#minho x y/n

[gimmeurtmi]

slow mode — lee know

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, cockwarming, a lil masturbation, stressed reader, use of “bunny”, “baby,”, minho being ambidextrous in a hot way. this was supposed to be dirty but it’s mushy as fuck and not even that sexy. if you let an ace write smut don’t be surprised when that happens.

inspo: minho’s bubble messages and recent academic overwhelm

notes: can this be classed as my valentine’s day fic? here it is anyway. the title is a reference to sunshine which is my go to destress song. to anyone who relates to reader’s situation, may all your stresses be lighter from today my lovies 🩵

{ wc: 2003 }

you arrived home after another long day, one of many—maybe too many—and as soon as you put your things down and got rid of your shoes you walked over to the sofa, pouting at your boyfriend.

“oh, come here,” he said, putting his laptop away and opening his arms wide.

you crashed down on the soft sofa, head rolling onto minho’s thick thighs.

“how was it?” he asked, sympathetically. you rolled out of bed early, so early even minho wasn’t awake yet, and the sun had set hours before you’ve arrived back home.

he knew how hard things have been lately.

between all your work and deadlines and commitments, minho could see the stress was getting to you. minho could always tell.

“so many things to do,” you mumbled into his lap.

“i know. here,” he said, grabbing your arms and moving you to where he wanted you to be. he manoeuvred your thighs, placing them on either side of his lap and tucked your head into his warm chest. you sighed.

“bunny,” he cooed, his hand sinking into your hair. he slowly scratched at your scalp and quickly a warmth settled into your bones. you leaned further into it, further into him, and nuzzled your head against his chest.

minho wanted to ask you what else you had to do, what he could do to help, but the way your body fell pliant against his made him think maybe now all you needed was his fingers in your hair and his arm secured safely around your waist. he was right.

the soft glide of his blunt nails against the root of your hair, and the warmth radiating from his body—all of it enough to slowly melt away your stress. it was there, you knew the deadlines were coming, but for now all you could feel was the floaty feeling from minho playing with your hair and knowing you were there, in his arms, where it was safe.

maybe you accidentally deleted a three page essay you needed to hand in the next day or maybe your boss had a go at you or maybe your phone stopped working in the middle of your presentation and your notes were gone. but all of that didn’t matter now that it was over, now that you forgotten it completely, and now that your present was filled with lee minho.

“min?” you asked softly, after however many minutes passed.

he hummed underneath you, the vibrations soft against your cheek.

“why are you hard?”

minho chuckled awkwardly, slightly shifting underneath you.

“i was reading something before you got here,” he mumbled into your hair before planting a soft kiss on the locks.

“oh?” you lift your head up, eyes peering up at him. “what was it?”

“best positions to surprise your partner with this valentine’s day,” he recites the article headline. his ears change into a soft pink—it’s one of your favourite colours.

you giggle softly, straighting up to be eye levelled with him.

“and what did you find?”

“it wasn’t anything new,” he says, hand softly rubbing up and down your back, “but i was thinking of you doing them and…” he spares a small glance at his crotch.

at that you laugh loudly before tucking your head into his neck.

you breathe in softly, slowly, following the rise and fall of minho’s chest while his warm scent takes over you. you kiss his neck with a small peck.

“maybe i can help you?”

“bunny,” he rubs against your scalp, “you should be resting after a long day. another long day.”

“but min, i—“

“—did you even eat today?”

“of course! i ate the lunch you prepared yesterday and a few of us grabbed some food before the meeting. don’t worry,”

“good job,” he nods, resuming his soft scratching. you lean into it instantly. “i don’t want you straining your body too much. it needs rest.”

“i am resting,” you mumbled stubbornly. “it’s just i also want you inside me.”

the last part was quiet, defeated almost, and minho smiled against your forehead before peppering a few small kisses on your skin.

his other hand left your back and you felt him fiddling around near your thighs, before he softly told you to lean up. you silently followed his orders, looking down to find he pushed his sweats and boxers down to his knees.

you slowly sat back down on his bare thighs—but didn’t reach out to him. perhaps he was right, you were too tired to even move forward.

minho kept your head pressed into his neck, his ability to control both his hand and his dancer coordination proved exceptionally useful. he kept scratching your head, moving up and down and occasionally pressing softly into the back of your neck where most of your stress lived.

with his other hand, he stroked himself. once you realised what he was doing, you started leaving a few open mouthed kisses on his skin, kissing his pulse point and beneath his jaw.

“you need to prep too, bunny,” he said softly, voice breathy as it vibrated against your lips. “if you still want to.”

“i want,” you said quickly, tucking your hand into your pants and rubbing slowly. you were surprised to find just how wet you were, but then again, minho was right next to you stroking himself.

you needed him inside you.

you knew the prep you gave yourself probably wasn’t enough, but you needed him—you needed his warmth and his closeness and so you quickly lifted yourself up and rid yourself of your pants and underwear.

minho didn’t waste any more time, lining himself up to your entrance and guiding you down with a hand on your hip.

the pair of you sighed softly and you slowly and carefully sunk all the way down.

the stretch was more prominent than usual, but it was nice. so nice, and you let your eyes softly close at the fullness of having him inside you.

“there, baby,” he smiled at you, running his hands up and down your arms. he squeezed them softly before moving his hands to your back, rubbing up and down.

you didn’t realise how sore your whole body felt from the stress of everything the past few days had brought you, and you instantly relaxed.

“you’ve been working hard,” he said softly, nodding slightly as you lean your head back onto his chest. “you’ve done well, baby. so well.”

you melt at the praise, body weight pressed entirely into minho’s strong body as your mind slowly starts clearing up.

you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself even closer to minho as his arms both wrap around your back.

normally, you would be begging minho to start moving, to fuck you fast like he does when you’re stressed and need to forget the world around you. sometimes, he goes slow, when you need to be reminded of just how important you are to him. but now, he isn’t moving at all. and now, you think that’s exactly what you need. minho always knows.

you close your eyes, listening to the steady and reliable thumping of minho’s heart.

all other thoughts fade away. it’s nothing but minho, his smell and his warmth and his arms solid and strong around you. just minho.

———

your eyes are heavy, you must’ve fallen asleep as your brain feels empty and vague about the last few minutes. you slowly move your head to peer up at your boyfriend—a comforting smile on his face.

“did i fall asleep?” you grumble. you can still feel the fullness inside you, the pleasing pressure on your stomach so you know neither one of you has moved. you try slightly stretching out your thighs that have fallen asleep too, a soft tingling running through your feet at the numbness from the prolonged position.

you don’t move too much, but your pussy does instinctively squeeze around minho, and he lets out a delighted sigh as he leans his head back. still, he doesn’t move.

he runs his hands up and down your thighs, his smile still firmly in place as he looks up at you. he softly kneads your muscles, still working on helping you relax. your eyes lock together and the brown in front of you is swimming with adoration and a hint of pride you don’t know if you can even accept.

you feel yourself blush at the thought, know minho would scold you if you voiced it, and decide you’ll have to work harder on accepting the praise he gives you.

sometimes you think minho is the only person you’d ever let yourself be loved by.

most times you think that isn’t such a bad idea.

he licks his lips, swallowing in the way he does before he readies himself to say something important.

you tell yourself to accept his love, to let yourself be loved by him.

