leeracha

[leeracha]

TASTE.

CHAPTER 2: SWEETBITTER.

Lee Know x reader. (s,a)

TASTE MASTERLIST

Synopsis: When Minho is hired as the head chef of Farfalle, a prestigious Italian restaurant, expectations are high for him to elevate its reputation and bring it to new heights. However, no one anticipates the drastic changes he implements in the kitchen—including his strict rule that that there'll be no women and no romance in his kitchen. (17,1k words)

Author's note: I hope you're hungry because I'm about to serve, well, Minho is, not me. Hope you enjoy this one too. Don't be shy to let me know what you think of this chapter ♡

Sweetbitter. /swēt-ˈbi-tər/ (adj) 1. being at once sweet and bitter 2. pleasant but including or marked by elements of suffering or regret

The memory creeps up on you like the scent of freshly baked bread—warm, comforting, and vivid.

It was three years ago, during the height of dinner service at a restaurant in Milan. You were buried in orders, swiftly plating bowls of tagliatelle and arranging perfectly browned gnocchi when the head chef approached, wiping his hands on his apron.

“A customer wants to personally thank you for the spinach lasagna,” he said, his tone equal parts surprise and pride.

You blinked. Normally, compliments like that were directed at the head chef, but this customer had been insistent about meeting the specific cook behind the dish. The words felt like a crown resting on your shoulders—the highest compliment any chef could receive.

Fixing your coat and smoothing back stray strands of hair, you stepped out of the bustling kitchen. The dining room was a sea of candlelight and muted conversation, and at first, all you could see was the back of the man who had requested your presence. His broad shoulders and casual posture told you little about him.

It wasn’t until you reached his table that he turned to face you.

“Are you the one who made this?” he asked, studying you with an unreadable expression.

“That would be me,” you replied, a polite smile on your lips.

For a moment, he said nothing, his dark eyes scanning your face as though trying to commit it to memory. Then he broke into a genuine smile, one that softened the sharp angles of his face.

“The spinach lasagna,” he began, “was incredible. Dare I say, it was better than sex.”

You froze, startled by the bluntness of his praise. Then, to your own surprise, you laughed—a warm, light sound that seemed to catch him off guard.

“Well,” you said, recovering, “that’s not something I hear every day.”

He chuckled softly, the dimples in his cheeks becoming more pronounced. “I’m Chris.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a sleek business card and handed it to you.

You glanced down at it, reading the elegant font: Christopher Bang.

“I own an Italian restaurant,” he said, his voice calm but persuasive. “I’d love for you to come work with me.”

The offer was so unexpected that you could only gape at him. “Why me?” you finally asked, looking back at him. “There are plenty of... talented chefs in the kitchen tonight.”

Chris leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together as a dimpled smile spread across his face. “I don’t want them. I want you.”

Something about his casual confidence disarmed you. Perhaps it was the warmth in his voice or the sincerity in his eyes, but in that moment, you felt the ground shift beneath your feet.

You didn’t realize it then, but that moment marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. Within weeks, you were on a flight to a new country, leaving behind the familiar comfort of Milan to work at Farfalle.

And now, standing in this restaurant facing him three years later, that memory feels both distant and fresh, a reminder of the strange and unexpected paths life can take.

-

The dining hall falls silent as Chris steps in, his imposing presence freezing everyone in place. The sleek black suit, the pale complexion, and the calm authority in his gaze demand undivided attention. Whispers ripple through the room, curiosity and disbelief mingling in hushed tones.

“I'll make it short,” Chris begins, his tone steady and authoritative. “I'm closing down the restaurant.”

“What did you say?” Taesoo blurts out in sheer panic.

Chris puts on a small smile and calmly explains. “I will close it down for three days, tentatively. ”

The room erupts in shock. Souschef Hyunwoo steps forward, his voice raised in protest. “What? You can’t close the restaurant during the busiest season! Do you know how much we’ll lose in revenue?”

Chris doesn’t flinch, meeting Hyunwoo’s gaze with a faint, composed smile. “I understand your concern. But this is necessary for the future of Farfalle.”

Felix raises a tentative hand. “So... what are we supposed to do for three days?”

Chris’s smile widens, almost playful. “Rest. Relax. Have fun... and after three days, I want everyone to come back with a new menu idea—a dish that can revive Farfalle. Every single one of you will participate, without exception.”

The room falls silent as everyone processes his words.

Chris continues, his voice unwavering. “However, there’s one condition: the total cost of ingredients for your dish cannot exceed ten dollars. Be creative, be bold, and think about what will make Farfalle stand out. The future of this restaurant depends on those menus.”

He lets the weight of his words settle before finishing with an easy, almost disarming smile. “I’ll see you all in three days.”

Without another word, Chris steps back, leaving the room with the same enigmatic presence with which he entered.

The staff exchange uncertain glances, whispers rippling through the group. Minho crosses his arms, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he straightens. “You heard him,” he says firmly, his gaze sweeping over everyone. “Three days. I’ll see all of you then.”

-

The hallway outside the manager's office is eerily quiet, the distant sounds of bustling staff fading behind you. You pause in front of the polished wooden door, taking a moment to compose yourself before knocking.

“Come in,” Chris’s voice calls out, calm and collected.

Pushing the door open, you step inside. The office is surprisingly minimalistic, dominated by a large desk and a single window that lets in soft, natural light. Chris sits behind the desk, his tailored black suit as sharp as his presence. His dimples appear as he smiles, clearly having anticipated your visit.

“I figured you’d come,” he says, gesturing for you to sit.

You take a seat, wasting no time. “I’m just as surprised as everyone else to see you here. Shouldn’t you be busy running the rest of your family’s empire?”

Chris leans back in his chair, his smile never faltering. “I’ve been keeping an eye on Farfalle for a while now. The sales have been on a downward spiral, and I decided it was time to step in. Sometimes you have to get your hands dirty to fix things properly.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his explanation. “So, this is personal for you?”

“In a way,” he admits, his tone light but resolute. “I couldn’t just stand by and let it crumble. Now, tell me,” he leans forward, his gaze teasing, “are you happy to see me?”

You let out a soft laugh, meeting his eyes. “It’s... nice to have another man in the restaurant.”

Chris chuckles, his dimples deepening. “Flattery suits you.”

He pauses, the teasing air around him softening. “Before you go, why don’t you cook me some pasta?”

You raise a brow, crossing your arms. “Nope.”

“Why not?” he asks, feigning offense.

“Because I’m going to do exactly what you suggested,” you reply with a sly grin. “Rest, relax, and have fun.”

Chris leans back in his chair, giving you an amused look. “Fair enough.” He gestures toward the door, silently excusing you.

You rise from your seat, heading toward the exit. Just as your hand touches the doorknob, Chris’s voice calls out again.

“Don’t have too much fun though,” he says, the teasing lilt in his voice unmistakable.

You glance back, offering a playful smirk. “No promises.” With that, you step out, leaving the office and its enigmatic new occupant behind.

-

The salty tang of the fish market fills your senses as you weave through the bustling aisles, stalls overflowing with fresh catches of the day. The cacophony of haggling customers and shopkeepers blends into a background hum as you scrutinize each stall, searching for ingredients that won’t break Chris’s strict $10 budget.

Your frustration grows as every inquiry leads to disappointment. Everything you find is either overpriced or unsuitable for the idea forming in your mind. Just as you’re about to give up, something catches your eye.

Minho stands a few stalls ahead, his sharp profile unmistakable even in the chaos of the market. He’s deep in conversation with a shop owner, his posture relaxed but commanding.

Curiosity piqued, you linger just out of sight, trying to catch snippets of their conversation. But the noise of the market drowns out their words. You watch as the shopkeeper gestures toward a selection of fish, and Minho nods thoughtfully before moving on.

The moment he leaves, you step up to the stall. “Excuse me, what was he asking about?” you inquire, gesturing toward Minho’s retreating figure.

The shopkeeper smiles knowingly. “Filefish. He was asking if I had any larger ones for a better price. Told him he’d have better luck at the harbor.”

Filefish? You tuck the information away, thanking the shopkeeper before turning to leave.

But as you make your way toward the exit, you freeze mid-step. Minho is there, leaning casually against a pole, arms crossed as if he’s been waiting for you. His eyes meet yours, a flicker of amusement playing across his face.

"Following me now?" he asks, his tone teasing but edged with curiosity.

You bristle, quickly recovering from your surprise. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Minho smirks, clearly unconvinced. “So, what exactly are you doing here, then?”

You hesitate, debating whether to play coy or confront him about the filefish. Instead, you sidestep his question. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He shrugs, pushing off the pole and walking past you, his voice drifting back. “Just making sure the competition doesn’t get too comfortable.”

Before you can respond, he takes you by the hand and drags you out of the crowd.

-

The ride back is unexpectedly tense. Minho insisted on giving you a ride home, claiming it would save time, but the silence in the car is thick with unspoken words. You glance at him from the passenger seat, his profile lit by the soft glow of the dashboard.

“So,” you start, breaking the silence, “what are you planning to make for the new menu, chef?”

Minho doesn’t even look at you. “Not telling.”

You scoff, leaning back in your seat. “Why not? Afraid I’ll steal your idea?”

“Exactly,” he replies flatly, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

You roll your eyes but decide to take another approach. “Fine. I’ll tell you mine first. I’m thinking of making fishball pasta. Simple, creative, and within budget.”

Minho glances at you briefly, his expression unreadable. “Good for you.”

Encouraged by the lack of sarcasm in his tone, you press further. “Now your turn, chef.”

“Nope,” he says, his lips twitching with the hint of a smirk. “This is a competition. Why would I share secrets with a competitor?”

The car slows as he pulls up in front of your apartment building. He gestures toward the door. “We’re here. Get out.”

But you stay put, crossing your arms defiantly. “Not until you tell me what you’re making.”

Minho lets out an exasperated sigh, leaning his head back against the headrest. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn,” you counter, flashing him a grin.

After a moment of tense silence, he relents, his tone reluctant. “Fine. I only need the filefish livers.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “The livers? Why just the livers?”

“Because I’m making foie gras out of them,” he explains, his voice tinged with pride. “I want to show the true value of foie gras with it,”

Your gasp is audible, and Minho glances at you, his expression softening at the wonder in your eyes. “That’s… genius,” you breathe.

Minho almost smiles seeing your genuine awe in response to his answer but he hides his amusement, focusing instead on the road ahead. “Are you satisfied now? Get out.”

But instead of complying, you grab his arm, tugging at it lightly. “Wait. Hear me out.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “What now?”

“You don’t need the meat, and I don’t need the livers. If we work together, we can split the cost and stay within budget.”

Minho clicks his tongue, mulling over your suggestion. “Why should I work with you?”

“Because it makes sense,” you argue, meeting his gaze. “You said it yourself—this is a competition. Working together gives us both an edge. Plus, I know where to get bigger and cheaper filefish.”

He narrows his eyes at you, clearly debating the idea. After a moment, he sighs, shaking his head. “If I agree to this, will you finally get out of my car?”

You nod eagerly, a triumphant smile spreading across your face.

Minho pushes the car door open for you, his expression still skeptical. “We’re leaving tonight,” you announce as you step out. “At midnight.”

Minho shakes his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you disappear into the building.

-

The afternoon feels like it’s slipping away too quickly. You plan to catch some rest before heading to the harbor around midnight, but just as you’re about to settle down, the doorbell rings. Frowning, you glance at the guest cam and see your property agent standing there. A flicker of hope rises—maybe he’s bringing good news about the apartment.

You open the door, your polite smile faltering slightly when you notice he isn’t alone. Beside him stands Sara, her expression calm but assessing as she looks past you into the apartment.

“Good afternoon,” the agent says cheerfully. “I thought I’d stop by to introduce someone interested in sharing the apartment.” He gestures to Sara, who steps forward with an elegant nod.

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh, I see. Well, come in.”

The two of them enter, and you close the door behind them, trying to process the situation. Sara doesn’t waste any time, walking through the living room and kitchen, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. Meanwhile, the agent glances at you with a knowing smile.

“She’s very interested,” he says in a low voice, as if this were the best news you’d heard all week.

Sara returns, stopping a few feet away from you and the agent. “I’ll take it,” she declares confidently.

You nod slowly, her decisiveness catching you off guard again. “Alright, then.”

She crosses her arms and adds with a small smirk, “It’s more convenient sharing with someone I already know.”

You force a smile at that, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “That makes sense.”

Sara tilts her head, her gaze steady on yours. “Would it be alright if I move in tomorrow?”

“Even better,” you reply with as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

As the agent beams at how smoothly this is going, you feel a sinking sensation settle in your stomach. Once Sara leaves, the reality of the situation becomes clear.

Sharing an apartment with Sara might be manageable on its own, but the thought of Minho finding out she’s now living on the same floor as him sends alarm bells ringing in your mind. You don’t even want to think about what could happen if they run into each other.

And worse, you’re now stuck in the middle of it all.

-

Minho taps his fingers against the steering wheel, the faint rhythm of his impatience echoing in the quiet of his car. It’s been over ten minutes since the agreed-upon midnight meeting, and there’s still no sign of you. With a frustrated sigh, he picks up his phone and dials your number.

The phone rings once, twice, then he sees you sprinting down the street toward his car. He immediately hangs up, watching as you approach, your hurried steps matching the apologetic look on your face.

You slide into the passenger seat, breathless. “I’m so sorry. I fell asleep and—”

Minho raises a hand, cutting you off. “Save it. Let’s just go.”

But as you buckle your seatbelt, Minho notices something off. Your expression isn’t just apologetic—it’s troubled, like you’re carrying the weight of something you don’t want to share. For a moment, he debates calling you out on it but decides against it.

“Where are we going?” he asks instead, breaking the silence.

Without a word, you pull up the address on your phone and input it into the GPS. Minho glances at the screen, then back at you, eyebrows raised. “Hey! Don’t fall asleep on me.”

“I won’t,” you promise, your voice firmer than he expects.

The car rolls to a stop at the harbor after two hours of drive, its headlights cutting through the misty pre-dawn darkness. Minho turns off the engine and glances over at you, only to find you fast asleep in the passenger seat. Your head leans slightly against the window, your lower lip jutting out in a slight pout, and your brows knit together as if something is bothering you even in your dreams.

Minho rolls his eyes but can’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. “So much for not falling asleep,” he mutters under his breath.

He sighs, exasperated, but he doesn’t have it in him to wake you. Instead, he sits back, letting his gaze linger on your peaceful face. For someone who could be so frustrating, you looked oddly…endearing like this. A small, unbidden smile tugs at the corners of his lips, but it vanishes the moment your eyes flutter open.

Caught off guard, Minho immediately looks away, pretending he hadn’t just spent the past few moments watching you sleep.

“Are we here?” you ask, your voice thick with sleep.

Minho’s response is immediate, his tone sharp to mask his embarrassment. “What did I tell you about not falling asleep on me?”

You rub your eyes and stifle a yawn, offering him a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I’ll treat you to coffee, okay? My treat.”

He grumbles but doesn’t protest, and the two of you end up at a small open food stall by the harbor, huddling against the chilly sea breeze with steaming cups of coffee in your hands. The dawn light begins to creep over the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and orange.

Minho takes a sip of his coffee and grimaces. “Seriously? This is what you call a treat? It’s cheap, and it tastes like burnt beans.”

You laugh softly. “I’ll buy you a better one later, promise.”

Without thinking, you scoot closer to him, seeking warmth against the brisk air. Minho stiffens slightly and shrugs his shoulder, half-heartedly pushing you away.

“Why do you like me so much?” he asks, his tone laced with mock annoyance.

Instead of answering, you cling to his side, resting your head against his shoulder. “And why do you hate me so much, Chef?” you counter, looking up at him with playful defiance.

Minho blinks, taken aback, before responding quickly. “When did I ever say I hated you?”

You grin and lean in close to pester him. “So that means... you like me?”

He scoffs, feigning nonchalance. “Just drink your coffee!”

Your grin widens, and you cling even tighter to his side, the warmth of your smile radiating in the chill air. Minho glances at you from the corner of his eye, watching the way your eyes shine and how content you look pressed against him. For a moment, he lets himself smile, but when he realizes it, he quickly hides it behind his coffee cup.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, watching as the sun rises over the horizon, its golden light reflecting on the gentle waves. Despite himself, Minho feels a warmth spreading in his chest, one that has nothing to do with the coffee or your proximity. It’s a moment he doesn’t quite understand yet, but it’s one he knows he won’t forget.

-

The harbor comes alive as ships return from the sea, their decks brimming with the morning’s catch. You stand by, watching Minho as he inspects the filefish, his sharp eyes scanning each one carefully. He negotiates with the fisherman, his tone calm yet firm, discussing the price for a box of the freshest catch.

For the first time in a long while, you see him not as the stern head chef you work with, but as the Minho you knew back in school. There’s a quiet confidence about him, a passion that flickers beneath the surface as he handles the fish with precision and care.

Once the transaction is complete and the box of filefish is secured, you suggest grabbing breakfast before heading back. Minho agrees—but only if you treat him.

You groan, shaking your head and putting on a pitiful look at him. “I just spent most of my money on those fish.”

Minho stops in his tracks and turns to you, giving you that look—the one he wears right before he’s about to scold you. You brace yourself, ready for his biting words, but instead, he asks, “How much money do you have left?”

You blink, surprised by the question, and quickly count the small bills in your pocket. After telling him the amount, he nods decisively. “Go buy some rice and sesame oil with it.”

Without questioning him, you hurry off and return shortly after, only to find Minho by the fisherman’s boat, expertly filleting a fish. His knife glides effortlessly through the flesh, each movement fluid and precise. For a moment, you’re mesmerized by the display of skill, and you can’t help but tease him.

“There’s nothing sexier than a man who knows how to use a knife,” you say with a grin.

Minho scoffs, his lips twitching in what could almost be a smile, he's about to shove the first slice of fish into his mouth but noticing the pitiful look on your face, he refrains and feeds it into your mouth. The taste is incredible—fresh, light, and briny, the fish melts the moment it touches your tongue.

“This is amazing,” you gush, savoring the flavor. You pick up another slice and hold it out to him. “Here, try it.”

He eyes the piece in your hand and glares at you. “I have hands. I can feed myself.”

Unbothered, you shrug and pop it into your mouth instead, grinning at the flavorful taste of fresh fish in your mouth. Meanwhile, Minho mixes the fish slices with the rice, adding a dollop of red chili paste and a drizzle of sesame oil. He stirs it all together with practiced ease before handing you a portion.

“Here. Your breakfast,” he says, his tone casual but expectant.

You take a bite, and your eyes widen. The dish is unbelievably good—simple yet bursting with flavor. “This is… exceptional. How is something so basic this good?”

Minho smirks, clearly pleased with your reaction but says nothing, turning his attention back to the fish.

As you finish the rice, you’re about to toss the fish bones and scraps into the trash, but Minho stops you. “What are you doing? Those aren’t trash.”

He grills the remaining pieces over a small fire, the aroma wafting through the crisp morning air. Together, the two of you sit by the water, sharing the grilled fish while the warm sun rises over the horizon. The view of the sea, paired with the comforting meal, makes everything feel oddly perfect.

Minho leans back, crossing his arms with a smug expression. “There. I just served you a full-course meal.”

You chuckle, nudging his arm. “Thank you, Chef. That was honestly amazing.”

Minho doesn’t respond, but there’s a softness in his gaze that wasn’t there before. Deep down, as you sit together, you can’t help but feel a quiet contentment—like, for this moment, everything is exactly as it should be.

-

The car hums softly as Minho drives, the early morning sun casting a warm glow over the horizon. You lean back against the seat, feeling the calm after the morning at the harbor. Your phone suddenly buzzes, the screen lighting up with an unknown number. You hesitate but decide to answer it, just in case it’s important.

“Hello?” you say cautiously.

“Hey,” Chris’s familiar voice immediately puts you at ease. “Just checking in to see how things are going with the preparations for the new menu.”

You smirk, unable to resist teasing. “Oh, everything’s going great. I’m actually at the seaside, having fun.”

Chris laughs, though there’s a knowing edge to it. “You’re not fooling me. Let me guess—you’re out there to get fresh ingredients for the new menu?”

“You’re to blame for this. You’re the one who set the budget for the ingredients so low.” You admit with a chuckle.

Chris laughs again, the sound warm and light. “Fair enough. Did you go by yourself?”

You hesitate, your gaze shifting to Minho, who keeps his eyes on the road. After a brief pause, you answer, “No. Chef came with me.”

There’s a brief silence on the other end before Chris replies, his tone neutral but slightly amused. “Convenient. I was just about to call him to come to the restaurant anyway.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “Anything important?”

Chris brushes it off. “Nothing urgent. Just let him know. Drive safe, alright?”

“Will do,” you reply, and the line goes dead.

You lower your phone, glancing at Minho. “Chris wants to see you at the restaurant.”

Minho glances at you briefly before focusing back on the road. “Why?”

“No idea,” you admit, shrugging.

The car falls into a moment of silence before Minho breaks it. “You seem close with Chris.”

His tone is casual, but there’s an undercurrent of curiosity. You glance at him, surprised by the observation. “Well... We’ve known each other for a while.”

Minho’s expression doesn’t change, but his grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly. It’s clear he has more questions, but he doesn’t voice them.

When you arrive at your apartment building, Minho pulls up to the curb and puts the car in park. He turns to you, gesturing toward the box of fish in the backseat. “Take the fish with you. Don’t put it in the freezer. Keep it in the icebox.”

You nod, opening the door and reaching for the box. “Got it.”

Per Minho’s instruction, you carry the icebox into the building, your arms straining slightly under the weight. The elevator ride is uneventful, but your mind buzzes with thoughts of the morning at the harbor and Chris's phone call. When you step into your apartment, you’re startled to see boxes and bags scattered around the living room.

Sara looks up from where she’s unpacking a box by the couch, her expression turning sheepish. “Oh, you’re back! I’m so sorry about the mess. I know I said I’d move in tomorrow, but the movers came early, and I didn’t want to miss the chance…”

You wave her off, smiling. “It’s fine, really. Don’t worry about it.”

Sara visibly relaxes and glances at the icebox in your hands. “What’s that? Where have you been?”

“To the harbor,” you reply, setting the box down on the kitchen counter. “Had to get fresh ingredients for the new menu.”

Curiosity sparks in her eyes as she walks over. “Can I see?”

You flip open the lid of the icebox, revealing an array of freshly caught filefish. Sara gasps, leaning in to inspect the contents. “Wow, that’s a lot of fish! Are all of these yours?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Not just mine. Some of them are chef’s.”

At that, Sara’s gaze snaps to you, surprise flashing across her face. “You went to the harbor with Minho?”

“Yeah,” you say casually, closing the lid. “It was for the new menu, so we had to split the cost.”

Sara raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Interesting.”

You roll your eyes at her expression but decide to let it slide. Before you can say anything else, Sara places a hand on your shoulder. “You should get some rest. You must be exhausted after the trip.”

You sigh, realizing how heavy your limbs feel now that she’s mentioned it. “Yeah, I think I’ll do that.”

“Good,” Sara says with a smile. “I’ll finish unpacking quietly, don’t worry.”

You nod and head toward your room, leaving the icebox on the counter for later. As you close the door behind you, the events of the day replay in your mind, making it hard to decide what to focus on—Chris’s call, the morning at the harbor, or now that you've officially in between Sara and Minho, literally and figuratively.

-

Minho strides into the restaurant, his expression set in a familiar scowl. It’s quiet this early in the day, with no staff bustling like usual. He heads toward the coffee station and finds Chris already there, calmly preparing a cup of coffee.

“You’re here,” Chris greets, glancing at Minho as he places a cup under the espresso machine. “Sit down. I’ll make you a coffee, chef.”

Minho hesitates but eventually drops into the chair across from Chris, his arms crossed. He watches as Chris works efficiently, his movements smooth and unhurried. The quiet confidence in Chris’s demeanor rubs Minho the wrong way, frustrating him further.

Minho’s fingers tap against the table, breaking the silence. “I’ll be honest—I wouldn’t have taken this job if you were the one who offered it to me.”

Chris smirks faintly as he places a steaming cup of coffee in front of Minho. He them takes the opposite seat, his expression unchanging. “That’s funny because I wouldn’t have offered it to you.”

Minho blinks, slightly taken aback. “Huh?”

Chris leans back, resting his elbows on the chair's armrests. “You’re talented, no doubt. But I knew you’d be... difficult. Still, we’re here now, working together, so let’s just do our best.”

Chris offers his hand, a gesture of truce. Minho eyes it warily before finally grasping it for a firm shake. “Fine. But don’t think this means we’re friends.”

Chris chuckles lightly and pulls his hand back. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Chris shifts the conversation. “How was the harbor trip? Did you get the ingredients you needed?”

Minho nods, the memory of the fresh fish he brought back crossing his mind. “I did. The quality is excellent. I’m confident about the competition.”

Chris raises a brow, impressed. “Since you have good ingredients and confidence, you are exempt from the contest. Tomorrow, there's a charity dinner at W hotel. We've been invited to participate.”

Minho tilts his head and narrows his eyes at him. “Whether it is to compete or work or cook, you're telling that I have to follow your orders without complaints?”

Chris puts on a faint smile and takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. “I know it's a charity dinner but all the participating chefs are from 5-star hotels and the winner is decided by who sold the most plates. This is a competition on who has the most confidence that they made the best dish which also makes it a good opportunity to boost Farfalle’s reputation.”

Minho leans back, considering it. He knows the importance of publicity for the restaurant, but the idea of being pushed into the spotlight annoys him. Still, he nods. “For the sake of the restaurant, I’ll do it.”

Chris smiles approvingly. “Glad to hear it.”

Minho starts to rise, thinking the conversation is over, but Chris stops him. “One more thing.”

“What now?” Minho asks, irritation creeping into his voice.

“Chef Sara wants to compete with her version of the new menu,” Chris says casually, as though it’s no big deal.

Minho groans, leaning forward. “Why? The kitchen doesn’t need unnecessary competition.”

Chris shrugs. “You’re confident in your cooking, right? Then you shouldn’t be worried about it.”

Minho narrows his eyes. He finally sees Chris’s management style clearly—it’s about pushing boundaries, challenging people, and doing whatever he thinks will benefit the restaurant, no matter how it ruffles feathers.

“You’re something else,” Minho mutters as he stands. He gives him a long look before turning toward the door. “Do whatever you want. It’s your restaurant after all.”

Minho was having a great day until he met Chris but his day takes another downturn when he spots Sara walking towards her car. It takes a second for her to notice him back, her face lighting up with a smile that only irritates him further.

“Minho,” she greets cheerfully. “I’m looking forward to seeing your new dish tomorrow.”

Minho halts in his tracks, crossing his arms as he levels her with a sharp gaze. “Don’t get your hopes up. You’re no match for me.”

Sara’s smile doesn’t falter, her confidence unwavering. “We’ll see about that. I’ve been waiting a long time to cook with you again.”

He scoffs, narrowing his eyes at her. “You haven’t changed a bit. You still think cooking is all about competition.”

Sara tilts her head, an air of calm defiance surrounding her. “Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t. You’ll see soon enough.”

She turns to leave, but Minho isn’t finished. A realization strikes him, and he pivots on his heel, his voice cutting through the quiet. “It won’t be as easy as you think. You’ll have to beat her first.”

Sara stops, glancing over her shoulder with a raised brow. “Her? Who?”

“You know exactly who I mean,” Minho says, his voice laced with confidence. “If you think you can win against her, go ahead and try.”

Sara chuckles softly, shaking her head. “Are you saying that I'll be losing to a junior cook? Don’t make me laugh, Minho.”

Minho steps closer, a devilish smirk playing on his lips as he says, “Cooking is unpredictable. That’s what makes it fun, don't you think?”

Her expression stiffens for a moment, but she quickly regains her composure. “You’d better prepare for tomorrow. I won’t hold back.”

Minho’s smirk deepens as he leans in slightly. “I can’t wait to see your face when you lose to her.”

Without another word, he turns and strides toward the elevator, leaving Sara standing by her car, her calm exterior showing a faint crack.

As Minho steps into the elevator, a renewed determination fuels him. He’s not about to let Sara’s arrogance go unchallenged. If she underestimates you, she’ll regret it.

The elevator dings, signaling his arrival at his floor. He wastes no time heading straight to your apartment, his steps quick and purposeful. He presses the doorbell, and when you open the door, slightly confused by his sudden appearance, he doesn’t waste a second.

“Grab the ice box,” he orders firmly.

You blink at him, taken aback. “What? Why?”

“No time for questions,” he says, already turning on his heel. “Bring it and follow me.”

Reluctantly, you do as he says, hauling the ice box and trailing after him down the hallway. He leads you to his apartment, opening the door and gesturing for you to step inside.

“What’s going on?” you ask, still confused.

Minho’s eyes glint with determination as he shuts the door behind you. “We’re working on your recipe. You’re going to win tomorrow.”

-

Stepping into Minho’s apartment for the first time, you’re momentarily distracted by its minimalistic design and subtle charm. But before you can properly take it in, Minho pulls you toward the kitchen, his grip firm on your wrist.

“Put the ice box there,” he commands, gesturing toward the counter.

You do as he says, placing it down gently. Turning to face him, you wait for whatever instructions he’s about to give. Minho stands across from you, his expression unreadable as his sharp eyes study you in silence.

“What?” you ask nervously, breaking the stillness.

He finally speaks, his voice as cold as his gaze. “You need to have the determination to beat me.”

You blink, confused, and let out a nervous chuckle. “Beat you? That’s impossible.”

His face doesn’t change. The coldness remains, and your chuckle falters. “Wait... you’re serious?”

“Yes,” Minho replies flatly. “How can you even hope to compete if you don’t believe you can win?”

“But it’s you,” you mumble, still baffled. “How can I beat you?”

He interrupts, taking a step closer. The gap between you shrinks, and your breath catches as his piercing gaze locks onto yours. “How do you plan to be a chef without a competitive spirit?”

The intensity of his question and proximity make you look down, overwhelmed. Before you can respond, you feel his hands grip your shoulders, firm and commanding. His voice rises, filled with frustration and urgency.

“I can do it. Posso farcela!” he shouts, his eyes blazing with an almost contagious fire.

You blink at him, unsure of what he’s trying to do. “What does that even—”

“Say it,” Minho insists, shaking your shoulders slightly. “Everyone has their shining moment. Even you. But only if you believe it. Posso farcela!”

Without waiting for your consent, he leans in until his forehead presses firmly against yours. The sudden closeness sends a shiver through you, and your heart races. With Minho, you can’t really tell if you should be scared or excited by the proximity. His voice softens but remains commanding. “Say it.”

Hesitating, you whisper, “Posso farcela.”

“Louder!” he demands, his grip tightening.

“Posso farcela!” you shout at the top of your lungs.

Finally, Minho steps back, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He releases your shoulders and nods. You’re still catching your breath when he turns to the counter, pulling out ingredients and utensils. “You’re staying here tonight,” he announces matter-of-factly.

“Wait, what?”

“You heard me,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re practicing all night. Don’t even think about going home.”

A chill runs down your spine—not just from his words, but from the realization that you’ll be cooking with him all night. Somehow, this is far from how you ever imagined spending the night at his apartment.

-

The warm lights of Minho’s kitchen illuminate the room as the two of you work side by side. You’re focused on molding the fish mixture into small, round balls, while Minho is pan-searing fish liver with precision. The sizzle of the pan fills the silence between you, and the savory aroma teases your senses.

Every now and then, you find yourself glancing at Minho. There’s something hypnotic about the way he moves—the effortless way he tilts the pan without spilling, the fluidity of his knife work, the sharp focus in his gaze as he perfects every detail. Even in casual clothing, Minho radiates charisma. His dark sweater hugs his frame, accentuating his broad shoulders, while his rolled-up sleeves reveal veined forearms that flex with every movement.

Your admiration is cut short as Minho suddenly turns toward you, his sharp eyes locking onto your work. Without a word, he strides over and pokes one of your molded fishballs with his finger. It crumbles immediately.

His glare pierces you. “It’s too crumbly,” he states coldly. “Do it again.”

You nod meekly, murmuring, “Yes, Chef,” and begin adjusting the mixture.

Moments later, he scolds you again. “Why are these so small? They’ll fall apart when you fry them. Do it again.”

You gulp and obey, reforming the fishballs to a larger size.

It doesn’t take long before you’re on the receiving end of another critique. “You’re frying them wrong,” Minho snaps, stepping in to demonstrate. He moves with efficiency, ensuring the fishballs are evenly browned and perfectly cooked. Watching him, you can’t help but feel inadequate but also in awe of his skill.

Finally, the first batch is done, and you nervously wait as Minho takes a bite. Your stomach sinks as he spits it out into the sink almost immediately.

“This is terrible,” he says bluntly, glaring at you. “Too much egg and breadcrumbs. I can’t even tell if it’s made from fish or chicken.” His tone sharpens.

“What was the point of driving all the way to the seaside if this is what you’re going to make? Do it again.”

You nod quickly, muttering another shaky “Yes, Chef,” and get back to work.

After a couple more failed attempts, you finally feel a sliver of hope. You’ve followed every piece of advice Minho has given, and this batch feels like your best yet. But the hope is short-lived as Minho spits it out once more, his glare now blazing.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he barks, holding up a small piece of fishbone he found in his bite. “You left a bone in it!”

You freeze, guilt and embarrassment washing over you.

“What are you standing there for?” he snaps, crossing his arms. “Get back to the kitchen and do it again.”

Minho leaves the kitchen, your eyes following him taking his coat and puts it on. He turns to you as he informs,

“I’m going out, and when I get back, I expect you to have this perfected.”

With that, Minho storms out, leaving the apartment in silence. You let out a long, shaky breath the moment the door closes. Setting down your utensils, you wander into the living room and collapse onto the sofa, burying your face in your hands. Exhaustion weighs on you like a heavy blanket, and frustration simmers beneath the surface.

The silence in Minho’s apartment is deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the refrigerator. Exhausted and at your wit's end, you pull your phone from your pocket and stare at the screen, debating whether to make the call. It’s ridiculously early, but if there’s anyone who can help you, it’s your dad. After all, he’s been running his bakery for as long as you can remember, and you know he’s probably already in the kitchen preparing the first batch of bread.

You dial his number, pacing anxiously as the phone rings.

“Hello?” your father answers, his voice slightly groggy but steady.

“Dad,” you say in a rush, “I regret going to culinary school. This was the worst decision I ever made.”

There’s a pause before your father sighs heavily. “I told you this would happen. Cooking isn’t just some romantic idea—you need grit and perseverance, and clearly, you don’t have enough of either.”

His words sting, but you expected nothing less.

“Why are you calling me so early, huh? Shouldn’t you be sleeping off your regrets?”

You groan, leaning against the counter. “I need help. I’m working on this recipe, and I can’t get the chewy texture I need for fishballs. I’ve tried everything, but nothing works!”

Your father grumbles something under his breath before asking, “Alright, what are you putting in the mixture?”

You quickly list off the ingredients, your voice rapid and desperate.

“Are you using potato starch?” he interrupts.

“Yes,” you reply, blinking.

“Check it,” he orders. “Make sure it’s 100 percent potato starch.”

His words give you pause, and you dash to the kitchen, grabbing the package of potato starch from the counter. You scan the label, your stomach sinking as you read: 92 percent potato starch.

“Dad,” you say, your voice small, “it’s only 92 percent.”

“Unbelievable!” your father exclaims. “How do you expect to get the texture you want if it’s not 100 percent? You’re sabotaging yourself! Go and get proper potato starch!”

“But—”

“No buts! You’re wasting your time otherwise. Fix it.” His tone leaves no room for argument.

“Thanks, Dad,” you mutter before hanging up. You stare at the package in your hand, a newfound determination building in your chest. You don’t know when Minho will be back, but you’re certain of one thing: you’re going to perfect this recipe before he walks through that door.

You take a deep breath, head back to the kitchen, and prepare to start over—this time with the right approach.

-

The sun is beginning to rise, casting a soft glow over the city as you step out of Minho’s apartment. The cool morning air brushes against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the kitchen where you’ve spent the entire night. You’ve left your dish on his dining table, hoping it meets his impossible standards, and now you’re longing for a moment of peace.

When you arrive at your own apartment, you’re met with the sight of chaos in the kitchen—ingredients scattered, utensils abandoned mid-use, and remnants of Sara’s late-night preparations everywhere.

Your eyes move to the couch, where Sara is curled up, her head resting on her arm. The sound of your footsteps stirs her awake, and she looks at you groggily.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” you say, feeling a bit guilty.

Sara stretches and shakes her head, offering a small smile. “It’s okay. I was about to get up anyway.”

Feeling a pang of sympathy, you ask, “Would you like some coffee? I could use a cup myself.”

Her smile widens, and she nods. “That would be nice.”

A few minutes later, the two of you sit together in the living room, cradling mugs of freshly brewed coffee. The morning is quiet, save for the faint hum of the city waking up outside.

You glance toward the kitchen, breaking the silence. “You must’ve been busy prepping for your TV program.”

Sara doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she takes a sip of her coffee and then looks at you with a faintly amused expression. “Were you at Minho’s place all night?”

Her question catches you off guard, and you pause mid-sip. You're aware that Sara knows more than she lets on. You sigh, nodding in acknowledgment.

“Have you tried his new dish?”

You shake your head. “Hardly.”

“He's like that. He won't let anyone taste it until it's perfect.” Sara softly smiles as she says it as if she's reminiscing something.

“Must've been fun though,” she adds with genuine envy in her eyes.

You scoff at that and cradle your cup of coffee in both hands. “Fun? I got scolded all night.”

Sara chuckles softly, her gaze distant. “Still, cooking with someone else is always less tiring. And it's more fun.”

You shake the thought away, deciding it’s not your place to dig deeper into their shared history. Draining the last of your coffee, you stand and offer her a small smile. “I should get some rest before the contest. Good luck with your cooking today.”

Her words hang in the air, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s more meaning behind them. Does she miss cooking with Minho?

She looks up at you, her smile soft. “You too.”

-

The familiar sounds of clattering pans and bubbling pots fill the air as you step into the bustling kitchen. For the first time in a while, you feel an odd sense of comfort here—like you’ve missed this chaos, missed the kitchen itself. Looking around, it’s clear that everyone else feels the same. The team looks rejuvenated from their break, their energy palpable as they chatter excitedly about the upcoming contest.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Felix bounding into the room, his face glowing with excitement. His freckles seem brighter than usual, standing out against his sun-kissed skin.

“Someone’s been having fun,” you tease, smiling as he joins you at your station. “Where’d you go?”

Felix grins, his boyish charm making it impossible not to smile back. “Oh, just somewhere fun,” he replies cryptically, his eyes twinkling.

You roll your eyes but let it slide. “Are you ready for the contest?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a confident nod, and you hold out your fist. He meets it with a firm bump, a gesture of mutual encouragement.

The room falls quiet as Chris enters, his demeanor as calm and collected as ever, his enigmatic smile adding an edge to his presence. “Alright, everyone,” he announces, his voice cutting through the silence. “You may begin cooking your new menu items. Good luck.”

You glance around the kitchen as everyone springs into action, but one thing—or rather, one person—is missing. Minho.

“Where’s Chef?” you ask Felix, lowering your voice so as not to draw attention.

Felix shrugs, his expression unbothered. “Probably using the other kitchen. It’s pretty packed in here.”

His explanation makes sense, but a small pang of unease lingers. You shake it off and refocus on your task. You’ve come too far and worked too hard to let anything distract you now.

As you begin preparing your dish, the words Minho drilled into you all night echo in your mind: “Posso farcela!”

You whisper the phrase to yourself, almost as a mantra, channeling it into every movement. Confidence surges through you as you remind yourself why you’re here—to create something incredible and to prove, most of all to yourself, that you can do this.

-

The dining hall buzzes with energy as chefs carry their meticulously prepared dishes to the tables for judging. You’re no different, your dish carefully balanced in your hands, though a nagging thought occupies your mind: Where is Minho?

You’re not the only one wondering. Whispered speculations ripple through the room, the tension thick in the air. The door opens, and your heart leaps with hope, expecting Minho to stride in after Chris. Instead, your breath catches in your throat.

It’s not Minho. It’s Chef Sara.

Her poised figure glides into the room, her sharp gaze scanning the crowd before briefly landing on you. You offer her a hurried, polite smile, masking your shock and the storm of questions swirling in your mind. Why is she here?

She doesn’t need this contest. She’s already at the pinnacle of her career—a celebrated chef with a regular TV program, several bestselling cookbooks, and fame most chefs only dream of. So why?

The answer flickers at the edges of your mind, but you refuse to acknowledge it. Chris claps his hands, pulling everyone’s attention to the front. His calm, commanding presence stills the murmurs in the room.

“I have something to inform you before we begin,” he begins, his voice steady, “unfortunately, Chef Lee will not be joining us today due to special circumstances.”

You blink, the news hitting harder than you expect. Your stomach sinks as you try to imagine what could have kept Minho away.

“But,” Chris continues smoothly, “Chef Sara will be stepping in to compete instead.”

A ripple of surprise sweeps through the room. You’re no exception, your mind reeling as you watch Sara move to her station with a confidence that makes her presence feel larger than life.

Chris doesn’t leave room for more speculation. “Let me explain how the contest will proceed.”

He goes on to detail the rules. The first round involves the service staff tasting and voting for the three best dishes to move on. In the second round, fifty selected guests of Farfalle will taste the top three dishes and vote for the winner.

