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bahablastplz · 4 months ago

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Battleground: Minho x Reader

Prompt: "Hii, i was wondering in you could write a one shot of alpha!minho x Alpha!afab. They met through their friend/roommate Jisung who is an omega, and they are enemies and Jisung has to break up their fights, but this one time they end up having sex while fighting for dominance." Content: Smut, angst, omegaverse, enemies to lovers, switch/dom Minho, switch reader, alpha reader/alpha Minho, afab!reader WC: 5000 Note: hi yes I got carried away with this but this was super fun to write. enjoy!

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You should have never trusted Jisung. This is often a motto of yours, actually, seeing as he’s responsible for nine out of every ten instances of trouble you find yourself in. But he has big pleading eyes and he can be so convincing that you throw caution to the wind every time he speaks.

You needed a new roommate. Your old one bailed on you (thank god, because she was actually the worst). She was filthy and never cleaned up after herself. She left dishes in the sink, piles of trash for you to take care of, and was blatantly rude. You let out a sigh of relief when she told you she was moving and it took all of two days for her to fuck off for no apparent reason. She left your life as violently as she entered it, however, leaving piles and piles of her junk for you to take care of as well as half of the rent once again.

You wish that you could lie and say that you could afford it by yourself but you simply couldn’t. It was just too far out of your spending limits and so… you needed to find a new place to live.

When Jisung suggested you come to live in his spare bedroom, it really didn’t seem like that bad of an idea. You knew the omega well enough; he wasn’t the cleanest in the world but he’s a step up from your old roommate for sure. Plus he was one of your closest friends. If anything, you knew you would feel comfortable around him. The only reason you had hesitated at first is because everybody always tells you not to live with your friends. Somehow you doubted this would be an issue with Jisung though.

It would be fine, right? You’ve heard only good things about his other roommate, Minho. Jisung jokingly refers to him as his platonic soulmate sometimes but you don’t really know anything else about him. You were a little weary about sharing a living space with two omegas and all, being an alpha yourself, but you were no asshole alpha. They would have nothing to worry about.

Once again, you should have never trusted Han Jisung.

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“What are you doing? You’re going to scare her away!” You hear through the door of the apartment. You’re a little unsure when you hear muffled shouting and you feel an uneasiness in your stomach that you ignore but you can’t help to continue to listen. “Why are you acting like you don’t want her here?”

“Because I don’t. We don’t know her!”

“You don’t know her. I know her perfectly well and you should trust my judgment.” You use this as the opportunity to knock on the door which swings open to a wide-eyed Jisung. He looks guilty of something and you’re confused before it hits you all at once.

The apartment reeks of cinnamon. Every crevice and corner is dripping of the strong smell to the point you can hardly smell Jisung’s vanilla, even if you really focus. That’s when you come to the realization that Jisung’s roommate isn’t an omega… He’s an alpha. One intentionally covering the whole apartment with his smell before he even gets to know you to assert his dominance. You fight back the urge to roll your eyes at the stereotypical alpha behavior and you resist the urge to cover your nose at the smell. Just because Minho is being rude doesn’t mean you need to be rude in return.

And before you can even say anything to greet him, he’s walking away and slamming his door shut. You give Jisung a look and he’s already looking at you apologetically.

“I’m sorry,” he winces. “I really am. He’s not usually like this, I swear. I don’t know what’s going on–”

“Jisung,” you interrupt. “You never told me he was an alpha in the first place!”

His mouth opens slightly in a small ‘o’ shape. “I didn’t?”

You sigh at him and take a deep breath. “Just help me with these boxes, okay?” And as if he’s eager to be back on your good side, he helps you without a fuss.

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It’s two entire days before you even see Minho again. It agitates your own alpha, really, knowing that there’s someone else in your living space you haven’t gotten a proper chance to meet and scope out. But you’ve finally gotten yourself settled into your space and you have to admit it’s nice being so close to Jisung all the time.