“you didn’t get me chocolate,” is what he says, “give me chocolate.”

you blink at him for a second, a habit you picked up from spending too much time around minho, trying to process what he’s even talking about.

it clicks a moment later.

“you never even asked me to be your valentine’s, so why should i?” you smirk at him.

he’s appalled by such an answer, eyes wide and mouth gaped enough for his bunny teeth to peek out slightly. you think you’d never love anyone as much as you love lee minho.

“you’re mine,” he says, simple. “why would i need to ask when you’re very clearly mine.”

you can’t help the way your body reacts when minho talks that way, and your pussy clenches tightly at his words.

minho doesn’t tease you, as you’d expect him to, but instead his eyes turn serious.

he runs his hands up to your hips, pushing you forward as your clit rubs against his pelvis.

“min,” your voice comes out high pitched and airy.

“i’m here,” he nods, “i’ll take care of you, okay?”

you nod.

he leans forward, kissing you firmly before bringing a hand back into your hair—softly scratching.

“my bunny,” he says, and it sounds like a promise. “and always my valentine’s. always mine.”

“always yours, min,” you echo firmly, and it sounds like acceptance.

minho brings a hand between your bodies, softly rubbing slow circles against your clit.

“and when things get stressful i’m here,” he reminds you, “and whatever it is you need.”

“m-me too, min, i’ll give you anything,” you moan softly.

“not chocolate, evidently,” he grins at you, his evil smirk out on full display.

you try and protest at his unfair accusation—you literally texted him earlier to ask if he wanted chocolate and he said no due to his personal trainer’s demands—but minho stops you with a fleeting kiss on your lips.

“i don’t need it anyway,” he decides, “you’re better than chocolate.”

at that minho grabs that back of your head and pulls your forward, kissing you urgently as his tongue softly moves against yours. he swallows down your moans as his hand moves faster against you, building and building and building.

you let the feeling take over you as you’re consumed by it, by minho and his familiar taste. the stubble on his chin and the softness of his lips and the way his soft hair feels between your fingers.

you let yourself forget everything else. the dates circled on your calendar and your unanswered emails and your appointments.

it doesn’t matter much when minho starts giggling into your mouth because you’ve knocked your teeth against his.

it doesn’t matter much when minho is all around you, inside you, kissing you. telling you, “mine, baby, mine,” as he starts lazily thrusting into you.

your thoughts, your anxieties, your responsibilities. for a moment they can all fade away—for just now. for as long as you and minho are together, connected.

for now, it doesn’t matter much. all you can think about is minho. just minho.

#all.works #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #minho x reader #minho x you #minho x y/n #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #lee minho x y/n #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz smut #lee know smut #kpop x reader #kpop smut

[quokkawritesarchive]

BE MY VALENTINE — MINHO.

pairing: minho x reader(afab) genre: smut, NSFW warnings: established relationship, very soft sex, morning sex, creampie a/n: it’s part of my valentine’s collab!

the series of small kisses all over your face woke you up. you pouted at first, feeling the fingers delicately touching your cheeks. who would disturb you so early in the morning?

of course, today was february 14th. you totally forgot about it, being half asleep. you face immediately lit up with happiness, because who else besides your boyfriend could decide to wake you up in such a cute way.

when minho saw that you had your eyes open, he smiled at you tenderly.

“good morning, my love.”

“morning…” you hummed, closing your eyes again and trying to hide your face in the curve of your boyfriend’s neck.

minho wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you closer. you felt so secure and so warm right now. the smell of his shampoo was so familiar that you nuzzled his neck harder. he smelled like home.

minho chuckled. “don’t wanna get up?”

“mhm.” you shook your head.

“okay… let’s cuddle for a bit.” minho agreed to your lazy mood.

although he had planned a lot for the day, it could wait. he didn’t mind if you wanted to spend some lazy time together. he left one hand wrapped around your waist, while the other started caressing your thigh, drawing circles on it.

you actually managed to fall asleep again for a while. but the sudden ache between your legs woke you up. you opened your eyes, only to find minho looking at you with tenderness. his hand was still on your thigh, but not with the intention to turn you on.

giving him a caring smile, you pulled him by the neck, now making it into a real kiss.

what was meant to be a loving gesture, just to show how much you adore your boyfriend, escalated into a heavy make out quickly. minho didn’t get why you were all over him so suddenly, but he didn’t mind it at all. he just played along, sliding his hand closer to your panties.

“minho-” was all you said against his lips.

but it was enough for him to understand.

“fuck- you’re so wet, baby. i could slip right in.” he gasped, gathering some of your arousal with the pads of his fingers. it actually amazed him how wet you were already. pleased with the mess that he found between your legs, he circled his finders around your clit for a bit — just to tease you.

you couldn’t even come up with a proper sentence, only moans were a signal of how good you felt. minho chuckled. he wanted to play with you so badly, to hear you plea for his touch, but he couldn’t do it on a day like this.

“c’mon then.” he gestured you to climb on top of him.

“noooo,” you whined. “i don’t have the evergy to ride your dick.”

minho shot you a dirty glare, but complied. in a matter of seconds, he flipped you around, so your back was pressing against his toned chest. you could only hear him pull out his dick and start stroking it. it was nothing but slick sound and his heavy breathing behind you.

you wiggled your ass in anticipation. “babyyyy- i need you.”

“you know i can’t just put it in.” minho gave your ass a light smack in response. “wait a bit.”

as he promised, soon enough you felt the mattress sagging next to you. minho scooted closer, lifting your leg up and gliding his dick between your folds. oh, you were dripping wet. he didn’t even need to do anything more.

slowly, minho pushed his cock in and bottomed out, earning a pleased sigh from you.

“i’ve missed you so bad, baby.” he hummed into your neck as his cock started to slide in and out of your pussy.

minho wasn’t rough with it. quite the opposite. the pace was so slow and steady, it almost made you want to beg him for more. but it was satisfying even like that. his heavy breathing was ticking your neck, you could feel his chest rising up and down and his hand was holding you firmly in place.

you bit down on your bottom lip, trying not to be too embarrassingly loud. “you missed me? we just had sex yesterday.”

“and so what? i miss your pretty pussy everyday.” he said, making you laugh.

“you are unbearable, you know it?”

“that’s why you love me.” you could feel him smiling behind you. the moment that you were sharing right now felt so intimate, far from the usual rough sex you two liked.

minho’s thrusts became a bit faster. your eyes were rolling back in satisfaction. it felt so good, so safe and secure. you wanted to stay in that moment forever. your eyes shut as you were taking him all in. his hand then went to play with your clit, getting you to the edge even faster.

his cock was thick enough to make you cum, but minho just couldn’t keep his hands away from your pussy. his fingers were fully covered with your arousal. unable to resist the urge, he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them with loud noises. and that alone made your pussy clench harder around him.

as he finished licking off your juices, the thrusts continued with a much faster pace. you could feel he was getting close — the dick was twitching so much inside you.