“The winning dish,” Chris says, his enigmatic smile returning, “will become the new main menu of Farfalle. The winning chef will not only oversee this dish in the kitchen but will also earn incentives from its sales.”

That last part immediately ignites a spark in the room. Chefs exchange glances, excitement crackling at the mention of money. You can’t help but smile, impressed by Chris’s ability to up the stakes and turn the contest into something electrifying.

Chris scans the room, his gaze settling briefly on you before moving on. “Good luck,” he says simply.

And with that, the contest begins.

-

The second round feels surreal. Though you expected to make it this far, the reality of going up against Chef Sara and Sous Chef Seojun feels daunting. You’re torn between pride and the sinking pressure of the competition.

From the second floor of the dining hall, you lean against the railing, watching as the selected guests taste the dishes below. Your nerves flutter, every movement of the tasters amplified in your mind.

Lost in thought, you barely notice Sara standing beside you until she speaks.

“You must’ve been surprised to see me here,” she says softly, her tone almost apologetic.

You glance at her, offering a polite smile. “Just a little.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she explains, her gaze sincere.

You shake your head. “I’m not uncomfortable at all. Honestly… I’m no match for you anyway.”

Sara chuckles, but her expression turns serious. “You’d be surprised. I’m actually nervous because of you.”

Her words catch you off guard, and you laugh, assuming she’s trying to lift your spirits. “Sure, Chef. Nice try.”

“I’m serious,” she insists, her eyes unwavering.

Your smile falters slightly, a flicker of gratitude warming your chest. “I’m just glad I made it to the second round,” you admit, brushing off her words even as they linger in your mind.

Sara gives you an encouraging nod before stepping away. As you head back toward the kitchen, your phone buzzes. You fish it out of your pocket, your heart skipping a beat when you see Minho’s name.

“Posso farcela!”

A second message follows almost immediately.

“I’ll be there soon. Posso farcela!”

A smile tugs at your lips before you realize Chris is nearby, watching you with an amused expression. You quickly shove your phone back into your pocket, your cheeks warming under his gaze.

“What’s with that look?” Chris teases.

“Nothing!” you protest, flustered.

Chris smirks, his sharp pinstripe suit somehow making him look even more teasingly intimidating. The tailored fit accentuates his broad shoulders and lean frame, making it hard not to admire him. But nothing is as charming as his dimpled smile as he aims it towards you.

“Looking sharp,” you comment, trying to deflect.

He raises an eyebrow as he pulls a hand out of his slacks pocket. “Complimenting me won’t help you win.”

You chuckle and start walking toward the kitchen. “But it’s worth a shot.”

Chris steps closer, his tone light but curious. “Do you think you’ll win?”

“I have to be confident,” you reply with a shrug. “Besides, I’ve got nothing to lose.”

He nudges your shoulder playfully. “Well, if you do win, you owe me dinner.”

The warmth of his words makes your chest tighten in a good way. He actually has faith in you and he makes it sounds possible for you to win the contest.

“Deal,” you say, smiling.

He stops on his track and grabs your shoulder. Swiftly, he turns your body to the side, making you face him. He leans closer, his brown eyes softly gazing into your eyes. “Don't tell anyone but I'm rooting for you.” He whispers, not wanting everyone else to hear that he's biased.

You smile in genuine gratitude. “Thanks, Chris.”

As Chris walks away, you take a deep breath, feeling a renewed sense of determination. With encouragement from both Minho and Chris, you can’t afford to let your nerves get the better of you now.

-

Anticipation filled the dining hall as everyone gathers one last time for the night. The air is electric with nervous excitement, and you feel the weight of the moment settling in your chest. You tell yourself not to get your hopes up, but the thought of impressing Minho lingers, making your heart race.

Chris steps into the room, his confident stride and easy smile drawing everyone's attention. "Thank you all for your hard work on this new menu," he begins, his tone warm and genuine.

Without much preamble, he announces, "The two popular dishes from tonight are… the fishball pasta and Chef Sara’s triple-flavored pasta."

Your breath catches, a small spark of hope igniting within you. As expected, you made it this far. Maybe Minho’s mantra really did work wonders. You glance at Sous Chef Seojun, who wears a strained expression. Noticing his disappointment, you gently pat his shoulder and offer him an encouraging smile.

The room quiets as the door opens, and Minho strides in, his presence commanding instant attention. He surveys the room briefly before focusing on Chris, who grins and announces, "Chef Lee will be our tiebreaker tonight. I believe he’s the most unbiased person for the job."

Minho raises an eyebrow but nods, accepting the role without complaint. He takes his seat at the head of the table, signaling you and Chef Sara to bring your dishes forward.

You carefully place your plate in front of him, trying to keep your hands steady. Chef Sara does the same, her usual poise shining through. Stepping back, you wait as Minho begins tasting the dishes.

You can’t stop yourself from nervously playing with the edge of your apron as Minho takes a deliberate bite of your pasta. His expression is unreadable, his focus entirely on the food. He moves on to Chef Sara’s pasta, taking his time with each bite.

Finally, Minho sets his fork down and rises from his seat, commanding the room’s attention. He looks at you first, his gaze steady and thoughtful.

He calls your name first, his tone softer than usual. "You’ve done a good job."

A smile creeps onto your face, unbidden but genuine. Coming from Minho, that acknowledgment feels like a win in itself.

"You managed to maintain the sweetness and softness of the fish very well," he continues, his voice measured. "I noticed you used the least amount of eggs and breadcrumbs in your batter, which is commendable. It shows skill."

You bask in his words for a brief moment before he shifts his focus to Chef Sara.

"Chef Sara," Minho begins, his tone shifting to one of professional admiration. "Your dish is intriguing—a ravioli with a mysterious filling and a combination of two sauces that could have been disastrous. But you balanced it beautifully. I’m genuinely impressed."

Chef Sara beams at his praise, thanking him warmly.

Minho pauses, his gaze sweeping the room. "Cooking," he says, "is more than just technique. It’s dynamic. It should seduce whoever is holding the fork and knife."

He turns back to you, his expression gentle but firm. "Your dish is good, but it lacks that seduction. It doesn’t quite pull the diner in the way it should."

Your smile falters ever so slightly, the sting of his words hitting harder than you expected.

Chris breaks the momentary silence by asking, "So, does that mean Chef Sara wins?"

Minho nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yes. The winner is Chef Sara."

The room erupts in applause as Chef Sara steps forward, her confidence radiating as she graciously accepts the title. You force a smile, clapping along with the others.

"Congratulations," you manage to say to her, your voice steady despite the pang of disappointment in your chest.

Sara thanks you with a warm smile, her sincerity softening the moment. As the night winds down, you remind yourself that second place is still an accomplishment. But deep down, you can’t shake the lingering ache of wanting more—not just for yourself, but to make Minho proud.

-

Minho sits in Chris’s office, his arms crossed as he waits with thinly veiled impatience. He checks the clock on the wall, nearly rolling his eyes as the door finally swings open. Chris enters first, his usual air of ease intact, followed closely by Chef Sara.

Sara takes the chair across from Minho without hesitation, her posture relaxed but alert. Chris leans casually against his desk, his eyes flicking between the two.

“Well,” Chris begins, clapping his hands together, “since Chef Lee chose the Triple-flavored Pasta, I thought it’d be a good idea for the two of you to discuss the details—preparation, launch timeline, all that fun stuff. Once you’ve reached a decision, let me know.”

Minho barely acknowledges Chris’s words, instead leveling him with a pointed look. “Can we have some privacy?”

Chris raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. “Sure,” he says simply, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. “Play nice.” He closes the door behind him, leaving the room weighted with tension.

Minho leans back slightly, his gaze cold and calculating as it settles on Sara. “Congratulations,” he says, the chill in his tone making it sound more like an obligation than genuine praise. “Now, let’s get straight to the point. I’ll need your recipe for the kitchen.”

Sara doesn’t flinch under his scrutiny. “No,” she says flatly.

Minho’s eyes narrow. “No?”

“That’s right,” she replies, her tone calm but firm. “I’m not giving my recipe to the kitchen.”

Minho leans forward slightly, the air around him growing sharper. “Are you suggesting you plan to come here and prepare the dish yourself?”

Sara meets his gaze without hesitation. “Why not?” she counters. “I can’t do that?”

A scoff escapes Minho’s lips, followed by a malicious smirk. “You’re delusional if you think I’ll let that happen.”

Sara crosses her arms, unfazed. “It’s my privilege as the contest winner. You knew that when you chose my dish—or did you misunderstand?”

The smirk on Minho’s face falters, replaced by a flicker of irritation. “You have other places you can go,” he says, his tone clipped. “Places you can pick and choose at your leisure. You don’t have to be here.”

Sara smiles, calm and deliberate. “But I like it here.”

Minho’s frustration bubbles over, his voice lowering dangerously. “Let me remind you of one thing: I didn’t choose your dish because you’re welcomed in my kitchen.”

Sara’s smile doesn’t waver. “And let me remind you,” she says, her voice steady and unwavering, “that if you want my recipe, you’ll have to accept me in your kitchen first.”

The room grows silent as their gazes lock, a battle of wills unfolding with neither showing any sign of backing down. The air between them is charged, the tension so thick it feels almost tangible.

It’s a stalemate, and for now, neither of them is willing to yield.

-

You move through the locker room like a machine, your mind distant as your hands go through the motions of changing. Shrugging into your jacket, you’re startled when Felix suddenly appears, leaning casually against the locker beside yours.

His eyes study you, his easygoing demeanor not quite masking his concern. He crosses his arms together then lets out a sigh. “How cheeky of Sara to just waltz in and steal first place like that.”

A small smile tugs at your lips of Felix’s effort to cheer you up, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I didn’t really stand a chance anyway.”

Felix smirks knowingly, leaning closer. “Don’t act like you like her. We both know we don’t like her, and neither does Minho.”

You snap your locker shut, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “If Minho hates her so much, why did he choose her as the winner?”

Felix falters, clearly caught off guard by the question. He opens his mouth as if to reply but stops, unable to come up with an answer.

You smile faintly, brushing past him. “Night, Felix.”

Leaving the locker room, you head toward the restaurant’s exit, your footsteps heavy with exhaustion. Just as you near the door, Chris’s familiar figure comes into view, his signature dimpled smile lighting up his face as he falls into step beside you.

“Where are you taking me for dinner?” he asks, his tone playful.

You blink at him, puzzled. “I didn’t win, remember?”

Chris’s grin widens as if he’s caught you in a trap. “Second place is still a win,” he counters smoothly. “And you promised me dinner, didn’t you?”

You let out a soft laugh, unable to argue against his infallible logic—or his charm. His gaze is warm, his smile unwavering as he looks at you, and for a moment, the disappointment from earlier feels like a distant memory.

“Fine,” you say, relenting with a smile of your own. “But I get to choose where we’re going.”

Chris nods eagerly, his dimples deepening. “Deal.”

Without warning, he gently takes your hand, leading you toward the parking area. His touch is light, but his presence is grounding, and you feel your mood lifting with every step.

Maybe a night out with Chris is exactly what you need to forget the tension of the contest—even if just for a little while.

-

It’s only been a minute but Chris is already struggling. His low groans and muttered complaints don’t go unnoticed as you glance over at him. His forehead glistens with a sheen of sweat, his ears glow red, and his flushed face and neck betray the battle he’s having with the bowl of spicy noodles—the same dish you’re enjoying without much trouble.

Putting down your chopsticks, you frown. “Chris, stop eating it. You’re suffering.”

Despite his clear discomfort, he shakes his head and stubbornly takes another bite. “It’s spicy, but it tastes good,” he says, though his voice is strained.

You sigh, getting up from your chair and heading to the fridge to grab a bottle of cold water. Returning to the table, you uncap it for him and pull the bowl away from his reach.

“Enough,” you insist, placing the water in front of him.

Finally conceding, Chris gulps down the water in relief, though it’s obvious it does little to soothe the fire in his mouth. Between sips, he glares at you. “Why on earth did you choose spicy noodles?”

You chuckle, finding his over-the-top reaction amusing. “You’ll live,” you tease, but his scolding continues.

“This isn’t funny!” he protests, still drinking water. “Do people eat this? Why would you eat this?”

Your laughter bubbles over, the tension of the day dissolving for the first time. Seeing your mirth, Chris glares again, but a small smile threatens to break through his stern expression.

As a way to make up for the "dinner disaster," you grab some milk and ice cream from a nearby store. The two of you sit on a bench outside, sharing the treats. Chris chugs from the carton of milk, sighing in relief as the burn finally starts to fade.

He side-eyes you, mock accusation clear in his tone. “Were you trying to kill me or something?”

Rolling your eyes, you open a pack of ice cream and offer it to him. “Stop being so dramatic.”

Chris takes it with a begrudging smile, the two of you settling into a companionable silence as you enjoy the sweet relief against the chilly late-winter air.

Your phone rings, breaking the moment. Glancing at the screen, you see Minho’s name flashing. Without a second thought, you hit “Reject” and shove the phone back into your pocket.

Chris raises a brow. “Not going to answer that?”

“Not now,” you reply, shrugging. “I’ll call back when I feel better.”

He sense that your mood hasn't changed much but he doesn’t push, instead offering a comforting smile. “You know, second place isn’t bad. You should be proud of yourself.”

It’s not about losing to Sara, though, but what her win represents. Still, you keep that to yourself, simply nodding. “You’re right. I feel good and happy about it.”

Chris grins, leaning in slightly. “You should. I saw everything tonight, and you were incredible. Even if you didn’t win, your cooking? Amazing. Remember what I said the first time I tasted your cooking?”

You laugh, recalling his words. “How could I forget? You said it was better than sex.”

Chris leans closer, his tone teasing. “Tasted it again today. Still better than sex.”

You burst out laughing. “Now I doubt that you ever had sex at all?”

He scoffs, feigning offense. “Excuse me? Not only am I rich, but I’m also attractive and popular.”

You roll your eyes and decide to tease him. “All that, and yet you can’t handle spicy food.”

Chris smirks, throwing an arm around your shoulder and roughly pulling you close. “You’re lucky I like you,” he says, squeezing you gently in mock revenge.

You giggle, squirming slightly in his hold, but his grip softens after a moment. His hand rubs soothingly up and down your arm, and the warmth of his touch is comforting. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you let out a content sigh as he pats your head softly, murmuring, “You did well. You really did.”

For a while, you sit like that, the peaceful night wrapping around the two of you. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot a stall selling fish-shaped breads down the street.

“Fish-shaped breads!” you exclaim, suddenly energized. Before Chris can respond, you’re already sprinting toward the stall, leaving him laughing in your wake.

The drive back is quiet, save for the soft hum of the radio and the occasional sound of Chris drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. You glance at him, noting the content smile on his face, and feel your own mood lift.

As the car comes to a stop in front of your place, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to him. “Thanks for tonight, Chris. I really needed this.”

Chris looks at you, his eyes soft under the dim glow of the streetlights. “Thank you for the most memorable dinner I’ve ever had.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Most memorable, huh? You mean the spicy noodles almost killed you.”

He grins, leaning back in his seat. “Exactly. Unforgettable.”

Reaching for the bag of fish-shaped breads you’ve been holding the entire ride, you hand it to him. “Here, I kept these warm for you. My apology for the spicy noodles fiasco.”

Chris accepts the bag, his smile widening as he peeks inside. “I’ll forgive you—this time.”

The two of you share a quiet laugh before leaning in for a quick hug. His arm wraps securely around your shoulders for a brief moment, the gesture warm and comforting.

Pulling away, you open the door and step out. Before closing it, you lean down to look at him one last time. “Goodnight, Chris.”

His dimpled smile returns as he waves. “Goodnight. Get some rest.”

You shut the door and watch as he drives away, the bag of fish-shaped breads still in his hand. Smiling to yourself, you turn and head inside, the warmth of the night’s memories still lingering.

Until your phone rings and you see that it's Minho calling you again.

-

Minho stares at his phone, the screen mocking him with yet another voicemail. He clenches his jaw, his patience thinning with each unanswered call. Unbelievable, he mutters in his head, tucking the phone back into his pocket. You always pick up but not tonight. Not after everything that happened today.

His frustration only grows as the elevator ascends to your apartment floor. He doesn’t know what he’d say when he sees you—maybe he’d scold you for ignoring him or demand an explanation. Something. Anything to ease the irritation gnawing at him.

When he reaches your door, he rings the bell, shifting impatiently on his feet. It opens after a beat, but instead of you, it's Sara standing there, her expression annoyingly serene.

Minho stiffens. Of course, it has to be her. He knows she lives on the building but didn’t know that she's sharing the apartment with you.

“Is she home?” he asks brusquely, cutting straight to the point.

Sara tilts her head, a smirk playing on her lips. “Not yet,” she replies, as if his irritation amuses her.

Minho turns to leave but stopped midway. He can’t resist. Not with her standing there, acting like she belongs here. Facing her again, he let the words spill out, each one sharper than the last.

“I chose your dish because it’s just like you—greedy. Three sauces in one dish, just like how you want everything. Love. Skill. Fame. You don’t know how to let go of anything, do you?”

To his disbelief, Sara smiles, her eyes sparkling as though he’s just given her a bouquet of compliments. “Thank you,” she says sweetly, her voice saccharine.

His jaw clenched, a scoff escaping his lips as he turns on his heel and walks away.

“Goodnight, Minho,” Sara shouts toward him before getting back into the apartment.

“Ridiculous,” he mutters to himself in disbelief.

As he nears his apartment, something—or rather, someone—catches his eye. There you are, standing a few feet away, watching him. His chest tightens, though he masks it with irritation.

“Where have you been?” he snaps, his voice harsher than intended.

You cross your arms, meeting his glare head-on. “I was out with Chris.”

Chris. The name alone sends a sharp sting of annoyance through him. “What’s going on between you and him?” he demands, stepping closer.

Your brow arches, and instead of answering, you deflect. “What’s going on between you and Sara?”

Minho scoffs, shaking his head. “There’s nothing going on.”

“Really?” you challenge. “Because it looks like you two are still very close.”

He watches as a smile threatens to tug at your lips, though you fight to suppress it. “How much closer?” you tease, your voice light but your eyes searching his.

The audacity. Minho closes the distance between you and him, forcing you back away until you hit the door of his apartment. His voice drops, low and deliberate. “I’m closer to you now than with her.”

Minho is conflicted. A part of him wants to just go ahead, do whatever he wants to do but another part of him, the most stubborn part of him, reminds him to stay put, sticks to the rules. However for a moment, he falters. The walls he’s so carefully built around himself trembles under your gaze. The rules he’s sworn to uphold, the distance he’s vowed to maintain—they all seemed insignificant now.

But he can’t. He shouldn’t.

“Get out of my way,” he says instead, his tone clipped as he steps back.

You pout, moving aside as he unlocks his door. He pushes it open, stepping inside. This is the right choice, he tells himself. The smart choice.

But then he glances back.

The sight of you standing there, the faint disappointment flickering in your eyes—it's enough to unravel him completely. Before he can stop himself, he reaches out, grabbing your hand and pulling you inside.

The door clicks shut, and without hesitation, he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is desperate, unrelenting, all the tension and frustration he’s bottled up pouring out in waves. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as every ounce of restraint dissolved.

Rules be damned. In this moment, you're all that mattered. Tonight, the stubborn part of him loses to his desire.

-

The moment Minho's lips find yours again, everything around you dissolves into nothingness. It's not just the way he kisses you—hungry, fervent, and impossibly deep—but the way his hands grip your waist with unrestrained need. Every movement, every touch, speaks volumes of just how much he’s been holding back.

When he finally pulls back, his chest heaving against yours, you barely have time to gasp for air before he sweeps you up effortlessly. Your arms wrap instinctively around his shoulders, your legs clinging to his hips as he carries you through the apartment. The kitchen counter greets your back, cold against the heat coursing through your body, as he sets you down and steps between your parted legs.

“This close,” He finally answers to your earlier question.

You hold his fiery gaze and breathlessly mutter, “Not close enough.”

The next kiss is even more desperate, more demanding. His hands work with an urgency that mirrors your own. You feel the tug of fabric as he pulls your jacket off and, with a sudden, heated impatience, rips open your shirt. The sound of buttons scattering echoes faintly in the room, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Minho's lips leave yours, dragging hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to send shivers through your entire body. He pauses at your collarbone, his fingers toying with the strap of your bra, his touch both teasing and commanding.

You take your chance, your hands tugging at the hem of his sweater. In one swift motion, you lift it over his head, and the sight of his bare skin—taut, toned, and so undeniably Minho—makes your breath hitch.

Your fingers trace down his chest, feeling every dip and ridge of his muscles as you pull him closer. This time, it’s your turn to explore. You press your lips to his throat, savoring the taste of his skin, warm and slightly salty, mixed with something so distinctly him that it makes your head spin.

His hands slide to your hips, gripping you firmly as his lips return to yours, his kiss relentless. When he pulls away this time, his eyes lock onto yours, dark and filled with something raw, something electric.

He takes hold of your hair, his fingers tangling at the side of your head, and tugs just hard enough to tilt your neck to the side. The sensation makes you gasp, but the sound quickly turns into a quiet moan as his lips find your neck again. He nips at the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing and his tongue soothing in turns.

“Tell me,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “How much closer do you want me to be?”

Your gaze locks onto his, unflinching despite the fire coursing through you. “A lot closer,” you say, your voice steady, daring.

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk. Without another word, he hooks his arms under you, lifting you from the counter like you weigh nothing. Your legs tighten around him, your heart pounding as he carries you toward the bedroom.

Every step heightens your anticipation, your excitement surging as you wonder just how much closer the two of you can possibly get.

-

The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The air feels charged, every sound amplified—the rustle of the sheets, the faint hitch in your breath, the steady rhythm of Minho’s own.

You lie beside him, your naked body sinking into the mattress as his gaze locks onto yours, dark and unwavering. There’s an intensity in his eyes that makes your heart race, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Don’t look away,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. His hand trails up your arm, his touch featherlight, yet it leaves a trail of heat in its wake. “I want to see you.”

What he means by that is seeing every reaction you make as he explores your body. You swallow hard, nodding slightly, though the weight of his stare makes it hard to hold. His fingers trace the curve of your shoulder, sliding down to your collarbone and then lower, brushing against your skin with deliberate slowness.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he says again, his tone softer this time, almost coaxing. His hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his thumb pressing gently into your hip.

Your breathing quickens, your chest rising and falling as his hand continues its path, exploring with a mixture of reverence and possession. His touch is both soothing and electrifying, every movement sending shivers through you.

“That’s it. Stay with me,” he whispers, his lips curving into a small, satisfied smile.

His fingers brush against your jaw, tilting your face slightly, ensuring your eyes remain locked on his. The intimacy of it is almost overwhelming, the closeness between you leaving no room for anything else—no thoughts, no distractions, just him.

As his hand continues its slow, deliberate exploration, he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “I want you to feel everything,” he murmurs, his voice a promise, a command.

And you do. Every touch, every whispered word, every look—it’s all-consuming, a connection that feels deeper than anything you’ve ever known.

Minho’s hand slides down the curve of your waist, his fingers pressing just enough to remind you of his presence, of his control. He leans closer, his lips brushing against your temple, lingering there for a moment before trailing down to your cheek. His kisses are unhurried, deliberate, as if savoring every second.

“Still with me?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a velvet caress.

You nod, your gaze still locked with his, though your breathing comes in shallow, uneven waves.

“Good,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. His lips find the corner of yours, hovering there teasingly before capturing them in a kiss that starts gentle but deepens with each passing second.

His hand moves again, tracing the outline of your thigh, then sliding up to your heating core. He pauses there, his thumb making lazy circles on your bundle of nerves that send warmth coursing through you.

Breaking the kiss, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze again. “Don’t close your eyes,” he says softly, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I want to see you.”

You nod again, unable to find words, your heart pounding too loudly in your chest.

Minho dips his head, his lips finding the hollow of your throat. He presses a series of kisses there, each one slower and more purposeful than the last. His free hand moves upward, trailing across your ribcage, his touch igniting a fire beneath your skin.

When his lips return to yours, the kiss is hungrier, filled with a need that matches your own. His hand slides back to your lower back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

“Is this close enough?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky and sincere. His hand cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he leans in again, his kisses growing more fervent, more insistent.

You don't know if he's asking if you're close to your high or this is the closeness you demand from him. Your brain is struggling to function and time seems to blur, the world outside fading away until he takes you to your high and you soar onto cloud nine.

Minho’s lips hover near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Perfect,” he whispers, his voice low and intimate. His words are a soft admission, meant only for you, carrying a depth of emotion that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Minho grounds you to the bed, peppering your shoulder and neck with kisses to help you coming down from your high. After a while, he slowly turns you to lay on your side and you hear the ripping sound from behind you. You turn your head to see Minho tears open a condom with his teeth.

You hold the arm curving around you as he works on putting a layer of protection on before coming back to plant kisses on your flushed skin again.

He grabs your chin, turning your head toward him so he can capture your lips in a kiss. His other hand grabs your leg by the back of your thigh and slowly, he lifts it just enough to make space for him to enter you from behind.

A crease formed between his eyebrows as he begins pushing his length, his teeth faintly biting his lower lip and his hand keeping your knee up. His fingers start to dug into the flesh as he launches the rest of his length until it's fully sheathed inside you.

Your gasp spill into his mouth and Minho crashes his lips onto yours again. In the dimly lit room, he holds you close as he moves in steady, slow motions. You hear nothing but the rustle of the sheets beneath you and your shared breathing, endlessly echoing in the room.

“Is this close enough for you now?” he suddenly asks with his ear pressed to your ear.

You mewl in complaint and shake your head.

Minho smirks at that, a corner of his mouth raises higher than the other. It gives you the impression that he has anticipated that answer and more than capable to cater to that demand.

He grips you by the waist and pulls you even closer, he slings his arm around you, keeping your body still as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, fulfilling your wish. It's just the two of you, bodies tangled on the bed, hands intertwined on the sheets, and you want this night to last forever, you don't even care if you have to live in darkness as Minho knows how to brings out the stars.

-

The room is quiet now, the air filled with the soft rhythm of your breathing and Minho's. The sheets are tangled around your legs, the faint scent of him clinging to the fabric. Minho lies beside you, his chest rising and falling steadily as his arm drapes protectively over your waist.

You shift slightly, your cheek resting against his shoulder. His skin is warm against yours, grounding you in the stillness of the night. Minho stirs at the movement, his hand tightening briefly on your hip before relaxing again.

“You okay?” he murmurs sleepily, his voice rough around the edges but laced with concern.

“Okay,” you whisper back, smiling softly as you tilt your head to look at him.

His eyes flutter open, dark and drowsy but still full of that intensity he never seems to lose. He shifts closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead before settling back into the pillows. “Good,” he mutters, his hand lazily tracing patterns on your back.

For a while, neither of you speak, content to bask in the quiet intimacy of the moment. The weight of his arm, the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart—all of it lulls you into a state of peace you hadn’t realized you needed.

Minho’s fingers trail up to your hair, gently brushing it away from your face. “Don’t even try to leave,” he softly threatens, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I wasn’t planning to,” you reply, your lips curving into a smile.

His lips find yours in a slow, lingering kiss, one that feels like a promise. When he pulls back, his gaze searches yours, as if memorizing every detail.

“Good,” he says again, his voice softer now, almost inaudible.

As the minutes stretch into hours, sleep finally begins to claim you. Minho pulls you closer, his arm wrapping securely around you. His breath is warm against your temple, his presence a protective cocoon that makes you feel utterly safe.

And with that, the world fades away, leaving only the quiet comfort of being beside him, the rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby as you drift off together.

-

The morning light streams through the tall windows of Farfalle as you walk down the hallway, the crisp click of your shoes echoing faintly. With a light knock on the door, you wait for Chris’s faint, “Come in,” before pushing it open slightly and poking your head in.

“Good morning!” you chirp, a bright smile on your face.

Chris glances up from his desk, clearly surprised by your sunny demeanor. His own lips curve into a smile as he leans back in his chair, arms crossing. “Well, someone’s in a good mood today.”

You shrug coyly, stepping into his office and making your way to his desk. “Maybe,” you say, your tone teasing. From your pocket, you pull out a small bottle and place it in front of him with a sly smile.

Chris’s brows furrow, and when he realizes it’s a digestive drink, he fixes you with a playful glare. “Really?” he says, exasperation coloring his tone.

“Just in case your stomach acts up today,” you quip, barely able to suppress your grin.

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek and then shakes his head, but there’s amusement in his eyes. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Never,” you say with mock seriousness, before leaning forward slightly. “I also came to give you a warning.”

His brow arches, curiosity flickering across his face. “A warning?”

“Don’t act too friendly towards me,” you say, your tone playful but laced with faux seriousness. “And definitely don’t behave in a way that could be misunderstood by everyone—especially Chef Lee.”

Chris chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “And why’s that?”

“Because if you, even for a second, make me think I’m your favorite, I’ll start expecting special treatments,” you warn with a grin.

His smile widens, and he leans forward on his desk. “What if I told you that you already are my favorite? Tell me what kind of special treatments you want from me?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “At least try to pretend like I’m not your favorite.”

Chris chuckles again, the sound low and warm. “Fine,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll try my best.”

With a triumphant grin, you reach into your pocket again and pull out a lollipop, placing it on his desk. “Since we've reached an agreement,” you say with a laugh.

Chris stares at the candy for a moment before sighing, his smile softening as he hurriedly puts the lollipop in a pocket of his navy suit. “This is exactly why you’re my favorite.”

You laugh as you turn to leave, waving over your shoulder. “Have a great day, Manager Bang!” You say in a veiled formality and a suppressed smile.

His quiet chuckle follows you out the door, leaving a small, satisfied warmth in your chest as you return to the bustling kitchen which immediately puts you on edge.

Your eyes widen as you see them hauling boxes of ingredients into the kitchen, the clattering of crates and the shuffle of hurried feet filling the air. A knot of dread forms in your stomach—you should have been helping with this.

You sprint to the back entrance, weaving through the bustling staff. Sure enough, Minho is there, standing at the edge of a delivery truck, clipboard in hand as he meticulously checks off the contents of each box. His voice cuts through the air, sharp and commanding, as he instructs everyone to carry the ingredients inside. He’s inspecting two styrofoam boxes when you cautiously approach.

“Why do we need fish roe?” he mutters, narrowing his eyes at the label.

“It’s for Chef Sara’s dish,” you answer quickly, hoping to be helpful.

Minho’s head snaps up, and his sharp eyes lock on yours. His gaze narrows further, the intensity of his stare making you freeze. “And where,” he starts, his tone low and dangerously calm, “have you been?”

You avoid the question entirely, choosing instead to give him your sweetest smile and hope that you can get away with it.

Minho’s lips curl into a sly, almost mocking smile, and he tilts his head slightly. “Come here,” he says, motioning with two fingers.

Warily, you step closer, and before you can react, his hand darts toward your forehead. You instinctively close your eyes, bracing yourself.

“Keep your eyes open,” he scolds, flicking your forehead hard enough to make you wince.

“Ouch! Chef!” you protest, rubbing the sore spot with a pout.

He merely smirks, unbothered. “If you have time to smile like an idiot, you have time to work.”

You grab a box of ingredients hurriedly, eager to escape his glare. “I’ll take this inside,” you mutter, hoisting it up.

“You should be,” he replies smoothly, not missing a beat. “You’re part of the kitchen staff, remember?”

“Yes, Chef,” you answer, louder this time. As you’re about to carry the box away, he stops you with a hand on the edge of it.

“Not that,” he says, taking the box from you with ease. “Take the sack of short-necked clams.” He nods toward the truck bed. “You’re in charge of vongole, aren’t you? These clams are your precious babies.”

You hesitate, staring at the heavy sack with dismay. Gathering your courage, you grab it and attempt to lift it. The weight nearly pulls you off balance, but you hold on, determined.

Minho watches your struggle, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “What? Are you going to act like a girl now?”

You glare at him but straighten up, adjusting your grip on the sack. “No, Chef,” you snap, gritting your teeth as you finally manage to lift it.

“Then hurry up,” he barks, his voice loud enough to make you flinch.

“Yes, Chef!” you shout back, stumbling slightly as you head toward the kitchen with the sack.

You can feel his eyes on your back, no doubt ready to pounce if you falter. Despite everything, a strange thrill courses through you. Minho’s treatment of you in the kitchen is as cold and exacting as ever, but the contrast to how he was last night only makes it more intriguing. It’s a game of hot and cold, and you find yourself enjoying the uncertainty of what might come next.

-

Minho steps into the quiet kitchen, the clatter of utensils and murmurs of the staff enjoying their lunch fading into the background. It’s the only time during the day when the kitchen isn’t buzzing with chaos, and he plans to take full advantage of it. He heads straight for the workstation, intent on prepping the ingredients for his new dish.

He’s mentally cataloging everything he needs when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Without glancing at the screen, he answers, half expecting it to be some important work calls.

“Hello?” he says curtly.

“Minho,” comes a familiar, overly sweet voice that instantly grates on his nerves.

He stiffens. Sara.

She skips any pleasantries, her tone light but deliberate. “It’s been so long since we’ve worked in the same kitchen, hasn’t it?”

Minho’s jaw tightens as he grips the phone. “What do you want?” he asks coldly, already regretting picking up.

Sara doesn’t answer directly, instead continuing with an air of feigned nervousness. “I have to admit, it’s a bit... intimidating. Being in the same space as you again.”

He exhales sharply, more annoyed than surprised. “You’ve always wanted what I have,” he bites out, cutting through her coy act.

A low chuckle comes through the line, infuriatingly casual. “Oh, Minho,” she says smoothly, “I’m not here to take it from you. I want us to share it.”

Minho scoffs, the sound harsh and dismissive. “Share?” he repeats, the word tasting bitter in his mouth.

“With both of us there, we could make something extraordinary,” she says, her tone as slippery as ever.

He doesn’t bother responding, his silence heavy with disdain.

Sara lets the pause linger before finally breaking it. “Well,” she says lightly, “I’ll see you later, Minho.”

The line goes dead before he can hang up on her. Minho stares at the phone in his hand for a moment, his expression hard and unreadable. He slips it back into his pocket, his jaw tightening further. Share the kitchen? With her? The thought alone makes his stomach churn.

He shakes his head, refocusing on his ingredients. If Sara thinks she can rattle him, she’s wasting her time. The kitchen is his, and nothing—least of all her—will change that.

As he focuses on his dish, Minho hears the sound of footsteps echoes through the quiet kitchen. Without glancing up, Minho knows it’s you. He can sense your presence even before you step into his line of sight, though he doesn’t acknowledge you.

You don’t speak at first, clearly aware that when Minho is cooking, interruptions are unwelcome. The kitchen hums with the low sizzle of the foie gras in the pan, the aroma rich and intoxicating. He’s in his zone, focused on perfecting the delicate balance of flavors for his dish.

After a moment, though, your voice breaks the silence. “Can I have a taste of the foie gras, chef?”

Minho doesn’t even look up. “No.” His response is flat and immediate.

Undeterred, you take a step closer. “What if I help prepare the liver? I’m good with—”

“No,” he cuts you off again, his tone firm.

“Fine,” you say with a sigh, clearly thinking of another angle. “What if I assist with plating? I’ll make it look perfect—”

“No.”

This time, your voice takes on a pleading tone. “Can I at least taste the failed ones? You know, the ones you don’t use—”

Minho’s hand pauses briefly, his gaze flicking to you. “I’d hate that even more.”

You huff, realizing you’re getting nowhere. But rather than give up entirely, you try a different approach. Your eyes land on the remaining fish nearby, and you ask casually, “Can I at least have the rest of the fish, then?”

As your hand reaches out, Minho’s reaction is swift. He slaps your wrist lightly, his movements sharp and precise.

“That’s mine,” he warns, his voice low and serious. “Don’t touch it!”

You withdraw your hand quickly, your pout almost comical under the weight of his intense stare. For a brief second, Minho’s lips twitch, but he suppresses the urge to smirk.

Instead, he gestures toward the door. “If you have that much energy to bother me, go call everyone to get ready for dinner service.”

“Yes, chef,” you obey as you always do, but not without one last attempt at teasing him. As you turn to leave, your fingers hover playfully over the fish again, daring to provoke him.

Minho narrows his eyes and clicks his tongue, annoyed. “Don’t even think about it,” he growls.

With a mischievous grin, you laugh softly and disappear through the door. Minho shakes his head, a faint smirk finally breaking through. You’re infuriating, but somehow, it only fuels his focus.

-

The kitchen hums with a tension that feels almost electric as everyone stands at their stations, awaiting Minho's lead. He steps forward, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

"Is everyone ready for dinner service?"

A unified reply echoes back, "Yes, Chef!"

Minho surveys the room, his gaze sharp and commanding. “There’s a lot to prepare for tomorrow’s reservation—100 guests. It’s going to be a long night.” He points toward Taesoo, Felix, and then you, his eyes briefly locking with yours. “You three stay after closing time. Understood?”

“Yes, Chef,” the three of you reply in unison and Felix sneakily offers his fist at you and you give it a gentle bump with your fist.

Just as the service staff enters, informing that dinner guests have arrived, Chris strides into the kitchen, his presence drawing everyone's attention. His casual demeanor is replaced by something heavier, his expression unreadable as he clears his throat to address the team.

“I hope you’re all prepared for tomorrow’s press conference,” Chris begins, glancing around. “We’ll be introducing the new additions to the menu—Chef Lee’s foie gras and Chef Sara’s triple-flavored pasta.”

Minho freezes mid-step, his jaw tightening as the words land. The room feels like it shifts; everyone is equally stunned, their collective silence palpable.

Chris doesn’t stop. He then turns toward Minho and says, “Sara says she’ll be making the pasta herself.”

The phone call suddenly clicks into place. Minho’s expression doesn’t change, but you can see the sharp edge in his gaze. You’re not the only one who notices—Felix is the first to speak.

“What?” Felix blurts, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Does that mean she’ll be cooking here, in this kitchen?”

Chris nods, calm yet firm. “Yes. As it'll be on the restaurant’s menu.”

Felix protests, his tone rising. “That’s nonsense! How can there be two chefs in one kitchen? You can’t. It's like having two conductors for the orchestra. Do you think that'd work? Do you even think about us?”

Seungwan chimes in, frowning. “They’d have completely different ways of making the same dish. What do we do then?”

Sous Chef Seojun, always composed, adds with a dry tone, “Even if she won first place for the new menu, she’s an outsider who participated without prior notice. I think the right thing for her to do would be to give us the recipe and we compensate her for it.”

Chris’s patience visibly thins. His jaw clenches, and for the first time, you see a flicker of true tension in his usually relaxed posture. The sight of him like this—stern, commanding, his gaze hard—shouldn’t distract you, but it does. He looks… devastatingly hot.

“Enough,” Chris says, his voice low but firm. “The restaurant was closed for three days for a reason. We agreed on changes in the restaurant,” he adds, looking directly at Minho, “And all you need to worry about is your foie gras, Chef.”

Minho exhales sharply, a sound that betrays his simmering anger. You can see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clench at his sides. You know it's not the right time for it but Minho also looks... devastatingly hot.

He narrows his eyes at Chris, sensing there’s more to come. “Don’t tell me that she's already here,” Minho says, his voice tight.

Chris confirms with a nod. “She’s here.”

As if summoned by his words, Sara steps into the kitchen, her heels clicking against the floor as she strides in with a confidence that feels almost rehearsed. Her sweet smile only adds fuel to the tension in the room.

“Nice to meet everyone,” Sara says, her tone light, playful. Her eyes flicker to Minho. “I hope no one plans to chase me out of the kitchen just because someone here has… issues tolerating women in the kitchen.”

The comment is a thinly veiled jab, and she glances pointedly at Felix, acknowledging him as Minho’s loyal protégé. Sara continues, turning to Minho with a feigned sweetness. “I’ll follow your instructions, Chef. Tell me where to stand and from which stove I should work.”

Minho’s knuckles whiten as he grips the edge of the table, his rage barely contained. He says nothing, his silence louder than words.

Sara tilts her head, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “Should I pick the station myself, then?”

Her hands slide onto the chef’s table, a deliberate, territorial move. The implication is clear—she’s claiming his space.

It’s the last straw.

Minho spins on his heel, his movements sharp and deliberate. His eyes burn with fury as they lock onto hers, and for a moment, the air between them feels suffocating.

Sara doesn’t flinch, meeting his gaze with calm defiance.

Without a word, Minho storms past her, his shoulder brushing hers hard enough to make her stagger. The force of his exit is like a storm ripping through the room, leaving everyone in stunned silence.

Sara straightens herself, brushing off the impact with a smirk. But the damage is done—the kitchen is left in a tension so thick it feels impossible to breathe.

And just like that, Minho is gone.

-

Support my writings by kindly reblog, comment or consider tipping me on my ko-fi!