You stumble out of your room after an afternoon nap to find him cooking in the kitchen. It takes you by surprise, honestly, because for someone who has already tried to be so stereotypically alpha, it just seems like a very… omegan activity. You tell yourself it’s not polite to pass judgments on someone you hardly know, especially regarding their secondary gender, so you don’t say a word about it. You do, however, make an attempt to properly introduce yourself.

“Hello,” you say lightly. Minho’s shoulders tense up for a second before they relax. “I’m Y/N.” He doesn’t turn around and he doesn’t say anything. You make a face from behind him, where he can’t see you. What is his deal? You lean against the wall, trying to think of a way to make conversation. If this were anybody else, you wouldn’t bother but… you’re doing this for Jisung, after all. This is supposed to be one of his closest friends aside from you. “How long have you known Jisung for?” you try.

“Longer than you,” he scoffs. This catches you off guard as you’re not quite sure what to make of the statement. Is he trying to be possessive over the omega or is he just trying to show you that he’s winning whatever competition this is?

“Oh. How long would that be? I’ve only known him for two years or so, but we’ve grown really close–” Minho finally spins around and you make eye contact for the first time. His harsh gaze is the first thing you really notice about him, his feline eyes sharp as they stare daggers into you. He’s very pretty, you note, and it almost pisses you off even more. How can someone so attractive be such an asshole?

“You’re not my friend,” he says, pointing a wooden spoon at you threateningly. “This was my space first and you have no right to intrude and try to be buddy-buddy with me. I don’t know you.” His words are blunt, to the point. He turns back around and… god, he’s trying to assert dominance again by shutting you up and ending the conversation here! Better yet, his cinnamon scent spikes and swirls around the room, haunting you.

You won’t retaliate with your own scent. You’re better than that. But that doesn’t mean you’ll let some alpha think he’s better than you and shut you up without a fight. “Who’s fault is that?” you spit. Minho freezes so you continue. “Who’s fault is it that you don’t know me, hmm? I never asked to be your friend, Minho. But I’m not here to intrude and I’m not here to take over your territory and become the new head-alpha, okay? I’m here because Jisung invited me. I’m here because I need a place to live! Is it really so fucking bad to think that maybe you can be civil with me? Instead you’ve been defensive since the second I walked through that door!” Your anger is spiking and you need to get control of yourself before you explode on him. You turn around and slam your door shut before you can say anymore.

Once on your bed you fight the urge to punch something. You certainly let yourself get riled up fast. It annoys you that someone you don’t even know has this sort of effect on you. But you close your eyes and will the anger away, telling yourself that maybe, just maybe, it’ll get better.

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It doesn’t get better. It gets a whole lot worse, actually. Your first movie-night in with Jisung you actually get nauseous with how much he reeks of Minho.

“Jesus, Sung,” you tell him. “It smells like you rolled around with him right before you came into my room.”

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. It’s so hard to be mad at him. It really is. “He’s been extra clingy lately for some reason.”

“For some reason,” you grumble. You know exactly why. “He’s trying to intimidate me to stay away from you, probably.”

“What? Minho would never do that!” he says. You glare at him and he cowers down immediately. “I don’t know what’s going on with him,” he admits.

“I’m tired of him making me feel like I’m the crazy one here! Everyone I talk to shoots praises out of their ass for him and meanwhile, I’m public enemy number one. I seriously don’t know what his issue is with me and I’m getting sick and tired of everyone telling me what a great person he is!” you rant rather loudly, ending with a great sigh.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Jisung asks. You feel like you’re going to explode.

“Yes, I have,” you tell him. “Multiple times. Each one ends in an argument or one of us storming off. I just can’t figure out what his deal is.”

“Maybe–”

“Sung, let’s just watch the movie, okay? I’m starting to get irritated and you’re not the one I’m upset with.”

He concedes and snuggles in a bit closer to you, pressing play on the laptop. If you discreetly try to cover him in your own ginger scent? That’s between you and the moon goddess.

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You find yourself in the midst of some sort of war and you’re on the losing side. Lee Minho has made it his life mission to inconvenience or irritate you in any way he can.