“minho–” you moaned, not really paying attention to the words that left your lips anymore. “s-so good-“

minho was making you feel so good on his cock, hitting every right spot. your brain became cloudy, thoughts weren’t forming properly anymore. you could feel your orgasm approaching.

“are you close, baby?” minho whispered right into your ear. you nodded eagerly. “then cum with me.”

the combination of his soft voice, quiet whimpers, his body pressing against you, and, of course, his dick destroying you from the inside, did their job. your legs started trembling as you moaned loudly before reaching your orgasm.

minho was chasing his release just right after you. your pussy felt so warm and familiar around him… he didn’t want to cum, he didn’t want to end this feeling. he just wanted to stay buried inside you for the rest of the day. but that didn’t stop the fact that was so so close to cumming.

he muttered a few words about how much he loves you, before you felt the warmth in your cunt. his cum filled you up so nicely, making you squirm.

both of you tried to catch your breaths as minho’s hand ran up and down your back. he remained buried inside of you. he wouldn’t take it out unless you asked him to. 

for a bit you just laid down, letting the moment settle in. you listened to each other’s breaths. the feeling of secureness and love grew inside you and it almost made you tear up.

but your stomach made you aware of it’s presence, growling loudly.

“we should eat something for breakfast.” you spoke.

“no.” minho replied, tugging you impossibly closer to him. “let’s wait for another five minutes.” 

-> reblog to support me, if you enjoyed reading this and please let me know your thoughts in the comments! ♡

taglist | masterlist

TAGLIST (OPEN): @lvlnijiro @hanjisung-enjoyer @fun-fanfics @soonie1010 @noellllslut @newhope8 @channiebahngswife @chanscappuccino @vivioluh @rockstrhanji @yoontaethings @katsukis1wife @caitlyn98s @yaorzu-blog

#stray kids #skz smut #skz x reader #valentines collab #be my valentine #minho smut #lee know smut #lee minho #skz minho #minho x reader #minho x y/n

[ninthskzmember]

Sharing is Caring. Part III

Lee Know x reader x Bang Chan (Pt 1.) (Pt 2.)

warnings: smut. smut. smut. and more smut. petnames too. and unprotected sex. word count: 3,2k (I got carried away) an: and with that... the Sharing is Caring season comes to an end... Goodnight. (please don't forget to reblog and like <3). Not proofread

Requests are open! :)

You were so used to your boyfriend's lips that kissing Bang Chan was a whole new experience.

His big lips, soft as feathers, made you feel like you were in heaven. His gentle tongue was playing with yours as his hands threw you further against him and his growing bludge.

"You sure about this?" He whispered in your ear, making you get goosebumps.

"Of course I am." You tried to devour his lips again, but he pulled away abit.t

"Once we're into it, I don't think I'll be able to stop, doll face."

"It's okay, Chris; my partner is Minho, if you don't recall."

"I'm not Minho," an almost scary grin came out of his face.

"Hyung, she said she didn't think she could handle Kim Seungmin," Minho informed funny from the couch in the room.

"Oh, so, Kim Seungmin?" He looked at you.

"She said that, and she chose him at first."

"Owh," he said, making a sarcastic face. "Was I not your first choice?"

"She squirted for the first time ever when I told her about you fucking her deep inside." Your boyfriend was setting up the fire between the two of you.

"Baby girl squirted from the thought of me inside her?" Your breath started to be uneven. He barely even touched you, and you could already feel your panties soaked.

"Lee Minho, I told you. You can't interfere." You looked at your boyfriend sprawled on the couch with his gray sweats and white shirt.

"Oh?" Chan looked surprised. "So it's just you and me?"

"Baby, what did you tell him?"

"I think I said something about a threesome." He looked everywhere but at you.

"So, Oppa, great news to you: We're not having a threesome. Minho just thinks he'd like to see me getting fucked," you smiled at the older one. "So it's just your dick and my pussy… and our mouths too."

"And your hands," your boyfriend added.

"Yeah, and our hands." You nodded.

"No, not hands." Chan took your wrists above your head and pinned you up against the wall.

"Say please?" You joked, but you were actually flustered by his sudden movements.

Chan started working on your neck. Again, it felt different, but you didn't dislike it. It was like changing the routine a bit. Maybe you'd do this with a few other members.

"Chris," you let out a moan the moment you felt his hard cock touch your drenched core.

"You like it?" He let out a cocky smile while looking at you for a few seconds. "I certainly like the hickeys your boyfriend left on your neck. I might leave my own."

"Yes, please," you said, moving your hips, looking for some friction and pleasure.

He kissed you again. A wet, messy kiss. Not like the ones before, this one actually made you realize what you were about to do.

You looked at your boyfriend, scanning the scene carefully. Yes, he had lust in his eyes, but you could also perceive a light amount of jealousy.

"Baby," you called Minho. "You okay?"

"Yes love. Keep on," he said, moving a bit, still giving his full attention to the moment in front of him.

Your body wanted to keep going, but your mind was still wrapped around Lee Know's sight.

You started to get a little clumsy with your movements, and Chris looked at you for a brief second, seeing you eyeing your partner. He turned around and looked at him too, calling him with his eyes as he let go of your wrists.

With no words spoken, Minho stood up and walked towards you both.

"Kitten, it's okay, really." He caressed your shoulder. "I was the one who brought this up; I'm okay with it. I know what's going on in your mind."

"I just… feel guilty," you said as Chan moved a bit away from you.

"Baby, don't be." He took you by your waist and wrapped you in a wild embrace. "If you don't want to do it, it's okay; I'm sure Hyung will understand."

Chan just nodded in silence—kind of uncomfortable, actually—and it's understandable since his dick was fucking strangling in his clothes.

"I want to," you nodded along, looking at both men in front of you. "I just want you by my side," you directed your world towards Minho, and he agreed, letting out a sassy smile.

Chan took position again right in front of you and kissed your cheek softly, making a road down towards your neck and then up again to end kissing your lips.

Minho moved you away from the wall, placing himself behind you and reassuring you by placing kisses on your neck.

"You like how Hyung is kissing you?" He whispered in your ear, "Think about how you'd feel when he eats you up."

By inertia, your butt pressed against his—of course, already hard—dick, and you heard him chuckle. “You said I'd have to beg, yet here you are, pressing your ass on my cock, kitten."

You moaned quietly in between kissing Chris, whom you took by his big biceps and pushed to the mattress.

You climbed onto him, your legs at each side of his hips, and took a seat right on top of his now semi-hard penis. You smiled at the older man and bitted your own lower lip a bit, taking an imaginary picture of him in that position, in that moment.

"You can guide me, sweetheart. I love giving pleasure," you whispered close to Chan's face. "Tell me what you like; tell me what you don't." You moved your hips a bit, experimentally, and he let out a small groan.

Minho pleased himself behind you again, standing. He took your hips and pressed you downward while you moved just a little bit faster, making your arousal stain not only your leggins but also Chan's pants.

"Fuck" the three of you cursed at the same time.

"It's so hot when you do that," said your boyfriend from behind, where it was easy to see the wet patch on his hyung's pants.

"When I do what, baby?" You let out the sluttiest voice you ever heard from yourself, looking at him with your fuck-me eyes.