@svintsandghosts @abiaswreck @ppiri-bahng @drhsthl @idkluvutellme @biribarabiribbaem @skz-streamer @biancaness @hanjisunginc @elizalabs3 @laylasbunbunny @kpopformylife @caitlyn98s @hann1bee @mamieishere @is2cb97 @marvelous-llama @bluenights1899 @sherryblossom @toplinehyunjin @hanjisbeloved @sunnyseungup @skz4lifer @stellasays45 @severeanxietyissues @avyskai @imseungminsgf @silentreadersthings @army-stay-noel @rylea08 @simeonswhore @yubinism @devilsmatches @septicrebel @rairacha @ven-fic-recs @hyunjiinnnn @lostgirlinthewoodss @schniti-is-in-the-house @jisunglyricist @minh0scat @simplymoo @inlovewithstraykids @eastjonowhere @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @whosanaanyway @skzswife @nightmarenyxx

[leeracha]

love as consumption of the other

you are the apple, lady lamb / untitled, unknown / intimacy, angelica alzona / nocturne, i.s. jones / breezeblocks, alt-j / bloodsport, yves olade / the notebooks of malte laurids brigge, rainer maria rilke / girl with the heart, edvard munch / give me a god i can relate to, blythe baird / hansel and gretel, anne sexton.

[leeracha]

SKZ Recs (NSFW)

As a chronic fanfic reader, I have a lot of recommendations. So, these are the ones I think about the most. All of them include smut, so they're 18+. Red text indicates fics on AO3. Go support these amazing authors!! Enjoy!! <3

Bang Chan 

The SKZ house @writeonwhiskey (Chan x reader x Hyunjin…SKZ but make it a frat… and also sexy) 

Silent cry @j-0ne25 (Fake dating/friends to lovers, live laugh hurt comfort… emphasis on the hurt) 

Love is intuitive @skzonthebrain (forbidden love and angst… so emotional and loving <3) 

Kinktober Day 8 @dreaming-medium (breeding, best friend, fake dating, so sweet and spicy) 

Summer in Seoul @writeonwhiskey (strangers to lovers, summer love, spicy and romantic) 

Saturday mornings @skzdarlings (Chan/reader/Seungmin where Seungmin is an absolute menace that gets reader in trouble… dom Chan is so good in this one omg) 

It’s cold out @therhythmafterthesummer (roommate Chan is going through his rut… oops there’s more ABO on this list than I realized sorry not sorry) 

Bodyguard: The first guard @skzdarlings (A sequel to the bodyguard, an ongoing work that has elements of enemies to lovers and great, in-depth world building and character development)

However you want it, lover-lover @cbini (you ask your bf Chan to step on you after watching spicy edits of him on tiktok omg)

More than just friends @kwanisms (roommate Chan is entering his rut... he's usually able to control himself but this time you're ovulating. sprinkle some brat taming in here as well and it's so delicious)

Lee Know 

The Experience Project @leeknowsallyoursecrets (Enemies to lovers Lee Know, really good plot and relationship building!) 

Sanguis Limerence @jl-micasea-fics (Vampire OT8, Lee Know x Reader x Chan, SUPER good world building, especially in their sequel with the backstories… I was so invested. And it’s super hot)

Barb Wired Brat @roseykat (BDSM Lee Know with reader going into subspace… awakened things in me) 

Audience @gimmeurtmi (2 min, wet dreams, exhibitionism, degradation… yeah) 

Well Shit @2chopsticks2eyes (Brother’s best friend, inexperienced reader, enemies to lovers and fwb… literally so good) 

Sea May Rise, Sky May Fall @skzms (Lee Know x Reader x Han, complete series, Pirate AU with beautiful world building, in-depth characters and GREAT smut. One of my all time favs)

rsvp @cbini (teasing dom vampire boyfriend Minho and you get the punishment you deserve... brat taming and so so so sexy like it's insane)

Changbin 

 The accidental acquisition of sugar @skzdarlings (accidental sugar daddy Changbin x reader that’s absolutely hilarious with great smut) 

Valentine’s series ‘do you really think you’re in a position to give orders’) @skzdarlings (forbidden love/romeo & juliet style but with gun play… um this was so hot tho) 

Close your eyes (...And count to seven) @MysteryBird (Possessive gang leader bf! Changbin that you’re trying to piss off by sleeping with the other members… 100k+ words and so delicious) 

Hyunjin 

Praise kink Hyunjin @dreaming-medium (A kinktober fic, enemies to lovers detective Hyunjin… absolutely delicious) 

Snowed In @moonjxsung (really artistic, heartfelt, and beautifully written)  

Jury’s still out @straywrds (rivals to hooking up/hate sex… super spicy and hot) 

Dressing down @jl-micasea-fics (shopping trip with best friend Hyunjin turns out spicy ahh the chemistry) 

Four of wands @straywrds (beautifully crafted story I was so immersed in!! witch Hyunjin and sex magick, the characters have so much depth! crazy tension)

Han 

Watch your six  @dreaming-medium (sensory deprivation kinktober ah this is engraved in my brain) 

The same but different @skzdarlings (ahh hanlix fairy au where they’re linked with great world building and is so funny… I maybeee think about this every day) 

Sea May Rise, Sky May Fall @skzms (Lee Know x Reader x Han, complete series, Pirate AU with beautiful world building, in-depth characters and GREAT smut. One of my all time favs)

Screen Identity: Mismatched Passion (SIMP) @leeknowsallyoursecrets (Spin-off series to the experience project! Jisung x reader enemies/academic rivals to lovers in which they’re both anonomously sexting each other on discord without knowing who’s on the other end of the screen!!! top tier level tension)

Felix 

The bodyguard @skzdarlings (Forced proximity, enemies to lovers, had me SUPER invested and made me cry) 

The same but different @skzdarlings (ahh hanlix fairy au where they’re linked with great world building and is so funny… I maybee think about this every day) 

Snap out of it @2baabbies (Felix gives you the option to either go home with your shitty boyfriend or go home with him at the end of the night ahhh!!) 

Seungmin 

Bet on it @skzonthebrain (Academic rivals, enemies to lovers and such good tension/chemistry) 

Audience @gimmeurtmi (2 min, wet dreams, exhibitionism, degradation… yeah) 

Saturday mornings @skzdarlings (Chan/reader/Seungmin where Seungmin is an absolute menace that gets reader in trouble… dom Chan is so good in this one omg) 

Seungmin + hairpulling @straykeedz (kinktober fic, best friend Seungmin finds out you have a thing for hairpulling and can't get you out of his head... this is taken straight from the deepest depths of my fantasies i s2g)

no nut november @gimmeurtmi (this whole nnn series is fantastic but seeing Seungmin lose his composure because of his breeding kink does something for me)

august is a fever @seungminheart (mean dom Seungmin... you don't think he is really into you so you see how far you can push him/I love mean dom Seungmin and I think this fic does it just right)

I.N. 

Lavender boy @hyunsvngs (A/B/O Alpha jeongin… super sexy and great dynamics) 

Clueless @jeongin-lvr (inexperienced big dick I.N. that just wants to make reader feel good… also omg he’s so hot in this pls) 

Better and better @seungminheart (sharing a bed, best friend Jeongin, amazing banter, soft dom Jeongin, brat taming, every trope from my hopes and dreams)

Third leg? @beesspacedotorg (huge dick alpha Innie... some brat taming, great banter and dynamics and sexy)

OT8 

Sharing a bed series @skzdarlings (Best trope ever and they really do it justice) (Chan's is linked but you should read all 8)

Sharing is caring @skzms (Minsung x reader x OT8… really well written spice) 

Fake texts @thefantasyden (I swear these are like crack I read them every single time) 

Kinktober23 @roseykat (one of the first SKZ blogs that I started reading that really brought me deep into the fandom… My fav from this is Table Manners and Bible Studies, and it has a part 2)

All Bark no Bite @doitforbangchan (Main pairing is Chan x Reader with some OT8, it's an ABO au with some really good spice)

Masterlist

[leeracha]

TITLE: Barb Wired Brat

WC: 7.1k

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Minho x female reader

WARNING: minors DNI, I post NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever. 

TAGS: BDSM, impact play, mean!Minho, pet names, spreader bars, restraints, degradation, edging, ruined orgasm, multiple orgasms, crying, swearing, unprotected sex, subspace, use of the word ‘slut’, use of a vibrator. 

SUMMARY: misbehaving and being a brat doesn’t get you anywhere with Minho. So he lets you know what the consequences are…

Keep reading

[leeracha]

Protect and Serve.

pairing: cop!minho x fem!reader

content: when you learn the reason behind your recent unexplained paranoia, you don’t know what to do. thankfully, Officer Lee Minho is there to protect and serve you, in every possible way.

inspiration: skz code ep. 53, bc fuck

word count: 13k (yep, it would seem i have a problem)

warnings: MDNI 18+, cop!au, angst, cursing, being stalked by stranger, alluding to/mention of drugging and sexual assault (nothing happens to reader), someone gets punched, guest skz appearances by a couple familiar faces, casual alcohol use, SMUT, lil bit of cop/officer roleplay, marking, groping, cunnilingus, fingering, mention of traffic light system, handcuffs, p in v, protected sex (say whattt? it does exist), orgasm control, some fluff, happy ending

author’s note: seeing skz in these police uniforms altered my state of being. i had to stop everything and write this. and it was so much fun! but side note, let’s pretend all my cop/law enforcement terminology and procedure is correct (it’s not), bc we out here to be delulu, not factual-ulu✨ just shhh don’t think about it, focus on pretty cop minho, ‘kay babes?

let me know your thoughts!🫶

enjoy!

————————————————————————

Something was wrong.

You didn’t know how to explain it, but you’d been feeling some kind of sixth sense alerting you to something being amiss for the past week or so, every time you walked home from work.

You lived less than a mile from your job, so you made the decision long ago to forgo gas prices and city traffic and just walk back and forth every day. You got some casual exercise, saved money on transportation, and got to enjoy the city you so loved to be able to live and work in.

However, that enjoyment has been disturbed due to the feeling of something being wrong. Every time you started to head home from work, it was almost like the hair on the back of your neck would stand up. You would look around for the cause of the unconscious alarm, but couldn’t see anything worthy of such a feeling, so you would just shake your head, letting out a sigh of frustration. You’re just crazy, Y/N, chill out…

And that all appeared true, until tonight.

You began your walk home after another long day, the last bit of sunlight fading from the sky and casting the city streets in a dusky hue. Not paying attention to much, you tiredly sigh as you hike your bag back onto your shoulder after it started to slide, as if it was mocking how tired you were.

Then, there it was. That feeling. You went from feeling hazy to suddenly alert, head on a swivel looking for any danger. You look around, ready to feel like an idiot as always at nothing being there.

But as you look over your shoulder, you see something. Not something, but someone.

Trailing maybe 40 feet back, a figure in a gray hoodie and baseball cap shadowing his face caught your eye. Immediately, your stomach dropped to your feet.

Oh c’mon Y/N, stop being paranoid, it’s just some guy minding his business…you’re being dramatic, you mentally scolded yourself, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

You keep walking, expecting the man to eventually change directions or stop into one of the shops or restaurants you passed.

But he didn’t. Every time you’d look back over your shoulder, he was still there, remaining the same distance away, following you. You decide to switch sides of the street, jaywalking, nearly getting taken out by a cyclist crossing your path as a result. This would certainly prove whether or not this was all just a coincidence.

Oh, yeah, that it did. As you turned to look behind you, you saw him begin crossing the street.

This man was definitely following you. This man probably has been following you, this whole time! What other reason could there be for the way you’ve felt over the past week?

You pick up your pace, walking as fast as you could without full-blown running through the bustling sidewalks. Where to go? Where? You can’t go home, not with him right on your tail like this (even though, he probably already knows where you live at this point, if your suspicions of how long this has been going on are true). And if you stop into someplace along the way, who’s to say he won’t just wait you out?

As you start to truly panic, you see your solution. Not far down the way was the local police precinct, the one you pass every day on your route to and from work. Relief washes over you at the sight, and you start to full-on jog as you approach the brick building.

You look over your shoulder again, and you still see the man, but he had slowed his pace, lingering back further than before. That’s right, bastard, try following me in here.

You turn back and run up the steps, finally entering the safest place you could have chosen.

You look around, eyes still a bit frantic, trying to catch your breath from the exertion and adrenaline running through your veins. You see a closed-in front desk area over to the left, acrylic glass hanging from above it, and quickly make your way over.

However, no one was behind the desk as you approached.

“Uh, hello?” you ask out, probably a bit too quiet. No one came forward. Confused, you make your way around the desk area, leading into a wide office-type room, filled with a few rows of large metal desks. A few cops in blue and black uniforms were seated at them, heads down and hunched over while giving attention to the papers or computers in front of their faces.

Near the center of the room, leaning against the corner of one of the desks and scribbling something onto a clipboard in his hand, a cop notices your entrance.

Looking up from filling out the report he was working on, he takes in your clearly frazzled state. Your eyes were wide, lips parted slightly from your strained breathing, a slight tremble in your stance. He immediately sets his clipboard down onto his desk and stands to his feet, taking a couple steps in your direction.

”Everything okay, miss?” he asks, concerned eyes looking over your face.

You take a moment to find the words, and in doing so you scan over the cop now standing a couple feet in front of you. He was handsome. Pretty even, with deep brown boba-like eyes, strands of black hair finely obscuring them. His nose perfectly sloped down his face to a point, like it had been carved in stone, with a tiny freckle accenting one nostril. And he had the cutest lips, the top ever so marginally larger than the bottom, white bunny-like front teeth peeking out from behind them. Wow, this guy should be a model, not a cop…

“Miss?” he questions, growing more concerned at the lack of your response.

“Oh, um, yes,” you start, but shake your head as your brain catches up to your words, “Uh, no, no. I’m being followed, there was a guy behind me, and I—I didn’t know where else to go, I just ran in here. I—I think he’s been following me for a while. Like a week. I—I don’t know though, it’s—I’ve just had this weird feeling, and then I saw him tonight, and he wouldn’t stop following even when I crossed the street, and I knew I couldn’t go home, but I think he might already know where I live, and I—um—I don’t, I don’t know what to do,” you finish, a little out of breath from your rambling.

“It’s okay, take a deep breath for me,” the handsome cop instructs, seeing how worked up you were over this incident, “We’ll get this figured out. Would you like to sit down?” he asks, motioning to the chair behind him next to his desk.

You nod, taking in a deep breath like he told you. He gives you a small comforting grin, and turns to lead you over to the desk. He waits for you to sit, then sits himself in his chair, diagonal from you. He opens one of the deep file drawers in his desk, and gets out a piece of paper, a form of some sort.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions, if that’s alright?” he softly asks, clicking a pen in his left hand.

You nod with an awkward smile, and he nods in acknowledgment.

“We’ll start with something easy. What’s your name?” he proceeds, looking down at the paper.

“It’s Y/N, Y/N L/N,” you reply, watching him start to scratch down the information.

“Y/N…,” he begins, looking up from his writing, “I’m Officer Lee Minho.”

He extends his right hand towards you for a handshake, and you take it, cringing at the fact that your hands are most definitely gross and clammy. He doesn’t react to it though, giving you a firm yet gentle squeeze as he shakes your hand once, then letting go, his pleasant grin not leaving his expression.

He asks you more basic information, filling out the boxes for your address, phone number, place of work, and so on. Then, he asks for more details regarding the man you told him about—how long this has been going on, what he looked like, and any other revealing information you could give him.

And you felt like an idiot. You didn’t have much for him other than what you had rambled before, only adding on that he was in a gray hoodie and baseball cap. You half expected Officer Lee to roll his eyes at you, assuming this was just some case of feminine paranoia.

He didn’t, though. He swiftly wrote down everything you told him, patiently waiting while you would pause to think or steady your breath, never once interrupting you or judging your poor recollection.

Finished with his questions, he clicks his pen again, and looks up at you while loosely folding his hands in front of himself on top of the desk, giving you his full attention.

“Okay, Y/N, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to keep this report, and I’ll notify other cops in the area to keep an eye out for any similar activity happening around here. I’m also going to give you this,” he pauses, reaching on his desk for something. He then extends out to you a small piece of paper between his fingers, and you take it. It was a business card, with his name, precinct, badge number, and cellphone number.

“Take this, and put the information in your phone. If you see this guy again, you call me. Immediately. And if for some reason I don’t answer, you call the precinct and you tell them Officer Lee Minho says that you are in need of immediate assistance and for someone to come to you right away. Okay?”

You nod, biting your lip as you look down into your lap, fiddling with the card in your hand. You hated the idea of having to go back out into the world knowing that man was still out there. But, there really wasn’t another choice.

Seeing the fear still affecting you, Officer Lee stands up and moves in front of you, crouching down at eye level with you, and places a firm hand on your knee.

“Y/N, it’s going to be okay. Don’t let that low-life get into your head. He’s not going to get away with whatever he’s trying. Not if I have anything to do with it. And, not to brag, but I’m pretty damn good at my job,” he laughs lightly, getting you to finally look up at him. His face was so genuine, so encouraging, that you couldn’t help but feel a little bit better.

“Why don’t I give you a quick ride in a patrol car back to your house? You don’t need to be walking alone with it being dark out now,” he offers, kindness laced in every word.

“Oh, um…are you sure? I…I don’t want to keep you from doing your job,” you hesitate. He already spent enough time helping you with this, and you didn’t want to inconvenience him anymore.

He laughs, and you look at him in confusion, not understanding what was funny.

“Y/N, this is my job. My job is to help keep citizens safe. You are one of them. Giving you a ride home applies. Plus,” he pauses, standing up and looking over both of his shoulders before continuing, then looks back down to you as he theatrically whispers behind the back of his hand, “you’ll be helping me escape from more paperwork duties—I’m losing my mind in here.”

You can’t help but giggle, and he smiles at your laugh.

“Well, who am I to not assist one of the city’s finest?” you joke, standing to your feet right in front of him.

“’One of?’ Oh, Miss L/N, I am the finest,” he jokes back, playfully winking at you, causing you to giggle again.

Then, he stands to your side and places a light hand on the middle of your back, saying, “Let’s head out, before the papers start growing legs to chase me down.”

• • •

The next day, you try your best to go on like everything was normal, and that you totally did not have a stalker. Nope. Everything was justttt fine.

Ha. Yeah. No. Wasn’t working.

The anxiety made you jumpy the entire work day, multiple coworkers asking if you were okay or feeling well. You lied through your teeth, of course, and said you were fine.

You tried to let Officer Lee’s comforting words console you, as he ensured you again before you left his patrol car last night that everything was going to be okay, and to call if you needed him. Once you were safely inside of your apartment building, you had turned back to look at him through the large glass doors, and he smiled at you, sending you a wave goodbye before putting the car in drive and heading back to the precinct.

You wondered if he would consider being a bodyguard as a side gig? Because how could he make sure everything would be okay if he wasn’t always around? You couldn’t afford to be completely optimistic regarding your situation, with danger literally looming around the corner if you weren’t careful.

For once, you were dreading the end of your work day. But then the time to leave came, and you had to start heading home.

Prepared for the worst, you were already on high alert. You were constantly checking your surroundings as you immediately started to take long, swift strides in an effort to get home just a little bit faster.

And on one of your glances behind your shoulder, you catch sight of him, hoodie and cap, before the subconscious sensation of being watched has the chance to alert you. At that moment, you felt like you were going to hurl, right in the middle of the sidewalk.

You were officially being stalked. No more doubt. This is really happening.

Before you can even think it through, you take off. You randomly turn corners, switching directions, and run as fast as your feet would carry you. You can’t even bring yourself to turn around, something telling you if you did, he’d catch up.

Due to your random movements and panic-fuzzy brain, you eventually get lost. Worried your lack of direction was starting to slow you down too much, you make a split-second decision to duck into a narrow alley between two brick buildings.

You press your back against the cold brick of one of the buildings, trying to find your breath, lungs screaming for air. Your knees felt shaky, and your leg muscles burned from the exertion you just put them through.

You need help. Right now. You had no idea if the man had been able to follow you or not. For all you knew, he’d be walking right into this alley any second.

You shakingly reach into your pocket and fish out your phone, trembling so badly that you mistyped your passcode twice. You tap and scroll until your find the name you’re looking for: Officer Lee Minho. He was the help you needed.

You click the contact, and shakingly hold the phone up to your ear. The line rings once, twice, then connects.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Officer Lee’s voice sounds in your ear, immediately concerned.

“H-he was there, when I—I left work, I saw him-m, so I ran b-but now I don’t know where I am-m, or where h-he is, and I just—I need help,” you choke out, barely above a whisper, tears you didn’t know were forming now threatening to pour out.

“I’m going to come to you, okay? Can you tell me anything about where you are right now?” he asks, keeping his voice smooth and steady.

“Um, I’m in a-an alley, but I-I don’t know where…” you answer under your breath, a tremble evident in your voice. You try to retrace your path in your head to recall anything, but the fear didn’t allow you to remember anything useful. You frantically look around the alley for anything identifying, but the only things you could see were a couple of overfilled dumpsters. However, there was a faded sign stuck to the dumpster closest to you, which read “For Resident Use Only”, and the name of an apartment complex underneath.

You trip over your words as your read it off to Officer Lee, wondering if he even understood what you said. But then he replies, “I know exactly where that is. I’m on my way, Y/N. Stay right where you are. Take some deep breaths for me. I will be there shortly, just hold on.”

You nod, but then feel dumb when you realize he can’t see you.

“Okay, please hurry,” you whisper out, desperation heavy in every syllable.

“I am, I—”

The phone disconnects. You look down, and the screen is black. Your phone died. Well, shit.

Then you remembered, you had forgotten to charge it last night, the mistake catching up to you at the worst possible moment. You look upwards, tilting your head back until it lightly hits the brick behind you, and you pull your lips into your mouth, trying to stifle the sobs crawling up your throat. You try to focus on taking deep breaths like Officer Lee told you, but it wasn’t doing much to calm you.

Minutes drag on like hours, every second bracing yourself for your stalker to appear. Your stomach churned, fear-laced nausea adding to the anxious pit in your gut.

Suddenly, you hear heavy footsteps—running footsteps, getting louder as they got closer to you. The louder they became, the more your anxiety spiked, heart ready to leap and run off out of your chest before your own feet, which were now paralyzed in fear.

A man in a hoodie turns into the alley, and you open your mouth to scream. But he’s faster than your reaction, and quickly covers your mouth with his hand. Your wide eyes stare into his, and you are met with the prettiest set of brown boba eyes.

“It’s me, it’s Minho, don’t scream,” he says, a slight pant in his voice.

Relief washes over you, and you feel like you could collapse. The tears that had been gathering for a while now finally spill over, dropping onto the back of his hand. A single sob wracks through your shoulders, and as soon as he lowers his hand from your face, you throw yourself into his arms.

You know this is wildly inappropriate. You are sobbing into his chest with your arms wrapped around him, fingers clinging to the fabric of his hoodie, as if he isn’t a police officer. Yet, you did not have it in you to care. You were safe, and the remaining control you had over your emotions that had been weighing heavy on you all day had finally run out.

Instead of politely trying to push you off of him, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you to him tighter, one hand gently stroking the back of your hair. He didn’t say anything, holding you to himself until your sobs turned into sniffles, rubbing your back as you took deep breaths to collect yourself.

You finally lift your head, and he lets go of you as your slowly pull away, but still keeps his hands on your upper arms.

Starting to feel a little ashamed for your outburst, you can’t bring yourself to look at his face, mumbling a “Sorry” on a sniffle as you wipe at your face with the back of your sleeve.

He bends down and moves himself into your field a vision, speaking when you finally meet eyes again, “You have nothing to be sorry for. Thank you for calling me. I was worried when the call disconnected, I thought…I’m just thankful I wasn’t far. I was out for a jog when you called, and when you said the name of this place, I knew where you were. I pass by here on some of my patrols.”

It was then that you fully take in his appearance. He was in a black, unzipped hoodie with a white t-shirt underneath, gray sweatpants, and running shoes. He was off duty. He could have ignored your call, or transferred you over to the precinct for someone else to deal with. But he took your call, and came to your aid, even though he wasn’t on duty.

“Thank you for coming, Officer. I am sorry, though. I just feel like a crazy person, running from some random guy into alleys. And he’s still out there somewhere. I—I’m—I just feel scared out of my mind. What am I supposed to do? I can’t live every day like this,” you vent. You would genuinely lose your mind if this is what you’re going to have to go through for the foreseeable future until the man is caught.

“First of all, call me Minho. Second, you’re not crazy. You’d be crazy if you weren’t scared. Your feelings are valid, Y/N. We’re going to get this guy, I promise. In the meantime, let’s head to the precinct. I need you to fill out a couple papers,” he says, lightly grabbing one of your arms as he starts to lead you out of the alley.

You let him guide you, letting his reassuring words sink in (and not missing the fact he wants you to call him by his first name).

“I have to fill out another report?” you ask as he lets go of your arm and places his hand on the back of your far shoulder, walking with you in the direction of the precinct.

“No. Well, I will have to do that so we have tonight on record, but that’s not what I meant. I’m going to have you fill out some forms so I can submit a request for a protection detail. I’ll talk to the chief, but he shouldn’t have a problem with me taking on the detail. Your route is already on one of my normal beats, and I’m not letting you walk alone like this anymore, not until that guy is caught,” he answers, concern and determination evident in his tone.

“That would be a relief, actually. You’d really be willing to do that?” you genuinely question, looking up at the side of his perfect face.

“Of course. I’ll do whatever I need to in order to keep you safe,” he responds, and looks down at you with the softest smile. Your stomach turns again, but in a good way, the anxiety being replaced with butterflies.

• • •

Every day for the next week and a half, every morning and every evening, Offic—Minho walked with you on your way to work and your way home.

You were both relieved and frustrated. You were relieved that as a result of Minho’s presence, your stalker hadn’t made another appearance; however, that also made you frustrated—how were you supposed to catch him if he wasn’t going to show himself anymore? Minho couldn’t just walk with you forever (though, you wouldn’t actually mind it).

When you explained that to Minho, he chose his words carefully to reassure you, but also trying not to scare you at the same time. Basically, he told you that it would only be a matter of time before the guy showed up again, as stalkers can only go so long without their object of obsession, and when he’d show up again, Minho would be there to put an end to it.

So until then, Minho would remain accompanying you on your daily commute.

Even though the reason for his presence wasn’t your favorite, you enjoyed the time with Minho for more than his protection. He was kind, and funny, always asking you questions and cracking jokes whenever he could to get you to smile. You got to know one another better, to the point you felt like you were becoming friends. You liked him. But, if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t just like him. You liked him. How could you not? A handsome, kind, funny man with a good job and the cutest smile was giving you attention you hadn’t received in a long time. You knew he was only doing so to be nice, doing the job he needed to do in order to keep you safe. Still, you couldn’t stop the tiny, annoying part of your heart from hoping that maybe, just maybe, he felt a similar way about you.

Another day, and Minho stood waiting for you outside of the doors to your apartment building, like he always did when he would walk you to work in the mornings.

But this morning, something was different. You were late. He checked his watch, once, twice, and when another 10 minutes passed by, Minho started to seriously worry. You were never running this late in the mornings, especially without telling him. If you even thought you were going to be a few minutes behind, you always made sure to send him a text to let him know.

He dug out his phone from his slacks, and dialed your number. It rang, and rang, and rang, eventually going to voicemail. A bad feeling was settling in Minho’s gut, and he couldn’t stand waiting around like this for another minute.

He typed in the code you had given him in case he ever needed it, and entered your apartment building. He started up the stairs, taking two at a time to get to your 3rd floor apartment as fast as he could. Upon reaching your apartment, number 143, he proceeded to give 3 quick, heavy knocks on your door. When you didn’t answer, he did it again, knocking harder.

You still didn’t answer.

Panic surged through Minho, fearing that he missed something, that something had happened to you. There were no signs of a break in, but that may not mean anything. He took hold of your door knob and turned it, seeing if it was open.

It was locked. He felt slightly relieved at that, but not enough to stop his worry.

“Y/N! If you don’t answer this door, I’m coming in!” he shouted, knocking one more time.

No answer.

He was going to have to break down your door. Minho takes a steadying breath, and backs up a few steps. He prepares to run at the door, and just as he takes a running stride towards it, it opens.

He stops himself from crashing right into you by grabbing onto the door frame, almost losing his balance in the process.

There you are, unharmed, standing in the doorway, with wide eyes and a disoriented expression.

“I overslept! I guess the power went out last night, my alarm clock was flashing when I finally woke up. Your knocking scared the shit out of me! I was about to grab a rolling pin before I heard it was you at the door,” you rush to explain.

Minho blinks at you. He takes a moment to look you over, and the evidence seems to support your story, as you were still in sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, with your hair sticking up in all directions out of a messy bun still trying to cling to your head.

“…a rolling pin?” he finally says, trying to hold in a snicker.

You roll your eyes, letting out a huff as you teasingly say, “Look, not everyone has an arsenal at their disposal, Mr. Officer. I have to get creative. If you don’t believe a rolling pin would be effective, I’d be more than happy to test it out on you.”

Minho laughs, cute bunny teeth making an appearance, and holds his hands up in faux surrender. You couldn’t stop a giggle from bubbling out of you.

You’re about to invite him inside to wait while you scramble to get ready, but as you open your mouth to do so, Minho turns his head, something catching his attention.

His face suddenly turns serious, lowering his hands to his belt slowly. Curiosity getting the best of you, you peer your head out of the doorway to see what he was looking at.

You gasp. It wasn’t a what, but a who.

A man in a gray hoodie and baseball cap was standing at the end of the hallway.

Everything stops for second, so silent that you could hear a pin drop from another floor. Then, chaos.

The man turns and rushes back down the stairs, and Minho takes off after him, shouting “Go inside!” over his shoulder at you. You momentarily freeze, but do as he says, going back inside and deadbolting the door. You lean against the door, breathing heavily. Maybe you should go grab that rolling pin, just in case.

Minho is flying down the stairs, skipping most of them as he pulls his body down the landings by the railings, the man in the lead doing the same, but significantly less confident in his movements.

This was the man. The man who has been threatening your safety for weeks now. When Minho saw his figure out of the corner of his eye in the hallway, he knew. And when you gasped at the sight, that was all the confirmation Minho needed.

Minho would be damned if he lets this guy get away.

The man reaches the bottom of the stairs, and pushes through the front doors, Minho right on his tail, hot in pursuit.

Racing down the sidewalk, Minho starts shouting “MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!” to any passersby getting in the way, having to shove some people to get through. The gap between him and the man was widening, and he couldn’t let that happen.

He wills his legs to move faster, pushes his muscles harder, and the gap starts to close.

The man started to repeatedly look over his shoulders in a panic, seeing Minho closing the distance. Then, upon one of those looks back, ended up tripping over a raised cracked piece of concrete in the sidewalk, causing him to fall to the ground. He rolls, somehow getting himself back on his feet in seconds, but it was too late.

Minho grabs the back of his hoodie, and yanks him back, causing him to stumble. He turns in his hold, and almost falls back to the ground when he’s faced with Minho’s fierce, bone-chilling stare. But with nothing to lose, he tries to swing a fist at Minho. He misses, of course, and Minho lets go of his hoodie and pushes him back just enough for him to land a perfect left hook across the man’s jaw, knocking him to the ground again.

Minho wrestles the man onto his stomach, and pins his hands to his back.

“Someone help! I didn’t even do anything!” the man whines underneath him, kicking and wiggling in Minho’s grasp, until Minho digs his knee into the man’s lower back, resulting in the man groaning in pain.

“Oh, really? You are under arrest for the attempted assault of a police officer” Minho starts, retrieving his handcuffs from his belt and cuffing the man’s wrists together, “How about we see what you have on you while we’re at it, hm?”

Minho searches the man’s pockets, and his stomach twists at what he finds—a lockpick set, pieces of rope, a packet of Rohypnol, and a hunting knife.

“You sick son of a bitch,” Minho spits out in disgust. It had been a while since Minho felt such rage, making heat travel up his neck. If he wasn’t a cop, he would’ve beaten this man’s face into the pavement.

Minho uses the radio on his shoulder, calling in back-up to help collect the evidence he just confiscated from the man’s pockets and a patrol car to bring him in for arrest. Thankfully, a car out on patrol was nearby, and only takes a couple minutes to pull up in front of them.

Minho forces the man up onto his feet and roughly pushes him towards the vehicle as he announces, venom lacing his words, “You are under arrest for stalking with the intent to harm, and the attempted assault of a police officer. You have the right to remain silent, if you don’t have an attorney…”

Later the same day, you’re sitting in the chair next to Minho’s desk, fiddling with your thumbs as you wait for him.

Minho had called you to come down to the precinct, informing you that he had caught and arrested the man. The source of your anxiety and nightmares that had been overwhelming you for weeks, weeks that felt like months, had finally been caught. You nearly cried at his words, letting out a breath you felt like you’d been holding since this all started.

When you saw Minho as you walked into the precinct, you couldn’t help put run up and hug him, hitting him so hard his stance faltered back a bit. All he could do was let out an airy chuckle, gladly wrapping his arms around you. However, once you realized you were getting a few too many inquisitive stares from the other cops standing nearby, you quickly let go of him. He didn’t seem to mind, though.

A lot was revealed to you as Minho explained everything that had happened, and who exactly the man was that had been stalking you. He showed you pictures and documentation, and your mouth dropped at the information.

The man was a guy you recognized from an old job, one you had left over a year ago. You spoke to him briefly, maybe a handful of times, simply out of courtesy as your paths didn’t cross much. Clearly, he misinterpreted your brief kindness as something else. In his confession, not bothering to fight the accusations, he admitted he had finally found you about a month ago, eventually deciding to follow you on your regular commutes, wanting to “get to know” you. Minho’s accompanying you upset him, and he needed to be able to speak with you “directly”. So, he somehow managed to illegally access a code to your apartment complex, and in frequenting the mail room to find your name, he ultimately found your apartment number.

He had planned to be waiting for you inside your apartment when you got home that day, expecting you to stick to your normal routine. But when you didn’t leave at the time you normally did, that’s when Minho saw him making his way to your apartment, and his plans were ruined. Minho wouldn’t tell you the details of his “plans” that he shared, but when you heard what they had confiscated from him, you had a pretty good idea of what they were, and it took all you had not to become physically sick in your seat.

It also had been revealed that he had a warrant out for his arrest in another state, for something similar involving another woman, who had not been so lucky to have ruined his plans. Sexual assault charges, aggravated assault, and a litany of other crimes made him a very wanted man, and Minho told you he would eventually be transferred out of state to stand trial for those crimes, with his behavior here only backing up the cases for the prosecution. No matter what, the sick man wouldn’t be getting out of any of this, and would be sent far away from you, allowing you to find your peace in your city once again.

Minho finally makes his way back to his desk where you’re waiting after having finished filling out the last of the paperwork he needed from you, and informs you that you are free to leave whenever you’re ready.

You nod and stand to your feet, awkwardly hesitating for a moment. You didn’t want to leave, because if you left, what reason would you have to come back? You were relieved to finally be able to leave this chapter of your life behind you, but you didn’t want to leave Minho behind as well.

He notices your hesitation, and quietly laughs to himself as he sets down some papers, looking back to you with that smile of his that made you feel like mush inside.

“So…I guess this means you don’t need an escort any more, huh?” he says, the tiniest hint of disappointment in his voice.

You laugh and look down at your feet as you answer, “No, I guess not, but…” you pause, looking up at him, forcing yourself to look into his beautiful eyes, “I wouldn’t mind being escorted to dinner…maybe this weekend, if you’re not too busy chasing down other criminals.”

It’s Minho’s turn to look down at his feet, a light blush rising to his ears. He meets your eyes again, a little sparkle in his eyes as he responds, “Well, it’d certainly be a dangerous thing to let you go hungry. We can’t have that. How about 7 o’clock on Friday? We’ll go to that restaurant you were telling me about the other day.”

You smile like an idiot as you nod, not being able to mask your excitement. He giggles, and then walks with you towards the doors of the precinct, a gentle hand resting on the small of your back.

• • •

Minho swears paperwork will be the death of him. He loves his job, truly, but he wasn’t mentally prepared for all the fucking paperwork duties that came along with it when he chose his career.

It was Friday, the day of his date with you, and he already had to text you earlier to ask to meet at the restaurant instead of him meeting you at your apartment, everything he needed to get done before the end of his shift making him run later than he was expecting. You, being the understanding person you were, didn’t have a problem with it, and for that, Minho was extremely grateful.

But currently, he was drowning in paperwork, rushing to complete it all so he could leave. And with being so focused on his task, time got away from him, until one of his fellow officers taps his shoulder.

“Minho hyung, don’t you have a date tonight?” Officer Hwang Hyunjin asks, tucking long strands of his black hair behind his ear as he leans over Minho’s desk.

Minho turns to look up at him, confused. “Uh, yes? Why?”

Officer Hwang rolls his eyes, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the large analog clock on the wall behind them, “Because, if I remember correctly, you said you needed to leave here by 6:15, and it’s currently almost 7:40.”

Minho almost falls out of his chair as he realizes the time. He scrambles for his phone on his desk, and as he taps the screen, nothing happens. He then realizes that even though he had his phone hooked on the charger at his desk, the cord got unplugged, resulting in his phone running out of battery. Resulting in him having no way to contact you. Resulting in him fucking up the first date he’s been on in ages, with the woman he liked more than he probably should’ve, after only a short time of knowing her.

“Shit!” Minho curses, slamming his palms onto his desk as he rises to his feet, making Officer Hwang jump a little.

Just then, the chief walks by, noticing Minho’s distress.

“What’s got you all worked up, Lee?” Chief Lee Felix asks, walking up to Minho’s desk. Minho runs a hand through his hair, opening his mouth to answer, but Officer Hwang beats him to it.

“Minho just stood up the only date he’s had in, what, years? How hard is it to pay attention to the time, pabo? She was cute, too. It’s a damn shame,” Hyunjin rambles, and flinches back when Minho lifts his hand to smack him, but is stopped by the chief raising his hands.

“Yah! Hold on. You really had a date tonight? What time?” Chief Lee asks, looking at Minho with an amused smile.

”At 7…” Minho mumbles, collapsing back into his chair and hiding his face in his hands. How could he do this, to you of all people?

“The fuck you still doing here then?! Get out of here! She might still be there if you go now,” the chief says, clapping his hand hard against Minho’s shoulder.

“I—wh—I won’t get there fast enough! It’ll take me 20 minutes to walk there, 15 if I run,” Minho replies, caught off guard by the chief’s reaction.

“Well, you definitely didn’t hear me tell you to take a patrol car for personal use. And you certainly didn’t hear me tell you to use lights and sirens while you’re at it. Absolutely not,” Chief Lee replies, cheekily winking at Minho.

It takes a second for Minho to process what he just heard. But then he jumps back on his feet, grabs his phone and a set of keys for one of the patrol cars, and maneuvers around his desk, intentionally shoulder-checking Hyunjin in the process. He breathes out a “Thank you” as he passes the chief, who lightly smacks Minho’s ass in return, and both Chief Lee and Officer Hwang holler and clap as Minho takes off running full speed to the doors of the precinct.

You begin walking out of the restaurant, a cool breeze making you shiver, pulling your jacket around yourself tighter.

You never expected Minho would be the kind of guy to stand you up. You really thought he was someone more decent than that. You would’ve bet your life on it.

Yet here you were, wearing your favorite pair of jeans, heels, and top that hugged your curves in all the right places, about to head home after waiting on him for nearly an hour, with no phone call and no reply to any of your messages. You felt so foolish, and you couldn’t believe you really thought he actually liked you back. Discouraged and on the verge of tears, you start taking a few steps to walk home.

Then, you heard sirens approaching. You didn’t think much of it, sirens being a relatively common sound to hear in the city. But as the sirens got louder, and now lights came into view, you turned to look in the direction they were coming from.

A cop car was speeding down the street, heading right for where you were standing. You watched as the car pulled over into an empty parking space right in front of you, cutting the lights and sirens once in park. Out from the driver’s side door comes a frantic looking Minho, who almost trips over his feet as he rushes onto the sidewalk, stopping in his tracks as he makes eye contact with you. You see his face drop, and he takes a few long strides over to you, stopping a couple feet away, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to find his words.

“Oh, Y/N, oh, I am so sorry! I know, you have every right to be pissed off at me right now, and if you want to leave, I’ll understand, but hear me out. I swear, I didn’t do this on purpose. I got caught up in finishing up paperwork that needed to get done before the end of my shift—you know me and paperwork, right? —and time just got away from me. Hyunj—Officer Hwang had to tell me I was late, and both him and the chief were giving me shit about being such a moron, and honestly, I have to agree. I mean, my phone even died, though the damn thing was plugged in! I didn—"

“Minho, enough,” you interrupt him, holding up a hand to pause his rushed explanation for his lateness.

He stops, and his expression turns even sadder, reminding you of a wounded, wide-eyed kitten. Your heart felt like it was going to break at that sight alone.

“I’ll be honest, I was hurt there for a minute. I like you, like, really like you, Minho. So, thinking you stood me up like that, with no warning…” you trail off as you look down at the sidewalk, betraying tears pricking at your eyes. Fuck, why were you so emotional around him?!

Minho steps closer to you, placing his hands on your shoulders, giving you a light squeeze, and leans down to try to look in your eyes, just like he always liked to do when you wouldn’t look at him. But you continued to avoid him, not wanting him to see the tears in your own. He then took one of his hands, and gently tipped your chin up to look him in the eye. Seeing how upset you were over his mistake, he bit his bottom lip into a slight frown, using the thumb of the hand on your face to lightly caress your jaw.

“Y/N, I really like you, too. I’ve been looking forward to this since the moment we made the plans. I’d never dream of standing someone as lovely as you up. Will you forgive me? Let me make it up to you tonight, okay? I’m all yours for the rest of the evening,” Minho softly confesses, eyes pleading with you to say ‘yes’.