Exhibit A: One morning you find yourself running late for class and you open your door just to trip over a conveniently placed pile of his shoes. Cursing his name in your head, you grab your backpack and run out the front door, just narrowly making it in time for the professor to start talking. Fast forward to the end of class when you pull out your folder just to realize that said folder is nowhere to be seen. Your homework which you spent over an hour on the previous night has vanished, gaining you a zero on the assignment. You’re sure you’re seeing red when you get home and your folder is on the kitchen counter.

“I don’t know what game you think we’re playing, but sabotaging my grades is going too fucking far, Lee!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says as he sips on a cup of coffee. You fight the urge to throw it in his face.

“Don’t act like you didn’t try to make me late for class and hide my folder!” you say, waving the folder in his face. He looks irritated but it’s no match for how you feel.

“Your belongings are not my responsibility,” he says with an eye roll. “Next time maybe don’t misplace your stuff.” You leave because you’re not confident in your ability not to punch him.

Exhibit B: Poor Jisung has tried to set up an apartment movie night. It’s a good idea, in theory, to try to get some supervised bonding. Jisung even sits right in the middle, anxiously picking at his nails the entire movie. That’s only after Minho accuses you of burning the popcorn and fighting with you over which movie to watch. Jisung ends up picking it. It was going well until he stretched his legs out over Jisung’s lap and into your space. You shove his feet off of you faster than he put them up. The action makes him almost fall off the couch and spill his soda all over himself and Jisung.

The omega stands up covered in soda and huffs. “I give up!” he cries out in exasperation.

“It’s her fault for pushing me–”

“Give it a fucking rest!” you cry out.

Everybody ends up in their respective rooms that night.

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You didn’t want to go to this party. You really didn’t but you figured that you owe Jisung big time for turning his apartment into a warzone. The omega already has social anxiety and doesn’t love parties himself so you promised you would tag along.

Minho is here too. You tell yourself you won’t interact with him but you keep catching his eyes from across the room. Deep down you hope that maybe the alcohol will mellow him down a bit and make him more tolerable. And maybe you use alcohol as a coping mechanism this one night. You’re stressed and a walking ball of tension every second of each day, not even able to relax in your own apartment.

You always have an eye on Jisung when you party together. But you indulge in some tipsy flirting for once. This guy is super cute, after all… freckled face, long blond hair that frames his face, and a deep, sensual voice that makes you giggle and fawn over him. You amp up the usual techniques, touching his arm and laughing at all of his jokes. And when he leans in close enough that you feel his breath on your neck you don’t stop him.

But somebody else does.

One second you're bracing yourself for a drunken kiss and the next a hand is wrapped tightly around your arm, pulling you away. You smell burnt cinnamon before you even realize what happened and the anger that bubbles in your chest is unlike any you’ve ever felt before. You retaliate just as fast with an overwhelming mix of ginger that smells so strong it burns your nose. Before you can yell you’re being pushed out the door and into the cold of the night.

“What the fuck was that,” you spit at Minho. You yank your arm out of his grip.

“We’re leaving,” he tells you.

“Like hell we are! You don’t get a say of who I spend my time with or when I decide to leave.”

“I get a say when you’re making idiotic choices,” he answers, voice low. He spins you around until you’re pinned against the wall and his skin burns hot against yours.

“No, you don’t. You’ve made yourself loud and clear that you don’t give a fuck about me. My bad choices are mine to make, Minho, not yours.”

“You’re not thinking straight,” he tells you once he finally lets go. He looks like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “Felix… he’s… I know him from my dance studio, okay? Just.. trust me and don’t go home with him. You can’t kiss him. Not Felix.”

“From your dance studio? Wow, ladies and gentlemen! Lee Minho has revealed exactly one thing about himself! He’s a dancer!” you say with mock surprise. You stumble a bit and Minho steadies you by your waist. It only serves to piss you off even more.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” he asks. It’s probably the softest you’ve ever heard his voice yet.

“No. I think I’m going to go kiss Felix and you can go fuck off,” you protest. You cross your arms and you look away from him because his cheeks are also flushed from drinking and he worries his lips between his teeth so you can’t stand to see it.

