieter, more familiar monologue runs parallel to the business speak. Leveraging synergies. Right. Synergy is Jisung using my expensive hair conditioner and leaving the cap off, filling the bathroom with its scent for days.
“Your thoughts, Changbin-ssi?” his director prompts, drawing him back.
“The proposed timeline is aggressive but achievable,” Changbin responds, his voice smooth and assured. He gestures towards a specific data point. “Provided we secure the additional analyst for the Q2 data-crunch, as discussed. The bottleneck risk otherwise is significant.”
The director nods, pleased. Across the table, Lee Minho catches his eye and disguises a smirk behind his tablet.
When the meeting finally adjourns with a flurry of handshakes and the shuffling of chairs, Minho falls into step beside Changbin in the sterile hallway.
“A masterclass in strategic nodding,” Minho murmurs, his tone dry as the office air. “You looked profoundly moved by the pie chart on third-quarter logistics.”
“It spoke to me on a spiritual level,” Changbin deadpans, pressing the button for the elevator. “The way the blue segment yearned for the green one. A tale of forbidden, quantitative love.”
Minho barks a laugh, a short, sharp sound that echoes in the space around them. “You’re wasted here. You should be writing the web novels your roommate is always muttering about.”
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Even if their leadership changes, some things never do, and Serim still takes pride in being a doting hyung. Which is why he allows Minhee to do as he pleases, taking half the space of his bed and more than half of his mind.
Bookmarked by minillen
11 Feb 2026
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“Will you ever say no to me?” Minhee muses.
It’s a strange question. Serim doesn’t know what to make of it. “Do you not want my attention anymore?”
His attempt to be playful isn’t appreciated.
“That's not what I meant,” Minhee glowers. He sighs through his nose and stares up at the ceiling. “You let me get away with everything. Mostly,” he reasons.
“Of course I do. You're very special to me,” Serim replies with ease. “My favorite dongsaeng.”
Minhee is staring now, curious eyes studying his face. “What’s your limit, hyung?”
The air shifts, just enough to make Serim’s palms sweat. Maybe he’s delusional, he must be. Making something out of nothing. Reading too much into the shine of Minhee’s eyes, mistaking his appraisal as reverence. When Minhee stretches arms over his head, his shirt rides up with the twist of his body. His abdomen is pale, as is the skin of his thighs. Serim stares until his mouth runs dry and forces himself to look elsewhere. Hyeongjun hasn’t moved an inch, still cocooned and fast asleep.
“That’s a secret,” Serim manages after finding his voice. He can’t let too much of himself show.
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we have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven by orphan_account
Fandoms: Cravity (Band)
13 May 2021
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It turns out the worst part of Allen Ma’s arrival was not his ridiculous talent—it was not his JYP training or his fluent English or his round eyes. It was that he, unlike anyone else Serim had encountered, did not seem to care about him.
Bookmarked by minillen
06 Feb 2026
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Allen looks sad- his eyes have a tendency to make him look contemplative, and this is that but worse. Serim doesn’t know what he’s sad about, because Serim would take this. He would take worse than this- he would be glad, in this moment, to survive on one side-glance from Allen per month.
“I’m not expecting you to reciprocate,” Serim says. “Please don’t feel obliged.” He’s trying to be completely serious- he doesn’t need this if it’s fake. He’s an adult, after all, a leader and a professional. He can put this behind him.
Allen, though- Allen laughs.
“Park Serim,” he says, and grabs the collar of Serim’s sleep-shirt and pulls him down and kisses him.
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Hyeongjun seems unfazed. He nods. “I get it,” he says with a wry smile, “That makes two of us, I guess.”
Back and forth, back and forth. The rhythm of Hyeongjun’s legs, swinging in and out, soothes Seongmin. A small smile tugs at the edges of Seongmin’s lips. Hyeongjun’s smile has turned from ironic to bitter, mirthless.
That makes two of us, I guess.
It’s an open invitation. The two of them. Seongmin should be more cautious, he should wonder, but…
Wouldn’t they be something?
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,449
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 5
- Kudos:
- 25
- Bookmarks:
- 6
- Hits:
- 298
Bookmarked by minillen
28 Jan 2026
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“Hyung,” Seongmin pants. One foot in front of the other. Hyeongjun is so far ahead. It seems like with every step Seongmin takes Hyeongjun takes two, “Slow down? Please?”
Hyeongjun stutters to a stop, spins 180 so that he’s facing Seongmin.
He’s beautiful, even in low lighting, diritied by days of travel. Lovingly careworn. It’s been… Seongmin can’t quite remember how long it’s been, but it feels like forever. Like life before Hyeongjun was little more than a distant dream.
Seongmin knows the feeling isn’t reciprocated. Sometimes, Seongmin blinks awake in the middle of the night to see Hyeongjun rocking back and forth, back and forth, muttering something soft under his breath. Names, it sounds like: Kim Taeyoung, you…
Maybe Hyeongjun will always hold onto that part of his past (Seongmin takes a small step forward). Maybe this strange intimacy in emotional distance will continue on forever and ever (Hyeongjun gets bigger and bigger. Seongmin’s calves burn). Maybe the past will someday catch up to Seongmin, pull him back into misery and failed expectation and eyes on him burning with smugness masked with pity.
Seongmin takes a last step forward. He and Hyeongjun are standing together now, face to face. Hyeongjun’s face contorts into a smile: something strange, something small. Seongmin traces over Hyeongjun with his eyes: tousled hair, soft jawline, the curve of his sweatshirt sleeve…
There it is.