You gently grab onto his hand on your face, and give him a reassuring squeeze as you nod your head. Minho smiles, beaming at your answer. He drops his hand from your face and takes hold of the hand you had on his, lacing his fingers with yours as he walks you inside of the restaurant.

Dinner with Minho quickly became one of the best decisions you’d ever made. It was so much fun, talking about whatever would come to mind, laughing, teasing, and cracking jokes, while sharing a bottle of soju as you ate some of the best Korean barbecue in the city.

Minho insisted on grilling everything, always giving you the first piece whenever the cuts were finished cooking. It was such a simple gesture, but one that made your heart pick up its pace nevertheless.

“You know, I don’t mind taking a turn grilling. I don’t expect to be served the whole night,” you giggle as you watch Minho place more cuts of flank onto the grill top.

“But that’s part of my job description, to protect and serve,” Minho replies, pretending to be serious.

“I don’t think this is the kind of serving they meant when you took that oath,” you say as you playfully roll your eyes, taking another swig of soju.

“Maybe, maybe not, but just in case, let me fulfill my duties, ma’am,” he responds, doing his best to keep a straight face, yet failing miserably.

“Whatever you say, Officer Lee,” you tease, and you both crack up, laughing a little too loudly.

When you both had finished up, Minho paid the bill, even though you argued you should at least pay half since you were the one who technically asked him out, but he just smiled as he handed his card to the waiter, making you shake your head at him.

He then walked you out of the restaurant, hand resting on your lower back. He ushered you over to the patrol car, opening the door for you, and placing his hand on the top of the doorway to make sure you didn’t bump your head. You blushed at the chivalry, smiling to yourself as you watched him walk around to his door.

He drove you to your apartment, the ride there being filled with silence. Not an awkward or tense silence, but a comfortable silence, simply enjoying the presence of the other, stealing blushing glances, and giggling when you would catch the other doing so.

Once Minho pulled over next to your complex and put the car in park, you were the one who decided to break the silence.

“Thank you for everything tonight, Minho. I had a great time. But… I have a favor to ask,” you speak up, heart hammering in your chest as you work up the nerve to say what you were wanting to say.

He looks over at you, a beautifully soft expression on his face, and replies in all genuineness, “Anything.”

You smile at him, then bite your lip as you shyly look into your lap.

“Would you be up for escorting me inside tonight? Maybe, to my bedroom? There’s been some dust bunnies eyeing me funny, and I think they might be plotting against me…” you manage to breath out, laughing lightly at your own joke in an effort to soften the blow of rejection you feared to be very likely. You weren’t one to ask someone inside on the first date, but Minho was different, and maybe it was the soju lingering in your system, but you felt like you might as well lay it all on the line tonight.

He doesn’t say anything, and you’re about to sputter out an apology, but when you look up at him, his face is mere inches from yours. He looks over your face slowly, as if he were memorizing every feature, and his piercing gaze stops at your lips.

“It’d be my pleasure, miss,” he breathes over your lips, and the next thing you know, he’s crashing his lips against yours. He kisses you sweetly, bringing his hand to the back of your neck to cradle your head in his strong hand. The kiss quickly turns urgent, however, with your open mouths moving against one another, one of your hands raking down his firm chest as he licks into your mouth. You eventually have to pull away from each other, unfortunately needing to catch your breath.

Before you can even say anything, Minho is getting out of the car, swiftly walking around even with a slight bulge in his slacks, and opens your door, extending a hand for you to take. You oblige, and he helps you out of the car with an eager glint in his eyes, mirroring your own.

As soon as you lock your apartment door behind you, you are all over each other in seconds. Lips devouring one another, hands in each other’s hair, pulling and pushing until Minho ultimately pins you against the wall. His hand is now on the side of your neck, his lips occupying the other side, while his other hand grips at the bare skin of your waist, exposed from your shirt bunching up slightly, fingertips lightly digging into the soft flesh.

His lips trail up to just below your ear, sucking and nibbling at the skin just enough to leave a mark. He gives the spot a quick peck before moving up to whisper right in your ear, “I think I’m going to have to conduct a search, miss. Need to make sure you aren’t hiding anything that poses a risk.”

You let out an airy giggle at his cheesy line, playing up a sultry response of your own, “Of course, Officer, whatever you need to do.”

You feel Minho smile against your ear, and he proceeds to conduct his “search”. His hands, soft yet rough at the same time, run up the sides of your body, gripping and kneading as he went. He brings his hands up to frame your chest, fingertips pressing into the sides of your breasts as his thumbs gently brush over where your nipples were hardening under your clothes. His exploring hands then trailed down your sides, making their way behind you, enjoying every moment of sliding his hands down the curve of your ass. He firmly groped you, taking hold of each cheek in his hand and pulling up and apart, spreading you open in your jeans, making you moan out at the feeling.

“Hmm, something seems suspicious here. Gonna have to take a closer look,” Minho breathes out against your ear again, and you softly whine in response, pushing your hips against his, allowing you to momentarily feel how truly hard he had gotten in his pants. He pushed your hips back though, pinning you back to the wall with a light thud.

“Please cooperate, or you’ll have to be detained,” he instructs, trying to put on a serious mask, but failing to completely hide his amusement at his own words.

“That’s supposed to be a bad thing?” you teasingly reply, a bit out of breath.

He gives you an evil little smirk, one hand still pinning your hips to the wall, the other now boldly cupping the crotch of your jeans. You let out a quick gasp as he firmly runs his palm up and down over your core. You feel yourself getting wetter at the sensation, wondering if he can feel it through your jeans. He removes his palm, and replaces it with his thumb, now trailing up and down the ridged seam of your jeans, giving extra focus to the spot where your clit was already buzzing from the attention. He then trails his fingers up, up, up, until he can unbutton your jeans, grabbing onto the zipper and slowly unzips them, his snail pace driving you crazy.

You watch with wide eyes as he sinks to his knees in front of you. He brings both hands to the waist of your jeans, and slowly peels them down your legs, watching your reaction the whole time. He removes your heels along with your jeans, giving you more stability, as what he planned on doing to you would not help you in that department.

He gently positions your legs further apart, allowing him room to nestle right between them, breath ghosting over your clothed cunt. He looks up at you through his long lashes, searching for any signs to stop, but all you did was thread a hand into his soft hair, pushing him slightly closer to where you needed him most, making him wickedly grin from beneath you.

He closes the gap and attaches his mouth to your drenched pussy, licking his tongue right over your clothed hole, moaning at the taste. His nose nudges your clit, and you can’t help put push his head into you a little more, lightly grinding yourself into him. It felt so good, but nowhere near enough.

He runs his tongue up until he reaches the nub hiding in your panties, and starts to flick his tongue over the spot. You let out an airy moan, and Minho removes himself from you, turning your moan into a pathetic whine. He clicks his tongue at you, shaking his head at you, while bringing his hands back up, fingers hooking into your panties to drag them down your legs, tossing them with your jeans.

He positions himself again, this time hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. He takes time to kiss all over your inner thigh, trailing further in until he places a kiss on the trimmed mound of your pussy, right above the lips. He watches your face twist in pleasure as he sinks his tongue between your folds, lapping up everything you were dripping for him.

Your head leans back against the wall, moans escaping from your lips as he ate you out, savoring the dessert he hadn’t gotten at dinner. He traded off from fucking you with his tongue, to sucking your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the bundle of nerves that were practically singing from his focused attention. He moaned into you when you threaded your hands in his hair again, tugging at the roots to have something to hold onto.

Your legs started to shake, and Minho could tell it wouldn’t take much more to push you over the edge. However, he wasn’t done playing with you yet. He removed his mouth from you, going back to kissing your inner thigh again, this time sucking light marks into them while kneading the outside with his warm hand. Before you can whine in frustration, you feel the fingers of his other hand start exploring your pussy, letting them slide through the wetness that both of you had caused.

He slides one finger inside of you, making you clench around him immediately. He chuckles into your thigh as he works his finger in deeper, curling up, truly in search for something now.

He adds another finger, picking up his pace slightly when he hears how you moan from the feeling. He adjusts the angle of his fingers just a bit, and finds exactly what he was looking for. You let out a gasping cry, Minho rubbing against a soft spot within you that has your eyes rolling back into your head. He puts his mouth back on your clit, sucking hard as his fingers move even faster, and before you even realize it’s happening, you’re cumming all over his hand and face, shaking violently around his head, crying out in pure pleasure. He holds you tight, not letting your body slip in his grasp as he works you through the intense sensation.

You sincerely hope your neighbors didn’t hear, as they might just decide to call the cops at the disturbance, but then you hazily laugh to yourself at the thought. If they did decide to do that, you already had a cop here to take care of it.

Once your shaking slowed, Minho set your leg back down, getting onto his feet as well. He then roughly pulls you to himself in a deliciously messy open-mouth kiss, making sure you got a good taste of yourself all over his lips and tongue. You moan into his mouth, and he swallows it up, a smile trying to break out across his face.

You never would have expected Minho, Officer Lee Minho, upstanding man of your city’s finest, behaving so utterly debauched. You didn’t like it.

You loved it.

 “I still need you to escort me to my bedroom, Officer,” you mumble against his lips, peering up at him through your lashes, giving him the best doe-eyed stare you could manage.

He puffs out a humored breath against your lips, smirking down at you.

“Show me the way, miss. I’ll keep you safe,” he mumbles back to you, taking a step back so you could lead him where you want him. Your smile leans more towards giddy than sexy as you pull him towards your bedroom.

When reaching your room, Minho uses the hand you were holding to pull you back into his chest, placing a hand on your cheek, the kiss you share being far more tender than the one from before. He slowly starts to back you up to your bed, and right before you fall back onto it, you remember something.

“Wait!” you gasp out, and Minho immediately freezes in place. He looks at you with such sincere concern, wondering what line he had just crossed.

“Just one second, before we get too much further,” you say with a sweet smile, and turn on your heel, jogging into your ensuite bathroom, closing the door.

Minho awkwardly stands there as he hears you clanging around in there, cabinets and drawers slamming shut, the sounds of things being shuffled around, eventually hearing you say “Aha!”, which made him chuckle.

A brief moment later, you open the door, strutting back out completely naked. Minho’s lips part at the sight, taking in your beautiful body. Fuck, he wanted to drop to his knees again, but then you say, ”Heads up!”, and toss something in his direction.

He catches it with ease, and looks down at what you threw. A golden foil packet. A condom.

“Had a hard time finding one of these, eh?” Minho laughs, wiggling his eyebrows at you, alluding to your apparent lack of need for them.

“Hey, I only invite the city’s finest in here, and would you believe, they’re hard to come by?” you tease, settling yourself in the middle of your bed.

Minho laughs, nodding his head at you, “Understandable.”

Minho then decides he’s had enough of being the only one fully clothed, in his uniform at that, not having the time to change before he raced to the restaurant.

He walks over to your dresser, and starts to undo his tactical belt, being responsible and taking apart all of the pieces he needed to for safety, specifically his gun. You sit up in bed, watching his movements with fascination. You see him set another item down, and you can’t help but blurt out,

“Could you maybe keep the ‘cuffs?”

He turns to look at you, raising his eyebrows as he lets out a pretty laugh. You bite your lip, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Now, Miss Y/N, I have to ask—are you only sleeping with me to live out some kinky cop fantasy?” Minho teases, but genuinely wanting your answer. He wouldn’t necessarily mind if that was the case, but he wanted it to be so much more.

“I don’t have a ‘kinky cop fantasy’, I have a kinky Lee Minho fantasy, and he just happens to be a cop. Is that an issue for you?” you honestly reply, sending him a quick wink.

A big smile spreads across his face, and he turns back to the dresser to hide it.

“Not at all,” he answers, going back to removing his belt and untucking his shirt from his slacks. He takes his time unbuttoning his blue uniform shirt, folding it neatly onto the dresser. He then takes off his white undershirt, flexing the muscles in his shoulders as he lifts it over his head. He knew your eyes were on him, and he wanted to show off a teeny bit.

He unbuttons his pants, and slides them, along with his underwear, down his legs. He picks them up to fold them as well.

You were drooling at the sight, almost from your mouth, but definitely from your pussy. He looked even more sexy than you could have imagined, and you only were staring at his toned back and perfectly round ass so far.

He turns around to face you, handcuffs in one hand, and the condom between his fingers in the other.

Oh fuck.

If you thought his back was perfect, it had nothing on his front. Gorgeously toned pecs, beautiful abs with the perfect amount of soft belly cushioning them, and a sexy little happy trail under his belly button leading down to his mouth-watering cock, fully hard and hanging heavy between his thick thighs.

You might actually be drooling from your mouth now.

“As a responsible citizen, I’m sure you’re aware of what the different colors for traffic lights mean?” Minho questions, strutting up to the end of the bed.

“Ooo and you’re calling me the kinky one, Officer Lee…yes, I know my traffic lights, and mine is green,” you tease as you slowly spread your legs out in front of him, giving him an unobstructed view of your glistening cunt.

He unthinkingly licks his lips as he stares you down, tossing the condom and cuffs onto the bed. He takes both hands and grabs your ankles, quickly pulling you down the bed until you’re flat on your back. You let out a little yelp that turns into a giggle, and he giggles too, climbing above you as he settles between your legs, leaning down to press short but searing kisses against your lips. You feel his hard length resting on your thigh—red, hot, and deliciously leaky.

You lift your arms to wrap around his neck, but he removes them from around him and pushes them above your head, touching your headboard. He pulls back from you to reach to the side, and then dangles his handcuffs in front of your face with one finger.

“You really want me to use these?” he asks, pretty eyes scanning your face, making sure it was something you were still comfortable with.

You sheepishly grin as you say, “Yes,” and Minho grins back. He reaches over your head and places the cuffs around your wrists, looping the chain through the iron rungs of your headboard. He checks to make sure the cuffs are secure, giving them a gentle tug, while also making sure they weren’t too tight around your wrists.

He sits back, admiring your form underneath him. So beautiful, so sexy, and completely at his mercy for the rest of the night.

He was going to take good care of you.

He spreads your legs further apart, mesmerized by the way your pussy lips spread apart for him. He feels his mouth salivating just looking at you.

“Such a pretty little pussy,” he says under his breath, and you let out a heavy sigh at his words, cheeks starting to redden at his unyielding gaze.

He reaches over for the condom on the bed, and tears at the packet with his teeth, spitting a piece of foil to the side. He removes the condom from the packet, and slowly rolls it onto his painfully hard cock, letting out a breath along with it.

You can’t take your eyes off of his fat cock. You want it in you, need it in you so badly. You wish you could just let him take you raw, feeling every vein and ridge along your gummy walls. You’d have to look into doing something about that for the next time…please, let there be a next time.

He shuffles forward until his gorgeously heavy cock is able to rest right on top of your spread-out cunt, and holds the base steady as he glides it through your slick folds, spreading the wetness all over both of you. You’re so wet that it makes the hair at his base dampen from the touch. He takes his time, just feeling you, his head tilting back at the sensation, both of you letting out a whispered gasp when his tip catches on your clit.

“More, more please,” you moan, bucking your hips up to try to feel more of him, even though the only way to feel anything more would be for him to be inside of you. The chain of the handcuffs clink against the headboard as you move, keeping you in place.

He lets out a raspy chuckle, still content with his gentle rocking movements.

“Are you giving me orders?” he questions, looking down at you with a menacing quirked eyebrow.

“No, I—” your response is cut off by the feeling of him tapping his cockhead against your clit, making you mewl at the embarrassingly loud smacking sounds.

“Please, please fuck me, Officer. Need your cock to fill me up so bad. Cock is so big, so pretty. Let my pussy make it feel good. I know you’ll like it, Officer Lee,” you manage to babble out, practically begging him for his cock. You had no shame in it, either. You’d do anything for him to have you.

“Think so? Is this pussy gonna make me cum?” Minho replies, a minor taunt in his voice.

He bites his lip as he watches you rapidly nod your head, legs squirming next to him.

“Okay, jagiya. I’ll fuck this sweet pussy, give it to you good since you’re offering it to me so kindly. But on one condition—you don’t cum until I give you permission. Officer’s orders,” he says, somehow cooing and threatening you at the same time, leaning down until his lips barely hover over yours.

“Understand?” he breathes over your lips, eyes caressing your face.

Your brain short-circuits for a moment. You swear you feel your cunt get even wetter at his words. You lick your lips, eyes looking over his face as his were to you, matching the tension he created.

“Yes, Officer. I understand.”

His lips are on yours immediately, managing to kiss you even filthier than before. He takes what he wants, licking into your mouth, savoring the taste of your tongue, and puts action to the phrase “swapping spit”.

He pulls back with a groan, just before you reach your limit from lack of oxygen. Your chest was rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. He’s got you like this and he hasn’t even fucked you yet? Shit. He was going to ruin you.

Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, he starts lining his tip at your entrance, ever so slightly pushing in. He pushes a little more, just barely, and keeps that slow progression as he sinks into you, forcing you to feel it all.

You try to steel your expressions as he does so, but your eyes were already wanting to cross from the massive stretch as his fat cock filled you. You bite your lip so hard you might just break the skin.

“That feel good, jagiya? You’re taking my cock so well. So tight,” Minho asks, trying to keep a straight face himself, but not being able to hide his quiet grunt as he feels you clench at his compliment.

You nod with a little hum, but it’s not enough for Minho. He places his big, veiny hand against your lower pelvis, pressing down just enough, adding pressure that he could feel from inside you, and gently grinds into you.

You can’t help the groan that leaves your lips, the pressure of him inside and outside feeling indescribably good. This man was in your fucking guts, and it made your brain go fuzzy.

“That ‘a girl, let it out for me,” he encourages, sighing with admiration at how your body was reacting to him. Your noises were so pretty, and he wanted you to give him more.

He continues to grind into you, so deliciously yet frustratingly slow. Even with the condom, you felt every detail of him inside you. Gliding in, and almost all the way out, again and again, rolling his hips as he stroked the deepest parts of you, leaning over you with one hand pushing into the mattress, the other gripping the meat of your thigh and holding your leg around him. You felt like your body was humming, buzzing as your nerves sent every little sensation to your brain. You felt it tingling up your spine, down your legs, and even in your toes. You knew as soon as he decided to pick up the pace, you’d cum way too fast. He was winding you up tighter, and tighter, drawing out pretty gasps and moans from you that flowed more with every stroke. He stopped trying to hinder his own sounds, letting his airy moans and uhh’s mix with yours, your bodies harmonizing with one another.

After what feels like ages, already delirious from his slow but thorough fucking, he gradually began to pick up the pace. His slow grinds turned into steady rutting, then turned into rhythmic pounding, with his thick thighs slapping against the backs of yours.

“Nnngh ‘m gonna cum!” you whine out a warning, your orgasm racing up on you after being wound up for so long.

“You’re going to disobey an officer’s orders Y/N? Aren’t you better than that?” Minho jabs, voice rougher than normal, panting breaths layering his words.

“ ‘m trying! I c-can’t hold it!” you cry out, feeling helpless in the best way possible.

“What’s your color?” he growls, leaning in next to your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Green! So fucking green, don’t stop Minho,” you beg, tears of pleasure starting to run down your face and onto your pillows.

“Then you’re going to hold it like a good girl. Don’t you dare cum,” Minho commands through his teeth, but shows some mercy and slows his pace, spacing out his thrusts, letting you find control of yourself again.

But he’s feeling just as fucked out as you are, and he’s not much better off than you in holding off his own orgasm.

He hooks his arms under your knees, folding you in half as he leans his body over, chest brushing up against yours, and his arms extend further above you to grab onto the rungs of your headboard, hands next to yours. You’re pinned under him and his cock, pushing your limits of flexibility, but fuck does it feel good.

His pace builds right back up to where he had you teetering on the edge, but more intense now, just fucking drilling into your swollen pussy, making the headboard move and slam back into the wall with every one of his thrusts. You didn’t care that he might break it, and you didn’t care that your neighbors could hear, all you cared about was cumming all over his cock and taking him over the edge with you.

“Min! I—I can-’t, please! Please let me cum!” you squeal out, feeling the tension in your core reaching its peak. Your pussy was clenching around him, walls fluttering, and he wasn’t going to be able to hold off any longer.

One of his hands lets go of the headboard and grabs onto your chin instead, lightly squeezing your jaw.

“You fucking cum for me, right now,” Minho growls in your face, and watches your eyes roll back into your head at his command, white-hot pleasure shattering you apart, causing your back to arch harshly into him, convulsing against his body with no control over your movements.

Your pussy squeezes around his cock like a vice, and with how mind-blowingly pretty you looked unravelling beneath him, he moans loudly as he unloads his hot release into the condom, his own body shaking from the intensity.

He stays buried in you, weakly grinding into you as you both pant like animals as you come down from your highs. Once you both find the ability to breathe somewhat normally again, Minho gently pulls out, making you whimper at the loss of fullness.

He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs the keys to the handcuffs, and proceeds to finally free your wrists from the headboard. When he unlinks them, he notices faint red lines around your wrists, and you see his face fall.

“I really tried to make sure these didn’t hurt you,” he sincerely whispers as he flops onto his side next to you, a pout pulling at his bottom lip.

“But it didn’t hurt. You don’t understand how fucking good all of that felt,” you say as you prop your head up onto your hand, a genuine smile breaking out across your face as you turn look at him.

He chuckles, mirroring you by propping his head into his hand too, “I do, though. You’re amazing.”

“I know. I told you you’d like this pussy,” you reply with a cocky smirk.

“No—well, yes—but no,” he giggles, but then his face turns more serious, his eyes looking down at the mattress. His free hand takes hold of yours between the two of you, and gently plays with your fingers as he continues, “it’s more than that, Y/N. I wouldn’t have done all that with just anyone. I really, really like you. Ever since I saw you in the precinct, even as shaken up as you were, I thought you were beautiful. And then I got to spend time around you, got to know you, and you turned out to be beautiful on the inside, too. I like being with you. I like who I am when I’m with you. I don’t want us to end here tonight. I want to be so much more to you than this. Would…would you let me? Would you…want to be my girlfriend?”

You’re shocked into momentary silence. Minho’s heart drops in his chest at your lack of response, and forces himself to meet your eyes to face rejection.

But all he sees is you with a big, stupid grin on your face.

“I’d love that, Minho. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend,” you giddily answer, fingers lightly squeezing his, your feet subtly kicking at sheets in excitement.

Minho grins back at you just as stupidly, bunny teeth on full display. He frees his hand from yours and reaches to the back of your neck, pulling you into him, making the hand under your head fall to the mattress to brace yourself. He meets you in the middle to smash his lips into yours, passionate and sweet, a small smile forming into the kiss.

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, lost in the moment, when suddenly, a tiny dip in the bed and a movement behind his shoulder makes him jump.

You laugh at his reaction, seeing the cause of the problem—a cute, fluffy problem.

”You have a cat?” he gasps in awe as he watches the cat climb over him to get to you.

“Um, yeah,” you laugh, reaching out to pet her, and Minho gently does the same, scratching behind her ear, a light purr rumbling out from your kitty at the attention, “This is my babygirl, Mochi. I didn’t know she was hiding in here. She’s probably traumatized after all we just did,” you laugh again, feeling a little guilty for possibly scarring your cat for life. You know she never had heard you make noises quite like that before. Poor baby.

Something fuzzy and warm bubbles up in Minho’s chest as he watches you continue petting your cat, who is now making her way behind you.

“Actually, scratch the girlfriend thing—can you marry me?” Minho asks, another stupid grin on his face.

Your head snaps back to him, and he giggles at your initial shocked expression. You then narrow your eyes at him, a mischievous smirk pulling at your lips.

“Now, Officer Lee, isn’t that a dangerous question to ask me? What if I say ‘yes’?” you answer, flirtingly leaning in closer to his face.

“I wouldn’t have become a cop if I didn’t like a little bit of danger,” he answers back, closing in on you, eyes watching your lips.

“Hmm…,” you hum, ”I might need to be ‘cuffed a few more times before I trade them in for a ring.”

“That can be arranged,” Minho breathes out over your lips, then firmly presses his lips into yours, gently rolling himself on top of you.

Mochi doesn’t make the same mistake twice, and scurries out of your bedroom.

————————————————————————

if you enjoyed this story, check out my masterlist here <3

tags: @jehhskz

[leeracha]

Would you maybe be interested in this?

https://www.tumblr.com/thefantasydenthoughts/745174509121929216/sending-one-more-i-hope-im-not-annoying-i-feel?source=share

a/n: (link) I am yes BUT you know I have to add my own twist

Synopsis: You never expected to run into three terrifyingly handsome men the night you ran away on your wedding, but you didn't expect them to be so inviting either.

warnings: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, 4some, jerking off, multiple orgasms (f!), light pussy play, PIV, cumming inside, no protection, lots of boob play, overstim (f!), GUN INVOLVEMENT (not nsfw), kidnapping?? (kinda), prolly missed more lmao

4.3k words

"Don't scream," you hear a deep voice whisper in your ear before your mouth is covered. "Unless you want metal in your head."

Your small whimpers muffle in his hand, but you nod. The man with chubby cheeks gives you a sympathetic look and frowns at the one holding a gun to your head. "Do you have to say that? You're gonna make her cry."

"Jisung," a cat-like man says his name sternly. "We don't have time for this, let's go."

Jisung grumbles while they lead you to an alleyway away from the main street. The tall man behind you keeps the gun to your head, guiding you to follow them. There are hardly any lights this deep into an alley, but the moon provides enough to help you spot a parked car.

They're taking you back. The thought of your arranged marriage makes you cry, weeping in the hands of your kidnappers. Tears seep through the man's fingers and you taste the saltiness on your lips. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, but the hand on your mouth prevents you from properly inhaling.

You shake your head back and forth, trying to escape from his grip. "No," you sob. "I don't wanna go back. Don't send me back. Please."

The man with the cat eyes unlocks the car and opens the backseat door. "Damn Hyunjin. What'd you tell her?"

"I didn't say shit!" Hyunjin has to bump you toward the car as you try to escape. "She just started crying. Are you sure we have the right girl?"

It takes Hyunjin and Jisung to put you in the car. To ensure your captivity, each of them sits beside you, thigh to thigh. The other one sits in the front, roaring the car engine to life. "All I was told was that she had white heels. That's it."

You're still crying, hiccuping as Hyunjin keeps the gun pointed steadily at you. Jisung takes a comforting approach, opting to hold your shaky hands and smooth over your skin. "Nothing is gonna happen, okay?" He smiles wearily at you. "Just a few questions. That's all."

No way that's all. If your fiancé sent them, they'll do more than just ask questions. "D-don't lie to me," you say through your tears. "You're gonna send me back to h-him and make me m-marry him and you'll kill me if I don't." You expect them to keep feeding you lies in an attempt to calm you, but Jisung's expression is utterly confused.

"Marry? Marry who?" It's the driver who asks. He hasn't put the car into gear yet as he turns to look at you. His face is more terrifying when he's pissed. "Who are you?"

Shouldn't you be asking them that?

But you tell them. You tell them how you were set up for an arranged marriage with a man whose name you don't even know. You tell them that tonight is the night you ran away from your wedding. You're sure he's sent people to find you, and since Hyunjin had that god-forsaken gun, you thought they were the ones.

"Holy shit," Jisung swears when you finish your story. "Chan is gonna kill us."

You're not sure who Chan is, but you're not eager to find out. "Don't tell him! I promise I won't say anything. I swear. I'll pretend like nothing happened and...and I'll give you anything you want! I have money! I don't care how much you ask for, just don't hurt me." Your bottom lip trembles.

Han shares a look with Hyunjin who looks at the man in the front for directions.

"Listen," the driver speaks softly. "We aren't gonna hurt you. We weren't even thinking of it. We were supposed to question a different girl but someone got it wrong." He shoots a look at Jisung. "But I promise, pretty, nothing's gonna happen to you, okay?"

He sounds sincere, and whether he means it or not, it makes you feel just a little better. You nod and wipe the tears sliding down your face, trying to control your breathing. Hyunjin seems to have long abandoned the gun and Jisung’s hand moved to your knee. Suddenly, it’s not too scary having them pushed against you.

"See?" Jisung gives you a sweet smile. "You're gonna be okay. Minho looks all mean, but he's not too bad."

Minho grunts.

"Okay, maybe he is a little bad, but he's not all bad." Jisung gives a reassuring squeeze.

You nod, trying to smile but the need for air is more important. You're still in your wedding dress with a huge coat over it. With the two men sitting hip-to-hip with you, it's starting to feel hot and uncomfortable. You try fanning yourself with your hand, but it's not enough. Deciding it’s better to remove your coat, you slowly shrug the material off. It slides down your shoulders to reveal the dress you tried so hard to conceal. 

It's beautiful, much to your dismay. A corset wrapped tightly at your waist so your breasts overfill at the top. It's loose on the bottom, with a slit starting at your upper thigh to expose your leg. It makes you look accentuated, yes, but it's a reminder that you were a pawn. You wish you could remove it entirely.

"Oh wow," Jisung can't help his shock. His eyes lock at your chest before traveling up to your neck. "You look...you look...I mean you were getting married, I know, but-"

"You look beautiful," Hyunjin saves Jisung from embarrassment. You discard the coat on the floor of the car before looking at Hyunjin. Maybe it's because he's no longer threatening you, but he looks charming under the car lights. His eyes remind you of how the crescent moon looks high in the sky. Though his lips seem to demand your attention from his smile, you can’t help but be drawn to the shining metal on his eyebrow. 

"I uhh...thanks," you aren't sure which enchanting features to look at. “You look…good too.”

"Thank you," he giggles. "So is this what you were gonna wear for a man you've never even met?" Hyunjin gestures at your dress. Your smile falters and you nod. "What a waste," he places his large hand on your face, thumb stroking your cheek. "Such a pretty thing like you deserves so much more. Don't you think, Ji?"

"So much more," Jisung scoots closer to you. His hand goes to your knee while leaning into your neck. "So pretty." His breath is warm on your skin. His body heat feels like an inviting blanket you want to wrap yourself in. Though you haven’t spoken to Jisung much, he seems to be the ‘nicest’. He was the only one who made an effort to calm you down, even if it didn’t help much at the time. 

You can tell Jisung wants to touch you more. He's practically vibrating with need, but he holds back. The only sign he gives you is the hand on your leg. It never travels up, but his fingers make small circles on your skin. His hesitation only works you up more. Feeling his hand on your knee is only a hint at what you might endure tonight. You're surprised to see how much you want to feel all of them touching you.

Still, you have the mind to remember how scared you were moments ago. “I don't- I don't think-" You're cut off by Hyunjin tracing his thumb on your mouth. He taps your bottom lip, pulling it down to reveal your lower teeth.

"Don't think, angel," he sounds like a dream. "You're safe with us, that's all that matters."

Safe? That you aren't too sure of, but you don't try to stop Hyunjin when he leans in. His hand is steady on your cheek while his lips meet yours. The kiss is soft, a gentle mingling to let you know he wouldn't do anything you're not ready for. You tilt your head up to get more of his taste. A specific flavor of coolness meets your mouth, he must wear chapstick.

Mint, you think.

The kiss deepens and his tongue swipes against your lip. You debate on it, unsure if you're really wanting to fuck the same guys who scared the shit out of you minutes ago. But everything just feels so good. Hyunjin's mouth and Han's inching hand. You're already on the run from your finance, what's the harm in fucking up more?

You part your lips, inviting Hyunjin's tongue. He inhales and grunts at the wetness of yours. They slide together and mix, twisting into an open-mouthed kiss crudely.

Hyunjin properly reattaches his mouth to suck on your bottom lip, pulling the skin in a way that makes you whine. Jisung takes the opportunity to slide his hand up the slit, finding home at your inner thigh. You feel his mouth attach to the exposed part of your neck. His tongue is hot on your skin, licking and sucking until your throat turns a bright shade of pink.

"Are you guys seriously gonna fuck in my car?"

Oh. Right, there's another person here. Hyunjin slowly pulls away from you. The lack of kissing has you chasing his lips, blindly following the sensation.

Han whines in the crook of your neck, sparing a look at Minho who looks both irritated and aroused.

"But Minhooo..." Jisung pouts. "She's so pretty."

"So pretty," Hyunjin parrots.

"And we weren't very nice to her at first. This is us making it up! This is the least we owe her, don't you think?" Jisung must have Minho under some type of spell because his features soften. There's a brief moment of silence that's nearly deafening. The attention shifts from Minho to you, and you can hardly stand the tension.

"I...I want to."

"Oh, you do?" Minho doesn't sound too friendly. "Alright then. Go ahead." He twists his body so it's fully facing you and the other men. You hear Hyunjin groan and Jisung giggle. They waste no time in getting back to their original position, though Jisung seems eager to spread your legs wide this time.

The feeling of two hot mouths lands on both sides of your neck. You gasp, fists gripping their pants.

You lock eyes with Minho to see a smirk on his lips. "You're...you're just gonna watch?"

Minho's smile widens, "Why? Is two not enough for you?"

Hyunjin laughs against your skin while you blush. "That's not what I meant," you whimper when Jisung bites down on your flesh. "I just...I don't want you to-"

"He's a big boy, angel," Hyunjin picks up his head from your neck. "If he wants to watch, he can watch you cum on my dick, okay?" You turn redder, hand coming up to cover your bashful expression.

It's a good thing you've got something covering your mouth because Jisung has managed to infiltrate your underwear amidst the conversation. He massages your cunt through the material in slow circles. You hum and widen your legs while Hyunjin helps to hike the dress up to your waist.

"No, she’s gonna cum on me first!” Jisung pouts. “I wanna be the first one.” To drive his point home, Jisung moves your underwear to the side. He spreads your lips to show the arousal collecting somewhat proudly. “I did this! It’s not fair that Hyunjin calls the shots when I’m the one who got her wet! And I was the only one nice to her!”

Ah, that’s true. Even if Han’s throwing a bit of a tantrum, you can’t help but find it somewhat cute. The points he makes are valid, and if he wasn’t as welcoming as he was in the beginning, you would probably be doing something very different than what you are now. 

Though Han’s directing his whining at the others, you nod. “I…I don’t mind if Jisung goes first.” Your words quiet the car before Jisung looks at you with an endearing smile. “Really?!” He claps when you nod. 

“See!” He looks at Hyunjin. “You don’t get to get everything just ‘cause you’re handsome.”

You giggle as Jisung grabs you by the waist to hover you a few inches off the seat. He slides underneath your ass and wiggles his pants down, using a hand to free his cock. Hyunjin still keeps the dress at your waist so you’re able to see Jisung spring-free when you look down. 

It’s a lot thicker than you thought. It flushes a deep color while the head of his cock is even darker. A few small veins trail along his length, but one along the sides has you already lowering yourself down in anticipation. 

“Whatever. You’re just opening her up for me,” Hyunjin grumbles. 

His words are lost to you and Jisung as he taps his tip on the front of your pussy. Jisung swivels his hips so he’s able to smear his pre-cum over your cunt. You match his movements, grinding back and forth so your clit can catch his flared tip. It’s hard to steady yourself while wearing heels, so you find leverage by hanging onto the headrests of the front seats where Minho sits. 

“Can’t forget about these,” Minho hums to himself as he reaches for your corset. He loosens the top part of your dress before spilling your breasts out, cupping and groping them. He flicks your nipples in an attempt to get them to harden. With his thumb and forefinger, he pinches the buds until you squeal. 

Hyunjin can’t contain himself anymore. He watches as Jisung gets to rub his dick all over your pretty cunt and as Minho plays with your tits. Finding a solution, Hyunjin bunches the material of your dress in one hand behind your back so a newly free hand can finally touch you somewhere. And that somewhere is your cunt. 

“Don’t you want Jisung in your pussy already? Hm?” You feel Hyunjin slide his long fingers to Han’s cock so he can push it up. The tip slightly breaches your entrance, but there’s not enough force for it to go in all the way. Still, you can feel the warmth of it, of all of them. Minho’s soft yet ruthless hands twisting your nipples until they blossom with pink; Han’s hot dick sliding across your pussy; and Hyunjin’s warm fingers guiding the cock where it should go.

You nod, though you aren’t sure if he can tell. 

Hyunjin grabs the base of Han’s cock and angles it to your cunt. “So wet already, it should slide in real good.” He tugs the back of your dress as a sign to lower yourself. Hyunjin is careful to make sure Han’s cock stays perfectly aligned with your hole despite how much he’s moving. Your lower lips spread as the head of his cock breaches your entrance, a whine leaving you. Inch by inch, you take Han’s length inside of you, thighs burning as you slowly make your descent.

Minho’s hands travel from your chest to your shoulders, helping you fully settle on Han’s cock. “Shit, look at that,” he laughs breathlessly. “Pussy opens so good for him.” You whine at Minho’s praise, finding the motivation to finally sink fully into his cock with a moan.

“Gotta fuck you,” Jisung whimpers from behind. His hands find the curve of your hips before he thrusts upwards. You squeal at his intrusion, thighs shaking. “J-Jisung! Can’t- I can’t- Just wait let me-” But he doesn’t wait and a bigger part of you is glad. You can feel his thighs slapping against the bottom of yours, how he’s whining just behind your ear with soft apologies. 

“So, so good. Pussy so good to me, baby. I- fuck- ‘m sorry. I’ll be slower next time, mkay? I promise.” Jisung opts to wrap his arms around your middle torso to properly fuck up into you. Your tits bounce at his harsh thrusts and Minho doesn’t hesitate to get back to work on them. He takes hold of your nipples and pulls, watching your back arch forward. The whimper that leaves your mouth is heavenly, and Hyunjin can’t help but grow restless. 

The taller man moves his hand to rub on your clit, moving the flesh in wide circles. Your jaw drops and you tilt your head to look at Hyunjin, eyes glazed with tears and arousal from the overstimulation. He gives you a dazzling smile, “You should see how you look, angel. Gettin’ all worked up over one dick. It’s so cute.”

Your styled hair must be a mess from the way Jisung keeps pounding into you. Your dress is wrinkled and damn near disheveled at the top because of Minho’s persistent groping. And you’re sure the expensive makeup can only last so long. So to hear Hyunin call you cute seems like it should be impossible, but the look on his face screams authenticity. You mean to thank him, to say anything that could describe how grateful you are for all of them making your night, but the moment you open your mouth, it’s moans and cries that sound instead. 

“Fuck! Her pussy,” Jisung groans. “Gonna make me cum. I can cum in you, right? Can I?” The desperation in his voice makes you want to agree, but it’s Minho who answers him. “You get to fuck her first and cum in her? That hardly sounds fair.” Even though you can see the smirk on Minho’s lips, Jisung cries out as if he’s been wounded. His embrace around you tightens and his thrusts grow sloppy. Despite that, your cunt hugs his cock eagerly, begging for his cum. The walls of your pussy feel stretched and used, but you can feel your womb aching to be filled.

“Want it…” you moan. “All of it. I want all of it.” 

It’s as if you’re Jisung’s savior. He can’t help but laugh, looking at his hyungs with triumph. “Heard that? You heard that, right?” He kisses the exposed part of your neck tenderly. “Thank you, baby, thank you. Imma fill you up nice and full. Gonna be leaking with my cum for weeks.”

“Gross,” you hear Hyunjin grimace. There’s not a chance to glance at him before Jisung bucks up into you with fervor. You gasp, leaning forward towards Minho so Jisung can have full access to your pussy. It’s wet, it’s lewd, and Hyunjin only makes the sounds louder as his fingers flick back and forth against your nub. 

You’re reminded of how tired your legs are in this position, but that thought is distracted by a warm mouth enveloping your breast. You look down to see Minho peering up at you through his lashes, your nipple between his teeth. He gently bites before sucking it back into his mouth, letting his tongue graze the bud repeatedly. He hallows his mouth to make a powerful suction and leans his head back, taking your tit with him.

It’s no shock when you cum, but it is sudden. You’re not sure which action made you finally tip over, but Jisung can feel the gushing of your cunt and the squeezing of your walls on his cock. Hyunjin can feel how much wetter your clit has gotten, how it twitches in his hold. Minho only giggles when your entire body vibrates, tits jiggling in his mouth. 

Han whines, “Is she cumming? I can feel her pussy creaming all over my cock. Shit, feels so good baby. Gonna make me cum.”

“Mhm,” Hyunjin looks at your wrecked state that barely manages to keep you upright. “She’s cumming all right. Don’t think she can take much more, Ji. Hurry up or she’ll pass out on my turn.”

The thought of having Hyunjin fuck you makes you clench on Jisung’s cock. It seems like he appreciates this, moaning before spilling hot cum into your pussy. It floods your cunt in streaks, finding a place deep in your womb. Your knuckles turn white from the grip you have on the headrests, teeth digging into your lower lip just to keep yourself from being too loud. Jisung groans and rests his forehead on your back, giving you tired thrusts to ride out his high. 

“God- fuck! You put a spell on this pussy or something? Squeezing me so tight like it doesn’t wanna let me go.” Jisung struggles to pull himself out of you. He adjusts his hands back to your hips so he can lift you, slowly dragging his cock against your walls. You moan at the feeling of him sliding out. It’s cautious and slow, a good alternative from how roughly he was fucking you. The two of you let out a loud whine when he’s fully out.

“About time,” Hyunjin pushes Jisung out of the way. Jisung frowns, “Hey! That’s not very nice.”

Hyunjin laughs, shaking his head as he adjusts himself to how Jisung was. “Shut up. Just hold her dress up.” With grumbles, the younger man listens and bunches your wedding dress in his fists. Hyunjin slides the tip of the cock on your pussy, sending overstimulating shocks throughout your body. 