He takes a deep breath. “Y/N, I swear to god you’re going to walk home with me or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and bring you home myself.”

Before you snap back at him about how ridiculous he’s being, the door opens and Jisung steps out. “Guys?” he questions, looking back and forth between the two of you. You’re breathing heavily and your fists are clenched but your anger dissipates the second you see the disappointed look on Jisung’s face. He wanted you here to keep him company. To soothe his social anxiety and to prove that you could be there for him, to show up for him like old time’s sake. And just like that, the adrenaline high slowly fades when you realize you’ve let him down. Anger turns to sorrow and guilt and god, no you won’t let Minho see you cry but you bury your face into Jisung’s neck. You whisper an apology and tell him you want to go home.

You can’t help but feel like Minho has won this round, in some roundabout twisted way.

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You avoid leaving your room for the next day. You don’t really feel like you’re deserving of wallowing in your own sorrow, especially since the one who is impacted here is Jisung, not you. You’ve let him down. You don’t get to mope. So… what you’re doing is avoiding. Avoiding Minho and therefore avoiding any more conflict.

It’s the next day you leave your room. You notice the scent of vanilla a little more sweet than normal and when you knock on Jisung’s door you notice he’s nesting. A mixture of your clothes and Minho’s are piled in his bed and you feel a pang of guilt in your chest.

“You okay?” you ask. If Jisung is in preheat and you’ve avoided him for the past 24 hours, he’s probably feeling pretty antsy. He does let out a breath of relief when he sees you though and brings you in for a hug.

But of course your timing is unfortunate because Minho unlocks the front door at that very moment. When he sees you in Jisung’s arms he growls, causing you and the omega to stiffen. Minho crosses the room in seconds and the smell of cinnamon behind you gets stronger.

“Off,” he says low into your ear. You have half the mind to snap at him but Jisung’s vanilla scent burns. You back off, giving Jisung a small nod before disappearing to your room. The last thing you want to do is distress Jisung further just before he starts his heat. This needs to stop. It needs to end.

Jisung leaves the next day to spend his heat in a hotel. Despite the apartment being more comfortable for him, the unit isn’t equipped to deal with the overwhelming scent of heats and ruts. You couldn’t afford a scent complaint fee. Jisung doesn’t complain as you help him pack his bags and you even help him into the hotel room. You offer your best support in helping him rebuild his nest though you don’t have the same omegan instincts as he does.

“I’m sorry again,” you tell him before you leave. “For everything. With Minho. It’s… we’ll work it out. Okay? Love you Sung.”

He gives you a sad smile. His heat should start by the morning, you would guess. You just hope he can be comfortable and not worry too much about you and Minho.

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Minho is standing anxiously by the door when you get home. You half expect him to crowd you against the wall but he doesn’t, eyes glued to the floor instead.

“You smell like him,” he tells you.

“Yes Minho,” you reply sarcastically. “It’s like I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time. Jisung is my friend too. You don’t have to act all possessive of him all the time.”

He hums. You feel your blood boil again. How does he get you so worked up to the point of your heart pumping a mile a minute every time you see him?

“Minho. Be honest,” you start. He finally looks up at you. You can’t read his face. Your alpha goes back and forth between wanting to pounce on him and run away in fear. You need to do what you think is right. “Do you want me to move out?”

You aren’t expecting his reaction. You expect him to laugh in your face. You expect him to be overjoyed. But instead he seems shocked.

“What?”

“What do you mean what? Don’t act like this isn’t what you wanted from the very beginning. You win, okay? I concede. You want your space? You want to be the only alpha again? This is it. This is your opportunity. I’m offering you a way out now. No more fighting. No more upsetting Jisung. If you want me gone, just say the word. Please. I’ll leave.”

“Don’t.”