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Serim grins. “Well, what can I say…? I guess I just give off that confidence, you know. That big dick energy.”
The curtain dividing their shower stalls suddenly whisks open with a scrape of plastic and metal. Allen grins back but he's got a look in his eye that Serim has learned to beware—the same kind of look he gets on the pitch sometimes. It’s a look that usually precedes some goddamn risky superstar stunt bullshit.
“Let’s compare, then,” Allen suggests.
Bookmarked by minillen
26 Jan 2026
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For a moment, they just stand under the water. Serim does his best not to breathe like Darth Vader right in Allen’s ear hole.
He keeps pinching himself on the thigh. This has to be a dream, right? He got a concussion on the field and this is a crazy, vivid head trauma dream. That’s the only explanation.
Then, Allen lifts his head. A smug smirk slips across his face, one side of those full lips to the other. “I guess it’s decided, then.”
Serim blinks, not following.
“Looking forward to having you tie my boots, Captain.”
And then, Allen pats his cheek and returns to his shower as if his DNA isn’t still inside Serim’s belly button.
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New Seoul, 2350 :: District 9 is in a fragile period of peace when a strange gumiho drops into the very center of the powerful syndicate that runs it. What others see as a curious opportunity, Changbin sees as a disruption -- especially when it's obvious the gumiho has one reckless objective: to eat Changbin's heart out.
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Jungmo is supposed to be Wonjin's twentieth kill but it never would've happened. He's much too fast.
Bookmarked by minillen
16 Jan 2026
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“Wonjin,” Jungmo says. “I hope you know I’m quite obsessed with you.”
Wonjin looks up from the floor- Jungmo is not smiling.
“That’s a strong word,” he almost laughs, but something in Jungmo’s eyes stops him.
“It’s the right word,” Jungmo says. “There is no other word for it.”
There is no other word for it. Wonjin thinks Jungmo might be right- Wonjin thinks that’s what it is.
“Maybe it’s mutual,” he admits.
“Maybe,” Jungmo says, and then he smiles.
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Over the years, Hyunjin would learn and relearn the same lesson and no matter how many times it returned to her, she continued to be surprised by it. She would always return to the truth: that being happy simply wasn’t in the cards for her. That somehow, she was always doomed to be the girl she had become the second her father died, standing in front of the empty chapel, grieving and alone.
or: Hyunjin and Jeongin and their grief, over the years.
Series
- Part 12 of author’s favourites
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 23,733
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 41
- Kudos:
- 54
- Bookmarks:
- 12
- Hits:
- 1,516
Bookmarked by glint (minillen)
11 Jan 2026
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“You’re breaking my heart, baby,” Felix said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “What happened to finding the one?”
You got him.
Hyunjin wanted to vomit the second she thought it. She turned her face into Felix’s collarbone and breathed in the mix of milk powder and citrus body wash, trying to swallow her queasiness.
“This is enough,” she said quietly into Felix’s warm skin and, for a moment, she almost believed it.
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“Can’t join me if you’re dressed,” Allen says simply, his smile curling into a more teasing one. He immediately wriggles himself out of his boxers and lets them fall to the floor, before he steps out of them, turning around and entering the shower right after.
Jungmo is left standing there, dumbfounded for several moments, before the guy’s brain’s gears actually kick in and register what Allen’s suggested.
OR, It’s been a long day of practice and Allen’s plans are to have a nice shower and relax. Jungmo helping him just sort of happens.
Series
- Part 3 of multifandom bingo
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,108
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 2
- Kudos:
- 40
- Bookmarks:
- 5
- Hits:
- 921
Bookmarked by minillen
11 Jan 2026
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“I hope Wonjin-ah doesn’t want to use the shower next,” Allen mumbles as he shuffles his way under the water.
Jungmo laughs, deep yet gentle, as he joins him. He leans down and presses a kiss to Allen’s temple, running his hands up Allen’s sides with a light touch. “He’ll be fine showering with cold water.”
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Wonjin keeps shooting, but his bullets don't connect. As his character falls, the round ends and his screen flashes red. LOST. TEAM ELIMINATED.
"What happened, Wonjin?" He refuses to look up, already knowing that Hyeongjun has this ugly and fake pout on. "Don't want to stand up anymore?"
He digs his nails into the palms of his hands, to the point he almost draws blood. It's a better option compared to giving in to his urge of raising up a middle finger. That'd be a nasty fine he would very much like to avoid, though it is hard to resist the temptation.
Or: Proud trash talker Wonjin and his struggles once he is up against an opponent that knows just how to get in his head.
Bookmarked by minillen
30 Dec 2025
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"You were kind of right."
"Hm?"
"My rookie luck." Hyeongjun clarifies. "That's what gave me you, isn't it?"
Wonjin doesn't answer with words. But the uncontrollable smile that plasters across his face, along with the warmth that spreads throughout his entire body work as good enough of a response.
Hyeongjun hums, pressing their noses together. "Lucky me."
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Summary
Jungmo wants to forget about his recent break-up with his long-term girlfriend. Seongmin wants a tall, good-looking guy with a big dick to fuck his brains out with no strings attached.
Compromises are never perfect.
(Working synopsis: Five times when Seongmin wants Jungmo for nothing but his huge schlong, plus the one time that he decides he wants even more.)
Bookmarked by minillen
30 Dec 2025
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Something about the way he said it— it made Seongmin laugh out loud just as much as it made him swoon, and he should have probably been a little scared of that. Instead, he felt giddy, and despite the crowd of evening diners around them, he stood up and leaned across the table to give Jungmo a kiss. “You’re so stupid."