“Make it fast,” Minho directs his attention to Hyunjin. “We’ve overstayed.” Hyunjin nods, but not without a few mumbles under his breath before sinking himself inside of you.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. Han’s cock wasn’t the longest, but it hardly lacked the thickness to stretch you out. With Han, it felt like you were being lolled around, but with Hyunjin, you can’t help but still. His cock goes deep, a never-ending feeling of being probed. You throw your head back, uncaring for how loud your moan is. Hyunjin shivers under you, hands shaky as he quickly finds a pace to fuck into you.

Minho has a front-seat view. It’s an understatement to say he’s amazed at how well you’re taking Hyunjin. Your cunt flutters open perfectly for him, clit swollen from being rubbed. Minho watches the inches upon inches being slammed into you before being pulled out. You can’t blame him when you see him sneak a hand to undo his jeans before pulling his cock out. 

“Shit! Can’t believe you got to fuck this pussy first,” Hyunjn moans out to Jisung. “Still so tight.”

Jisung is wiggling in his seat despite already cumming, Like Minho, he’s slowly stroking his soft cock at the sight. “Mhm. Tight little pussy. He’s fucking you real good, huh?” He doesn’t expect you to answer, you’re too busy trying not to scream at the bruising pace Hyunjin’s set. If you thought Jisung was rough, then Hyunjin is brutal.

“T-too much!” You yelp when Hyunjin finds a certain spot in your cunt. He feels your walls clench so violently that Jisung’s cum leaks onto his cock. “N-not there,” you whimper. “Can’t take it.”

“But it feels so good there,” Hyunjin retaliates. For once, his hips slow to purposely drag his cock across that spot. You squirm and hiccup in his hold, squealing at how overwhelmingly blissful it feels. Jisung wipes the corner of your mouth, collecting the drool that’s begun to seep through your lips before popping it in his mouth to suck.

Hyunjin drives his cock deep inside, “You feel that?” He pulls a few inches out and grinds in again. “That’s where I’mma put all my cum. Right in here.” You shiver at his words, nodding mindlessly. He smiles at your pliant state though you can’t see. “Good girl.”

“And you called me gross,” Jisung rolls his eyes, thumb still in his mouth as he watches Hyunjin desperately get himself to cum inside you. His words are hardly noticed though amongst the sound of skin and moans. All you can focus on is how close Hyunjin can bring you in such a short amount of time. He’s focused on fucking you right and you can feel how hot his body is. He brings you back down on his cock with such vigor that your entire body jiggles at the force. Minho’s eyes switch between your cunt swallowing Hyunjin’s cock to your breasts. You wish you could reach over and replace his hand with your own, but Hyunjin has a strong hold on your body for his own use.

His cock twitches in your pussy and he groans. Hyunjin’s hips have started to falter, but you’re hardly upset about it. Your cunt feels beyond abused, leaking with Jisung’s cum every time Hyunjin fucks into you. The familiar feeling of euphoria builds in your stomach and you feel it grow with every powerful thrust. You’re so caught up in the sensation of your approaching orgasm that you almost miss Hyunjin announcing his own high.

“Oh, angel. I’mma cum in you. You want my cum, yeah? Say it. Fuck. Say how much you want it.”

Hyunjin expecting you to talk despite pounding himself into you is comical, but you manage to squeak out small words. “So bad. I need it, Hyunnie. I- I wanna feel it inside me, please.” Your babbling is more than enough for Hyunjin to unload. He shivers and stills his hips flush against your ass, letting his cock pump you full of cum. 

You can feel his tip pressing against your cervix. His cock is rubbing against your gummy spot so perfectly that you cum seconds after him. Hyunjun moans at the feel of your walls clamping down on him. 

When he slips out of you, your thighs fold until you collapse on his lap wetly. Your legs tremble both from exertion and the pleasure coursing through your body. You rest your head on the middle console, wrapping your arms around your torso in an attempt to stop yourself from shaking. Hyunjin soothingly runs his hands up and down your back, cooing at how well you did with Jisung chiming in with compliments.

It takes you a moment to recognize the wet sound of Minho stroking himself. You tiredly pick your head up just in time with his orgasm. Minho’s cum shoots so far that a few strings of cum land on your face. You blink and flinch at the warm substance, automatically using your tongue to swipe off the gooey liquid. 

“Oops,” you can see Minho trying his best not to laugh. “Uhh…let’s take you to Chan’s now.”

[leeracha]

Not My Boyfriend Masterlist

One small move could change their lives forever ; but for better or for worse?

Synopsis : No strings attached was the deal, but Minho couldn't help but get jealous every time someone else touched her. If only she would pick up on his hints, he could attach these damn strings.

Pairing : Lee Minho x Fem!Reader

Warnings : This au will contain mature subject matter such as but not limited to : swearing, sex, drinking, fighting, jealousy, obsession. Each chapter will have its own list of warnings. Reader's discretion is advised. ⚠️Minors do not interact⚠️

Taglist : OPEN (if you're on my permanent taglist, you have already been added)

Release : TBD

{Let The Story Begin}

Teaser (0.7k)

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Epilogue

[leeracha]

Obsessed- Hyunjin x fem reader

roommates/friends to lovers

Warnings!!( fingering, drinking, riding, unprotected sex(don’t do it), pet names, hyunjins cocky and obsessive )

To say that Hyunjin was obsessed with you was an understatement.

He knew everything about you, even things you didn’t know about yourself. You two had been roommates for two years now, easily hitting it off when Hyunjin moved in. Hyunjin was nothing but a stranger at first, only moving into your small apartment from a craigslist ad. But it really didn’t take long for you two to become best friends. You literally did everything together.

But this was never enough for Hyunjin, he knew from the beginning living with you would be difficult. The moment he saw you he’d been more intrigued then he’d ever been by a woman in his life. Hyunjin wasn’t described as a gentleman, to say the least. He wasn’t a bad person, just a bit of an immature pervert. So he could never for the life of him figure out why he was so suddenly drawn to you in a way he’d never experienced the first day he saw you.

It’s not that you aren’t attractive, you definitely are. It’s that the first day he saw you, you were in the most seemingly “unattractive” outfit ever. Obviously he thought it was attractive, and that's what he found weird. The first day he saw you, you looked like you had just rolled out of bed after a 3 month hibernation. You were walking like a literal zombie, slumping around barely giving him a tour. You were wearing a big t-shirt that did your figure no justice, with the word “nope.” printed in the middle, which might have been the most stupid T-shirt he’d ever seen. When he asked you what your shirt meant you only shrugged, saying it was a dollar at the thrift store. Your Pj pants had been way too long, he’d almost missed your mis-matched spongebob socks. Your hair in the messiest bun he’d ever seen, baby hairs framing your face so well. You were wearing clear framed glasses that were way too big, you had to keep pushing them up on your nose. You wore one single ring on your thumb, in the shape of a skull. It was an odd choice, but he was so heavily intrigued by it.

Hyunjin had never met anyone as unbothered as you either. He always tried to make you jealous, but you never seemed to care. He’d talk about bringing girls home and warn that she would probably be super loud, and you’d simply shrug, “Okay have fun, just don't give her my food.” you’d say.

He’s also never seen you with a guy over, ever. You did have your cousin Changbin over quite often, but that's your cousin. Hyunjin always wondered if you’d ever even touched a man. Surely you had, but he never asked because he really, really didn’t like to think about it. He would always struggle to hide his jealousy when any guy showed you any interest. You’d always reject them though, much to Hyunjin’s relief. Anytime a girl came up to him, he’d search you for any sort of jealous reaction, and never succeeded. In fact, you’d tease him about it later without any problem.

But Hyunjin was cocky. He was sure you liked him. Did he have any proof or reason to think so? Technically no, but he was Hwang Hyunjin and that was reason enough for him.

-present-

“Hey Y/nnnnn” Hyunjin pokes at your sides, trying to get your attention.

“Whaaaat.” You sigh, rolling your eyes, turning from your computer to face him.

“Guess what”

“Chicken Butt.”

“No, seriously guess.”

“I’m busy hwang, cut to the chase.”

“Luna and I are going out again tonight, I think things are gonna get serious soon.”

“That’s great Hyunjin, can’t wait to meet her.” He searches your face for any sign of discomfort or annoyance, and only finds sincerity.

“You want to meet her?” He blinks, expecting you to get mad or something. (cocky right?)

“Why wouldn't I? Since when has the great ‘Hwang Hyunjin’ been serious about anyone?”

Since you.

“I don’t know, I’ll ask her if we can make plans for you guys to meet soon.” He hopes you don’t hear the disappointment in his voice.

“Great, well I’m gonna invite some of the guys over tonight for a horror movie and beer pong, you and Luna are welcome to join after your date, unless you guys go back to her house instead.” You wink at him and it causes a red hue to tint his face. You figure it’s caused by the comment about fucking his ‘girlfriend’, but it’s of course it isn’t.

-time skip, three hours later.-

You had seriously been having one of the best times of your life tonight, but you couldn’t help but be disappointed that Hyunjin wasn’t there.

“What’s up? Why so glum?” Jisung asks, nudging your arm with his elbow.

“Nothing.” you flash him a weak smile.

“Lemme guess, you miss Hyunjin? Where is he anyway?” Jisung asks, looking around.

“He’s out with Luna.”

“Who’s that?”

You blink at him, not knowing if he was being sarcastic or not, “The girl Hyunjin has been going out with?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”, you’re shocked that Hyunjins childhood best friend has never heard of his new ‘girlfriend’.

“He’s literally gone on dates her three days in a row, like literally yesterday they went to the movies.”

“No, I was with Hyunjin yesterday, unless you know that and are trying to insult me.” He grins.

“Wait What? Why would he lie then?”

“No clue, but you should know better. He’d never date anyone having you around.” You looked at him confused, causing him to sigh and roll his eyes. “Nevermind.”

“Nooo tell me.” You whined, tugging at his arms.

“How do you not see it?”

“Han Jisung can you please tell me what the fuck you’re talking about.” Your patience was wearing thin, but you still needed to know.

“How do you not notice the way Hyunjin looks at you? He always stares at you like he wants to fucking EAT you it’s gross. But then, he won't shut. up. about you. Everytime we’re together it’s ‘Y/n this, Y/n tha,’ it's sickening. Like, you both should just get married already for Christ’s sake.”

You stare at him for a bit, not knowing what to say.

“You think Hyunjin likes me?” Your voice breathier than you intend.

“Oh my god yes. Why do you think he has a pile of your clothes in his closet? Or he excuses himself everytime he sees you in his clothes to jerk off? Or when he sits next to you while you're working just to WATCH you. I’ve literally never seen him so obsessed with someone. He literally brings a tissue sprayed with your perfume when he goes out. It’s concerning honestly.”

Everything starts to dawn on you then and there, was Hyunjin trying to make you jealous with the whole Luna thing? Is THAT why he always tried to tell you gross details you didn’t want to know?

Well shit, you thought. Obviously you had to come up with some sort of plan for when he came home.

-time skip, hour and a half later-

You somehow came up with a good enough excuse to send everyone home, and now Hyunjin was expected to walk through the door any minute. You’re currently laying on his bed, in literally nothing but his T-shirt and underwear, your nipples very visible. You’re reading (not really) a book, with your legs up, resting the book on your lap. You are very aware of the almost clear view of your pink laced underwear.

You heard Hyunjin walk in, assuming you're asleep since everyone’s gone and the apartment was dead quiet. Your heart beats faster as you hear his footsteps getting nearer, until he stops in his tracks after seeing you.

“Y-Y/n?” He couldn’t help the nervousness in his voice.

“Hyunjinnn!” You smile, putting your book down and getting up to hug him. “Why were you out so late?”

“O-Oh me and Luna, went to her house after.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Of course you did, you know, I don’t like her very much.”

“Why?” Hyunjin was genuinely confused by your sudden confession.

“I don’t know, it just bothers me how much time you spend with her. I bet she’s not even that pretty, definitely not as pretty as me.” Hyunjin tries to bite back a smile, but you catch him anyway.

Without warning you pulled him close, and whispered in his ear, “Bet that’s what you wanted to hear, right?” His breath hitches, not used to having you so close, especially like this.

He almost whines when you pull away, walking back towards his bed. “Sorry I borrowed one of your shirts, figured you wouldn’t mind given the fact that you take my clothes all the time.” You point to the pile of clothes you had pulled out from his closet that belong to you.

You almost laugh at Hyunjin’s shocked expression. “I can explain!” He stammered nervously, trying to find an explanation. “First you lie to me, then you steal my clothes, honestly what am I going to do with you?” You stare at him, placing your hands on your hips.

“What lie? I lied to you?”

You let out a dark chuckle, causing Hyunjin’s dick to twitch in his pants. He was so focused on the way you looked in his shirt, that he didn’t notice how painfully obvious his bulge was.

“I didn’t know Jisung was with you and Luna yesterday, and neither did he actually. In fact, he claims he’s never even heard of a Luna.” Hyunjin can’t do anything but gulp. He really didn’t know your plan here.

“Sit on the bed Hyun.” You say simply. And like a lost puppy, he mindlessly listened to you.

He’s taken aback when you straddle his lap, but couldn’t help his arms snaking around your waist. “You see Hyun, I like you very much but I didn’t think you felt the same. Especially because I don’t see myself as the type you’d like. But Jisung told me quite a few of your dirty secrets.” Your voice was laced with dominance as you brushed your fingers through his hair. “I like you alot.” He practically blurts out, like he’d die if he didn’t say it. “Hmm yeah? How much?”, you purr, dragging your thumb over his bottom lip.

“I Like you so much it hurts, no, I love you so much it hurts. To see you every day and not be able to just hold you and tell you how much I love you? Or to not just pin you to the counter and blow your back out when you wear those stupid thrift store t-shirts that are longer than your tiny shorts? To not be able to see your face when you sing those stupid songs in the shower?” You shut him up with a kiss, because you swear if he keeps going you’ll give up your dominance.

You were surprised at first, the way he kisses you. It was so gentle, so intimate, it almost makes you want to stop this all and just cuddle him for the rest of the night.

But then the kiss becomes needy and desperate. You bite his bottom lip slightly, and waste no time slipping your tongue in his mouth. You can’t lie, you’ve fantasized about his lips alone for so long. So plump, so beautiful.

Hyunjin groans when you softly grind on him, pushing your hips closer to him. He pulls away from your lips and quickly attaches them to your neck, pulling a beautiful lacy whimper from you. His teeth grazing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

You reach down to tug his shirt off, which he quickly complied. You take it upon yourself to take off your (hyunjin’s) shirt as well.

“Fuck me.” He groans, staring at your chest. You chuckle at him before bringing his right hand up to cup your breast. That was enough of a green light for him to take your left nipple into his mouth, pinching the other one.

You let out a surprised yelp at the sensation, starting to grind down on Hyunjin again, but this time much harder. He groans into your chest, egging you on further.

You bring your hand down to touch yourself lightly over your underwear, mouth falling open. “Let me help.” Hyunjin grunted, his hand moving from your breast to your underwear. He somehow manages to get your underwear off rather quickly, and begins to run his fingers up and down your folds.

“So wet, bet you’re nice and warm already.” He breaths, slicking his fingers in your arousal. Hyunjin slips a finger into you rather easily, groaning at how your insides felt. You moan rather loudly, not expecting his singular finger to feel so nice inside of you. He added another finger, pumping them both in and out.

“Fuck.” You breathed, grinding down on his fingers. He suddenly curls them, pressing up on a spot that makes you squim.

“Yes Hyune, like that baby.” You moan satisfied with the feeling.

Hyunjin is having way to much fun finger fucking you, he nearly whines when you pull off of them.

“Gonna cum on your cock hyun, can you take that?”

Usually Hyunjin wouldn’t ever have a girl talk to him that way. He wasn’t a fan of being submissive. But it’s not any girl this time. It’s you.

He desperately nods. You hum in satisfaction, pulling out his dick in awe. You grind on his member softly, spreading yourself all over it. Hyunjin whines, and you give him a pitiful look before positioning yourself over his dick.

The moment you sink down on him, he’s far gone, enveloped in your delicious heat. He looks so beautiful, eyes drooping, mouth hung open with a hint of drool slipping from the sides.

“Stay with me pretty boy, or I won’t let you cum.”

You had him at pretty boy, and he was snapped back into reality, licking and nipping at your nipples once again. Your back arched at the sensation, not really wanting to go slow anymore.

You began bouncing up and down on him, fingers tangled tightly in his hair. You both were moaning messes, thrusting up sloppily into each other, trying to meet each other’s pace.

You clench down as you felt him twitch, slightly relieved that you were both close.

“Are you close, baby?” You coo at him, never slowing your pace. Hyunjin nods timidly. “Me too baby, please cum with me.” Your voice whimpering slightly at the end.

You swear you had the best orgasm of your life, riding out your high along with him.

You both laid next to each other, panting heavily.

“So,” you spoke, breaking the silence, “..can I have my clothes back?”

“No, you only get to wear mine from now on.”

A/n: guys I’m sorry I’m so bad at ending stuff but I rlly like this one actually :) it might be my favorite but there’s still so much room for improvement

[leeracha]

somno but mixed with voyeurism

18+ content. minors dni. consensual somno. voyeurism.

It had been your idea. A shy request you'd mumbled with your eyes to the floor after one too many drinks. Minho had pulled you close and told you if it was something you were sure you wanted to try, to tell him in the morning—when you were sober. Why did he think you'd asked when you had liquid courage flowing through your system? You grumble a little at his request, prompting a small chuckle from him as he threads his fingers in your hair.

"I'll say yes," he reassures you. "Just ask me in the morning, I'll say yes."

It's the encouragement you need to roll over early the next morning and ask him if he will please try fucking you in your sleep.

He smirks at you, somehow managing to look cocky with his hair all messed from sleep. "Yes," he says. Simple as that.

You toss and turn that night, cursing your brain for always refusing to succumb to sleep when you wanted it most. He would play with you a little first, he'd said. He wanted to wake you gently, with slow strokes and gentle kisses. Your heart was racing with anticipation.

Still, finally, with his arms around you—you sleep.

You wake with him between your legs, his wet tongue flicking against your clit. Your small gasp pulls his attention to your face.

"Hello, baby," he says, one corner of his mouth pulled up a little.

"Hi."

"Sleep well?" he asks as his hand rubs soothing circles into your hip.

"How—" you cut yourself off as your eyes take in the state of your skin.

"I wanted you to see where I tasted you," he says in explanation. "I borrowed some vaseline."

He smiles as you press your finger to one of the faint red marks. It's a little sticky, the residue from your tinted lip moisturiser providing physical evidence that he'd littered your skin with kisses as you'd slept.

He crawls up your body, his cock heavy against your thigh as he slots himself between your legs. "I think it did something to me," he whispers. "Seeing you all vulnerable like that... knowing you trust me..." he pauses as he cups your breast with his hand. "Had so much fun playing with you... watching your pretty lips part as I touched you..." He reaches down to align himself properly. "Playing with your cute little pussy," he says just as he fucks himself inside you. "Is this what you wanted?" he groans after a moment, voice strained as he holds himself still above you—buried deep. "To wake up to my cock? hm?"

You hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Thank you," you whisper, desperately attempting to pull his lips to yours.

He lowers his mouth to yours until your breath mingles, hovering at the precipice. "Don't be scared to tell me what you want," he says as his lips ghost over yours. "Tell me all the ways you want me to fuck you, yeah?"

You nod. He closes the gap.

[leeracha]

© 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝙒, 𝙈𝙀. | preview

[leeracha]

SKZmas HOME with Lee Know🎄🍰☕

[leeracha]

“i wanna try something.” you breathed out between the hot and messy kisses you were giving minho, his hands gripping your waist tighter and pulling your hips down against his clothed bulge. he was already so hard, it amazed you how you could do the bare minimum and he would be fully erect in just minutes.

“whatever you want, baby.” he looked at you with so much love and admiration. that’s how he always responded to your requests, inside and outside the bedroom. ‘whatever you want, if i have it it’s yours.’ and then he’d kiss you until you forgot what it was you were even asking of him.

“you don’t even know what it is yet. how can you be so sure that you’ll want to?” you moved away from his lips to his neck, leaving little love bites as you went. he sighed when you sucked on the little sensitive spot behind his ear.

“oh baby, it isn’t in my blood to say no to you, especially when you’re sitting on top of me like this. you could tie me down to this bed right now and take me however you wanted and i wouldn’t refuse.” his brows were furrowed and eyes screwed shut, focusing on the feeling of your lips on his skin. he looked so fucked out, which made you wonder if he was just saying those things and not actually meaning them. but you refused to pass this moment up without at least trying. so you sat straight up, separating your top half from his. his eyes shot open and searched you face for the answer as to why you stopped. “did i say something wrong? i’m sorry, love, i didn’t-”

“no, you said exactly what i wanted to hear.” you smirked down at him, waiting for him to realize what you meant and when his eyes widened and you felt his dick twitch through his thin sweatpants you knew he understood. “would you like that? for me to cuff you this bed and have my way with you,” you asked in the most innocent voice you could, a big contrast to your words. “use you however i please.” your words went straight to his throbbing cock.

“yes. fuck, baby please.” his eyes were full of lust and anticipation, his voice so quiet and submissive that you didn’t recognize this person under you at all. you didn’t respond verbally, settling on silently removing yourself from his lap and stripping him of all remaining clothing. you didn’t get naked yourself until the pair of handcuffs you kept in your bedside table were safely securing his wrists to the bed frame above his head. when you did take your clothes off you did so very slowly, taking your time just to see him squirm. Minho didn’t take his eyes off of you once, not until you were back on top of him and the tip of his pulsing cock was pressed against your entrance. he threw his head back and sighed before he swallowed hard, trying to keep himself from falling apart beneath you. at least not so soon.

you took in everything about this moment, not wanting to forget anything about it. the way the veins that ran down his arms bulged, to the way he twitched every now and then, seemingly very worked up. his chest rising and falling violently, you’ve never seen him like this, so…. so submissive and pliant. it made you want to eat him alive. you ran your hands up his torso, feeling his hot skin against the palm of your hands. a little whine escaped his lips when you grazed his nipples with your fingernails. his hips rutted up into you, resulting in his swollen tip slipping inside of you. he gasped from the sudden stimulation and raised them higher in search of more. you took both of his nipple in between your fingers and and pinched them. he winced from the pain and looked at you with confusion all over his face.

“bad boy,” his eyes widened. “ i didn’t say you could do that.” you didn’t know why you had said that and immediately regretted it. minho was always the dominant one in your relationship, the one who called the shots, the one who called you a bad girl. and that’s why you were in complete shock when he uttered a quiet “i’m sorry.” you tried to hide your surprise the best you could and continue with your switched roles. “how will you make it up to me?” he scanned the room as if the answer was written on the walls somewhere, and apparently it was cause his eyes lit up as he quickly turned his head to look at you.

“sit on my face.”

“hmmm,” you pretended to think about it. “should i?” he quickly nodded and you chuckled at his eagerness. the thought did have you clenching so you moved up his body until your thighs were on either side of his head. his eyes sparkled as he stared at your dripping sex, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. he looked starved and he just found the perfect meal, so he lifted his head in attempt to attach his lip to your core. he only made it so far before you yanked his head back by his hair. “once again, not asking for permission,” your whole brain chemistry was altered when he basically sobbed, a little tear sliding down the side of his face. “i should punish you,” you were loving this a little too much. “but that will have to wait.” he opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off by completely sitting on his mouth. he didn’t miss a beat before devouring, running his tongue through your folds before nipping and sucking harshly on your clit. his hands were balled up into fists and pulling away from the cuffs, his biceps flexing from the strain on his muscles. the veins on his arms were protruding and you couldn’t keep yourself from running a finger over them, tracing out the greenish blue lines. his skin was on fire, almost too hot for you to touch. almost.

you mindlessly started grinding down on his tongue, riding his face for your own pleasure. you weaved your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you, chasing after the euphoric feeling you knew only he could give you. and after a few more thrusts of his tongue and sucking hard on your clit one last time, you were coming. chest heaving and moaning his name like it’s the only thing you knew. once you came down and moved off of his face minho took a deep breath of air and only then you realized you almost suffocated the poor boy. “aww i’m sorry baby, could you not breathe?” you held the side of his face, wiping away your arousal from the corner of his mouth. he was too busy trying to catch his breath to answer you but that was fine you’d get an answer out of him.

you sank down on his cock completely without so much as a warning. “ah- baby wait- i wasn’t- fuck i wasn’t ready.”

“i don’t need your permission.” you ground yourself against him. he threw his head back against the pillows and arched his back.

“if you keep going i’m gonna come. so please… stop.” he pleaded, his voice was so quiet which was very unlike him, so you knew he was telling the truth, he was about to explode.

“you want me to stop?” you went from grinding to full on bouncy on him now.

“ahh fuck i’m coming!” his eyes screwed shut, bracing himself for quite possibly the most intense orgasm he’s ever had. only for it to be ripped away. his eyes shot open. “why’d you stop?!” he looked infuriated with you, he was so close why would you take that away from him?

“you told me to stop.” you smirked at him. “why? did you want to come? i’m so, so sorry.” you were talking to him like a baby, pouting down at him like he was a child. “well i guess we can consider that your punishment.”

“uncuff me.” he demanded. “now.”

“oh baby i’d love to.” you grinned. “ but i’m not finished with you yet.”

.

.

.

i’m back!!!!! did you miss me?

taglist: @bangchansbae @yumiblogs @fawnpeaks

[leeracha]

Collision (LMH x F!Reader)

pairing: football player!Minho x RA!reader (afab) genres/au/rating: smut, fluff, some angst, college au, 18+ summary: The school year was a chance to start fresh - make new memories, meet new people, and most of all to leave the past behind. But Lee Minho is determined to make sure you never forget the one summer night you’d spent with him - no matter how hard he has to work for it.

warnings: alcohol, swearing, some crude jokes, OC is a bad RA, Minho is very whipped, such poor communication, minor mention of weed, bad poetry, disciplinary action against students

word count: 14k

a/n: it's finally finished! this was the result of me spiraling after seeing this tiktok edit of Super Bowl Minho? also totally not because i was also an RA who lived next to a pack of frat boys in college (don't jump into fountains with boys kids). this also might be a good time to confess that i know nothing about football, so that's fun! i'm so sorry it was so slow coming out, i hope you enjoy!

smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings: brief, non-graphic smut scene, but also: kissing (so much kissing), dirty talk, marking, nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls)

The common room was oddly quiet. Normally, you’d hear people shuffling around and chattering in the halls, their laughter echoing off the dull grey tiles. But right now, silence. With the dingy wood and fluorescent lighting, it felt like a ghost town. It wouldn’t have bothered you on any ordinary day. Except today was your first meeting with the new residents of your dorm as their RA. And it was five minutes to eight and they were nowhere to be found.

You honestly couldn’t understand why anyone hadn’t shown up yet. The bulletin board had been decked out in the colours of your school football team, the Stray Kids, and you’d even promised snacks! In fact, a lot of the people you’d run into in the halls had been excited to come - or maybe they just felt pressured into it by your overeagerness. Now, looking at the different spreads of cookies and brownies you’d baked with the help of your roommate Felix, your heart sinks. Speaking of Felix, where was he?

You’d been looking forward to the start of the school year all summer, so excited to finally embrace this job and your new responsibilities. But even more than that, you were so excited to make a handful of new friends heading into your senior year. Your entire college career had been consumed by studying and getting involved in a million different clubs, and although you hung out with Felix, and a few others, you felt like you’d been lacking in the experiences that made college… well college. And what better way to get access to college experiences than to be left to look after a rowdy group of students?

You hear footsteps thudding down the hallway, and heavy breathing, and all of a sudden, Felix’s freckled face comes into view. You shoot him an angry glare, before softening when you realize he’s not alone. Three other boys walk in after him.

“____, this is Jisung, Jeongin, and Seungmin. They’re down the hall from us.”

“Welcome you guys!” you set aside your anger, putting on your best smile for them. The three of them greet you happily, not even lasting five seconds before descending on the snacks, and you giggle at the way Jisung’s cheeks puff out as he stuffs chocolate chip cookies into his mouth. 

Soon enough, more people shuffle in, until the common room is filled to the brim with residents, and you let out a sigh of relief. Maybe they didn’t hate you after all. Before, long, everyone is settled in, and you waste no time, heart pattering as you launch into an explanation of the rules and expectations for the year.

As expected, a handful of people are nodding off, while others have their eyes glued to their phones. However, Seungmin, Jisung, and Jeongin are hanging off your every word attentively, smiling after every phrase, and despite it being corny, you can’t help but find them endearing. You’d have to make a mental note to visit their room later and get to know them.

While you continue on, not wanting to keep everyone too long, you notice a couple of guys sneak in the back, twenty minutes late, and immediately your smile drops. The blue jerseys tell you immediately that they’re the players from Stray Kids. A few heads turn when they walk in, and suddenly, there’s a hum in the air, the residents thrumming with excitement at the sighting of campus celebrities. Suddenly, all the attention is off you and on them.

Felix shoots you a look of apology, and you huff, watching the meeting go down in flames. You don’t know how many minutes pass before the crowd dies down, people spilling out one by one, until only the four players and Felix are left. 

Putting on your fakest sweet smile, you stomp up to them, ready to give them a piece of your mind, when you bump into a solid chest, strong arms wrapping around you to steady you.

“Whoa there, you good?” A deep voice booms out, and you look up to see Chan, the captain of the team, looking down at you with a smirk.

“I—,” you begin, nostrils flaring in anger, but you’re interrupted once again by Chan.

“Sorry for crashing your little party, practice ran late, you know how it is.”

His eyes are alight with a glimmer as he says it, taking you in.

“I’d appreciate if next time, you could let me know, so I can plan ahead,” you grit out through your teeth, watching another one of the guys, one with arm muscles so huge he could probably rip a tree in half, descend on the cookies you’d laid out.

“That’s Changbin,” Chan chuckles. “And over there is Hyunjin.”

You look to the door, where another tall, lanky player is leaning against the frame, a look of casual disinterest on his face. He gives you a nod, and you scoff under your breath, hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“And this is Minho, our other roommate.”

You freeze on the last introduction, finally taking in the final figure in the room. He’s just as paralyzed as you are, unable to move, lips parted in shock. Feeling like you’ve been struck by lightning, you feel your throat tighten, unable to look up. The ground beneath you feels like it’s about to give way, and you’re suddenly aware that Felix is no longer in the room, mentally cursing him out in your head for leaving you alone right now.

“Hey,” Minho finally manages to get a word out, and your eyes snap up to his, watching the way he shoots an easy smile in your direction.

You hate the way your heart reacts to that smile because you’d promise yourself once already you’d never let it get to you again. All of a sudden, a distinct memory from the summer comes rushing back to you, one you’d tried so hard to bury in the back of your mind. 

Twinkling fairy lights, red solo cups on the table out back, and Usher blasting from the speakers. The one house party you’d snuck out to that summer with your best friend, Ryujin. The one where you’d met him.

Those same lips had smirked at you from across the room, dark and serious eyes inviting you to come over and take a chance. And you had. Lips crashing onto his, Minho’s kisses swallowing your moans. The music from the party gradually fades as he leads you upstairs, the soft click of the door locking behind you before he pushes you onto the bed. The cute outfit you’d chosen to wear that night was discarded carelessly to the side, Minho’s hands tracing circles across your skin, his lips latching desperately onto your neck, sucking blooms across your skin. Minho is on his knees, your legs thrown over his shoulders, eyes completely blown with lust, looking like he wants to devour you. Watching the dim light hit the lean lines of his body as he strips, his soft groan when he pushes into you, digging your heels into his back.

Minho’s low voice when tells you how pretty you sound, how good you are for him before you’re exploding, falling apart at the seams. 

And then, regret. Slipping out before dawn could come around, watching Minho snooze peacefully, unaware that he’d wake up to an empty bed, unaware that thoughts of that night with him would continue to haunt you the entire summer. 

The boys’ boisterous laughter breaks you out of your daze, and you watch Chan and Changbin wave to you before grabbing a handful of snacks and slipping out the door. Hyunjin isn’t far behind, eyeing your shocked face with a curious expression. Minho lingers for a moment, studying you with the same hypnotic gaze. You’re painfully aware that you haven’t been able to get a single word out, but his stoic face twists into a salacious grin. He trails after his roommates, but not before pausing and shooting you a wink.

“Well damn, this year just got a whole lot more exciting.”

Kim Namjoon was extremely good at his job – or so he thought. As the grad advisor for the resident assistant program at the university, he’d painstakingly read through hundreds of applications, combing through many impressive resumés in search of the best of the best. And he thought he’d found it in you. Which is why the situation he found himself in was completely and utterly baffling to him.

“It’s literally the first week of the school year, and you’re telling me you already want to quit?!”

You fidget in your seat uncomfortably, looking anywhere but directly at Namjoon, knowing that if you caught his gaze, you’d be finished. Over.

“Are those pressed resin flowers?” you gesture over to the wall, hoping you can distract him. “____.”

“W-well, it’s not exactly like that, it’s just…”

“I fail to understand what could be so horrible about your current group of residents that you’d give up free room and board,” Namjoon quips, before pausing. “I mean — great responsibility as well.”

You want to scream. How were you supposed to tell your boss that the reason you wanted to quit the job you’d worked so hard for is that, in one drunken night, you’d slept with one of your residents and now didn’t have the gall to face him for an entire year?

Your cheeks burn, thinking of Minho’s smirk, the one that had you screaming into your room. In the few days since the meeting, you’d managed to successfully avoid him, and his roommates, making a mad dash for your room straight after class. Oh well, you could always branch out and live your best college life next year. After the football players graduated. 

Namjoon could put you anywhere, even banish you to the hell of a single room in that maybe-haunted residence hall on the edge of campus. The one where there was an alleged ghost wandering around? Yeah, you’d take it. Anywhere away from Lee Minho.

“I chose you for this job for a reason, ___, because I saw great potential in you,” Namjoon continues with a heavy sigh. “I’m confident that whatever you’re anxious about, it’ll resolve itself. Now, you should head out. From the schedule, I saw you have a room meeting scheduled.”

And with that, you’re ushered out of Namjoon’s cosy office, left with more questions than you started with. Huffing as you sling your bag over your shoulders, you make the trek across campus back to the dorm, trying to muster a weak smile for the meeting you had coming up. 

Only for that smile to disappear completely when you check your calendar, seeing exactly who’d signed up for the slot.

Room 103. The football players’ room. Minho’s room. Could your luck be any worse?

Apparently, the answer to that was yes, because just as you lifted your fist to knock, the door opened, leaving you face-to-face with a smirking Minho.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” he drawls, the smirk fading when he sees you look past him at the wall, shuffling your feet. 

“Come in,” his voice softens, stepping aside to let you through. For a moment, he pauses behind you, and you can feel his breath fan the back of your neck.

“Listen, I just wanted to, uh–” he’s interrupted by a loud holler, one that wreaks havoc on your eardrums.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the girl-next-door!” Changbin comes into view, slinging an arm around Minho’s shoulder, before the other man scowls, brushing him off.

“Guys,” Chan’s captain voice has their heads turning, “I know you’ve all got a boner for the pretty RA, but she’s here doing her job.”

You could have sworn you saw Minho go pale.

Changbin snickers, but abides, plopping onto the couch, dragging Minho with him. That made three of them. But where was…

“Hyunjin,” the tall boy appears out of nowhere, his sharp eyes taking in your presence. For a moment, you wonder if he knows about you and Minho, but you shove the ridiculous thought from your brain. They were just guys, and you were just doing business as usual. Nothing to worry about.

“So guys,” you manage to get out. “I’m just here to talk to you about your expectations for each other this year as roommates.”

“Expectations?” Changbin throws up an eyebrow. “Yeah, like some ground rules you want to establish for the room,” you clarify. “As roommates.”

“We’ve been living together for three years at this point,” Hyunjin gives you a pointed stare. “I’m sure we have it down.”

You chew mindlessly at your lower lip, realizing that you aren’t getting anywhere with them. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Minho draped over the side of the couch, one leg dangling off onto the floor.

“Well,” the sudden addition of his voice shocks you, a small smile lighting up his face when catches you looking at him, “We obviously need to follow bro code.”

“Bro code?” You raise an eyebrow. You knew what it was, but that didn’t make you any less confused. 

There’s a sharp ow! followed by Hyunjin shuffling in the corner. Minho is gingerly nursing his arm, his eyes narrowing at his teammate.

“Pretty sure one of the rules of bro code is to never lie to your bros,” Hyunjin quips, casting a glance between you and Minho.

“Not lying! Okay! Okay, we can work with that —,” you straighten up, a grin on your face. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

“Especially not about girls you’ve slept with,” Changbin adds with a smug expression. 

Minho’s face immediately twists into a pained expression, and for a moment, everything is silent. You wonder if this is it, the moment where everything finally blows up in your face and the truth about what went over the summer is revealed.

“I’m so sorry, ____,” Chan gives you an apologetic look, standing up to usher you towards the door. “I’ll have a chat with them, and we’ll draw up a list of rules and send it your way by the end of the week!”

Everything happens so quickly, Chan’s hand on your back, the brief flash of Minho’s concerned eyes looking at you before the door closes, slamming shut.

The rain patters against the window, making the fluorescent lighting of the common look even more bleak and grey than usual. You let out a heavy sigh. The dorm meeting should have been enough of a sign to you that very few people would be interested in the events you held this year. Now, you were alone, surrounded by far too many tubs of ice cream, and Felix was in class. 

Deciding to wallow in your sorrow, you pop open one of the tubs, scraping at the frozen top with a spoon, the sweet ice cream melting on your tongue.

“I told you, Jeongin, she just bought the ice cream to eat herself,” a voice at the door startles you, and you look over to see Seungmin beaming at you through the door. And he’s not alone. Jisung and Jeongin trail in after him, and your heart swells in relief at their presence.

“I thought no one would come.”

“And miss ice cream? Please, they’re either stupid or even more stupid for turning down free food,” Jisung chuckles, sliding up a few chairs next to you.

The three boys settle in, wasting no time digging into the ice cream, happily chatting about their days to you. Something about their presence makes the unbelievably rainy weather seem not so bad. You learn that Jisung and Seungmin are in the year below you, studying math together, and Jeongin, the poor freshman, was their random roommate.

“You guys are worse than the football players,” you chuckle when they explain their tactics of how they get Jeongin to run errands for them across campus.

“I think it’s cool how we have the players living here with us!” Jeongin’s eyes shine with excitement. “Do you think they’ll invite us to one of their parties?”

“We’re losers, Jeongin, in case you haven’t noticed,” Seungmin jokes, but his face is strained. 

“That’s not true, you’re currently my favourite people in the dorm,” you respond, watching Seungmin relax, and Jisung’s cheeks flush. “And those parties are lame anyway.”

So lame. Lame enough for you to sleep with one of those aforementioned players. 

You think back to the summer, memories flooding you. In your defense, you hadn’t even known Minho was a player. It was just a random party, full of random people neither you or Ryujin had known. And he’d been there, leaning against the wall, taking it all in quietly.

If you’d had any idea Lee Minho was one of those ever-loving frat boys on the football team, you might not have given him a second look. But then he’d smiled at you - a small one, soft but also teasing, and that was all it had taken for you to drift over, Ryujin smirking behind you.

The conversation flowed as easily as the drinks went down, the two of you managing to talk about nothing yet somehow also everything at once.

“You see,” Minho’s low voice rumbled in your ear, leaning in closer. You can smell the warm spice of his cologne, and it makes you even dizzier than the beer in your hand. “Those two definitely look like they’ve got some shit to sort through.”

“They’ll ignore it though,” you counter, watching Minho’s eyebrows raise. “Probably go upstairs and fuck instead.”

Minho’s jaw hangs open, and it takes a moment to process what you’d just said out loud – and how much of your own intrusive thoughts were contained within the simple statement. Looking over, his eyes have gone impossibly dark, their sole focus on you.

“Maybe we should follow them? Just to confirm.”

Those same dark eyes are now filled with a flicker, one that matches the flames building inside your chest.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the door to the common room swinging open, bringing you face to face with a flustered and panting Minho. His hair is windswept, and there’s a deep flush on the back of his neck. Raindrops plop, plop, plop onto the carpet as they drip from his clothes.

“Did I miss it? I came as quick as I could after class.”

His voice is hoarse and gravelly like he’s struggling to catch his breath after running for too long. 

“Miss what..?” You feel like the air has been knocked out of your lungs at his sudden appearance, completely missing the way Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin begin to shuffle behind you, whispering amongst themselves.

“You were hosting something? I tried to convince the other guys to come along.”

Your chest tightens at his admission. He paid attention to those egregiously long newsletters you spent hours making and mailing out to the floor? It makes you feel dizzy inside, a thousand tiny butterflies fluttering inside your chest. 

“Uhm, yeah of course! Help yourself, you know I just remembered I have something like really, really important to take care of for one of my classes,” the words tumble out in a rush, your cheeks burning at lie, but you honestly weren’t expecting to come face to face with Minho so many times in a matter days. 

“Hey Jisung, do you mind cleaning up after you guys are done? Please.” You shoot the other boy a desperate look, and his eyes go round, looking in between you and Minho, who remains at the threshold. He gives you a subtle nod, and you take it as your chance to escape, hastily slinging your bag over your shoulder. 

You feel Minho’s eyes on you while you brush past him and out the door, wondering why you’re the one shivering when he’d been caught in the rain.