"You just" he took a breath "You just stained Hyung's pants."

Chris looked down, and his grip became tighter on your thighs.

"That's it" Chan groaned and sat up, taking you by your back to lay you on the mattress. "You go there and sit," Chris demanded to Minho, who did what was told.

"You're so wet, and I barely touched you, baby girl." He pecked you and practically ripped your shirt out, kissing your chest above your bra and your belly.

Started playing with the elastic on your leggings, kissing and biting right above it.

"Chris, please," you moaned.

"Look at you, being all disrespectful just because you're horny," he smiled up at you. "We're not that close for you to call me Chris," he slapped your thigh, and another groan left your body. "Try again."

"Chan, please, I need you." You let out a whine, and he chuckled.

"Nicer, but still not what I'm looking for," he said, pressing a soft kiss on your clothed core.

"Please, please, please." You tried to keep his face in your pussy with your thighs, to which he laughed and stopped you with his hands.

"What do you want, sweety?"

"I want you to touch me, taste me, fuck me," you whined again, moving your hips in the air. He pushed you against the mattress.

"That sounds amazing," he said, taking the elastic of your leggings and pulling them off with a smirk.

You were left with just your black lingerie, and you swore Chris could make his own lip bleed from the force he was biting it with.

"Like what you see?" You smiled. "Wish you could have me anytime you want, huh?" You pressed your arms together, squishing your boobs, and he was practically drooling and nodding.

"Too bad" Your boyfriend made a silly remark, and you smiled at his voice but didn't look at him.

You took the older boy from his shirt, pulling him closer into a kiss. He took it off, and you could feel yourself getting breathless at the view of this man from where you were. You clenched around nothing, watching him flex his muscles to make the movement.

Your legs are wrapped around his waist now, making him closer, and then turning him around. Wasting no time, you took his stained pants off.

All that he was wearing now were his black boxers, and damn did he look hot in those. His dickens were twitching under your hand, and the fabric was practically screaming to be relased.

You got on your knees, taking the last piece of clothing from his body, leaving Chris with nothing but his lust on the bed.

It was the prettiest dick you've ever seen—after Minho's, obviously. His tip was leaking just for you to taste, and you just did what you've not ironically done way too many times before.

The second you tasted his fluid and sucked on him, a loud moan was heard in the room. You made eye contact with the culprit with his dick still in your mouth, and he took you by your hair and nodded.

You sucked his dick like it was the most delicious thing you've ever tasted, and he was frightened not to cum so soon.

"Fuck, y/n," he breathed loudly. "I don't want to cum yet."

"Cum, babe, I want to fully taste you," you answered while still bombing his member. "Your dick is so pretty."

You took him as deep as you could in your throat, gagging around him to trigger his orgasm.

"Oh my fucking god" he sounded desesperated. All the moaning coming from his mouth only made you still clench around air, rubbing your clitoral against your heel. "I'm coming, I'm coming, babe, I'm coming." He whined again and held your head against him as he relaxed his cum inside your throat, letting you suck and taste every little drop.

Once you felt his grip loose, you smiled and looked at him with a smile on your face.

"What?" he asked, smiling the same way you did.

You didn't even say a word; you just took out your tongue and showed almost all his cum there. You could literally see how his eyes sparkled and then got dark the second you swallowed it all without even a flinch.

"Come here," he ordered, and you laid on the bed. He took out your bra as if he had a master in that.

He knew you had sensitive boobs; he talked about it with Minho when this topic came up. His member told him how much you love getting your nipples sucked and played with, so that's just what Chan did. He was sucking so sweetly and gently on your boobs that you forgot about everything.

Again, you wrapped your legs around him and brought him closer. His now flacid dick is rubbing against your completely wet pussy.

"Oh, god," you heard him moan in your boob, making you let out a cheeky smile. "Mate, is she always so hot?" the man asked your boyfriend, and after a while, you looked at him.

Minho was all messed up. In his eyes was pure lust, completely dark. He was all sweaty, and his hair was glued to his forehead. His shirt lifted just enough to see a wet spot in his gray pants.

"Babe, did you cum in your pants?" You smiled while looking at his crotch.

"In my defense, I was pretty good until you started deepthroating him," he excused himself, and you laughed out loud.

"Imagine when he's got me in all fours and fucking me deep inside from behind." You winked at your man but, actually, turned both of them on again.

"You liked that thought, huh?" Chan captured your attention again. "You clenched, baby girl. I felt it," he said, and he started kissing you again after a while.

He reached down with one hand and started circling your clit delicately.

"Oh shit," you groaned at the touch.

"You like that?"

"Yes," you breathed out.

"You like that, huh?" he smiled at you knowingly.

"Yes, daddy," you quoted Felix, and a loud scream from Minho took place in the room.

"Un-fucking-believable" He gasped, "She doesn't even call me daddy."

"Because, mate, that's me." As soon as he said the last word, not only did he slide one finger inside you, but two.

You were obviously wet enough to take it, but the loud moan you let out left both men in silence. "Chan, please." You started pleading again.

"Wrong again, princess," he said, taking one out.

"Daddy, please," you said, moving your hips towards him and your head against the pillow.

"That's more like it," he smiled, taking off your pants with his other hand. He reached down and started eating you up.

If his kisses on your upper lips made you feel like you were in heaven, the feeling of him eating your pussy sent you through heaven, hell, space, and beyond.

You weren't able to hear, see, or feel anything else than the pleasure he was making you feel right now. In your ears, there was only white noise, and you couldn't bring yourself to anything.

He was eating your cunt like it was his last meal, while his nose kept rubbing your clit. The next thing you know, you're shaking with his face in between your thighs. He introduced two fingers again, touching your sweet spot from inside, and there it was, squirting all over the bed once again.

"Oh my fucking god, babe," Minho said in a high-pitched voice.

"That's so fucking hot, y/n," he said as he kept fingering you through the last of your high.

Once it was done, you just laid there, catching your breath for a minute.

"You're perfect" Chan said by your side, moving the hairs that were glued to your face, "You're so yummy, I'd eat you anytime."

"Too bad," Lee Know repeated, and you laughed again while looking at him.

"What is your dick doing out?" You asked him, raising your eyebrow, "That was not part of the deal." You weakly got up and walked towards him.

"I just, babe, I…"

"No, Lee Minho," you said, sitting right on top of him, moving your hips delicately since you were still sensitive from the orgasm. "You're in so much trouble now," you said, rubbing your lips together.

Chris was looking at both of you and analyzing whether watching instead of participating was as interesting for him as it was for Minho.

"How many times did you come?" you asked.

"Two," he answered, "once in my pants, and then when you got all high-pitchy and moany."

"And that's not fair for me or for your Hyung; you know that, right?" You asked and started kissing his neck, at the exact points where you know it drives him insane.

"You're making me hard again," he said, avoiding the question.

"I know that," you answered quickly.

"I'm not begging."

"Then don't" You kissed him passionately as he grabbed your waist and guided you through your ride.

While your man was busy with your kiss, you called Christopher with your hand to walk over to you both.

You took Minho's dick and placed it in your entrance, almost sliding in, and moved like that a few times. He looked at you with the most deadly look he ever gave you.