“What?” You almost think you’ve misheard him but he takes a step closer and he looks at you with pleading eyes. “What is your gameplan then? Why make me miserable since the second I move in? Argue with me, tell me who I can and can’t kiss, for god’s sake make me fail a fucking assignment? If you don’t want me fucking gone, Minho, what the fuck do you want–”

You’re cut off by his lips clashing against yours so hard your head would have hit your head against the wall if not for Minho’s hands holding you as if you’re something precious. Your teeth clank together but you’re breathing him in and reciprocating his affection just as violently as he gives it. When his tongue enters your mouth and you taste cinnamon you realize you’ve never hated the smell, never hated him… He kisses into you like he needs you to breathe, like he’s been in the desert and you’re his oasis.

You’re not sure that a kiss has ever felt like this before. You think for a moment that you might not be able to kiss anyone again after this, everyone and everything lacklustre compared to Minho. Minho. Minho. Nobody has ever and will ever make you feel this burning, boiling… hatred? lust? desire? Whatever it is you feel, you’re not sure it could be replicated.

When you wrap your leg around his waist he grabs under your knee, hoisting you against the wall. His mouth is all over you and he explores every inch of your mouth, your neck, your collarbone. Your hands take purchase on his shoulders, in his hair, you’re not sure but you want to feel every inch of him there is to explore. Cinnamon has never smelled so sweet.

Minho brings you into his bedroom and it’s the first time you’ve stepped foot into his space but you don’t take the time to look around. In fact, the only thing you notice is that his comforter is soft, soft against your back as he throws you onto his bed. Your clothes are all but shredded from your body and if you had claws you would have used them to get every inch of useless fabric off of Lee Minho’s body. It makes you angry that he’s still clothed, so angry that you forgo pleasure in replacement of ripping the clothes off of him harshly. He grins. He has that smug fucking grin on his face you want to wipe off and you kiss his stupid lips again. This time when you kiss you’re both completely naked and every part of your body that touches his is scalding.

When you sit on his lap your bare pussy slides along his cock and you both groan. His hands are on your hips and in desperation you both move back and forth. Every time his cock catches on your entrance you both let out a hitched breath but neither of you can stop.

“Fuck. I’m gonna knot you, you know that? I’m gonna fuck you so full and then knot you so that everybody knows you’re mine,” he pants as he ruts his cock against you desperately. Is this just another way for him to stake his claim over you? To show that he’s the true alpha? Oh hell no.

“You’re such an asshole,” you tell him with a hiss when he finally slides into you. He’s big. You already knew this from the (not so) dry humping just moments ago but it still pisses you off when he stretches you nice and full. “Stupid asshole alpha with a stupid big cock.”

When he looks up at you it’s with adoration and it throws you off. His eyes gleam and his teeth are caught against his bottom lip in a sultry grin. He plants his feet against his bed and thrusts up into you hard and fast–you almost fall because you have no time to plant your hands anywhere for balance. But the almighty perfect Minho catches you before you fall because of course he does. His hands on your waist only hold you in place to give him the opportunity to fuck up into you with more force and the wet sounds that come from between your bodies are filthy… but only serves to turn you on even more.

“You were saying about me being an asshole?” he asks. His voice is breathy and low and you fucking hate how much you love it.

“If all you wanted was to fuck me this bad you didn’t have to act like such a dick,” you say through tight lips. Okay. You’re trying not to moan, to give him that satisfaction. Who could blame you? “You only made me hate you more.”

“Fuck,” he says, throwing his head back. “It wasn’t on purpose… didn’t like you at first but all of a sudden it turned to lust and… can’t you feel what you do to me?” He punctuates his point with a harsh thrust and fuck, you vaguely remember him mentioning he was a dancer. Perfect body, perfect hips and thighs made just to fuck you like this.

“How you treated me wasn’t fair,” you tell him. You need him to know and you’re lowering your hips, trapping your legs under his so he can’t bounce you up and down on his cock anymore. Your hand snakes up to his throat and takes purchase there, watching the way he gulps and his eyes turn heavy at the action. You feel a burning satisfaction at the way his hips buck into you involuntarily when you squeeze slightly. “Say it,” you coo. “I want to hear you admit to me that you know you treated me poorly.”