. . . 

“Jisung, is it?” Minho sees the boy jump at the sound of his voice, his chair nearly toppling over from the shock. He looks in between a flustered Jisung, to the other two guys, who are equally surprised, their mouths hanging open.

It’s times like these where Minho remembers he’s not just any normal guy. Being a player for the Stray Kids came with its own headaches. He’d never gotten used to the stares. Or people becoming tongue-tied around him.

But you hadn’t been like that, he recalls. Talking to you had been easier than making a catch, the way your eyes lit up underneath the dim lights of the party and how your bubbly laugh remained burned in his memory for the entire summer. 

Minho wants to laugh at the thought of him hung up over some girl he’d fucked one time, but nothing could have matched the cold feeling that washed over him the moment he’d woken up to find you gone, the bed empty. And he found himself actually missing it - not the sex, but everything else. The laughing, the people watching, the inside jokes. 

Damn it, he was turning soft for you.

He stalks over to Jisung and his friends, plopping into the chair across of them. The three of them remain frozen in place, stiff as a board, and Minho lets out a loud groan.

“What do you want?” He raises an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips when he sees the taller one cross his arms over his chest in an attempt to look intimidating.

“What do you mean?” 

“Do you want like, tickets to the game, fake IDs, weed? I can hook you up.”

“F-frat parties,” the younger one elbows him, voice barely above a whisper. “Tell him we want in on the parties.”

“The bigger question is, what do you want? I mean, why are you even talking to us?” “Can’t a dude just be nice to other dudes?” Minho grins, but the tall one is unwavering. He looks over to the one whose name he actually knew, Jisung, and judging by the way his eyes are still wide as saucers, and the manga he’s clutching to his chest, Minho knows he’s found a target who’ll fold.

“Is that Spy x Family? I love that one.”

“Y-you do?” 

“Yeah, I actually have all the volumes in my room? You could always come by if you wanted to borrow one.”

“I could?”

“Hmmm, only if I get to ask for your help with something.” “Anything!” the youngest one pipes up again, choking when the tall one hits him in the back. “We’ll do anything.”

And suddenly, Minho sees his in – these three dorks. Who despite knowing you for even less time than he has, have somehow managed to win over your heart. And he’d be next. 

“Well, let’s start with introductions first of all…”

The 8am walk to your psychology class was one of your favourite parts of your schedule this semester. Campus was just waking up, birds were chirping, and you had time off to just think before getting swallowed by a sea of schoolwork and RA responsibilities. Except lately, your thoughts had been running wild - Minho in every corner, his tired, rain-soaked figure the other day making him look like a wet cat. A very cute wet cat.

You didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole of what it meant for him to show up like that – you didn’t want it to mean anything at all. The simple fact was that guys like Minho, and the rest of his teammates, barely ever gave a damn about anything that wasn’t pratice or their loud ragers. But he’d actually made an effort. 

Namjoon will be so happy I’m getting the team involved in dorm life, you stupidly rationalize the warm, fizzy feeling in your chest. I’ll have something to be proud of.

Trudging up the hill that takes you from the dorms to the heart of campus, you look through the cover of trees, the faint rays of sun peeking through them. In the crisp morning air, they look beautiful, and you sigh happily to yourself. You could romanticize this morning walk, even if your actual romantic life was in shambles.

You close your eyes for a bit, having committed the path to memory, and walk, walk, walk until suddenly — you’re colliding into a hard object, falling backwards through space. Before you can feel the impact of the ground, an arm is reaching out to steady you. A lean, muscular arm, filled with veins. Looking up through the sunlight, you see Minho’s face looking down at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a soft smile on his lips. “Why were you walking with your eyes closed?”

“Crap, you weren’t supposed to see that,” you turn away in shame. Were you going to be doomed to a whole school year of embarrassing yourself in front of him? 

“Hey, I’m not judging,” he holds up his phone, and you can’t help but laugh. A cat video is playing on the screen. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Thanks for catching me.”

“It’s kind of what I do,” he chuckles, another reminder of who he is. And who you are.

“Oh yeah.”

You don’t remember when you started moving again, but somehow, he’s right alongside you, facing backwards yet still matching you stride for stride. Looking around, you breathe in relief when you spot no one else around – being seen with Minho would definitely have people talking, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that right now.

“Can we talk about what happened over the summer?”

Minho’s voice is tinged with something you can’t pinpoint, taking on a weird sort of lilt. Could he possibly be nervous? Then again, what reason would he have to be nervous? He wasn’t the one with an entire reputation on the line right now.

“There isn’t that much to say, Minho. It shouldn’t have happened. I should have known better.”

Minho narrows his eyes at your statement, clearly taken aback.

“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you feel guilty because we live on the same floor now. There’s no way you could have known! I’m not holding it against you. Let me make it up to you – maybe we can have another shot, hopefully more sober this time.”

In your head, you know he’s right, and that you’re being completely irrational. But wouldn’t starting something now also be irrational, and falling into that very same trap you’d worked so hard to avoid.

“Look Minho, I’m really grateful that you forgive me. I know it was an asshole move, just disappearing like that. But whatever this is, I can’t do it right now. I promise if we run into each other I’m not gonna sprint off in the other direction, but I can’t date you. I can’t date anyone right now.”

You watch the way his shoulders completely deflate, rustling his backpack over his shoulder. More and more students have begun to slip out of their dorms, joining you on the main campus quad, and you know the conversation is over. For now. 

“Hey,” you whisper softly, watching Minho jump slightly at the sound of your voice. “Isn’t your econ class the other way?”

“Nah,” Minho stutters, and you watch his cheeks tinge red. “I dropped it. I’m taking a new one - fermentation sciences.”

“Fermentation sciences?”

“Yeah, you know in this economy, I wanted to learn how to brew my own alcohol,” he looks wistfully over at the science building. “I should probably get going.”

You watch him retreat wondering why you felt such a crushing wave of sadness when you’d been the one to shut it down in the first place.

. . .

Fuck! He was late. Minho knew he should have spent more time on cardio this summer, his heart pounding in his chest as he ran the other way across campus to the business building.

While part of him was relieved by your assurance that you harboured no bad feelings toward him after everything that him, another part of him was deeply unsettled. For some reason, he couldn’t let it end like this, the two of you just being people who resorted to acknowledging each other with a wave across campus.

The thought bothers Minho all through his econ class, and through football practice, Changbin’s obnoxious chuckle echoing in his ear.

“Fermentation Sciences? Really, dude?”

“Stop laughing, punk,” Minho grumbles. “It’s not like you could have come up with anything better.”

For all they knew, Minho was shamelessly flirting with the girl next door, and failing miserably. They didn’t know any of the history between you two - and Minho wanted to keep it that way, or else he’d never hear the end of it from his roommates.

Changbin grunts, his pass landing a little harder than usual. Minho makes the catch, the air wooshing out of his lungs.

“Lino,” Chan’s stern captain voice echoes from behind him. “It’s our final year. Are you really sure you won’t get distracted by this? It’s our final year.”

Minho sighs. He knew that this final season hinged on him having his head on straight - if not for his sake, for his teammates’. While he and Hyunjin had jobs waiting for them after graduation, Chan and Changbin were trying to make a career out of football. 

“Yeah dude, it’s nothing I promise.”

Defeat sinks into his bones, realizing that maybe you were right. Perhaps there wasn’t time to be distracted by anything, or anyone this year. Yet, as he strips off his jersey and slumps onto the players’ bench, he mellows in the one part of your statement that had given him a fraction of hope.

You hadn’t said “never”, just “not right now.”

“Remind me why we’re here again?” Hyunjin groans, chewing the tip of his pen. In the corner, a group of students fall into hushed whispers at the sight of Stray Kids’ running back and tight end, hunched over pieces of paper. 

“Stop acting like you didn’t take an entire class on 18th century poetry last year and help me figure out what rhymes with perfect,” Minho shoves the end of the pen into his arm.

“Imperfect,” Hyunjin counters. “What the hell are you doing anyway? I thought we were supposed to be colouring for stress relief.”

“None of your goddamn business, Hwang,” Minho shuffles his paper towards himself, scribbling down the word, only to cross it out ten seconds later.

“Are you, are you writing a poem?” Hyunjin’s eyes go wide at the various words scribbled on Minho’s sheet. Beautiful, delicate, exquisite, perfect. A faint smirk tugs at his lips. 

Minho himself never thought he’d see the day where he put pen to paper in hopes of wooing someone, but it seems life had other plans. Because ever since you’d basically told him there was no chance of anything happening between you, it had made him unable to keep thoughts of you out of his mind.

He wondered sometimes if he was chasing his own ego, going after you just because you weren’t interested in him. But as he dwells on it more, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this determined to win someone over. 

“I have questions, many of them,” Hyunjin starts. “But I’ll start with one? Is this about–”

He flicks his head towards the front of the room, where you’re hard at work on your own drawing. Your sweater looks beyond soft and cosy, bringing out the colour of your eyes, and Minho feels a weird pang inside his chest when he hears you giggle; Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin right next to you.

Those fucking punks. They were supposed to be helping him, and instead they were crowding around you? He’d probably have to cave and finally entice Jeongin with an exclusive invite to a frat party if he ever wanted things to work in his favour. 

“God, I having to fucking text Changbin about this,” Hyunjin drawls, only to yelp when his phone is swiped out of his hands.

“Send that text and you’ll wish I never looked in your direction, Hwang.”

“My question is when?” Hyunjin looks between you and Minho, lines of confusion marring his face, until realization dawns on him.

“Holy fuck? She’s the one? From this summer? I knew it!”

Minho feels like sinking into his chair and rueing the day he ever ran into Hyunjin on the way to try-outs, but he musters a weak nod.

“___? RA ____?”

“Will you quit asking questions?” Minho continues to scribble, growing frustrated when his pen begins to run out of ink, the four pages of ideas he’d come up with staring him dead in the face.

“Well you’re never gonna win her over if you keep comparing her lips to cherry cough medicine.”

“What would you suggest dumbass?”

“Maybe fucking cherries instead?” Hyunjin grabs the paper from him, shaking his head in exasperation. “Next time you want to pull this shit for a girl, please come to me first.”

“Hoping there won’t be a next time,” Minho looks over at you with a heavy sigh, watching the way Seungmin leans in close to point out something on his page to you.

“Just you watch and wait,” Hyunjin grabs the pen from him, and gets to work.

. . .

“Let me know if you’ll think about it,” Seungmin waves to you from across the room, clearing out with Jisung and Jeongin in tow, and you happily go back to colouring the bunny you’d started. Funny enough, the stress of the last few weeks had melted away, you and Felix easing back into your routine of daily dinners together in the dining hall. Along with new friends - the three younger boys inviting you over to their dorm for movies and video games.

A cough interrupts your thoughts, and you look up to see Minho stop in front of your table, awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Guilt fills your chest when you realize you hadn’t even said hi to him, despite knowing he’d come with Hyunjin in tow the moment the previously quiet room had erupted into a faint din. 

“Hey,” you smile up at him, hoping it’ll put him (and you) at ease. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“No problem, uh, thanks for hosting,” Minho scratches the back of his neck, and you notice the piece of paper crumpled into his other fist.

“Did you have fun?”

“Fun? Oh yeah! It was super fun! I felt really calm,” the words spill out of Minho’s mouth awkwardly, and he’s begun to bounce on the soles of his feet.

“Are you sure it was calming? You can give me honest feedback you know. I won’t be offended.”

“Oh yeah, you know, I actually just remembered I have to go, but I wrote something down on this paper and it’s for you!” Minho launches the piece of paper at your desk before scurrying out of the room. Craning your neck, you see him run to Hyunjin in the hall, who claps him on the back.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you unfurl the paper, eyes widening when you see the exact “feedback” Minho had left. 

It takes everything within you not to laugh - the rhyme scheme is completely off, there are random flowery words that definitely look like they were pulled from the dictionary app, and the poem cuts off abruptly with a scribble. Yet somehow your heart is warm at the thought that Minho had sat there for an hour putting this together. For you.

Perhaps you’d underestimated Lee Minho after all.

“I wonder whose idea it was to load a bunch of college-age kids dressed in stiff-ass clothes onto a bus that’s going who knows where, and to not even have alcohol to compensate” you mutter, smoothing over the skirt of your dress, the chilly winter air sending goosebumps down our spine.

“Don’t let the feds hear you say that, miss RA, but to answer your question, probably some prick at Oxford or something,” Seungmin appears by your side, offering up his jacket. You politely decline, grateful that he offered but also that he doesn’t press. Accepting his jacket would be too much of a romantic gesture for… whatever this was. 

“Just two friends hanging out,” Seungmin had reassured you when he’d asked you the other week… the same week you’d received the poem from Minho. The same one that has your heart doing backflips when you even think about it. The same one that’s currently smushed between the pages of your planner, bringing a smile to your face every time you open it.

You shake your head… trying to dispel thoughts of Minho from your mind. Seugmin was your date tonight. He deserved to have your attention. You deserved to not turn it into a miserable time for both of you because you couldn’t sort out anything in your life.

The bus ride helps take your mind off him, Seungmin happily chattering to you about how his year is going so far, and you stave off the chill all the way until the two of you get inside.

Unfortunately, that’s where it all goes downhill. Because the music is too loud, and there are too many bodies crowded on the floor, and you remember that going as dates involves, well actually acting like dates.

A few of Seungmin’s friends from the photography club find him in no time, suddenly swooping the two of you into the middle of the floor, and you’re led down a well-meaning, but incessant line of questioning. Seungmin shoots you an apologetic smile, happy to take the brunt of it for most of you, but it leaves an uncomfortable feeling in your chest nonetheless. Seungmin doesn’t say anything when you drift away quietly, leaving him with his buddies, and find yourself flitting at the fringe of the crowd. An eerie feeling crosses you, one that reminds you of the last time you were in this situation. Only this time the outcome wouldn’t be the same, because Minho wasn’t here. 

Mere months ago, you would have been fawning over the experience of finally attending a formal with a date, feeling like you were coming closer and closer to making the memories you craved. But you realized now that those had been empty hopes. Because memories weren’t about the experiences, but the people you shared them with. And you couldn’t deny what you and Minho had shared.

You don’t even realize you’ve stumbled outside until you’re plopping down onto a bench, hugging your knees to your chest, while fresh tears coat your eyelashes. A soft pair of footsteps echo behind you, and you turn to see Seungmin next to you, taking a seat.

“Y-you should go back inside,” you stutter, even more guilt settling in. “I’m sorry for being such an asshole and ruining your night.”

“Hey, you’re not an asshole. And I meant what I said, I didn’t expect anything from you, just two friends hanging out. But now you’re crying.”

Silence falls between you, and you think about how lucky you are to have a friend like Suengmin. Him, and Felix, and Jisung, and Jeongin. How much they care for you.

“You know,” Seungmin interrupts. “He’s not a bad guy. Lee.”

You whip your head around at Seungmin, not expecting him, of all people, to bring up Minho at a time like this. How did he even know him?

“Oh shush,” Seungmin sees the perplexed look on your face. “He comes over sometimes to watch anime. He’s pretty cool. He even said Jeongin might have a shot at trying out for the team next year.”

“What is my life?” you groan out loud. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’re doing too much, trying to fight whatever it is you feel. Maybe he could be worth it. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I think what I need to do is catch the early bus back to campus,” you grumble, before softening. “You’ll be okay without me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t miss me too much,” Seungmin grins. “Just sleep on it.”

“In your dreams, Kim.”

You’re bounding off the bus faster than the driver can open the door, silently cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket, or at least stealing Seungmin’s. The straps of the way-too-high heels you’d chosen dig into your feet, sure to blister and leave you groaning the next morning, but to be fair, the headache had started long before you’d left your dorm room tonight.

It had started the moment Lee Minho had strolled through the door at that very first meeting, and secured a permanent spot dwelling inside there. And now he was befriending everyone you were friends with? You shiver at the potential implications of what Seungmin had revealed at the formal, surprised to find feelings lingering other than sheer annoyance. 

The wind nipping at your heels, you set off down the campus path, empty save for a few poor souls leaving the library after a study session, until you’re at the campus green, the large fountain that lights up the way to your dorm in plain sight. You feel relief overtake you at the sight, grateful that you could soon unwind and collapse onto your bed, given you had thinking to do. Lots of thinking. 

You’re almost across, the gurgling of the fountain audible in the distance, when a shadow emerges from the path to your right. A lone, slim figure in a blue letterman jacket, a large “S” emblazoned on the front. You think nothing of it until you see the accompanying “25 Lee” on the back, and suddenly you freeze. Only he does too, at the exact same time. 

You wonder if it’s too late to duck behind a bush, hiding under the cover of darkness, until you remember that near the fountain is the most well-lit area within a few hundred yards, the rest of the winding path completely blacked out. And Minho is already walking in your direction, even though you both know the way to the dorm is behind him.

He’s clad in sweatpants, his hair damp with sweat, and you wonder why he’s not freezing at this hour. But he’s probably looking at you and wondering the same thing.

“___, hey,” he shouts out, the grin onn his face growing when he actually looks at you, his jaw hanging open. “Wow, uh, you look good. Fancy event?”

“Oh yeah a date. I mean a formal. I mean I went to a formal. As a date. With Seungmin.”

Immediately, the grin fades, and Minho’s eyes grow impossibly dark. There’s a strange fluttering in your chest, and you’re overcome with the urge to clarify that it wasn’t a real date, that it didn’t mean anything, but nothing comes out, your throat impossibly dry. 

“Oh yeah, he mentioned something about that.”

“Yeah. I guess even RAs need to let loose once in a bit.”

“Did you? Let loose?” Minho raises an eyebrow, and you know that he knows that it’s too early to be wandering around campus, given most buses don’t come back until after midnight. 

“You caught me.”

“I told you, I’m good at that.”

Minho gestures to a bench, right in front of the fountain. You know you should say no, that you should run to the safety of your dorm. Because somehow, when you’re around Minho, the control you have comes crashing down. You feel reckless and effervescent, and you wonder if being drunk when you met him was to blame. 

When you take the seat next to him, you watch him smirk, and that’s when you realize the bench he’d picked out was the tiniest one, meaning you had no choice but to be pressed up right against him, feeling the warmth that emanates from him. You shiver again, hoping the cold can cover for you. 

“You cold?” Minho’s voice is a low rumble, moving to slip his jacket off his shoulders

“No, no I’m fine—”

He’s throwing it around your shoulders before you can finish protesting, his warm sandalwood and cedar fragrance enveloping you, and you burrow into it. Beside you, you can feel Minho’s faint breath fan against your neck, and you flush, turning away to look above you.

“It’s pretty out tonight, isn’t it?” You point above you. “You can see the stars.”

“Yeah, it is,” Minho’s voice is a heavy sigh, and you turn to find he’s not looking above at all. His dark eyes bore right into yours, a whole universe of emotion trapped within their depths, and you feel the fluttering in your chest begin again. 

His warm hand skims softly against your cheek, and you stop it with your own, pulling him away.

“Minho… what’s happening? What is this? Because if this is some kind of ego trip, or some sick joke with your teammates…”

“Can’t you see, damn it?” Minho’s expression turns dark, shadows dancing on his face. “I like you, ___. Ever since you walked out of that room this summer, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I keep running it over and over in my head, wondering what I could have done to fuck this up so badly, and how I can make it up to you every day.”

His voice is full of desperation, and you feel tears well up in your eyes at the sheer emotion captured in his rasp.

“Why?” Your voice is barely audible. “Why me?”

“I know we barely know each other, but everything I see about you, I like. The way you laugh, the quirky sweaters you wear, the way you take care of others. And everything I don’t know, I want to learn.”

Your head spins at his confession, at his earnestness, but while your heart is screaming at you to give in, your head can’t take the leap, holding you back from tumbling over the edge.

“Minho, I can’t. My job—” you watch the way his shoulders sag, knowing that you’re right. “I don’t want you to keep waiting for something that I may never be able to give you.”

“Friends then?” He squares his shoulders, his voice shaky, and you turn away, not wanting him to see the tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“Okay,” your voice is just as wobbly. Maybe it was better this way, knowing the distance would inevitably form when it was Minho’s turn to graduate next semester. This way things wouldn’t end badly - they’d just end when it was time.

“Well,” Minho stands up, offering you an arm. “As your friend, I can’t let you end what was supposed to be a fun night on a shitty note.”

He grabs your arms, slipping them into the jacket, before his hand is slipping in yours, the two of you walking up to the fountain. You know friends don’t hold hands, but you say nothing, the two of you staring at the clear water, coins glinting in its depths. 

“Make a wish,” he whispers. You look up, just in time to see a star shoot across the night sky, and close your eyes, wishing for everything to work itself out.

“And now we jump.”

“We what?!—” you whip your head around, but it’s too late, Minho is pulling you into the fountain with him, the cold water chilling you to the bone. Shivering, you stand up, cheeks burning and your soaked dress clinging to your body, watching Minho shake his wet hair from his eyes.

“You. Are. Crazy,” you huff out, laughter bubbling in your throat, and his eyes are twinkling, before he joins in, the two of you laughing until you’re wheezing. 

“You like it though,” he steps closer, his eyes raking over your body, heavy-lidded with desire. He leans over, almost in slow motion, your heart beating so wildly you almost forget how to breathe. You feel his lips ghost against yours, and for a moment everything is impossibly still—until laughter breaks through the silence, the voices of other students chattering behind you. 

Minho is pulling away, his eyes flickering towards the voices, and you hadn’t realized you were clutching his wet shirt. You peel your soaked bodies away from one another, Minho offering you his hand to help you out of the fountain, when all of a sudden the voices soften, indicating that the students were heading in the other direction. 

The walk back to the dorms is full of silence, both you and Minho trying to wrap your heads around what had happened in the fountain. It isn’t until he walks you to your door, the tormented look in his dark eyes the last thing you see before it closes behind you, that you realize you’d forgotten to give him back his jacket. 

“Morning Lino,” Hyunjin pads out of his and Minho’s shared room, rubbing at his eyes. Minho grunts in response, turning his attention back to the eggs at the stove.

“You know some kid named Yang?” Hyunjin asks through a mouthful of cereal. “Came up to me the other day and said he couldn’t wait to sit in on our practice.”

Minho recalls his conversation with the eager freshman, who was bouncing up and down at the thought of being considered for the football team next year. Of course, what Jeongin didn’t know was that his happiness wasn’t even the cherry on top. It was seeing the dazzling smile on your face when the kid ran up to you to tell you all about it.

You’d looked over, seeing Minho lingering at the end of the hallway, and raised an eyebrow, to which he’d nodded, before promptly disappearing. This whole friendship thing was harder than he’d counted on. But he’d try his damn best. 

…

An hour later, he’s watching Jeongin run lines with Changbin, pausing every few minutes to work on some throws. A small smile forms on his face - Jeongin was a nice kid. And he would have never met him if it wasn’t for you. Minho thinks back to how different life would have been if he hadn’t run into you this summer. 

Even though he can’t put his finger on it, Minho feels like something’s changed. Before you, he’d never cared enough about anything to want to make an effort. Football was just something he did, relationships were something he never bothered with. Class was just class. But after meeting you, Minho wanted to be someone who was enough. Someone you could be proud of — to call a friend and maybe something more one day.

He feels the bench thud next to him, Hyunjin plopping down beside him. Hyunjin looks back and forth between him and Jeongin, realization glimmering in his eyes.

“He’s friends with her, right? Jeongin. That’s why you gave him a chance. You’re so fucking whipped.”

“If you’re gonna try to lecture me right now, please don’t,” Minho grumbles, knowing that behind Hyunjin’s sarcasm, he’s always willing to chew someone out when they’re doing something stupid. Like Minho is doing right now with you.

“That’s Chan’s job, not mine. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“It’s weird,” Minho blurts out, his own words surprising him. He thought he would have dropped the subject. 

But he finds himself opening up about you, the way he doesn’t know why, but you just make him feel, and how he doesn’t know what to do about it. The way you hold yourself back, and he doesn’t know how to move forward, because he’d be an asshole for overstepping the boundaries you’ve so abundantly made clear. How something with you was better than nothing at all.

And Hyunjin listens, gratefully, but Minho sees how his eyes dart over to Chan and Changbin and Jeongin. The season was still young. If he wasn’t careful, things could implode, not just for the team, but for you. 

He would have to find a way to figure this out. Or else, he could lose you for good.

You hadn’t meant for it all to come spilling out. One minute, you and Minho were cool, agreeing to be friends. The next, his mouth was nearly on yours, and you were confused.

And now, you’re telling everything to Felix in the middle of breakfast. It might be the lack of coffee, or the fact that he’s just naturally baby-faced but Felix is wide-eyed, unable to keep his mouth from hanging open as you recall everything, from summer to now. 

When you’re finished, he crosses his arms, his eyebrows furrowing and your stomach drops. Well. You’d managed to make your roommate, also known as one of the nicest people in the world, upset with you.

“Listen, Lix, it’s not as bad as it seems,” you try to reassure him. “We’re cool now.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Felix whines. “Does our friendship mean nothing to you?”

You feel guilty. You knew Felix was one of the first people who should have known. But honestly, you’d just bottled it up. Even Ryujin didn’t know much beyond you disappearing upstairs with Minho. You feared that the more you talked about it, the more real it would seem. Whatever it was, this thing that you and Minho had. 

“I never asked to hook up with a football player Felix,” you groan, taking care to keep your voice down. “I never asked for him to be my neighbour, let alone my actual responsibility. But that’s just what it comes down to. Responsibility. I have a job to do, and being involved with Minho goes against everything that it stands for.”

“___, you’re human too,” Felix offers you the cookie from his plate, and you accept it, chomping down. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

“I just thought this year would be different. I thought I’d have everything figured out, and that whatever I experienced would be fun. But now I’m just stuck with this. A mess.”

Felix’s jaw tenses, like he’s lost deep in thought. 

“Do you regret it?” Panic lights your eyes at his question. Because it was one you’d never considered. You’d spent so long trying to push Minho away, creating false distance in between you two, when the reality was, it’d never existed in the first place.

All you wanted was to be closer to him. You wanted to learn the same things about him that he wanted to learn about you. You wanted to know what it actually would feel like if he kissed you in front of the fountain.

“No” you manage to breathe out with a sigh. “I don’t. But it still doesn’t change anything.”

“It could,” Felix counters.

Head spinning, you find your appetite has disappeared. You watch Felix look at you with concern as you bid him a half-hearted bye, telling him you’ll see him later. 

Maybe you couldn’t lie to yourself about Minho anymore. But you couldn’t do anything about the truth except live with it. 

You thought Namjoon believed in you enough to not stick you on RA duty during your birthday, but apparently not. So, you’d guiltily waved goodbye to Felix, telling him to go celebrate in your honour, and you’re curled up on the couch, notebook in hand, trying to review your reading for the week. 

A few hours pass, in which you change the way you’re sitting numerous times, get up to take a water break at least every seven minutes, and are finally situated and focused enough to accomplish, but then the thumping starts. 

At first you’re confused. Was someone working out? Did someone set up a bowling alley? Both of those explanations seemed more plausible until you actually listened for the source of the noise. It was coming from right next to you. 

Room 103.

You groan. Of course they’d be having a party. The semester was new, and what else did football players do on a Saturday night? 

Unfortunately, that also meant it was on you to stop it. And deal with the aftermath of ruining the night of a bunch of salty students. You breathe a heavy sigh, running through countless scenarios in your head to avoid going over. You could just keep studying, maybe bake a batch of brownies. But each one of those scenarios is ruined by none other than Kim Namjoon. His voice drones on in the back of your mind, waxing poetic about how with great power comes great responsibility. The man needed to stop rewatching so many Spider-Man movies. 

Throwing your notebook to the side, you throw on a cardigan, shuffling over to Minho’s apartment. The cacophonous bass reverberates even from outside, and you give a timid knock, unsure if anyone will be able to hear you. 

It takes a few moments, but eventually, the door swings open, the gleeful eyes of Seo Changbin taking in your presence at the door.

“I, uhm, I’m here to uh,” you barely get a sentence out before you’re being swept inside, Changbin’s bellowing laugh echoing behind you. “Look who joined us!” Changbin shouts, and a few heads turn to look in your direction. You catch a couple of questioning looks, one of the being Hyunjin, but for the most part, your presence is ignored.

“Any chance we can get you up on one of the tables?” Changbin offers you a drink, gesturing to the living room. You shake your head, backing up against wall of the entryway.

“Listen, I can’t stay, I just came to –”

“___? What are you doing here?” A voice sounds from behind you, and you turn to see Minho looking at you, shock on his face. 

You gulp. You’d hoped you wouldn’t have to run into him tonight, that it would be a quick in and out. Once the party was shut down, everyone would go home in a sour mood, maybe Minho would hate you for it, and you’d be able to get over your feelings for him in peace.

“Leave her alone, Bin,” Minho chastises his roommate, who’s still trying to goad you for a drink. And then he grabs you by the hand, pulling you further into the lion's den.

The first thing you notice is the sheer heat. Not only are there dozens of bodies crowded up against each other, but it’s Minho himself. He maneuvers you through the crowd, keeping you close to him, and it makes you dizzy. Through the stench of beer and sweat, his cologne peeks through, spiking your body temperature even more.

You don’t know where Minho is leading you, but eventually you two end up near the end of the hallway, bypassing many loud conversations and couples making out, until you stumble upon a series of closed doors. Your face burns when you realize it’s their rooms.

“I need to go,” you say quickly, turning on your heel. “I shouldn’t even be here, this shouldn’t be happening.”

“Hey,” Minho rests a hand on your shoulder. “I just wanted to bring you somewhere quieter, where you wouldn’t be overwhelmed.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, heart soaring at the touching gesture. “Still, I should…”

“Can’t you stay for a bit?” Minho begs, his sparkling eyes meeting yours, and you’re unable to do anything but nod yes.

“Lee! How you doing man?” a voice bellows from far away, and you notice Mingyu, one of the forwards on the soccer team, walk up and high-five Minho, slapping him on the back. “Who’s your friend?”

Mingyu’s eyes do a once over, eyebrows furrowing at your sweatpants and cardigan, before looking quizically at Minho. 

Minho draws a hand around your waist, coming to rest protectively on your hip. His palm burns through the thin fabric where your tank top ends, keeping you tight to his body.

“This is ___. If you don’t mind, we’re kind of busy.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes, smirking as he disappears in the crowd. That’s when you notice Minho’s leaning back against one of the door frames, his hand resting on the door knob.

“Wanna talk in my room?” he asks softly. And it doesn’t sound sleazy or gross. It sounds earnest. Despite the party raging around him, he hasn’t left your side since you showed up, as if he could feel the anxiety coursing through you. As if he’s telling you he’s got you.

“Or I could walk back with you to your room. Whatever you want.”

“W-we can talk,” you say nervously, fisting the side of your cardigan. Somehow, the idea of returning to your notebook seems wholly unappealing. “Just for a bit.”

“Okay,” he opens the door, leading you in.

. . .

The first thing you notice about the room is that it’s surprisingly clean. For a guy’s room anyway. There are a few stray articles of clothing strewn on the chair, but there’s also a neat stack of books, and a bunch of photo frames on Minho’s desk. One in particular catches your eye.

You pick it up, a smile breaking out onto your face at the photo of Minho, star running back, crouched up to three tiny cats.

“Soonie, Doongi, and Dori,” Minho’s voice echoes behind you. “I adopted them when I was in middle school.”

“I didn’t take you for a cat person,” you giggle.

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Minho takes the frame from you, setting it back in place. His voice sounds distant, like he’s thinking too hard.

“Tell me about yourself,” you blurt out without thinking, watching Minho’s eyes widen in surprise. You realize that you barely knew anything about him, while he’d worked so hard to know you, and his words from the night of the formal echoed in your brain. 

Everything I see about you, I like. And everything I don’t know, I want to learn.

You learn that Minho lives twenty minutes away, something you hadn’t expected. And that he goes home to visit his parents every other weekend, checking up on his cats. You learn football is just something he plays for fun – he’s not super serious about it like Chan or Changbin, but he stayed on the team because they’re his friends. You learn he likes fishing, but also pulling pranks on people. He’d nearly convinced Jisung that they cancelled Spy x Family the other week, and the poor boy had believed him before Minho had to chase him down with a bag of chocolate covered pretzels from the campus cafe and apologize. You learn that Lee Minho is so much more than you ever thought he could be, and that you feel more for him than you could have ever imagined, the realization giving you goosebumps.

“Hey,” Minho pokes you in the ribs. “You zoned out. Everything okay?”

No, everything was not okay. You wondered if he noticed how you’ve gone completely still next to him, your breathing shallow. Minho’s eyes have darkened, filled with an emotion you can’t possibly name, but something you want to believe in. And for once, you want to lose control, and fall off the edge together.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, heavy gaze dropping to his lips. Minho freezes, but doesn’t back away.

“Fuck,” he huffs, heavy breaths filling the space between you. “You sure?”

“Please,” you groan, closing the distance so your lips ghost over his. Minho finally snaps, bringing his mouth to yours, groaning against your lips. You bite back a moan as he nips your bottom lip. The sound stirs him, and with a hard squeeze to your thigh, he’s backing you onto the bed below him. Heart pounding, the look in his eyes is dangerous, sending chills down your spine.

“Let me make you feel good,” he breathes against your forehead. 

You’re unable to do anything but whine in response, watching as he pushes your tank top up to undo the ties on your sweatpants, fingers digging into your hips while he pulls the fabric down, taking your underwear with it. His mouth peppers rough kisses down your throat and into your cleavage, leaving splotches of crimson and violet as he grazes his teeth in every spot his lips meet. 

“Tell me you want this,” he asks, eyes searching yours. 

“Yes,” you groan, head swimming. “I want this, want to feel you, please-”

Your pleas are cut off swiftly as he slips two fingers inside of you, dragging them against your walls with a low sigh.

“Fucking hell, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?” 

“Only for you,” you whine, completely lost to what is coming out of your mouth.

“You’re so beautiful, fuck, been thinking about this for so long,” Minho hisses when you gush around him, arousal dripping down his wrist.

You feel yourself flutter at his words, throwing your head back while reaching over to swipe your fingers through his sweaty hair. You tug at the back of his shirt, and he pulls it over his head, his shaking hands slipping the cardigan off your shoulders and tugging the straps of your tank top.

Looming over you, he engulfs your nipple in his mouth, and you gasp sharply when he bites down with his teeth, swirling his tongue over it quickly to soothe your reddened skin. But Minho doesn’t stop there, his lips trailing all over you, unable to stop kissing you. 

It’s a thousand times stronger, more intimate than the time from the summer, the feelings that have built between you mounting and mounting until they’re an inferno. 

The first press of his tongue against your folds has you squirming as you desperately rock your hips against his mouth. Your knees buckle around him as he works you with his tongue, fingers dipping lower and lower until they press right against where you need him most. Feeling a harsh suck to your clit, you moan loud enough that you’re sure that anyone who’s outside can hear you. But you don’t care, reveling in what it means to let him in.

Just as you’re about to let go and surrender yourself completely, Minho’s fingers retreat, leaving you clenching around nothing. You open your lips, ready to protest, but Minho cuts you off, stuffing his fingers inside your mouth.

“Suck,” he commands, and you’re left breathless, unable to do anything but comply while wetting the digits, tasting yourself.

“Need to see you come while I’m inside you,” Minho slips off the rest of his clothes. You feel your mouth go dry when his cock springs free, and he chuckles at the depraved look in your eyes, before pushing his cock completely inside, leaving you reeling at the stretch.

“Please, move,” you beg, and he obliges. Fucking you slowly like he never wants to forget this moment. His strong arm slips around your waist, lifting you up against his chest and his lips find yours again, tongue licking into you to steal the moans that escape you, head dizzying at the change in position.

“Minho, fuck, I’m going to come, please wanna so bad,” you whine, feeling lightheaded with ecstasy. Reaching down, Minho rubs tight circles on your clit, messy slick coating his fingers until you feel yourself snap, gushing around him.

“Cum for me ____,” he breathes against your neck.

That’s what does it, pushing you overboard, wetness gushing from you as you moan his name. Minho speeds up his thrusts to join you, groaning when he feels himself explode, before slumping against you, chest heaving with the weight of his breaths.

His sweat soaked bangs are messy, covering his eyes, and his fingertips skim across your cheek, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Stay with me?” he blurts out, head ducking in embarrassment at the silly statement. “I mean, not like that, just..”

And you sigh, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer to you, burying your head in the crook of his shoulder, soft breath fanning his damp skin. 

Dawn spills into Minho’s room, and you sigh, careful not to wake a snoring Minho. He’d fallen asleep quickly, but you’d been unable to do the same, tossing and turning beside him. What scared you was how much regret you didn’t feel over what had just transpired. How much you wished you could just give in and let it happen again. 

But you couldn’t. Not only had you completely broken the pact to be just friends with Minho, but you’d also completely forgotten about the entire reason you’d even come here last night, the forgotten responsibilities of your job weighing heavily on you.

Rising, you carefully pick up your clothes, throwing them on quickly. You feel Minho stir softly, before he’s stretching, rubbing at his eyes.

“Morning,” his voice is low and raspy, but also completely content. A sharp contrast to the torment you currently feel. “Wanna grab breakfast?”

“Minho,” your voice is bleak, and you watch his figure slump. He’d fucked up. You both had.

“Last night should have never happened. And I know that if we keep doing this, spending time with each other, it’ll happen again. But I can’t. I have a job, I have responsibilities, and they’re important to me.”

You know the words cut deep, because you also know you’d give them all up in a second to wake up to him again, to feel his lips on yours. 

Minho’s expression is blank, watching you scurry around the room to pick up your stuff. You knew the moment you walked out of there, there’d be no going back, even to being friends.  

It breaks your heart even more when he doesn’t move to get up and help you, watching you instead with devastated eyes. 

But you also knew you couldn’t turn around and look back at him, because you’d drop everything and stay.

. . .

The sun is too bright, hurting your eyes as you walk to the dining hall, what feels like chalk settling in the back of your throat. You feel like you’re battling the worst hangover of your life, despite not having a single drink last night, and you were so grateful Felix was still asleep when you’d slipped inside.

You’d let everything slip out of control, and now your life was spiralling. For a brief moment, you wondered if you should just accept the guilt for everything, leaving Minho behind and handing in your resignation. But then you realized how stupid that sounded, leaving you with nothing.

You swing the heavy door to the dining hall open, not even noticing the figure on the other side until you’re falling backwards. You catch the door just in time, looking up to be met with the tall figure of Kim Namjoon. And he doesn’t look happy.

“___, my office, now.”

. . .

Namjoon rubs in between his eyebrows, his expression darting in between you and the door. Your heart is pounding, fear taking over, even though you already know that whatever is happening cannot be good.

“____, when I chose you for this position at the beginning of the year, it was because I saw so much potential in you,” he begins, his voice trembling. “I thought you’d never do anything to upset me, to disappoint me.”

The word disappoint tells you everything you need to know, and tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. Of course there would have been wandering eyes at the party last night. Of course someone would have recognized you, seen what you were doing, and said something to Namjoon. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid.

“Getting involved with a resident is a blatant violation of the responsibilities that have been entrusted to you as a resident assistant. Furthermore, you failed to act and de-escalate a situation that was a clear violation of the student code of conduct.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you cry out, hoping Namjoon will rethink everything. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry.” 

You watch his eyes flash with hurt at your pleading, but you know from the despondency in his expression there’s nothing you can do.

“I’m sorry, ____ but I have to report this to the advisory board. They’ll deliberate, but as of right now, you’re suspended, and it’s very likely you won’t be invited back next year. Karina will fill in for you in the meantime.” He stands up, before leading you out gently. “I wish there was more I could do.”

You’re unable to say a word, slipping your coat over your shoulders and ducking your head to try to hide the tears that won’t stop flowing. You wonder if you should try harder, plead your case, but you know that the fault was entirely yours. 

Looking up, you see Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin walk into the dining hall, laughing to each other, and duck behind a corner, your appetite completely gone. Taking off, you run as fast as you can, not stopping until your feet lead you back to the dorms.

Campus in the springtime is a sea of pink - the light, delicate hue of cherry blossoms creating a canopy on the ground, filling up the pathway to the fountain. But their beauty is lost on Minho, who sits by the fountain, staring blankly at the gurgling water. 

Two months. It’d been two months since you’d ended things, rushing out of his room. Two months since you’d chosen responsibility over him. Minho wanted to be angry, wanted to hate you. But he just felt empty instead. 

He’d tried talking to everyone – Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin had no idea what happened to you. Felix would only glare at him in anger from across campus, and he wonders if he’d broken your heart just as bad as you’d broken his. As if somehow that would make him feel better, knowing you were in just as much pain as him. But it didn’t.

His own teammates saw how everything ached for Minho, from him burning his breakfast to failing to catch the simplest of throws. And they were worried. But Minho couldn’t fix this – he couldn’t go back to how the two of you had been before. Because in reality, there’d never been a chance for the two of you to begin with. He realized it now. You were just too different. 

And yet it hadn’t stopped him from falling in love with you. He’d finally figured it out, when it was far too late. He was in love with you – the way you made him feel alive, like the world was full of possibilities. Only for it all to come crashing down.

“Hey dude,” Chan’s soft voice comes from next to him, taking a seat on the bench. “You okay?”

“Hanging in there, old man,” Minho musters a weak smile, but it falters, and Chan immediately notices. Minho looks at his friend, who can’t stop looking around at who’s passing by, and he realizes he’s keeping a secret.