"Oh, I'm sorry, babe," you smiled and slided him inside you, but just the tip and then got him out again.

"Don't make me pin you down, kitten," he said, grabbing his own dick and aligning it with your pussycat.

You smiled and got up, taking Lee's wrists on top of his head and leaning over to him, letting Chris have you all for himself.

He did not doubt himself once and slid himself inside you.

A brand new feeling, a brand new stretch.

"Oh my god, you're huge," you moaned as your boy's friend Dick was getting inside.

"I've been told," he said, a bit out of breath. "You're so tight."

"I've been told," you said this time.

"Wait a minute; she stretches really well."

"You shut your mouth," you said between teeth. "Move; you feel so nice inside, Daddy."

Minho flexed his muscles, looking you straight in the eye. You really never called him that.

"Oh god, babe, he's making me feel so good," you said while Chris started pounding you from behind, making your boobs jump in front of Minho's face.

You started letting out every single sound you wanted to make, knowing that your boyfriend gets turned on by them.

Soon, between nasty words, moans, and a bit of 'accidentally' rubbing Minho's dick with your legs, you could hear him moaning with you two.

"Chris, daddy, I'm close. Don't stop," you whined, and he kept doing exactly what he was doing.

"Jagi," your boyfriend called you, and you hardly opened your eyes to look at him with a pleading look.

"I can't, Lee Know, he's making me feel so good; it's going to take way more from you to let him go."

Chris slid his hand on your throat and pressed just enough for you to feel an electric wave through your body. And you did the same thing to the one who was sitting, hearing a groan from him and feeling a buzz in the palm of your hand.

"We need to be even," you said out of nowhere. "Just let me cum once more, babe." It was your sub-side talking shit; you were so used to being under Minho's control that you were asking permission to come again.

"I'm going to cum," Chan said, moaning, breathless.

"Come inside," you said, pulling your hips backwards.

"Y/n, I don't think… I…" he stuttered.

"Please, daddy, please, please." You kept repeating it and pulling your hips

"Fuck," he let out a big groan, and you felt it. You felt his warm cum fill you up, and you felt how it was so much more than what you swallowed.

"Oh my god." You rolled your eyes. "A bit more, please," you whined, and he kept moving inside you and touching your clit just to make you explode again.

You slid Chan's cock out of you just to penetrate yourself with your boyfriend, making him feel how hard and tight you were clenching.

"Do it, babe, please," you whined at your boyfriend this time, and he started thrusting at you, touching your g-spot repeatedly.

"I love you so much," he said in your ear, and it was enough for you to let out all that liquid again, squirting around your boyfriend, who just kept going in and out, looking for his own release.

It only took a few seconds because your twitches were so hard and stimulative.

"I love you too," you said while he let out his cum inside you too.

The three of you lay in bed in silence for a few minutes.

"So… Kim Seungmin?" You said it quietly.

"You're NOT calling him daddy," your boyfriend said quickly, and Chan let out a laugh.

This is definitely not the last time this is going to happen.

Bonus

taglist: @httpswilloww

#skz #skz imagines #stray kids #lee know #stray kids x reader #skz smut #bang chan #lee know imagines #minho x y/n #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bangchan smut #bang chan smut #bangchan x reader #minho x reader

[catiuskaa]

I.O.U. [pinky promise]

SUMMARY: minho’s fear of heights is not alone, because airplanes are also in the equation. but rest assured, lovely strangers like you are there to help him.

TAGGING! @evermourning, i finally finished minho’s vers <3 hope you like it!

TW: slight panic attack, mentions of anxiety, mentions of aerophobia (fear of flying), swearing, [still fluff af].

WC: 3.1k

[★☆✈️☆★]

Everyone that knew a bit of StrayKids and their members knew for a fact that their second oldest hyung had a problem with heights. But, added to the issue, planes where also not really a comfortable idea for the cat owner, as mandatory as they were for his career path.

“We’re on the airport, can we go back now?” He’d joke everytime they had to travel, sometimes earning small giggles from Jisung, Hyunjin or Felix, or teasing groans from Seungmin.

They had been informed that this airplane’s rows had space for two people per row. Normally the situation would be handled by sitting one of the members next to him, and he was fine with that.

“Oh, the seat 16A can’t be used due to its condition in case of evacuation. Excuse us for the late notice, we’ll find you other seat right away.”

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

He had simply nodded, looking at his only hyung with anxiousness on his eyes. Yongbok hugged his arm while Han held his hand tight.

“It’ll be ok, Minho hyung.” Jeongin tried to comfort him. He smiled weakly, wishing for the youngest to be right, but deep down, he knew it was bullshit. He felt dizzy, and he hadn’t even got on the damn plane to begin with. Chan offered to trade seats, but all truth be told, he felt like he needed to do this one on his own. He liked that the members supported him, but he didn’t want to be babied. Even if he would complain about the alleged “lack of empathy” the group had with him —always in a teasing manner— he declined the offer nicely.

He left Felix’s side once the row 16 was behind him, seating in one of the two seats in row 21, as far as he could from the window, even though he could still see the finger connected to the plane and some people coming inside it. He knew that Changbin and Seungmin weren’t far away from him. He’d be ok. Yeah. He could do this. He was Lee Know, pro idol. He had to hold back the awkward giggle that the thought gave him, and snorted lowly.

“Sorry, can I…?” You trailed off, apologetically pointing to the seat next to him. He smiled sheepishly and nodded, feeling his tongue stuck, and connected it to because of how nervous he was, letting you pass through. You sat next to him, smiled kindly and then looked down at your phone.

He stared at you for a bit, a bit jealous of how calm you looked. He was on the edge, thinking of walking out and paying for a taxi. From Australia to Korea? Nevermind. On a second thought, he would pay for a fucking submarine. Or autostop… with boats. Or swim.

At this point, he wasn’t sure if he would mind drowning too much.

“First time flying? You look kinda nervous, mate.” You joked lightly, taking one of your headphones off when you noticed his eyes on you, his fidgeting and his shaky leg.

He noticed an Australian accent rolling off your tone, and the known sound made him relax a bit.

“Oh… s-sorry… eh, no, actually. It’s just… It’s for work, but I don’t really… enjoy…flying.” He stumbled on his words, his hands traveling below his thighs. He felt them cold. And sweaty.

God, this was going to be the death of him.

“Damn. That’s tough. Sorry for you, bud.” You sighed, sharing the shittyness of his situation.

“It’s fine, I guess. You? Work related?” He never was in the mood for initiating small talk, but he desperately needed to cling onto something so he would just stop thinking about the fucking plane.

“Nah. Visited the family, going back home now.” You smiled at him, trying to comfort him a bit. “Hope they pay you well if they make you fly.” You laughed.

He giggled slighlty, and nodded. “Not to brag, but that they do. At least I have that.” You laughed at his honesty.

You presented yourself in hopes of making him feel less awkward. With a slight hesitation, you ended up adding. “Just, don’t be afraid of pulling my headphones off or anything if you need. It’s ok to be scared, mate,” you mentioned with a calm smile. “You know, my sister is terrified of heights. I know its not the same… but stilll. ‘M used to it.”