You expect a fight from him because, let’s be honest, Minho always puts up a fight with you. But any ounce of opposition leaves his body the second his eyes meet yours. He looks regretful. He looks small. “I treated you poorly,” he tells you. His eyes never leave yours. “I acted like a child because I had feelings for you that were misplaced. I liked you from the beginning and I… fuck, I didn’t know how to deal with that and I pushed you away. I wanted you to hate me.”

The confession that spills past his lips is the last thing you’re expecting him to say. Your grip on his neck falters and he uses his stupidly impressive core strength to sit up, bringing your lips into a kiss. It isn’t explosive, it isn’t word-changing, but it is sweet and apologetic and very Minho.

He places you on your back and resumes his pace, bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders. At this angle he reaches deep inside you and the first time you gasp he resumes his brutal, relentless pace.

“Fuck, I’m gonna knot you, please let me knot this pretty pussy,” he pleads. The first time he said it it was a demand; this time he asks from his soul, baring it to you and giving you ample time and opportunity to reject it.

“Yes,” you moan. But if he’s going to claim you as his from the inside out, the least you could do is return the favor. And so you scratch Minho, raking your nails down his back until they’re sure to leave a mark. And when you’re both on the precipice you bite down onto his shoulder hard, just inches away from his scent gland. It’s not a mating bite but it is a mark, a claim. You suck hard into the bite just as he finishes, his knot expanding and catching on your entrance. You don’t release your mouth from his skin until he’s done pulsing inside you but to your surprise, he doesn’t stop moving his hips. Despite his knot locking you in place he grinds his hips into yours in small circles, putting pressure right onto your clit with his pubic bone. It’s too much, the stimulation of your clit, his knot, and the thick head of his cock hitting that spot deep inside you causing you to cum around him hard with a cry.

You feel as if you’ve been electrocuted, little shocks going through your whole body with every wave of your orgasm. You almost wish he was bad in bed, if just to keep your dignity and tell him that he wasn’t all that. But with the gutteral noises he dispelled from your body, lying would just be a farce.

When you’ve both finally calmed down and his knot finally deflates, you half expect him to kick you out of his room. You’ve built up your walls so high around him that it’s hard to imagine him treating you any other way. You’re anxious for sure, moreso at yourself for allowing yourself to be so hopeful. But Minho rolls over and grabs you, holding you close to his chest. Even when you squirm he doesn’t dare to let you go.

“I really am sorry,” he tells you. A murmur into your hair. “I don’t want you to move out. I’m sorry for treating you the way I did. My alpha thought… that because we like you that maybe asserting our dominance would make you like us more. I know that’s illogical and just sounds like an excuse but…”

“I forgive you,” you tell him. “Well… maybe I don’t forgive you just yet. But I can if you prove to me that you’re done with the macho asshole alpha act. No more being possessive over Jisung. My friend by the way! Still haven’t gotten over that. And no more sabotaging my grades.” You shoot him a glare and he only looks at you sheepishly. Harsh looks turn into soft stares and all of a sudden he’s kissing you again. Your tension has already begun to melt away. You begin to see the charm of the Lee Minho everybody has told you about and you think, maybe… just maybe everything will be okay now.

“I think we owe Jisung a gift,” Minho whispers into your hair.

“I think we owe him a hundred gifts,” you wince.

“He’s not going to believe his fucking mind when he gets back.” You laugh so hard your stomach begins to hurt. You think maybe you like the way Minho looks when he smiles. You think maybe you really like the way cinnamon and ginger smell together. You think maybe you could get used to kissing Minho and that burning, bubbly feeling in your stomach agrees.

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#icymi <3 #lee know x reader #lee know smut #stray kids x reader #skz

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bahablastplz · 4 months ago

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Battleground: Minho x Reader

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You wish that you could lie and say that you could afford it by yourself but you simply couldn’t. It was just too far out of your spending limits and so… you needed to find a new place to live.

Once again, you should have never trusted Han Jisung.

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“Because I don’t. We don’t know her!”

And before you can even say anything to greet him, he’s walking away and slamming his door shut. You give Jisung a look and he’s already looking at you apologetically.