“Spill,” Minho commands, and Chan furiously nods no.

“Lino, we have our last game soon, you need to stay focused…”

“Say it,” Minho hisses through his teeth, because he knows that whatever Chan is hiding it’s about you.

The words come spilling out before Chan can stop them, and Minho takes them all in, everything suddenly becoming clear.

. . . 

The roar of the buzzer echoes in Minho’s ear,  along with the deafening sound of the crowd, and suddenly he’s being dogpiled by his teammates. Hyunjin and Changbin are screaming in his ear, the school fight song is blaring, but time slows for Minho, and he focuses on none of it.

Everything moves too quickly, the fans rushing from the stands, spilling out onto the field and campus beyond. Minho is being pushed, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, until the locker room appears behind him. He’s stripping off his jersey, hitting the showers while his teammates erupt into joy around him. Minho lets the water drip off him, bracing himself against the wall, heavy breaths escaping him.

The win didn’t feel like a win at all. Not with the guilt that resided in his chest ever since he’d spoken to Chan a week ago. Minho knew the celebrations would go all night, the liquor would keep flowing, that all bets were off and every rule could be broken. But he didn’t care about any of that.

All he knew was that tonight, while campus erupted into a riotous celebration, he needed to find you.

He ignores Hyunjin’s protests while he slips out of the locker room, Chan holding his other teammates back. Minho throws a hoodie on, and steps out into the night air.

The first thing he notices is the swarm – there are people everywhere, screams echoing in his ears. Then it’s the pandemonium - banners strewn on the ground, the blare of an air horn in the distance, the blaze of what he’s pretty sure is a firework. 

People line up around him as he moves through the crowd, pushing his way through overzealous fans, and overeager sorority girls offering him a victory kiss. He throws his hood up, ducking his face so that no one else can catch him, setting off to the emptier part of campus.

Eventually, the crowd dies down as he draws closer to the dorms, everyone out celebrating on the main green. Minho walks down the path he’s become so familiar with this year, the familiar sound of the fountain welcoming him.

He knew he’d find you here. Your eyes are turned away from him as you sit on the edge, aimlessly dragging your hand through the water.

“Not gonna celebrate?” He watches you jump at the sound of his voice, quickly rising up.

“Congrats, I’m sure it was a great game,” you whisper, but you’re backing away, and Minho can’t let you leave.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Minho interrupts you, resting his arm on yours, and he watches your eyes meet his, so much pain contained within them when you realize he knows.

“It wasn’t your fault, it was mine,” you counter, looking down at the fountain. 

“That’s such crap, they let you go for that?”

“They let me go because I broke the rules, Minho. I deserved it.”

Minho lets out a heavy sigh, watching you shiver in the cold, and he slips off his hoodie. You dodge it, the two of awkwardly dancing around each other, before accepting it, sinking into the feeling of Minho’s warmth. 

“You’ve gotta stop letting me steal your jackets, I’ve already got a rap sheet,” you joke, but Minho doesn’t smile.

“I’m so fucking sorry, ___.” He says looking out onto the campus. “We really fucked things up, didn’t we?”

“Maybe this is how it was supposed to be,” you tell him. “You know, I was reading up on things, and I learned that sometimes, stars collide, and then they just collapse into dust. Like nothing else happens – they’re together one moment, and then the next, remnants of the collision float through the universe.”

Minho watches your breath come out in heavy puffs, and mind wanders back to the stars on the night he’d almost kissed you in the fountain.

“Can I have one more memory then?” He asks, intertwining his fingertips with yours, pulling you close to him, watching you nod before closing the distance in between you two. 

Sparks explode across your skin when he kisses you, your hands swinging around his neck. You sway from the wash of emotions that come over you, and Minho’s hands are there, steadying you as you break apart, rubbing his cheek against yours and pressing tiny kisses all the way from your temple to your hair.

Eventually, the sound of the crowd draws closer, and Minho watches you pull away, holding out his hoodie in his hands. Taking it, he watches you retreat, wondering if there’d ever be a time where the universe would let you find each other again to pick up the pieces.

Sighing, you tape up the last box, pushing it to the side before collapsing on the couch. The end of the semester had come quickly after the raucous football celebrations, everyone in campus on a high. 

Surprisingly, you’d dealt with the pain pretty well, settling into a new routine after being let go. Felix had been your biggest support, allowing you to cry into his shoulder as much as you wanted, baking plenty of brownies to keep you from descending into too deep of a depression.

Eventually, you’d learned to just let the wound scar over. The night of the game with Minho had provided you with closure in the best way possible, confirming to you that life had had its own plan for you all along. Thought, from time to time, you mind still lingered on the kiss the two of you had shared – for a moment, you’d thought that it could have meant something, but maybe that was your lesson – learning to take things as they were, because the more expectations you’d had, the more things fell apart.

A gentle knock interrupts your train of thought, and you walk over to the door, opening it up to find none other than Namjoon on the other side. Confused, you let him in, silence falling in between you while you wait for him to speak.

“____, I’m so sorry, MInho told me everything,” Namjoon blurts out, and his words have you reeling. What did he mean?

“He told me how he was the one to overstep the boundaries of your job and how you tried to stop it, I knew I shouldn’t have doubted you. The board says you can stay on for next year!”

You remain frozen in place, unable to speak or even think, before the overwhelming urge to find Minho comes over you.

“Namjoon, I’m sorry but I need to go right now.” 

And then you rush out the door.

. . . 

The door to room 103 is propped open with a six-pack, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes as you barge in, Hyunjin’s surprised figure greeting you right behind the door.

“_____? What the hell?”

“No time to talk, Hwang,” you push past him. “Where is he?”

“Where is who?”

“You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

Hyunjin pauses, before nodding his head towards Minho’s room, the subtle smirk never leaving his face as he watches you bound towards the door.

“LEE MINHO!” your shrill voice causes Minho to drop the book he was packing on his foot, and you smile as you watch him jump around, swearing under his breath. 

“____? What are you doing here…”

“How dare you!” Minho groans when you punch him in the arm. “I cannot believe you did that.”

“Damn it, I swore that Namjoon man to secrecy,” Minho chuckles, a whoosh of air leaving him when you suddenly throw your arms around him, burying your face into his neck. “You. Are. Crazy,” you whisper into his hair, feeling him smile against you while he pulls you closer, rubbing his hands on your back.

“You like it though,” he smirks. 

“I love it,” you correct him, watching his grin go from tentative to ear-splitting. “Namjoon said you were suspended from the team though. I’m confused, isn’t this your last semester?”

“Well,” Minho blushes. “I may have to stay an extra one. Just to sort everything out, you know.”

“Jeongin will be so thrilled to have you on the team with him,” you giggle, kissing the corner of his mouth. 

“And you?”

“I’m gonna need a re-do of that love poem you wrote me. Byron would be rolling over in his grave.”

“I don’t know who the hell that is.”

“Good thing you have time to learn then.”

“So,” Minho grabs your hand nervously. “My parents brought Soonie, Doongi and Dori with them. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to introduce them to my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” you ask him. 

“Oh I’m sorry would you prefer twin planet? Or shining star?”

“Watch it Lee.”

Minho wastes no time dragging you out the door with him, Hyunjin waving the two of you off. Stepping out into the sunshine, you see two figures in the distance waving to Minho, and you smile, the collision that had once steered you off course finally leading you and Minho back on the path where you both belonged. With each other.

a/n pt. 2: they are so getting married btw! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

tagging: @mal-lunar-28

[leeracha]

Day 8: Webcam/live streaming + Exhibitionism with Felix [plus Chan, Minho, Changbin and Hyunjin]

Wordcount — 2,900 words

Includes — Consented webcam/live streaming, established relationship, exhibitionism, dirty talk, mild humiliation and degradation, mild objectification, fantasies of free use, anal sex, cuck-olding and gangbangs, fingering.

Author's Note — I've always wanted to write this specific scenario, so here we are :) Hope you all like it, I had fun writing this because I love to include dialogues that aren't really dialogues (for example, the comments) so yep, it was fun! Please remember that english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes in advance.

“Say hi, bunny,” Felix’s hand cups your face, forcing you to stare right into the camera. “Don’t be rude”. 

You can hardly do so without feeling a bit embarrassed, but you know it’s best to follow his and their friend’s orders if you wish to have some mercy given to you. Plus, this has always been one of your and Felix’s fantasies.

“Hey,” you whisper, eyes fluttering between the phone and Felix’s image who is towering over your body. 

[Minh0: Lower the camera a little more]

[Minh0: Want to see what she is wearing]

Felix smiles when he reads his friend’s comments, and indulges him by doing what he asked for.

“Minho wants to see you,” he announces, drifting the focus of the camera from your face to your breasts. 

The pink lace and sheer fabric barely does anything to cover your tits, erected nipples poking through it and offering Felix, and the other people watching the livestream, a filthy sight.

[Cb.97: Next time, make sure she doesn't wear anything]

Felix chuckles at Chan’s comment, the confusion in your sight forcing him to read the comment out loud.

“Chan says you shouldn’t be wearing anything,” your boyfriend murmurs, camera still focused on your tits while his available hand reaches out to tease your nipples over your underwear. “Why don’t you take this off? Bet they want to see you fully naked”. 

“Do they?” you ask him, hands over the straps of your bra. 

[Ch9ngbin: Make her strip for the camera]

“Strip for them” he tells you, taking a step back from the bed and making sure to get a view of your whole body. “Be good and show them what they want to see”. 

You lick your lips and your hands move from the straps to your back, fingers struggling to unclench the piece of clothing. When you successfully managed to get the top off of you, you couldn’t help but hunch slightly, covering your breasts with your arms and hands. 

“No, no,” Felix’s deep voice humms, “Don’t be rude”.

Your arms slowly fall to your lap under his orders, breasts bouncing slightly when you release and stop hiding them. Your nipples are harder than ever, and Felix seems content with the video he is providing his friends with.  

[H.wang: Tell her to play with her tits]

“Hyunjin wants to see you playing with them,” Felix tilts his head at you, leaning forward to grope one of your breasts for the camera. “Put on a good show for him, will you?”

What Felix says, you do.

So you start slowly groping your breasts for the camera, not daring to break eye contact with it. You pinch and tease your nipples for Felix and the rest of his friends watching, making sure to fulfill their requests as best as you can.

[Minh0: Such a slut]

Felix scoffs while reading the comment out loud. “She is,” he agrees with his friend, caressing your cheek while moving the camera from your breasts to your face. “Aren’t you a slut?”

“Mhm,” you hum, wrapping your lips around Felix’s thumb when it caresses your lips.

You can’t tell what his friends are up to while watching the stream —they could be laying on their beds, amused by exhibitionism fetish you and your boyfriend share. Or they could be with their hand inside their underwear, jerking off while writing the filthiest comments and orders for Felix to read them.

“Fuck,” your boyfriend whispers, feeling chills throughout his body when your tongue wraps and sucks on his finger. He looks down to your crotch, only to notice your skin and panties glistening with your own arousal. “She is dripping wet already”.

The camera focus switches from your face to your pussy, Felix’s fingers pushing your underwear to the side to expose your wet slit. 

[Cb.97: Really want to bury my face there]

[Minh0: Just thinking about how easy my cock would slide right inside her]

Felix feels his cock throbbing when reading both of their friends’ comments —for a reason beyond him, he can’t help but picture you in both scenarios with them.

“How would you feel about having Chan eating you out, mh?” your boyfriend hums, fingers teasing your slit while he does his best to keep the camera focused. “Or have Minho’s cock inside you?”

[Ch9ngbin: I’d love to fuck her from behind]

[H.hwang: I’m sure she is really tight there. Would love to fuck her ass too] 

“Oh,” Felix murmurs, “Changbin and Hyunjin say they both want to fuck your ass”. 

“At the same time?” you joke shyly, feeling exposed when Felix drags your underwear off of you so that his friends can get a full view of both holes.

[Ch9ngbin: I get to fuck her ass and Hyunjin can fuck her pussy, that at the same time]

[Ch9ngbin: I know she can take us both]

“You’d be surprised to know how desperate she gets sometimes,” Felix replies without providing you any context about the comment he read. “I’m sure she would like that”. 

“What?” you ask him, letting out a quiet whimper when his fingers caress your clit. 

“Having Changbin and Hyunjin fucking your holes at the same time,” he explains, spreading your folds open while touching you. 

[Minh0: After they are done, me and Chan would go next] 

Felix chuckles.

“Think you can take all 5 of us in one night?” your boyfriend asks you. “Allow us to use all of your holes until we come?”

He thrusts a finger inside you and it slides right in easily, just as Minho said. 

“So fucking wet and warm,” Felix hisses, “I’m sure they would love to feel you”.

[H.hwang: I can even hear how fucking wet she is]

“God,” you sighed, spreading your thighs further for the people watching. “One more, Lix”. 

He can’t help but let out a soft laugh. “Already so greedy?”

[Cb.97: Needy. I bet if all five of us were there, she wouldn’t keep asking for more]

[Minh0: She wouldn’t even be able to speak]

“Can you imagine what it would be like if all of my friends were here?” your boyfriend asks you, thrusting another finger inside your cunt while his thumb rubs your swollen clit. “One cock fucking your pussy while you suck and jerk off the others?”

“Fuck,” you whimper, clenching around his fingers after he puts that image in your mind.

[Ch9ngbin: She would look so pretty all fucked out, drooling like a puppy while she comes]

“Hm,” Felix scoffs, licking his lips while his eyes focus on the cellphone screen. He is doing both things at the same time —touching you and reading the filthy comments his friends send to the livestream chat. “She is messy like that, drools all over the place when I fuck her dumb”. 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks when he talks about you like that, as if you are not right there with him. 

[Cb.97: How messy can you get her to be right now?]

Felix cocks an eyebrow when he reads Chan’s comment, taking it as nothing but a challenge.

“I guess I’ll just have to show you,” your boyfriend murmurs, withdrawing his fingers from your pussy and guiding them to your mouth. It’s hard to understand the context of his words when he misses to read a comment, but you can just imagine what filthy things his friends must be saying about you right now. “Open wide, bunny. Chan asked for this”. 

When you hear his friend’s name, you can’t help but suck his fingers eagerly. Your eyes are focused on the camera, and your tongue wraps around his digits expertly, sucking off your own wetness from them.

[H.hwang: Make her gag, want to see her tearing up]

“Take them all the way in,” he murmurs, pushing them deeper inside your warm mouth. “That’s right, just like that”.

For a second, keeping eye contact with the camera seems like the hardest task in the world —you can barely keep your eyes open without looking pathetic. 

[Ch9ngbin: I swear I can come just by that]

It’s truly a pronographic sight, how your hazy gaze gets completely lost as your boyfriend thrusts his fingers inside your mouth, putting up a show for his friends to watch. You drool and gag all over them, eyes rolling to the back of your head every time Felix fills your mouth.

“Good job,” your boyfriend groans, pleased with how saliva is dripping from your mouth and onto your breasts, skin glistening with your own fluids. “Would you suck my friend’s cocks just like this? All messy and wet?”

You can barely nod, but the answer earns a scoff from the blonde-haired. 

[Minh0: Fuck her cunt already]

“Someone’s getting desperate,” Felix announces, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth. “And I’m not talking about you”. 

You smile.

“What do they want to see now?” you ask, voice so sweet it makes their cocks twitch in their pants.

“Minho is telling me to fuck your pussy,” your boyfriend says, fingers spreading your folds for the camera. “Guess he wants to see you clenching around my fingers just so he can imagine how it must feel to be inside you”. 

“Pervert,” you whisper, teasingly. The more Felix touches you, the less you can speak without whimpering between words. 

[H.hwang: God, she is dripping wet…] 

[H.hwang: Need to taste her] 

“She tastes so sweet,” Felix murmurs under his breath, lubricating his fingers with your own wetness before moving on to fulfill Minho's petition. “You would love it”. 

[Ch9ngbin: Bet she tastes better when she comes] 

[Ch9ngbin: Want her to come while I eat her cunt] 

“Oh, she is a mess when she comes,” he isn't giving you any context whatsoever or what is going on in that chat room, yet it arouses you. 

It arouses how they are all talking as if you aren't there, naked and exposed for their delight. They are probably saying the most filthy stuff they want to do with you, and the only thing you know about it is Felix's wide smile, that only grows wider when his friends send message after message on how they would fuck you. 

“Always leaves a fucking mess when she creams on my cock,” he groans quietly, pushing two of his fingers inside you while his right hand maneuvers the camera. “Like the filthy slut she is”. 

[Cb.97: She looks so fucking tight] 

[Minh0: Want to stretch her pussy open. Fuck her as rough as possible until she gets used to my cock]

“Chan says your pussy looks really tight,” your boyfriend tells you, making sure the audience is getting a good view of how your walls clench around two or his fingers, "and not only it looks like, but it is fucking tight”. His fingers are moving inside you at the perfect pace —not too fast, but definitely not too slow. Each thrust is rough and deep, and he curls his fingers every time as he tries to find that sweet spot that will guarantee him and his friends a good show. “It's tight, and wet, and warm… It drives me insane, she clenches around my cock so fucking hard I can come in seconds”. 

[Cb.97: Want to fill her up real good. Have my cock inside her along with one or two fingers, just to stretch her hole even more]

The thought of it makes Felix's cock harder. 

“Would you let Chan inside you, hm?” your boyfriend asks you, his digits brushing near your g-spot. “Would you let him fuck you and use your pussy as he please?” 

He switches the camera focus from your cunt to your face, making sure to record how eagerly you nodded when he asked the question. 

“Tell him,” the blonde-haired orders you, fingers still fucking your cunt expertly while the camera is focused on your face. 

“Would love to fuck my pussy, Chan,” you whimper, hazy gaze making eye contact with the camera. “I want your cock inside me, really deep”. 

[Minh0: She looks so ruined]

[Minh0: I want to make her cry. Fuck her pretty mouth roughly enough until she is tearing up and drooling all over herself]

The image is appealing to Felix, he can't lie. The thought of Minho using your mouth, forcing his cock inside your throat while your nails grip the flesh of his thighs is something he would love to see. 

Your boyfriend knows you like it rough, and he thinks Minho could do such a great job in treating you like the slut you know you are. 

“Want to say something to Minho?” Felix asks you, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head with each thrust. “Seems like he is desperate to use you, too”. 

“Min-minho?” you query, biting your lower lip while you cry quietly. “Want him inside, fucking my pussy while the rest watches.” 

“Yeah?” he groans, increasing the pace of his movements. 

“Y-yeah,” the camera is still focusing on your face, but that's not a problem for the men watching. The sight of your pretty, fucked out face is enough to get them to come, and hearing you speak about how you want each of them to fuck you in front of your boyfriend is more than enough. “Want all of your friends to fuck me really hard. Want them to use me, come inside me”. 

[Ch9ngbin: You've trained her well] 

[H.hwang: She wants all of Felix's friends to use her as a cum dump. Cute.] 

[Cb.97: Bet she would do anything Felix asks her to] 

[Minh0: Felix better ask her to be our personal fucktoy then, I really can't wait to fuck her] 

“They want you to be their personal fucktoy,” the blonde-haired announces, each of his words sending shivers down your spine while your hips grind against his palm and your toes curl in anticipation. “Fuck you whenever they please, release their stress with you”. 

“Fuck,” you sigh, the idea repeating on loop inside your mind. 

For anyone outside of your relationship, it might seem strange the dynamic you two have. Nevertheless, it isn't weird for the both of you. 

Felix doesn't mind sharing —matter of fact, he loves the idea of sharing you with his friends. He thrives on imagining each of them fucking you in their own way, making you scream, and cry, and moan until you are nothing but a mindless mess, begin for more and more. 

And his friends understand how the dynamic works, that's why they have no issue participating in it. 

“It's that what you want too, hm?” he hums, increasing the pace of his thrusts even more. “To be fucked by all of them?” 

“Y-yes,” you cry, closing your eyes when you feel the pleasure unraveling. “Want all of them- Chan, Minho, Changbin, Hyune… want all of them to use my body, to fuck it real good. Want to make them come”. 

[Cb.97: You really did train her good] 

[Ch9ngbin: So sweet, thinking about making us come first]

[Minh0: She can barely take two fingers without getting ruined, I wonder how she is going to take all five of us at the same time] 

[H.hwang: Would love to see her struggling, doing everything she can to satisfy us] 

“They all want you to take all five of us at the same time,” Felix groans, his cock leaking as he sees you falling apart. “You think you can do that? Have three of us fucking your holes while you jerk off the other 2?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine, eyebrows furrowed while you try your best to keep eye contact with the camera.

“Would love to see your body covered in their cum,” your boyfriend continues pushing you to the edge with every idea he engraves in your brain. “All dirty because of us, your cunt swollen from how much we fucked it”. 

“I'm coming,” you announce with broken words, letting his friends know that all their filthy words had the desired effect. “Can't hold it, just- want to- come”. 

“Are you going to come around our cocks like this?” he asks you with a husky voice, trying to record as much of the scene as possible. “Cream all over them and make a mess until you are too overstimulated to keep on coming?” 

[Cb.97: I want to fuck her so bad. Want to come inside and keep on fucking her until it becomes a mess] 

[H.hwang: Sounds so pretty when she comes, my cock is so fucking hard] 

“All of my friends are aroused because of you,” he is still fingering you, even when you are trying to close your legs around his wrist and you are still overcoming your orgasm. “They are all hard and leaking, desperate to fuck anything that resembles your cunt”. 

“Shit,” you sob quietly, grinding your hips against his palm. 

“Don't you think it's fair they get the real thing?” Felix fucks your pussy for a few more seconds, decreasing his thrusts until he finally withdraws his fingers from your cunt, all of them slippery and sticky with your orgasm. “Think we should arrange something. If you come this hard just by knowing they are watching, I know you will come even harder while having all of us in the same room”. 

[leeracha]

cat and mouse

summary: your co-worker has been on your case ever since you've started your time at the company. a strange turn of events and circumstance changes all that.

pairing: coworker! lee know x reader

trope: enemies to lovers <3, office au

genre: slight angst, smut, and fluff

warnings: fem-bodied reader, oral, creampie, overstim, unprotected sex, bulge kink, spitting, etc. 18+ mdni

word count: 9.8k

a/n: a little practice piece for you guys, i hope i did well;; so sorry this took me so long to write :( i also hope it's cohesive enough, i keep writing this fic on and off sleep deprived lol

-

tick…

tock…

tick…

to-

“the clock isn’t going to speed up just because you keep staring at it.” the cubicle beside you chirps in, momentarily shaking you out of your thoughts. by now, you’ve trained to pay him no mind as you keep your focus on the clock that reads 4:56 pm, almost taunting you in a way. 

a few more minutes and you’ll be home free for the weekend. maybe you can finally relax and get away from your dreaded paperwork. perhaps look through your shopping apps since you had nothing else better to do for the weekend, or better yet- you could run a well deserved bath with that bath bomb you always wanted to use but never got a chance to. all the possibilities sounded heavenly although all that would have to actually wait until you get home.

one other thing that you had been anticipating all day was having that dinner after work with jeongin- your close friend and coworker from a different department. he had been begging you for ages to finally try that one soba place that opened up nearby with him. you being a good friend, agreed.

“you might actually melt the clock if you keep doing that y’know.” your cubicle neighbor- lee minho smirks, now standing and leaning over your workspace.

"what do you want?" pointedly asking him.

"oh, nothing. nothing."

“you just don’t ever shut up, do you?” you deadpan and tilt your chin up to stare at him, minho just offers a sly smirk in return. he always liked to bother and butt into your business for some odd reason. 

minho shrugs, “it’s fun teasing you. you do that thing where you scrunch your nose when you get riled up.” a vain visibly pops up from your forehead, but turn to your computer, hoping to drown him out with your typing.

you knew better than to give him a reaction. if you had a penny for how many times that particular vein popped from your forehead because of minho, you’d probably be a millionaire by now.

“oh, one more thing-” the brown haired man saunters back to his desk, and comes back to yours with a huge stack of papers. he unceremoniously plops it down, the annoying feline-like grin on his face. 

“what’s…this?” raising an eyebrow at him, you hope it's not what you think he's planning. you have plans. he crosses his arms and pushes his framed glasses back.

“paperwork, of course.” you wanted to strangle him. “yes, i’m well aware that this is paperwork. why is it now on my desk?”

before you could protest any further, “they want this finished by next week.” he leans to practically whisper in your ear. minho grins mischievously after he sees your pink flustered face take a step back.

the humongous stack was already on his desk, so your boss most likely assigned it to him in the first place. you furrow your eyebrows and turn to him, worst fear coming true.

"ohh no. not in a million years." you get up from your seat, avoiding the offending pile. he starts going back to his desk, neatly placing his things in it's organizers.

“why can’t you finish it? you- what are you doing?” but minho was already grabbing his bag and blazer and looking at his wrist watch.

“would you look at the time- thanks for covering for me!” aaaand he's gone.

plopping down on your chair, you bury your face in your hands, stopping yourself from pulling out hair. frustration creases on your forehead. well, you could kiss that dinner with jeongin goodbye. now you definitely want to strangle him.

-

lee minho. if you were to find a personification of the word annoying, the brunette would certainly be it. that man has done nothing but annoy the hell out of you ever since you started your time in the company. other people in your department often regarded him as one of the most reliable and polite employees here.

you would inwardly scoff at the frequent mention of minho and his apparent “reliable-ness and politeness” since all he was, was just the opposite. to you at least. it was hard to believe at first. 

but then you actually saw the way he carried himself with effortlessness and composure, handled business affairs, and how he mingled so seamlessly with fellow colleagues. it was nothing short of professional.

so you had a theory that he was only like that towards you. a complete dick only to you. you although weren’t quite sure why.

the girls in your department would often talk about him as well, mostly for his appearance. you really weren’t one for gossiping but you would listen in sometimes, curious about what they see in him. it was hard not to when they would gush about their workplace crushes and love lives so openly, a tinge of envy seeps through your bones every time it would be mentioned. you have got to get laid one day.

“he’s totally my type, you think i should ask him out?” your other cubicle neighbor says quite loudly during her break. her friend beside her shakes their head, “no, no you can’t.”

“why not? isn't he hot and available?” she asks absentmindedly. you start to zone out for a minute, only catching bits and pieces of their conversation. but you contemplate about what she said for a second, you would be lying if you said that lee minho was unattractive.

far from that actually. distinctly remembering catching a few glimpses of him from your first day, intrigued and interest piqued. his sharp nose and cheek bones, features were like sculpted by michaelangelo himself, his toned and lean figure accentuated by the perfectly well fit suit that he always seem to wear.

you definitely found him attractive at first.

that was until he started annoying you, so all of that was quickly out the window.

but you would probably end yourself before admitting that to anyone. you let out a disgruntled sigh, appearance wouldn’t really matter if he wasn’t such a knob to begin with. 

as you approached your dimly lit street, all you could think about was that feline faced jerk. what was he thinking, dumping all that work on you last minute? you felt really bad about cancelling on jeongin, texting him earlier about the sudden change of schedule. the dark haired man you've come to know just replies with a little;

'we'll just try again next week lol'

you breathe out a relieved sigh, thankful that he wasn't mad. kicking the pebbles on the side of the road, you imagined that the little rocks were minho's face. you could not wait until you get home.

“stupid paperwork, stupid minho, stupid…” 

your muttering fades and you suddenly stop in your tracks as your elderly neighbor waves you over from her front door, grandma lee or just grandma- as she insists you call her instead.

you bowed and greeted her, “hi grandma, did you need something?” you were quite close with the sweet old lady, her gray hair swaying lightly in the wind.

the elder would often check up on you after hearing that you traveled all the way from your hometown to the city, almost taking you in as her own. you were grateful for the company since homesickness would often creep up. she would also often bring you comically large jars of kimchi which you appreciated greatly.

she smiles as she gestures to the multiple bags she was holding, "i just need a little help getting these inside the house, dear." you take the heavy bags from her hands. what were in these, rocks? grandma claps her hands together in remembrance.

“have you had dinner yet? i made extra.”

-

grandma sets a bowl in front of you, the sight of seaweed soup instantly brings you comfort. your stomach grumbles as you dig in. she watches you intently as you practically inhale the soup, starved from the long and terrible day you had.

you sent her a polite questioning look. “i want to ask you for a favor.” she finally starts, flicking through the channels of her tv. the weather was on, the forecaster droning on about rain happening this week in the same monotone voice for the past 10 minutes. you look at her and nod immediately, she had done so much for you, doing a few favors aren't going to hurt.

“do you have a car, dear?”

blowing on the steaming hot seaweed soup, you nod again at her question, wondering where this conversation is heading.

“i need someone to drive me to my son’s house tomorrow, i'm staying over there for the weekend and my bags are a little heavy. would that be alright with you, dear?” you’ve heard about her family from her stories when she would have you over like now, little bits and pieces. you smile and agree.

a cheshire grin graces your features after a moment.  “what’s in it for me?” it was a joke of course, grandma knew it too. having spent a large amount of time with her, your humor must’ve rubbed off at some point.

you didn’t expect her to actually answer but she replies, “actually, i’d like you to meet my grandson as well. i think you two would get along. he's the same age as you too.”

the aforementioned grandson was someone you’ve seen in a bunch of grandma lee’s hallway pictures. you remember that he was an only child, often the only kid and the lone subject in the photos. your favorite was the kid in red with a toothy grin. he must’ve been 5 when it was taken.

"it was a joke, grandma. i'm sure your grandson wouldn't want a stranger suddenly coming to meet him." she shakes her head,

"nonsense. that boy doesn't know what he wants." you laugh at her persistence. getting another bowl of rice, you ponder her offer for a second. maybe this could finally cure your dull and dry love life, it couldn't hurt to try. if worse comes to worst, you could just pretend it never happened.

“but of course, i’ll drive you there. i have nothing to do anyways.” you say with a mouthful of rice. grandma pats you on the back and continues to flick through the channels once more.

“thank you dear.”

-

the sunset blears through your windshield, sun rays momentarily blinding you. it was clear as day. the ride to her family’s house was relatively quiet, the elderly lady in your passenger seat preferred to sleep the whole ride through after handing you the address, giving you a moment to leave you in your thoughts.

pulling up to the neighborhood, you let out a low whistle. the house was at the end of the street, steep and uphill. it was surely going to be a struggle to get the car way up there.

you get to the curb, reverse and try to park your car as best as you can. the house was really pretty, you thought. it looked pretty lived in too, but in a cozy way. vines was sprawled all over the brick exterior and flowers had bloomed all over the property.

you wake up grandma and start to haul her luggage up and out the car.

"you go up, grandma. i'll catch up."

after struggling to get the multiple bags of luggage up hill, you finally waddle to the front door. the door was left slightly ajar, probably for your convenience. you took a quick peek around, hoping for someone to let you in.

calling out before entering, you were met with silence. you figured they were too busy catching up so you eventually let yourself in.

the furniture adorning the hallway and rooms were made out of wood, the handiwork and craftsmanship was evident, intricate carvings on each and every one of them. it must’ve been made by grandma lee’s son as you’ve heard from her many stories.

a ginger cat with white stripes greets you as you enter the front door, it strides over to you in intrigue. leaning down and dropping grandma's bags gently, you let the feline sniff your hand before allowing itself to be pet. soon enough it starts rubbing its body on your legs and purring loudly. adorable cat, you thought.

silence fills the house, aside from the soft chatter coming from the other side of the wall. the cat leaves it's spot, not wanting to be pet anymore. you sit up and observe the house again, noticing a myriad of family photos adorning the walls and some of the tables.

coming closer to one of the pictures, again, you encounter the same young boy in red but this time he was wearing a cap sideways and a puffer jacket that seemed to be way too big for him.

"hello! you must be y/n!" a feminine voice suddenly calls out from the living room. you straighten your back from the mention of your name, hoping she didn't catch you closely staring at their personal and probably private photos. grandma lee comes out from the living room as well and walks towards you with a younger and kind looking woman in tow. she had another cat in her arms, this time it's coat was gray with dark streaks.

you smile and greet her politely, exchanging pleasantries. you quietly pick up the neglected bags and place them near the guest room. they continue their conversation with each other from before, you now awkwardly standing in the middle. looking at your wrist watch, you figured you should probably head on home.

"i suppose i'll get going now, it was really nice meeting you." mrs. lee looked startled at your sudden announcement.

"why don't you stay for a while? it must've been a long drive here, you're probably hungry." these two women weren't related by blood but they practically were, having the same idea when it came to hospitality.

"well, i don't want to overstay my welcome. i'm just here to give grandma a ride." smoothening out your non-existent clothes wrinkles in apprehension.

she waves her hand in dismissal, "but you must stay, you're already here anyways." she grins and pats your back. mrs. lee didn't seem to budge at your refusal.

you relented, finally accepting her offer. "my son is in the kitchen whipping something up. he's a great cook." you totally forgot about her son being actually here. the joke offer from yesterday completely forgotten and flew out of your mind. slight embarrassment runs through you, realizing that the offer was somewhat serious. you would surely need to mentally prep yourself for more socialization than you've anticipated.

but you instantly believe her claim that her son was a great cook, the amazing and aromatic smell of what seems to be steak and multiple herbs and spices from the kitchen wafts through out the entire house.

"okay- while we're waiting," mrs. lee gestures for you to take a seat, "you should go sit on the couch, y/n. i've been dying to meet you."

she hands you a mug of hot tea and sits down next to you. "mom here talks about you all the time, thank you for keeping her company."

"it's no problem at all, i like her company too." and with that, the three of you fall into a smooth and comfortable rhythm of conversation. the younger of the two women across from you continues to poke and prod into life, not that you minded. she would ask you about your life, where were you from, where you went to school, and where you went to work and among other things.

she offers you stories of her son gleefully in return, laughing about a particularly embarrassing story when he was younger. you learned that he was quite fond and talented in dancing, loves cats, and loves to cook. oddly enough mrs. lee never mentioned his name at all, you didn't want to pry. now that you've thought about it, grandma hadn't mentioned his name at all either. all you had for a lead was initials you remember seeing etched on one of grandma's photos. you figured you'd meet this person soon enough anyways.

after a while, grandma lee retreats to the guest room they've set up, assuming that she'd want to fix her belongings. mrs. lee starts to drag you around the house, urging you to help her set the plates up and talk more while doing so. midway through placing the chopsticks on the table, the sound of pots and pans clanging from the other room shakes you out of your thoughts.

"mom?" a voice calls out from their kitchen. it must be her son. you slightly raise your eyebrows, he sounds oddly familiar but you can't place your finger who he might've sounded like. you quickly brush it off.

"yes?"

"have you seen the slow cooker?" the man finally reveals himself and pokes his head through the entryway to the kitchen.

you lift your head and lock eyes with the said person. shock freezes your movements, dropping the utensils that you were holding. blinking owlishly in surprise, you weren't sure if what you were seeing was real.

you feel the wind knock out of your lungs. this was not happening. the brown eyes, brown hair, and cat like face from work that you've come to dislike stared back. you must be hallucinating.

standing across from you was lee minho, the lee minho. grandma lee’s grandson. the same one that's been tormenting you all year round. you just couldn't believe it, wondering what kind of luck you had to end up here.

you think back to when you looking (--more like snooping) at grandma lee's framed hallway photos, the kid- that was him all along? you're really bad at recognizing faces, you thought to yourself. well, she certainly made him seem like a complete angel from the stories.

"oh! this is y/n. your grandmother invited her to eat dinner with us." mrs. lee pulls your figure closer into a side hug and beams at her son.

he furrows his eyebrows at you, glancing back and forth at you and his mother. he must be as confused and shocked as you are. "hi." minho says, nodding at your direction. you purse your lips and shuffle uncomfortably in place.

minho again asks where the slow cooker was since the first time he asked was ignored. he was wearing loose fitting shirt, his broad shoulders looking more prominent. you realize you've never seen him outside of his work attire before. he looked comfortable, domestic even.

his mom says to check the cupboards, paying him no mind and continuing to set the table up. minho nods slowly, eyes not leaving yours and heads back to the kitchen. a little shell shocked about your little encounter, you clear your throat and go back to the task at hand. you'd just have to deal with this for the evening and then you could go home.

when the table was done, mrs. lee turns to you, "y/n? would you mind helping minho over there with bringing the side dishes to the table?" you freeze at the realization that you would have to interact with him alone.

"sure." you say meekly. she thanks you and goes to the guest room to presumably get the older lady for dinner. psyching your self up before entering the kitchen, his broad back facing you. he senses your presence and chuckles.

you were sure he was going to make this whole night unbearable.

"well, this is a nice surprise."

"what are you doing here?" stupid question from you seeing as this was his own house. mentally face palming your head, he hums smugly and starts dividing the side dishes onto smaller plates. you notice his very toned arms flexing as he puts the tubs away.

"i should be asking you that. i didn't expect you to be here." he says nonchalantly, but you could feel a sly smile forming on his face as he speaks.

"neither did i." you grumble and lightly shove him aside, wanting to get the side dishes out to the table already. you ignore the way he looks so domestic right now.

-

you stare at him from directly across the table, hoping he would keep his mouth shut. he smirks while he eats, purposefully riling you up and glancing at you with a knowing grin.

do not lose your cool, y/n.

silence rings out the dining room aside from the quiet clattering of utensils on plates.

"y/n?"

"i'm sorry?" you snap out of your little less than friendly staring contest with him.

"do... you know each other?" his mother finally breaks the silence and here eyes flickers back and forth between both of you.

"yes-"

"no-"

a full on headache is surely forming now, it's going to be hard to hide your annoyance. quick, think of a lie.

"we're coworkers. same company." you grimace as he answers for the both of you. no use in hiding it now. "oh! that's wonderful." the older lady to your right clasps her hands in delight.

"you didn't tell me you worked together." grandma turns to you grinning brightly. you avoid eye contact with her, nodding and forcing out a smile. you wanted nothing more than want the ground to swallow you up right then and there.

"you two must be close." his mother says, sipping at her drink. you were about to open your mouth to say that you really aren't actually, but minho beats you to the punch.

"we kind of are." minho rests his elbows on the table and turns to you. he's enjoying this. the bastard was enjoying this. resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you turn back to finish your meal.

hatred for the man aside, he really was a great cook as mentioned countless of times. you actually find yourself enjoying the meal he had prepared.

"tell me what you two get up to at work, i want to hear all of it."

you shift uncomfortably in your seat, being honest wouldn't be the best idea. you didn't want these two lovely women to know how much of an unpleasant man their son and grandson is. and it was his house after all, the best decision might be to at least be civil with him.

so you play along with his facade, not wanting to disappoint them even if it was probably going to bite you in the ass later.

minho starts cutting the meat up into bite sized pieces while the conversation between the two ladies continue. he places it on your plate without saying anything. this takes you by surprise, looking at his face for an answer.

the two audience members among the dining table seems to have noticed your little exchange. a wrinkly hand touches over yours catches your attention.

"oh, so are you two..." she trails off, implication heavy on her tone.

"no- no, grandma. i told you i wasn't seeing anyone." you shoot a discrete glare towards minho.

"ah, i see..."

you shrink down your seat for the remainder of the hour, embarrassment flooding your being. why did he have to do that? you were already practically fighting for your life not to get too involved with all this, and he pulls that?

after that very eventful dinner, it was already nearing 8 pm. you figured that you should probably get out of their hair, not wanting to disturb them than you already had. that bubble bath and movie marathon you had planned in your head sounded amazing right about now. maybe that would help you forget about this crazy night.

"grandma," she turns in response, "i think i better get going." you smile at her, digging through your pockets for the car keys. a different cat from the other two that you've met takes long strides, stopping by your feet. you greet it by petting it's head gently. you wondered how many cats they have.

"now? look at the weather dear," you look briefly at the window nearest you, surely enough it was heavily pouring. you deflate at the sight.

"i don't think it's a great idea to drive out in a storm." she looks at you in concern. crap. the conversation at dinner must've carried you away, not even noticing the angry rumble of thunder that came from the sky. she was right, you don't think you could drive out there immediately.

the last time you drove into hard pelting rain, you couldn’t see through the windshield and almost crashed your car in the process. you could still remember how your car swerved and screeched when you couldn't control the way the tires' direction.

reluctantly dropping your hands to your side in defeat, "i guess i can wait it out for a bit." you finally say.

"yes, please do stay. we made extra dessert!" mrs. lee chuckles, seemingly enjoying your presence. glancing at minho, he was leaning on the side of the couch watching the exchange between you three, uncharacteristically silent and expression unreadable.

you reckon he wasn't all that thrilled about the whole thing either.

-

"the storm isn't letting up." minho sighs next to you, observing the dark and heavy rain pelting the window. it continues to pour down, filing in the silence.

"great." you mumble lowly, crossing your arms. a loud cackle of thunder makes you jump from your spot. he just laughs in response. you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, anxiety quietly eating at you. damn weather man. you should've paid more attention to the forecast.

the smart watch on your wrist flashes with a notification. it was 11 pm now. "you should stay until tomorrow, dear."

you feel a comforting hand on your back, it was mrs. lee. it was only her staying with you two right now since grandma had already retired back to her room.

"tomorrow? oh, i- uh... i don't want to intrude." you stutter and look down, unsure how to accept her offer. but as much as you wanted to turn her down, you knew deep down you don't really have a choice in the matter.

another strike of thunder confirms your pitiful situation.