Minho looked at you as if you had fallen straight from Heaven, all for the right reasons. “…pretty name. Uh. Yeah.” He mumbled messily, to which you laughed. He smiled. “Lee Minho. Don’t tempt me too much, ‘cause I might destroy the seat in a panic attack.”

You giggled, and that lowered the burden on his shoulders a bit.

The conversation died, turning in a comfortable silence, but Minho regained conciense of his surroundings once the plane started working, the vibration of the motors all through the plane. He started shaking his leg anxiously, picking the skin between his fingers. Unbeknownst to him, his breathing pace quickened by minutes. He could hear his heartbeat right on his ears.

Fuck, he couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t-

“Hey, Minho, you there?”

Your soft tone of voice brought him back for a second. You noticed how he eyed to the window behind you, so you closed it. You took out of your pocket your headphones, and bended down to your backpack just to take other headphones and an adapter, plugged it to your phone and gestured to him.

“Care to miss the evacuating instructions? If it makes you feel any better, I know them by heart. Pinky promise.”

He smiled lightly, a tad embarassed, still, a small chuckle left his lips as he took the headphones.

“You choose or I choose?”

He seemed troubled, a bit lightheaded, subconciously focusing more on the plane than anything else.

“We’ll take turns, then.” You smiled.

You played music by presing the shuffle button on your liked songs, skipping until you’d find something to listen to. Bruno Mars came along, and you let it be. It was a safe choice, right? Who doesn’t like Bruno Mars?

When Finesse started playing on his headphones, Minho failed holding back a smile. The known melody caressed his mind, the shaking now turned to tapping to the rythm. You smiled and let him be, feeling better now that your flightmate didn’t look like he wanted to die before departure, and happy that you had been able to help.

You left your phone on your leg, clinging your arm on the the armrest in between both of you. He tried to get comfortable, just to find your hand in the same place as his. He quickly apologized, pink tinting his cheeks, and you brushed it off with a sympathetic smile.

But then, the airplane started going faster, and faster, and the music wasn’t able to cover the sound that the air made when crashing to the metal walls of the aircraft. Minho felt on the edge of a heart attack, and in a desperate cry to just calm down he gripped your wrist, to which you turned your arm to hold his hand properly, caressing his palm with your thumb. It reminded him of what Yongbok used to do, and the familiar thougth calmed his dizzy, crowded mind for a few seconds.

“Hey champ, we’re on air.”

Again, your voice made him open his eyes, ones he didn’t realise he had closed, and suddenly, he recognised the new melody that was playing for both of you.

“…Wonder Girls?” He whispered, staring deeply into your eyes.

You blinked repeatedly, confused, then smiled. “Oh, yeah. You don’t like it? You can change the music if you want…”

“No…! It’s… it’s ok.”

Minho found himself forgetting about flying, focused on the music, without being able to notice his small smile and pink colored cheeks nor how he was humming to the melody.

Half of the flight had passed, which meant 5 hours had passed and other 5 were left. Minho had fallen asleep, one of the headphones hanging low on his neck, the other one threatening to fall down.

Turbulence shook the aircraft slightly, enough for the sleeping beauty to move, head falling to your shoulder. You tensed up, blushed, then relaxed and leaned into him, effort settled on trying to find a position that wouldn’t mean infinite neck pain the moment he would wake up.

“Don’t worry too much. He owes you a big one, but he’s a heavy sleeper. Plane could fall down and he wouldn’t notice.” Another strong-looking young man with black, slightly-curled hair joked. He was waiting in line for the bathroom. He was strangely wearing a black rain hat, inside of the plane. You thought of it as extravagant, but brushed it off.

“Oh, you know him?” You questioned with a small smile.

He giggled, and you knew he was smiling underneath his black mask because of the creases close to his eyes. “You could say that, yeah,” he teased. “We work together.”

“That makes me feel better. He seemed quite nervous before.”

“I hope he isn’t giving you any trouble…” he mentioned with an awkward tone.

“Not at all, mate! Don’t sweat, he’s really kind. Wish my coworkers were this nice.”

He blinked, eyes big, surprise pampered all over the features you could see. “Kind?”

“Yeah…?” You answered with doubt in your tone.

“No… it’s just that, mind you, but no one really describes Minho hyung as kind. Not by a first impression, really... no, but he is, yeah. ‘M glad you noticed, otherwise the trip could be very long.”

You giggled lowly, still slightly confused but happy that at least Minho wasn’t traveling completely on his own.

“Oh, sorry. Seo Changbin.” He tilted his hat on your direction, and you snorted while presenting yourself.

“G’day, mate.” You winked.

“See ya, Aussie.” He teased.

You’d kept on reading in your phone, Minho snuggling into you from time to time which made your cheeks pink as you laughed as lowly as you could, because sleeping when afraid of flying was really one of the best medicines, but suddenly noticed the belt sign turning on. Windows still fully blue, you sighed at the thought of turbulence coming. So you wouldn’t need to move Minho, you clung your feet to your backpack and stuffed everything inside of it, leaving only your small blanket and phone outside, alongside with the pair of headphones. You’d taken Minho’s a while ago, as they had fallen onto his lap.

The armrest was pushed back so Minho could lay on your shoulder better, and you doubted if you should lower it down. You definetely didn’t want to wake him up, that’s for sure. The plane started shaking, enough for anyone to notice, but you focused on putting Minho’s belt on, finally decided on lowering the armrest, setting his arm first and then you made yours link to his as smoothly as you could, holding hands.

You noticed that as the airplane trembled, Minho was waking up.

“Minho, you up?” You whispered, your warm breath on his neck giving him chills.

He tensed up, squeezing your hand as soon as he noticed his surroundings shaking. He suddenly felt small, anxious and in total danger.

“Minho, can you hear me? If you feel like you can’t answer, nod.”

He nodded.

“I want you to concentrate on my voice, can you do that?”

His grip on your hand got tighter as the aircraft kept shaking, but he nodded.

“Do you know how airplanes fight off turbulences?”

“N-no…” he mumbled.

“Basically, the usual protocol is to avoid them.” You started speaking softly into his ear, barely a murmur, tracing shapes with your fingers on the back of his hands and the part of his forearms that could be seen because of the sleeves of his shirt, rolled up just below his elbows.

“There are two ways of dealing with them.” You looked at him, noticing how his eyes were fixiated on the movements your hand made, making you move your gaze to the bracelet he was wearing. “One, they are prepared for it and they avoid it.”

“What if they aren’t prepared?” He mumbled, fear showing through his weak tone. You smiled, because he was trying to pay attention to you and at least a bit less to the airplane.

“Then the pilot goes above or below it, that’s why you feel like the plane is going up or down really fast. But it’s a controlled move.” You noted. “You’re not in danger, Minho.”

He suddenly nuzzled into your neck, trying to hold back tears. He felt safer, but still, his heartbeat kept running like crazy, beating so loud that he could hear it in his ears. Breathing turned like a complicated task as he struggled to keep calm.

“Follow my breathing, Minho. I need you to do that, ok?”