“I’m sorry,” he winces. “I really am. He’s not usually like this, I swear. I don’t know what’s going on–”

“Jisung,” you interrupt. “You never told me he was an alpha in the first place!”

His mouth opens slightly in a small ‘o’ shape. “I didn’t?”

You sigh at him and take a deep breath. “Just help me with these boxes, okay?” And as if he’s eager to be back on your good side, he helps you without a fuss.

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It doesn’t get better. It gets a whole lot worse, actually. Your first movie-night in with Jisung you actually get nauseous with how much he reeks of Minho.

“Jesus, Sung,” you tell him. “It smells like you rolled around with him right before you came into my room.”

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. It’s so hard to be mad at him. It really is. “He’s been extra clingy lately for some reason.”

“For some reason,” you grumble. You know exactly why. “He’s trying to intimidate me to stay away from you, probably.”

“What? Minho would never do that!” he says. You glare at him and he cowers down immediately. “I don’t know what’s going on with him,” he admits.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Jisung asks. You feel like you’re going to explode.

“Yes, I have,” you tell him. “Multiple times. Each one ends in an argument or one of us storming off. I just can’t figure out what his deal is.”

“Maybe–”

“Sung, let’s just watch the movie, okay? I’m starting to get irritated and you’re not the one I’m upset with.”

He concedes and snuggles in a bit closer to you, pressing play on the laptop. If you discreetly try to cover him in your own ginger scent? That’s between you and the moon goddess.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

You find yourself in the midst of some sort of war and you’re on the losing side. Lee Minho has made it his life mission to inconvenience or irritate you in any way he can.

“I don’t know what game you think we’re playing, but sabotaging my grades is going too fucking far, Lee!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says as he sips on a cup of coffee. You fight the urge to throw it in his face.

“Don’t act like you didn’t try to make me late for class and hide my folder!” you say, waving the folder in his face. He looks irritated but it’s no match for how you feel.

The omega stands up covered in soda and huffs. “I give up!” he cries out in exasperation.

“It’s her fault for pushing me–”

“Give it a fucking rest!” you cry out.

Everybody ends up in their respective rooms that night.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

But somebody else does.

“What the fuck was that,” you spit at Minho. You yank your arm out of his grip.

“We’re leaving,” he tells you.

“Like hell we are! You don’t get a say of who I spend my time with or when I decide to leave.”

“I get a say when you’re making idiotic choices,” he answers, voice low. He spins you around until you’re pinned against the wall and his skin burns hot against yours.

“No, you don’t. You’ve made yourself loud and clear that you don’t give a fuck about me. My bad choices are mine to make, Minho, not yours.”

“Let’s go home, yeah?” he asks. It’s probably the softest you’ve ever heard his voice yet.

He takes a deep breath. “Y/N, I swear to god you’re going to walk home with me or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and bring you home myself.”

You can’t help but feel like Minho has won this round, in some roundabout twisted way.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

“I’m sorry again,” you tell him before you leave. “For everything. With Minho. It’s… we’ll work it out. Okay? Love you Sung.”

He gives you a sad smile. His heat should start by the morning, you would guess. You just hope he can be comfortable and not worry too much about you and Minho.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

Minho is standing anxiously by the door when you get home. You half expect him to crowd you against the wall but he doesn’t, eyes glued to the floor instead.

“You smell like him,” he tells you.

“Yes Minho,” you reply sarcastically. “It’s like I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time. Jisung is my friend too. You don’t have to act all possessive of him all the time.”

He hums. You feel your blood boil again. How does he get you so worked up to the point of your heart pumping a mile a minute every time you see him?

You aren’t expecting his reaction. You expect him to laugh in your face. You expect him to be overjoyed. But instead he seems shocked.

“What?”

“Don’t.”

“You were saying about me being an asshole?” he asks. His voice is breathy and low and you fucking hate how much you love it.

“I think we owe Jisung a gift,” Minho whispers into your hair.

“I think we owe him a hundred gifts,” you wince.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

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