"i know what you're thinking, you can take minho's room." her words take you aback, that really wasn't what you were thinking. but she wasn't serious, was she?

at the mention of his name and apparent lending of his own bed, he whips his head towards his mother. he points to himself silently and gawks in disbelief.

you try to stifle a laugh at his ridiculous face. it wasn't often that you see minho all flustered.

realizing that mrs. lee might actually kick minho out of his room if you don't say anything, you decide to spare him. "that's okay, i'll take the couch."

"are you sure? the couch isn't the most comfortable..."

you reassure her that the couch is fine and not to worry. mrs. lee takes this as a confirmation that you'll stay for the night. she beams and grabs her son's shoulder,

"minho, do you have clothes that you can lend to y/n?" she catches you about to protest at the unnecessary offer, "don't worry about that, you're going to end up uncomfortable if you sleep in your clothes right now."

she leaves not long after with a quick good night to you both, also not leaving any room for any counter arguments. minho nods after registering what she said, hesitantly gesturing you to follow him towards the room at the end of the corridor.

he was quiet these past few hours, you observed. the annoying minho that you have gotten used to was no where to be found. putting yourself in his shoes, you understood. having a person that you dislike come into your home and spend the night would irk you as well.

the unexpected warm lighting and a subtle citrus scent with notes of jasmine and sandalwood welcomed you upon entering. it instantly brings comfort. not really expecting anything coming into his room, it was truly a pleasant surprise.

you stand awkwardly in the middle of his room, not wanting to touch or disrupt any of his space or belongings. he heads straight to his closet near his bed.

"it's alright, uh..."

minho ignores your attempt to refuse and starts digging deep for clothes that he could lend.

okay, nevermind.

you quietly glance at the homey decor that adorns the wall of his bedroom. multiple pictures of what you assume to be his friends were strewn all across the room. some of them seemed to be taken when he was in high school and some more recent. there were doing various funny and serious poses, minho seems to be really well liked.

"alright,"

he starts handing you a pair of black jogging pants and a plain white t-shirt. you reluctantly take the pile of clothes from him, your fingers momentarily brushing. you were certain you could hear your pulse thump in your ears. it confuses you greatly.

"this is the smallest one i have, sorry."

he coughs and rubs his neck, "the bathroom is over there, if you wanna change."

awkwardly shuffling on the way to the bathroom, a sigh of relief leaves your mouth as you lock the door behind. why were you so affected by a simple touch of his fingers? this was minho. you quickly shove the odd feeling down.

you hold the white shirt up to your torso, it was definitely too big. the hem of the shirt reaching your thighs and sleeves reaching your elbows as well.

peeling out of your clothes, and hold up minho's large shirt to finally wear. as you put it on, you could faintly smell the cleanness of detergent and a faint musky patchouli scent. your cheeks burn with the realization that you were really going to spend the night here.

when you return to the empty main corridor, the leather couch was already set up with a cozy looking blanket and multiple plush pillows. you struggle to hide a smile.

-

tossing and turning, you struggle to find a comfortable position on the couch. the blanket proving to be too hot right now, you push it off. you check your phone out of boredom and the led screen lights up.

1:19 am. it was in the middle of the night and the rain continues to pour outside. the occasional rumble of thunder once again evoking anxiety in you. sighing, you don't think you will be getting any sleep tonight. it's just you and your thoughts for now.

thinking back to this afternoon, the whole situation seems so absurd and surreal. who would've thought that you and minho would pretend being friends even if it was just for one night. it was a strange chance of circumstance.

the door from the end of hallway opens, a scruffy and disheveled minho rubs his eyes to get rid of his sleepiness. you sit up in curiosity to observe his sleepy state. he pads over the wooden floors to the kitchen looking for water, not sparing you a second glance.

when he was out of sight, you start thinking of ways to distract yourself, wanting to already succumb to slumber.

“oh, it’s you.” he says after coming back, finally noticing your slumped figure. "didn't sleep yet?" minho ruffles his hair haphazardly, trying to smoothen it down. you shake your head,

"insomnia. it's the thunder."

"ah."

"the couch is making your neck hurt isn't it?"

"yeah, that too."

he opens his mouth to hopefully offer another solution, but shuts it immediately. he wasn't sure if it would make you comfortable so he just stands there quietly.

"i'll go get you more pillows." he places his cup down on the coffee table before going to his room. minho stops in his tracks when he feels your fingers tug on his shirt. another strike of thunder flashes outside making you flinch.

"stay." you catch yourself saying before even realizing. it's selfish to ask but you don't think you could stand the thunder alone. watching him stare into your eyes, as if looking for an explanation- you offer him no words.

minho takes a seat at the end of the couch silently joining you, sipping at his mug. to fill the awkward silence, you clear your throat and fiddle with the ends of the cotton blanket.

you start thinking of ways to justify your selfish request of making him stay.

"i finished that damn paperwork you dumped on me. dick move by the way." you chortled to try to lighten the mood. he seems to notice your attempts to distract yourself and indulge your sudden desire to chat.

he folds his hands on his stomach, grinning. his bunny like teeth poking out. you always thought it was endearing. "it's fun seeing you all grumpy."

"sadist." you simper, the anger you felt from a yesterday dwindling at the surprisingly pleasant banter.

quietness takes over again. he stares into the celling, pondering. "i didn't know you were close with my grandmother." he says after a while. he avoids your gaze and places his mug back on the table.

"neither did i. it wasn't deliberate," you reply. he turns to you, curious about the story. so you explain to him how you met, for how long and that you didn't even recognize him despite seeing the photos.

he chuckles, "i bet it was this pose, wasn't it?" minho imitates the very same pose that he did in the photo, eliciting another laugh from you. it was exactly the same.

minho shuffles a little bit closer to you, now propping his arm on the back of the couch. you straighten up, now being hyperaware of his presence and proximity. he looks really different without his glasses.

a furry tail suddenly brushes against your exposed leg. you lean forward to check what had just rubbed past you, it was one of the cats. it meows for attention, pawing at the base of the couch.

"your cats are really cute." you watch him pick the orange haired feline and place it on his lap. one by one, two of the other cats that you've seen this afternoon start padding over to where you and minho were seated, jumping on the couch.

"that's dori," he points to the gray furred kitty. "doongie," an orange cat with a predominately white underbelly, "and soonie." the last one who's also orange but more so than the other. minho raises soonie's paw, waving it at you. cute.

"this one looks like you."

you scratch soonie's chin, the low purring getting louder the longer you do it. minho stares longingly at your eyes with an unreadable expression at the comment. you're not paying any attention to him.

after a while, the cats start to get tired of the two of you. they walk of to the end of the couch, now ignoring you and minho. you fold your arms and relaxing into the back of the couch, falling into a deep and comfortable silence that would be sorely missed.

"why do you hate me?" you say abruptly. the curiosity finally won, anxiety gnawing at your every fiber of your being. it was finally starting to be peaceful between you two and actually talking like normal people, your sudden comment might've affected it's chances of becoming true.

his head whips towards your direction in what you assume to be disbelief, furrowing his eyebrows. "since when did i hate you?"

you struggle to not scoff at his blatant charade, "minho, you have it out for me." this was strange and ridiculous. was he really being serious? how could he not be aware of the months of months of his incessant attitude towards you, and only you.

you remind yourself to be calm, to be civil. but he continues to feign ignorance. it was starting to get difficult.

"you don't treat me like the others, you constantly make my life harder by teasing me, and you dump your own paperwork on me. only me. the only time you talked to me normally was just a few minutes ago." your voice rising with exasperation.

"what did i do?" voice ultimately faltering, tired.

"i-..." minho refuses to meet your eyes, offering no solace.

instantly feeling vulnerable by your little outburst and by the lack of response on his end, you hug and bury the plush pillow for comfort. you wanted to go home. you wanted to go home and pretend this conversation did not happen. confrontation wasn't your strong suit.

after a long while of silence, he at last utters a low, "i'm so sorry."

"that was very, very stupid of me." minho's eyes are now trained on the hardwood floor, unable to even glance at you.

"what? the paperwork?" you scoff, "no, not just that. all of it."

you furrow your brows at him, "i just find you really really cute when you're mad." he continues. you stare at him, incredulousness and anger painting your features. before you could give him a piece of your mind, he speaks.

"and i realized i didn't know how to actually approach you normally without the teasing." he purses his lips, the cup on the table long forgotten. minho is staring up the celling now, still refusing to look to your direction.

"would you also believe me if i said i was jealous?"

you don't know what to say in return, heavily processing what he just said. what was happening? your mouth runs dry, confusion knocking the wind out of you.

"of your friend." he says, emphasizing the last part. you try to rack your brain of who he was referring to.

"jeongin?" you tilt your head. he says nothing, confirming the assumption. "i overheard him talking to his friends, bragging about how he was gonna take you out to this restaurant that he wants to drag you to." you couldn't possibly think of a reason why he would be jealous, you and jeongin are just friends. and why was he jealous in the first place?

"why are you so worked up about it? he's just a friend, minho."

"i'm not even sure myself," minho shakes his head in exasperation and turns to you. "but i like you, y/n."

standing there, paralyzed at his unexpected confession. minho likes you? he was giving you crap all year round, and yet he likes you? you shoot him a perplexed look, "wait, what?"

"let me get this straight," you hug your legs, trying to decipher what he was saying. "so your plan was to annoy the hell out of me, dump your paperwork seeing that you don't want me hanging out with jeongin because...you like me?"

"well, now it sounds stupid when you put it like that." he huffs, crossing his arms and pouting cutely.

deafening silence falls between you two, unable to say anything meaningful without stuttering and fumbling through your words. you just sat there, not really saying anything and staring at the floor. realizing that you probably don't feel the same, he sighs. its about time he went back to bed too.

"it's late. you should probably get some-"

before you knew it you felt your pulse roaring in your ears, grabbing his wrist and stopping him from standing up. you were going to regret it if you let him go.

"i like you too."

a magnetic pull causes you both to inch closer together, wordlessly gazing into each others eyes. you make the first move to lean into him, slowly placing an experimental peck on the side of his lips. you unsurely place your hands on his chest, "is this okay?"

his eyes flickering down to your lips and then back to your eyes. he licks his lips, still staring intensely- lovingly at you. he softly grins, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears and returns the kiss on your lips.

eyelids fluttering shut, you feel him press against you with much enthusiasm, deepening the kiss. you cup his cheeks as a reply, roughly pulling him towards you.

you already forgot about the rain outside.

he hoists you up his lap, a hand on your waist as he trails desperate kisses on your neck. minho pays his attention back to your lips, sloppy and open mouthed, saliva stringing from your mouths. urgency and eagerness was reflected in the way you both tangle your arms around each other, touching and caressing every part that you could reach.

all of the unresolved tension was slowly slipping away, replaced by desire.

a sudden meow breaks the two of you out of your trance. the green eyes of soonie stares up at the two of you, sitting quietly and their tail swishing side to side.

you loosen your arms around his neck, you two bursting out in laughter at the interruption.

"do you want to maybe take this to my room?" minho asks, placing a thumb on your lips. you didn't need to think twice.

-

your head hit his plush pillow, the cold and crisp linen feeling heavenly against your hot and flushed skin. shuffling up to the headboard, you watch minho with hazy eyes as he inches towards your form and props his knee on the edge of the bed.

he smirks as he sinks down on the mattress, hovering over your feverish body. minho sneaks a hand behind your back, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you over so effortlessly to the top as if you weighed nothing.

"now, where were we?" he murmurs into the column of your neck, his hot breath sending tingling and electrifying shivers down your spine. you respond by trailing your hands all over his clothed chest, wanting to get the offending article of clothing off.

he chuckles and grabs your wrists, halting you from doing so. minho kisses the inside of your wrist, a teasing smile dawns on his face. you look at him with desperate, pleading eyes, wanting to have him already.

minho adjusts his tight hold on you, biting his plush lips in anticipation. with you now towering over his figure, you lean down to capture the lips that you had been fantasizing about all evening and bury your hands into his hair. the kiss was wet and messy, your tongues sloppily and desperately swallowing each other's moans. a trail of saliva strings from both of your lips.

it was starting to get too hot for your liking. you cease your movements for a second to remove minho’s borrowed shirt from your body. minho’s eyes shamelessly rake over your chest, his finger leisurely trailing the middle of your breasts. you let out a low chuckle, finally unclasping the hook of your bra. you release a breathy shudder upon feeling something hard poking you from where you sat. grabbing both of his wrists, you eagerly put them up to your tits, you could feel your sensitive nipples harden because of his cold touch. minho starts pinching at the sensitive buds, prolonging his eye contact with you, clearly enjoying your erratic squirming.

you suck in a sharp breath and almost topple over him in pleasure as he takes a nipple into his mouth, hot, warm, and wet. it was overwhelming, having no one touch you like this before. he continues to lap at your hardening bud. minho groans, closing his eyes and further burying his head in your chest. your tits were covered in spit, glistening under the subtle light of his night lamp.

minho, while smothering himself in your chest, takes a moment to hook his arm over you. his skillful hands trail over to the waistband of your jogging pants and pulls it down. you oblige, leaning closer to him and lifting your hips so he wouldn’t have to leave your tits. you jump in surprise once you feel a light teasing smack on your now semi exposed ass, only covered by thin panties. it elicits a small moan from you, pulling his head closer. you lightly pet his head and thread your hands in his hair affectionately as he continues his sucking, feeling a coiling sensation from your core. 

but before you could cum, he detaches from your breasts, leaving his lips glistening with his own spit and his breath raggedy. a sly grin that you have come to love and hate graces his face upon seeing you whimper. the lack of stimulation makes you deflate, heaving frustratedly at his relentless teasing.

the familiar throbbing heat from your pussy suddenly gives you an idea. his hungry gaze watches you in curiosity. the bulge you were currently sitting on now immediately taking all of your attention. you do an experimental hump on it, hoping to relieve the aching heat from your cunt. minho's hands fly to your hips, groaning at the sensation.

"all this time, you made me think that you hated me-" you moan out, the fabric of his pants providing just the right amount of resistance. "when really you liked me?"

he stifles his moans by biting his bottom lip, his pants surely soaked through now.

"i did say i liked seeing you mad." minho manages to grunt out, licking his lips. you almost reel in disbelief but you keep your composure. 

"you're confusing." another thrust. 

"and i'm still mad at you." you huff out. hips now wildly humping against every ridge and curve of his cock. the sight of him makes you delirious, even more so that you’re humping against him.

"i-i'll make it up to you," he murmurs lowly, hissing the more times you buck up against him. "fu-fuck..."

despite the way that you were using him, it does nothing to quell the horniness you were feeling, in fact, it even spurs you on further. the wet patch from your panties soak and slowly transfer on to the front of his pants, your own wetness spreading messily every time you grind on his delicious dick, the ridges providing the needed friction that you've been so desperately craving. minho watches you, your tits bouncing up and down- he feels like drooling. "i love it when you use me." he finally breathes out, hands still on your hips, his nails making crescents on your skin. and finally, you cum, his words sending you over the edge.

it tremors through your body, white hot cum leaks out from your panties and you can’t seem to hold yourself up any longer, collapsing on his broad chest. you clench your eyes shut in shyness, suddenly embarrassed from using minho so blatantly. he coos and pats your head in comfort, almost like how he pets his cats.

planning to make it up to him and eat his words, you sit up and shuffle down his hips. you admire the wet patch that stains his front, mouth watering. this surprises him, watching you with tantalizing eyes. you make a move to grab at his waistband, pulling it down slowly. he hisses out in pleasure as the waistband runs over his still clothed dick. minho’s boxers were thoroughly wet, you could see a dark patch on the front where you sat on him and where precum leaked out. you lift up a hand to experimentally give his bulge a tight little squeeze, him letting out a little shudder response.

it hardens even more under your touch- so you decide to tease him to test the waters even further, running your fingers over and over his tent causing him to hiss out, sending you a warning look. taking this as a sign, you lift the waistband of his boxers and stare at his eyes while doing so. it springs up immediately after freeing it from its confines. his long and fat cock stands tall, the tip a deep red, and the veins prominently running along the sides. the sight makes your mouth water in anticipation. you place a thumb on his cockhead, running slow circles on his slit causing it to drool heavily on your hand.

his cat like mouth parts in ecstasy once you start teasing the underside of his length with your hand and licking the oozing liquid up. minho’s hips start thrusting at the sensation, forcing you to hold him down. it was admittedly hard to do so, his thick thighs almost the size of your head but you still managed to restrain him from rutting wildly. the groan that leaves his lips sound is absolutely nothing short of sinful when you finally put your mouth on him. every desperate huff from him leaves you light headed, wishing you could record and replay it over and over again. when couldn’t fit all of him, you resorted to pumping the remaining of the shaft were you couldn’t reach. you egg him on even further by running a hand over his abs, seeing how his thighs and abdomen tense up. 

you look up through your lashes to watch minho unravel. his eyes were screwed shut, focusing on the stimulation. while it bobs messily in your mouth, you try to pay special attention to his hot and heavy balls, rubbing it back and forth in the palm of your hand, hoping to get him to cum. minho closes his eyes shut again and tenses his thighs, finally cumming. his hands travel down to grasp at his length, taking it over yours, spurting his essence everywhere. minho finishes with a loud relieved groan, slapping his dick lazily against your cheek which you greedily lapped at. 

“that might be the best head i’ve ever had, bunny.” he bites his lips, his voice light and airy. you quickly sit up from your position and gawked at him, suddenly feeling bashful at his apparent pet name for you. 

minho gives you a mischievous cat like grin in return, feeling absolutely delighted at your expression. he begins to lightly graze your leg, leaving tentative touches and gentle pecks along the stretch of your lower limb. lifting your right leg up, you stop minho from inching any closer towards you by putting your foot on his chest.

"y/n..."

you pretend to think for a moment, stretching this out for as long as possible. he would just have to wait since he had yet to make up for being so mean to you. a little fun also wouldn’t hurt, right? no, you were quite wrong. 

minho again grabs your ankle albeit more roughly this time and continues to place chaste kisses with more passion this time, clearly adamant about giving your legs and thighs hickeys. at long last, minho slides the wet and abused fabric off you, the panty is thoroughly soaked and it’s material sticking and clinging to your core.

he hooks ur leg over his shoulder, urging to part your legs apart and spreading them obscenely open. staring intensely into your eyes, minho starts teasing your core with feather light touches. “you like this?” he says his mischievous grin, continuing his ministrations. you offer him no response as he traces figures and shapes on your wet pussy that has you seeing stars. his fingers now erratically sliding up and down your folds. you almost sob at his nonchalant teasing, eyes clenching shut and begging him to put something in.

something about observing his veiny hand treading lightly just the outside of your lower lips leads you to tuck your face into your hands, the sight was like straight out of porn. “no, no. hands up bunny.” minho takes a hold of your wrists, putting them effortlessly above your head. 

“you have to look.”

his free hand drags along your legs to pull them apart and starts lowering his chiseled face down to your core. his nose just close enough to feel the small exhaling puffs of hot air on your pussy, causing it to twitch in suspense. the brunette sneaks a peak at your trembling figure before diving right in, the first contact of his tongue on your cunt was searing hot, instantly making jolt out in shock and cry out. minho takes this as a sign to hold down your hips, pressing, flattening, and letting his tongue rampant against you all while avoiding your clit. he hums at the taste, huffing and delving further into your pussy, eating you out with such intensity, placing open mouthed sloppy kisses. he spits to make your pussy wetter so he could languidly and erratically make out with your cunt. 

you throw your head back into the heaps of pillows behind you as he starts to pay attention to your clit, softly biting the bundle of nerves. minho then moves to swipe his index up at the large amount of cum and spit trickling from your core, using it as lube for his fingers. he gently prods his index in your entrance all while still licking you up. his long fingers, deliciously stretching your hole, deeper than all those nights you've tried to do so yourself. the bliss you were feeling was overwhelming. minho croaks out a little ‘hah, hah, hah…” every time he would come up for breath, completely drunk off your musky and intoxicating scent. you also don’t miss how he subtly humps the bed sheets he was lying under either. you began to arch your back upon hearing his desperate sounds, your arousal spurting on his face.   

minho looks like a cat who got the cream, his pupils blown wide open and wetness trickling down the side of his mouth. he lets go of your hands after you were finished, the numb arm falling on your forehead as you catch your breath. he stands up to re-adjust your form on the bed, pulling you closer to his pelvis.

minho stares at your eyes, asking silently for permission. you look up at him with a toothy- fucked out grin. 

the feelings that you couldn't place earlier was now clear, you wanted him.

minho reaches a hand over your face, caressing your flushed cheeks. he wordlessly leans to tenderly place a kiss onto your forehead and on your lips. you reciprocate lovingly, capturing his lips once again. minho without warning, pushes his long and girthy dick into you, the abrupt intrusion making you sob out. the bulbous head of his cock rubs deliciously against your gummy walls, you swore you could feel it in your throat.

“there we go. there we go…”

minho sets a rough pace, his hips thrusting against your pelvic bone. “ah-ah!”

toned and skillful arms cage you in, forcing you to look deep into his dark pools. "you better keep quiet, or else the whole house will hear you." that for some reason makes your cunt even wetter, weeping more than you thought was possible. the sole idea of getting caught with their precious son doing such lewd acts, it seems sacrilegious and absolutely sinful.

he once again reaches for your hardened nipple, tweaking and pinching the bud between his thumb and index. the bed was now creaking with how fast minho was going, you silently prayed that no one in the house suspects anything. the thought mortifies you.

minho leans against your figure and nuzzles up on your chest, looking up at you with an oh so innocent grin while he continues to pound your cunt. his movements start to stutter once he feels your walls clench around him. your mind begins to feel like mush but you still try to make an effort to suppress your groans of pleasure. a strangled sound between a moan and a whine leaves your throat once he hits that one particular spot in you.

“keep quiet, little kitty.”

you start squirming uncontrollably at the huskiness of his voice, not having experienced an intense orgasm like this before. “cum, you can do it.” your rutting hips stop to convulse for a moment, feeling your orgasm rip through the ends of your nerves. leaning back on his chest, you struggle to catch your breath, heaving from the aftermath of your orgasm.

fogginess still clouding your vision, you caught a small glimpse of minho to notice that he still hadn’t pulled out, his hands circling your waist gently. you unintentionally clench on his cock, yep he was still hard, very hard. minho sets his eyes on you, and gives you that look. oh no, you knew that look. the same one that he uses around the office to persuade a higher up to heed to his request. you nibble on your lower lip in excitement.

“one more, you can do one more right?” he coos, lifting your legs and his hips starting his monstrous once pace again. you double over in overstimulation, crying out in pleasure. his breath hitches after a particularly hard thrust, choosing to muffle his own cries by shoving his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your exhilarating scent. you respond by coyly playing with the hair on his nape, hoping that it would ground you to reality.

minho then sneaks a hand from below you and hugs your figure, pulling you impossibly closer. he swallows your moans, kissing you feverishly and running his hands wildly all throughout. it was so urgent, so intense, like he’s finding a way to meld your bodies together, his erratic and messy thrusts reflecting that.

your fingers clutch his thick bed sheets, euphoria piercing your body every time he drives another rough thrust into you. the lewd noises coming from the two of you echos and bounces off the walls, the conversation tomorrow morning was going to be so humiliating and awkward at the dining table.   

you can’t hold it in any longer, and by the looks of it, neither can he. minho cums with a loud groan, spurting inside you. "goooood kitty." minho rasps out. you gape at the warmness, causing you to finish as well. minho reaches his hand downwards to spread your combined release, spreading it messily. it drips out of you obscenely as he pulls out.

you were positively flushed. he was too, sweat still glistening on the wide expanse of his chest and forehead. minho brushes your hair back affectionately before plopping down tiredly next to you. you turn to him, wanting to admire his fucked out features but he looks occupied and staring into space.

“what's the matter?” 

"i really am sorry about the misunderstanding. i feel terrible that i made you feel like that. and i do really like you. wasn't lying about that." minho sighs out, closing his eyes for a moment and then faces you. “i want to start over, properly this time.”

"apology accepted. and yeah of course." you say, quite happy with how this whole misunderstanding turned out. "i really like you too." he kisses the top of your head, making you wrap an arm around him to cuddle.

"now you'll just have to figure out how to reject the girl beside your desk. she wants to ask you out."

"maybe we can start by just making out in front of her."

[leeracha]

ENEMY

PAIRING: Minho x Fem!Reader

REQUEST: ive been really enjoying all of your works like I LOVE how you write so much! your brain works wonders istg! so i was wondering if you can write an enemies to lovers with leeknow probably with a high sexual tension between them and they just go "fuck it" and maybe a tiny bit of angst thank youuu ilysm!! ♥️

GENRE: Smut (18+), angst

-

The thing that bothered you the most about Minho was his face.

When you first met him, and you hate to admit this, you thought he was quite good looking. In fact, you definitely could’ve had a crush on him if he had just never opened his mouth.

He was a mutual “friend.” He was friends with Felix and you were Felix’s best friend, so you were bound to end up meeting Minho eventually.

The bad thing was, you had super high expectations when meeting Minho because Felix talked him up so much.

“He’s super sweet, loves to cook, is a dad to three cats…” He went on and on about this dude, so you were rightfully eager to meet him.

And then you met him. And you immediately wished you hadn’t.

You knew it was an accident when you tripped over his foot and landed flat on your face. Hell, you even apologized to him for potentially damaging his shoe. And you would’ve forgiven him had he ever bothered to apologize to you.

Your face was scratched up for weeks and you blamed him every time you saw it in the mirror. If he had just apologized, it could’ve prevented these past few months of hatred you had for him.

And for whatever reason, he hated you too. You had no idea why. It wasn’t like he tripped over your shoe.

Every time you two have been in the same vicinity since then, neither of you can enjoy yourselves. You two are always caught giving each other the deadliest of glares and making the snarkiest comments about each other.

That brings you to the present, where Felix was practically on his knees begging you to go out with him tonight to the bar.

“No,” You told him for what felt like the millionth time.

“You can’t just not go to the bar with me because he’ll be there,” Felix argues.

“Yes I sure can,” You respond.

“Please, Y/N,” Felix begs. “You won’t even know he’s there. We’ll get you a drink and get you out on the dance floor and you’ll have a great time.”

With the stressful week you’d been having, a drink and a little dancing did sound quite nice. Besides, you could always just ignore Minho.

So, that’s how you found yourself at the bar a few hours later in a little black dress, sipping a cocktail. You’re sat in a booth with Felix, a few other of your mutual friends, and of course, Minho.

“Did you wear that dress in the hopes that someone would come along and buy you that drink?” Minho asks.

You’d forgotten how extremely difficult it was to ignore him.

“I wore it because it looks good on me and I don’t need a man to pay for my drinks,” You retort.

“Tell that to your wallet,” Minho replies.

You sit up a little and are about to reply with another comeback when Felix grabs you by the hand and drags you out of the booth. He did not feel like having to break up a fight between you and Minho tonight.

“C’mon, let’s go dance,” He urges.

You throw back the rest of your drink and follow Felix out onto the dance floor. Carelessly, you start letting out all the stresses of your week through dancing. You were surrounded by a bunch of drunk people anyways, so it wasn’t like anyone was paying specific attention to you.

At least that’s what you thought until you felt a presence behind you. You turn around and are met with an incredibly handsome, tall man who starts to dance with you.

“You’re a good dancer,” He says, shouting over the loud music.

“Thanks,” You reply with a smile. “You can join me if you want.”

“Believe me, I want to,” He assures. He then looks past your shoulder and his smile fades. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You turn around to see what he’s talking about and you start seeing red when you find Minho staring at you from the booth. Not necessarily staring, but glaring. You start glaring back, trying to communicate with him to stop scaring this random guy you’re dancing with.

“God, no,” You assure, turning back to the handsome man. “He’s not even a friend.”

“Good,” The guy smirks, his hands landing on your waist.

You guys dance, mostly grind, for a few minutes until you feel another presence on the other side of you. You turn around with a frown, thinking that you must be really irresistible tonight if so many guys are approaching you.

And then you’re met with Minho. He looks pissed, his eyes dark. He pays you no mind, though, looking straight at the other guy instead.

“Minho,” You warn, chuckling nervously. “What the hell are you doing?”

He stands in front of you like he’s your bodyguard, getting way too close to the guy you were dancing with.

“Quit dancing with her,” Minho says.

“I thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend,” The guy says to you.

“He isn’t,” You assure. “Go away, Minho, seriously.”

“I’ll go away when he does,” Minho replies, crossing his arms.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You say through gritted teeth, looking at him as though he’s gone crazy, which you’re pretty sure he has.

“Listen, it was nice dancing with you,” The guy says, obviously nervous, before quite literally sprinting away.

Your jaw drops and Minho even has the audacity to begin walking away from you. You snatch him back by the wrist, forcing him to turn and look at you.

“What the fuck was that?” You yell.

“He was a creep,” Minho replies.

“All we were doing was dancing together!” You yell again, even louder than before so that people around were starting to look at you funnily.

“Can you just trust me for once?” Minho asks, his voice a lot calmer than yours.

“Trust you?” You repeat with a scoff. “You just fucking ruined this whole night for me, Minho!”

He’s about to start talking to defend himself but you keep going before he can.

“I can’t believe you have the audacity to treat me like this when I never even did anything to you! If anyone should be cock block here, it’s me! You had no right to do that. In fact, you have no right even talking to me right now. For once, I wish you’d just leave me alone and-”

“Excuse me.”

You both turn around when someone interjects into your conversation. It’s one of the bartenders, and by then, the entire dance floor was staring at you and Minho.

“I’m gonna have to ask you two to leave,” The bartender informs awkwardly.

It was official. This night could not get any worse.

Without saying a word, you head towards the door. You’re so angry you aren’t even thinking about your other friends there. At this point, all you want to do is go home and be left the hell alone.

Of course, that would be asking too much though.

“I’ll drive you home,” Minho offers, jogging behind you to catch up.

You’re speed walking in your high heels and no jacket over your little dress. You were producing enough body heat from being so angry to keep you from getting cold.

“Hell no,” You say.

“It’s cold and dark out,” Minho says.

“I’d rather get hypothermia than get in a car with you,” You tell him.

Suddenly Minho wraps his hand around your wrist, stopping your angry speed walking.

“Stop being so dramatic and get in the car,” He demands.

His car was right there where you guys stood, plus it was actually very cold tonight and you knew you’d start feeling it in a few minutes if you didn’t get in the car. And the least he could do is give you a ride home after the shit he pulled tonight.

Wordlessly, you submit and get into his car. The leather seats are cool on your bare thighs, causing you to shiver.

Also not saying a word, Minho shrugs off his jacket and places it behind your shoulders like a blanket. He then starts the car and begins driving.

A bit later, when he pulled into a parking spot in front of your building, you didn’t move. You both just sat there in his car in the dark, staring ahead at the building.

“Enjoying my company?” He teases after a few minutes of silence.

“I could’ve been enjoying someone else’s company if you hadn’t scared them off,” You remark, crossing your arms.

“You shouldn’t let random men dance with you,” Minho says.

“I shouldn’t get into random guys’ cars either,” You reply.

“I’m not a random guy,” He replies.

“You’re a lot worse than the guy from the bar would’ve been,” You say.

“Holy fuck,” Minho groans, rubbing his hands over his face and shaking his head.

You frown at him and say, “What?”

“You are so fucking oblivious, it’s actually painful,” Minho says.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You demand, all the anger that had slightly subsided starting to rise up again.

Minho finally pulls his hands away from his face and looks at you. There’s a shadow casted over his face from the darkness, and his eyes are glimmering like stars. You gulp, suddenly nervous at the sudden change in atmosphere.

“Fuck it,” He whispers.

And before you knew it, he was kissing you. Lee Minho was kissing you. You were so shocked and confused about how you felt towards it that you forgot to even kiss back.

Your lips only started functioning right as he began to pull away, but, feeling your lips finally reciprocate, Minho stays latched on.

He brings his hand up to the back of your head, gliding his fingers through your hair. You’re so overwhelmed and getting dizzier by the second, but you have to admit that it feels really fucking good.

He’s hardly done anything and you’re already on the verge of moaning at how his lips feel against you. He slides his tongue into your mouth and that’s when you actually do moan.

“Wait,” You say, pulling back as you finally come to your senses.

Your lips are tingling, already craving his again. And the way he’s looking at you now, so hungry, and so frustrated that you just pulled away, it doesn’t do anything to help the way you’re getting turned on.

“What?” He asks as if he didn’t just kiss his enemy.

“What the fuck are we doing?” You ask bluntly.

“Seems pretty obvious,” Minho says.

You roll your eyes.

“You know what I mean,” You say. “I hate you. And you hate me.”

“If we hate each other then why the hell did you just let me put my tongue down your throat?”

“I’m leaving,” You decide, opening the door to his car. “If you ever tell anyone we did that—What are you doing?”

Minho has opened the door to his side of the car as well.

“Didn’t you say you’re leaving?” He asks. “I’m coming with you, of course.”

“Why the hell would you come with me?” You scoff.

“Because now that I’ve got some of you, I want a hell of a lot more,” He rasps, his gaze dark and taunting again.

It’s like something about him entranced you, made you completely go dumb in the head. So you just wordlessly exit his car and don’t put up a fight when he follows you up to your unit.

You close and lock the door behind you, quite nervous now that you were in your own apartment with Minho of all people. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem nervous at all, in fact, he was acting as though he’s been over to your apartment a hundred times before.

He slides his shoes off, loosens his tie, and then looks your way, waiting for you to do something as you were still stood at the front door, shaking like a leaf.

Minho smirks at the state you’re in, placing one cold hand on your hip and bringing the other one up to your face, where he caresses your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re so nervous,” He acknowledges. “Do I make you nervous?”

You look into his eyes, getting lost in them for the nth time tonight. You couldn’t help it. There was just something about him, perhaps the something that you saw the first time you met him before declaring that you hated him.

“You couldn’t make me nervous if you tried,” You find the courage to say.

“I don’t need to try, sweetheart,” Minho remarks, his hand grazing down your side. “I can feel you shaking.”

You don’t know how it happened but you want him so bad. You are shaking because you’re nervous but you’re also shaking because you’re so turned on now, so needy for him to touch you and get his lips back on you again.

Luckily, he seems to hear your thoughts, as his lips come intertwining back against yours again. They meld against yours so perfectly, connecting the two of you like it was meant to be this whole time.

“This dress,” Minho mumbles against your lips. “As soon as I saw it, I knew I needed to have you, baby.”

You moan against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. You feel him smile against your lips, probably from the fact that you’re already putty in his hands, flexible for whatever he wanted to do with you.

“Where’s your room, sweetheart?” He asks.

Against your wants, you pull away from his lips and quickly start to lead the way to your room down the hall. You pull him into your bedroom and shut the door behind you.

Minho takes in the room and is immediately overwhelmed by how you it is.

The pink sheets, the pictures on the wall, the heavenly scent of you that swarms around him. It all turns him on to such an extreme that he can’t wait a second longer to take you on your bed.

He lays you down on the pretty pink bed, the contrast of your black dress driving him crazy. He grabs your bare thighs, maintaining eye contact with you as he spreads your legs, making sure you’re okay with what he’s doing.

“I need to taste you,” He says.

His gaze trails down your trembling body and lands on where your legs are spread, revealing a pretty, light pink lacy piece of underwear, completely different from the dress you had on.

“Please,” You beg, needing him to taste you as bad as he wanted to.

Minho lays down on his stomach, hiking your dress up a little higher so he had more access to your body. He didn’t bother taking it all the way off yet.

With his thumb, he rubs your clit over your thin thong. You’re throbbing with the complete and utter need to feel his tongue on your pussy, but of course he’d tease you. It wouldn’t be Minho if he wasn’t teasing you.

“Fuck, Minho, please,” You urge. “I don’t care if you want me to beg. I need you so bad.”

Your words make Minho lightheaded. He removes his thumb away from your clothed clit and replaces it with his lips, kissing you through the fabric.

You squirm, jutting your hips up into his face.

“While I’d love to hear you beg,” He starts, hooking his fingers into the waistband of the thong, “I don’t wanna waste another second with my tongue not being on your pussy.”

He pulls the thong down your legs and stuffs it into the back of his pocket. They were too pretty not to keep for himself.

Immediately, he attaches his lips to your pretty pussy, licking from the bottom all the way up to your puffy clit. You nearly scream, slapping your hand over your mouth to make sure you don’t.

He flattens his tongue and continuously licks your soaking pussy up and down, tasting all your sweet arousal as he went. He’d never tasted anything so good before, and he never wanted to taste any other pussy except yours for the rest of his life. He didn’t even have to be inside you yet to know he was addicted.

He closes his lips around your clit and sucks as he brings his fingers up to your pussy, slowly inserting his middle and ring finger inside you with ease due to how wet you were. You clench around them, gasping at the combined feeling of his fingers inside you and his lips around your clit.

“That feels so fucking good,” You express, spreading your legs as far as they could go.

He laps at your clit like he needs it for survival and massages his fingers against your spongy, sopping walls. You can fell the wetness oozing from you, all your arousal dripping right into his mouth.

He gives head like you’ve never gotten it before. You’ve never felt so good. You’ve never felt like you were already going to cum this fast but there you were, your stomach tightening.

“Oh my God,” You gasp, tugging on his parted hair. “I’m gonna fucking cum. Oh my God, please don’t stop. Please don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

The last thing Minho does is stop. He continues to lick and finger you as you cum in his mouth. You tremble even harder as it washes over you, little squeals escaping past your lips in ecstasy.

Your hips fly up to try and grind against his face. You felt like you didn’t even have control over your body at this point, and it was doing whatever it needed to do to cope with the intensity of your orgasm.

When you come down from the waves of your orgasm, there are little tears streaming down your face from how mind blowing and incredible it was.

Minho sits up on his knees and takes in the sight of you, nearly cumming in his pants from how fucked out you look before he’s even gotten the chance to fuck you.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” He says softly. “You gonna let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours, sweetheart? Hm?”

You could hardly use your words so you just rapidly nod your head.

Minho strips himself of all his clothes while you manage to get yourself out of your tight dress.

“What would Felix think?” Minho wonders as he jerks his cock off to the sight of your bare body beneath him. “Knowing his two best friends that he thinks are enemies are together, having sex?”

“We are enemies,” You confirm.

“Awh, don’t say that, honey,” He coos, lining up the tip of his cock with your needy hole. “Enemies don’t make each other cum as hard as you just did.”

He slowly pushes his thick cock inside your walls, his mind going dumb from how warm and wet and compressing your pussy was.

“This doesn’t change anything,” You remark, gasping as he bottoms out.

“My cock inside you doesn’t change anything?” He wonders sarcastically, resting inside of you so you could adjust to his impressive size.

“I still hate you,” You say, mostly trying to convince yourself.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Minho mumbles, slowly pulling himself out before pushing back in.

He fills you up so good, his cock so heavy and big inside of you. You could feel him stretching you and it hurt, that was for sure, but the pain was pleasurable considering it was coming from Minho. Minho who now, apparently, turned you on more than you’ve ever been turned on before.

Minho who had been your sworn enemy not even an entire hour ago.

He starts pulling out and pushing himself in a little quicker each time, and it wasn’t long before you were completely adjusted and he was thrusting freely inside of your sweet pussy.

“Fuck, it’s so tight,” He moans, his hands gripping your thighs harshly.

His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, his eyes staring right back into yours. The eye contact made you nervous, yet you couldn’t get yourself to pull away. You were completely drawn in.

You clench around him and watch as his expression goes from serious to completely dumb. His jaw falls slack, a pretty moan stumbling past his lips, and his eyes clench tight.

“You’re so perfect, baby, fuck,” He groans. “Can’t believe you almost could’ve been fucking that other guy right now.”

“I’m fucking you, Minho,” You assure, having completely forgotten about the other guy by now.

“Yeah, you fucking are,” He moans. “And you’re doing so good for me, sweetheart. Most perfect pussy I’ve ever had.”

His words have you clenching again and you feel yourself already approaching your second orgasm. You don’t want to cum yet. You want to cum at the same time as him but you aren’t sure if you could hold it off for long if he was going to keep fucking you this good.

“Slow down,” You whimper, looking up at him with big, blown out eyes.

“Why would I do that, baby?” He coos. “Is my cock too much for you?”

“I’m gonna cum!” You cry out, your toes curling. “Please, I don’t wanna cum yet! Wanna cum with you!”

“Fuck,” He groans, his chest glistening with sweat. “Clench on my cock, sweetheart. I’m so close, just a little more.”

You clench again, the knot in your stomach just seconds away from coming undone.

Little puffs of breath come from Minho, and little curses and moans of your name. It all sounds so beautiful, melodic to your ears. You simply cannot hold back anymore.

You start cumming on his cock, throwing your head back. Your nails scratch down his back and he groans, starting to shoot his load deep inside your pussy.

The feeling of his warm cum and his cock throbbing inside of you made you moan even louder and cum even harder. You were certain the neighbors could hear you moaning like a porn star but you couldn’t hold back even if you tried, it all felt too good.

Your legs refuse to stop shaking, your pussy throbbing. You’re both sweating, chests rising rapidly in attempt to breathe at a regular pace again.

Once Minho has stopped cumming, he immediately collapses beside you on your bed.

Then you’re both just laying there, naked, experiencing post orgasm clarity.

And you realize what the hell you just did.

“This never happened,” You decide.

Minho pulls you into his chest, ruffling with your hair.

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

-

WAIT I feel like this was so long lol.

i just wanted to write a Minho enemy smut so im glad this was requested!!! anyway he’s so hot i love him goodnight <3

[leeracha]

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