You started breathing in and out at a really slow pace, noticing him following you despite trembling from crying silently into the crook of your neck. A small voice in your head whispered a question, and for a moment you agreeded, because why wasn’t this a bit awkward? Why were you feeling all flustered and worried over someone you met less than 10 hours ago?

The turbulence went away, and the plane stopped shaking.

You moved the hand that was free, the other still holding Minho’s, and you softly stroked his hair. He moved his head back from you a bit, just enough for you to notice the tears on his cheeks. You quickly wiped them away and smiled.

“It’s ok, Minho. It’s over.”

He blushed and nodded, eyes glossy as he leaned back on his seat, his cold hand never leaving your warm one, trying to calm himself. Thank God you were there.

“I’m-“

“Don’t you dare apologize,” you threatened in a teasing manner. “You’re ok. It’s no big deal, really.”

He felt heat rush to his face as a smile plastered in your features. He closed his eyes, flustered, and eventually fell asleep again.

The plane landed while he was sleep. You wondered how much could a person sleep, because out of the ten hours of flight, he slept for almost 6 of them, when you could only manage to rest for 3.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, you made it.” He looked at you, as if something was different, as you walked through his legs to go get your suitcase from the compartment above.

“I didn’t wake up for landing?” He asked softly, voice a bit raspy.

“Nope. Slept through it like a lucky motherfucker,” you laughed.

He started tiding up his stuff in his backpack and thanked when you gave him his own luggage.

“It was a pleasure to meet ya. I’ll see ya again. G’day!”

Minho froze as you walked away. He felt a little sting on his chest, one he didn’t quite understand as he shook his head sideways as joined the rest of the group outside.

But then, a femenine voice called.

“Chris!”

He recognized that voice. That voice that had lulled him to sleep, to a state of calmness that he had never achieved before in an airplane.

“Mate!”

You and Chris shook hands vigorously, patting each other’s backs.

After all, how could you forget your co-star in that tv add from years ago? Your mom still had contact with his mom —as weird as it can sound— and still made funny remarks about it; a long-lasting joke in the family by now.

“I knew your name sounded familiar!” You smiled to Changbin, starting some sort of small talk as the fellow Aussie presented each member.

Yeah. Minho scoffed.

Luck? Most likely?

Unbelievable.

Of course you knew Chan. Everyone knew Chan, for fuck’s sake. He directed himself to Han and Jeongin, not thinking about the fuzzy feeling on his hands when he eyed to yours, as if wanting to hold them again.

What the fuck? What was going on with him?

Their security came by pretty fast, allowing you to tag along with them as it was too early in the morning for anyone to really care. The members walked in front of you, who was ‘caching up’ with Chan.

“So? What do you think?” Chan asked in the strongest accent he could, as a way of making it harder for the rest to understand.

“He’s brave. And kind. I’m surprised he didn’t kick me for being too nosy or touchy.” He gave you a look as he wiggled his eyebrows, and you pushed him teasingly as he giggled. “Shut up, you cunt. You’re lucky I was on the plane.”

“Thanks, mate. I owe you one.” He mentioned sincerely. “And Minho does, too.” He teased, winking at you.

Because it wasn’t mere coincidence the fact that you were so nice to Minho, helping him out. You’d recognised the name, and his face looked thoroughly familiar. As soon as the idol fell asleep you texted your friend, hoping he was using the airplane’s wifi. He replied asking for a favour, for you to take care of the pretty man till landing, because Chris was quite worried about him.

You walked with them until they reached the cars prepared for the group. And when he was just about to run the whole hallway to ask you to wait, begging for someone, anyone, to do something about how the fuck was anything of this even possible or real, you turned and hugged Chan, waving goodbye to the members from outside the car.

Minho and you locked gazes, and you quickly pointed to your left wrist with your cheeks turning pink, leaving the parking and walking towards your own vehicle.

He didn’t understand, but remained looking to your figure from the distance and how it became smaller and smaller while they were exiting the airport.

“What’s that, hyung?”

He turned around to face Jeongin, who was chewing some strawberry gum that the members were passing around for regulating the pressure after the flight, and looked to where he was pointing: his left wrist.

Tied to his black bracelet, the one you’d been fidgeting with, there was a small, light blue ribbon. Something clicked on his head as he now knew what was different: your hair was resting on your shoulders when he woke up. He untied it with utter care on his movements, causing a slight surprise on Jeongin, and Hyunjin —as we all know, curiosity killed the dumpling.

Since when did their hyung took so much care in something so small?

“Well? What is it?” Hyunjin asked.

Minho held back a smile as he read what was scribbled on the small fabric.

‘Think my name’s pretty? I think you’ll like this better.’

Followed by… a phone number.

He smiled, flustered. He didn’t like it.

He loved it.

~kats, who wanted to post because IDK, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!1!1!!1!1!!11

#i love this #stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #soft hours #stray kids lee minho #lee minho fluff #minho fluff #lee minho #stray kids minho #minho x reader #minho x y/n #minho x you #lee know x you #lee know fanfic #lee know x reader

[majesty31]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 | 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚑𝚘 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝒂/𝒏: 𝑯𝒊𝒊, 𝒔𝒐 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒐 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒚 𝒓𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅, 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒍, 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉, 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔/𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: 𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉, 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒓𝒔, 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅, 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒈

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟑𝒌

The day you first entered the maze you knew something was off, not just the obvious fast that you were a girl in a glade full of boys but also your memories. You remembered. And not just the little bits and pieces the other boys did but you remembered faces, names, and the maze.

You didn't know the reason why you'd been sent to the maze, and you didn't remember who had sent you there but you remembered the maze and the glade, as if you'd been their before or seen it somewhere. You remembered the boys, you recognized their faces and that freaked you out more than you let yourself know. But there was one boy who you recognized more than the rest, you knew his name before he told you it and you knew he was a runner.

Minho.

You never shared this with any of the boys for you knew that they would most likely throw you in the maze to die. You feared everyone when you realized it, feared they would kill you, slice you in half and string you up for everyone to remember, so you stayed away from everyone and never talked. You felt something deep in your chest that made you feel as if you were different from them, as if you were sent here for different reasons. And it scared you.

All the boys were really nice to you, they all tired to get you come out of your shell, they would tell you it was okay to be scared but they didn't understand the reasons you were scared in the first place. You didn't fear the maze or the things that were inside, you feared them, and your secret.

And after two months of silence from you they all begun to wonder and worry. They made up their own conclusions as to why you never spoke and why you shut down whenever they came near. Some said you were just a scared little girl, others said you were mute and the rest said you were stupid. They were a wrong, they didn't know a thing about anything. About the maze, about the people who sent you all here. They were as clueless as a lamb for the slaughter.

But you hated it in there, you hated being trapped, you hated being the only one with memories and you hated that you didn't know why the hell they put you in there. Why they put all of them in there. No matter how hard you raked your brain you just couldn't think of one reason.

"Minho," You were surprised at the sound of your voice, it was a lot different than you had expected, and Minho who had turned around so fast that the water in his cup splashed all over your face must have thought the same thing.

That morning you had woken up and thought enough was enough, you were going to stop hiding around and wallowing in your own self pity and do something to get out. You were done with not talking, you were done with ignoring everyone and you were done with wondering how the hell to get out of here. It was time to go in there and see for yourself. And Minho was the one and only way to do that.

"Holy shuck," He whispered, stepping closer to your wet form, he didn't seem to notice how your face was dripping or it was just that he didn't care. His face was full of shock, or was it awe? You didn't know, all you did know was the way Minho was looking at you right now made your stomach turn in a way you've never felt before. "Say that again,"

"Do you not see my face?" You questioned, refuring to the water still dripping off. Then it seemed to click. His eyes widened and a small smirk made way on his face. One that you loved.

"Sorry," He said as he tired wiping it away with his sleeve, which only irritated you more. You pushed his arm away but he didn't even seem to care, for the look in his eyes never vanished. He seemed as if in a daze, or dream.

"Will you stop?" You questioned, shifting under his stare.

"Stop what?"

"That,"

"What?"

"Never mind its not important, what is important is why I came to talk to you," You said with a roll of your eyes, this only made the boy worse it seemed. You furrowed your brows but continued. "Uh anyways. I came here because I wanted to ask you about becoming a runner," It grew silent for what felt like forever, as if he was processing what you had just said.

"Are you joking?"

"Does it look like I joke?" He scanned your serious face for what also felt like forever.

"You? The girl whose never said a single word since she came from the box for who knows why wants to become a runner?" You nodded. And then he started laughing. You stared, watched and waited until he was done. Your jaw was clenched as were your fits. You did not find this funny.

"I'm serous. I think I can help,"

"I don't think so shebean," He patted the top of your head as if you were some child which only added to the irritation. You slapped his hand away before grabbing him by the coler of his shift and pulled his stunned face twards yours, your lips close, and your eyes never left his wide ones.

"Don't treat me like a child Minho. I know you must think the reason why I didn't talk was because I was scared but you sorely wrong. I know more than you think about the maze, I know I can help you, I can help us all get out. I know you haven't found a way out, I know you've searched the whole damn place and still nothing. You've lost hope and you think there is no way out, but I know there is and I can help you find it," He stood there shocked, his mouth opened but he didn't have a word to say.

"Okay," And thats how you became a runner. For the next week you trained and then finally you went into the maze. And it was like you expected, all familiar. You didn't feel scared as you ran next to Minho, and you realized how you already started turning before Minho had even told you were to go, as if you knew the way.

And Minho noticed this. He noticed it all. He saw the way you knew the maze as if it were written on the back of your hand, he saw the way you knew the order to which walls would open what days and it was starting to scare him. You knew far to much for someone who just started. But as much as it scared him he never said a word, he was going to at first but than something happened.

You happened.

He started to fall for you, and he hated himself for it. He was like every other shuck face in the stupid glade. But he didn't care, for when he was with you which seemed to be all the time, he felt as if he weren't in the glade, he felt as if they weren't trapped in a death prison with no escape. He felt alive, he felt sane and he felt a sense of normality.

And he just couldn't seem to get enough of you, you felt like a drug to him, and he caught himself thinking about you at the most random times, he would think about you in the dead of night, when everyone was asleep he was up, thinking about you. And he just couldn't keep you out of his head, no matter how hard he tried it just seemed impossible.

As for you, you felt a connection with the boy, one you've never felt, one you never thought could even be possible. He was like you other half, as if someone had ripped you apart and know you had found each other, making the other whole again. But you were still scared, each night you would have dreams, each reveling more and more of the past, and each one was filled with Minho.

You didn't know if they were just dreams or if they were memories, you hoped each morning they were just dreams for what you did to him was something you knew he would never forgive you for, something he would maybe even kill you for.

So you kept you mouth shut about them as-well.

And after three months another greenie had come up, one that you recognized in an instant, and before you even remembered his name you did. You had seen him in your dreams, but he was different, he was reblouse, and you knew he did something to get him put down here, but you just couldn't remember what it was. And it was driving you crazy. For you had little bits and pieces of it but not the full puzzle.

And too soon, much to soon the boy became a runner, a lot of things started going wrong the second he showed up, and everyone saw this. But no one said a word about it other than Gally of course. But the rest saw hope in him, a hope that maybe he was the key to getting out, so when Minho had declared him a runner everyone kept their mouths shut when you three entered the maze.

But that day, was a day you would never forget, a day you wished never happened, a day he wished never happened.

You were running a good distance behind Thomas and Minho, looking around the maze when you spotted it. It looked awful, worse than any nightmare, worse than any monster and you new that you wouldn't be able to get away from this thing. It was too close.

But you tired anyways, yelling out to the boys and running faster than you had before, the greavior right at your heels, screaming and snapping its jaw as if trying to catch you in its mouth.

When Minho saw you he knew, and it made his heart drop, it was too close, it was too fast, and you were already tired from the run. He could see you struggling to keep moving, he felt sick to his stomach when he saw the cold fear laced in your eyes, he wanted to run towards you and take your place but Thomas grabbed his shirt pulling him to run before him.

But Minho stopped running altogether the second he heard your screams, screams he knew he'd hear in his nightmares, screams that made his heart shatter into a million pieces. He turned around, his eyes going towards your screaming and bloody form that was laid on the cold stone floor. The greivor was on-top of you, its jaw inches from your crying face, the only thing that kept it away was the stick that was pressed agents it, one that you must have found near you.

He had never heard cries or screams like this and he hopped he would never hear them again. He tired running towards you but thomas held him back, yelling at him to keep going and how it was to late for you, but Minho was barely listening to him, his eyes were fixed on you. He felt his whole body shaking, he thought he might cry, yell something, anything. This couldn't be your ending. He didn't even get to say everything he wanted to. He never told you his feelings, or how much he thought about you, or how he craved to be kissed by you or even just hugged by you.

It all felt as if it were happening in slow motion, Thomas's yelling was background noise, as was you, all he could hear were the same thoughts in his head. You can't leave her. You can't leave her. You love her. You love her! They were yelling at him. His heart felt as if it would explode, he just wanted this nightmare to end. It had to end now!

You screamed louder, so loud that Minho was sure they heard you from all the way in the glade. You felt something stab your side and just like that you blacked out.

Minho and Thomas ran towards you the second the greavior ran off, leaving you there, bloody, crying and violent. You were stung. Dread filled both boys when they saw you, how you acted. They knew. And no matter what you were ruined.

They dragged your body back to the glade, all of the boys were already at the opening. They must have heard your screams.

~~~

You woke up with a gasp, sitting up with wide eyes as you looked around the room, trying to figure out where the hell you were. The room was dark, and empty except for a body that was slouched over on a chair. Minho.

You tired moving off the bed but this only woke him, cauing him to move towards you, worry written all over his face. You back away, tears coming to your eyes and your hands pushing at him. He was confused, and looked to be scared. You don't think you've ever seen him scared.

"Y/N wha-"

"Get away from me!" You yelled, falling off the bed completely when he tired to reach out to you again. You were quick to stand up but he was also quick to reach you.

"What the shuck is going o-"

"Stop Minho please don't come near-"

"Why not!? What did I do? What did you see?" Your hands were shaking, your face was wet and you were so scared. He could see it. And it only made him more and more worried.

"You," He blinked, confusion taking over all other emotion.

"What?"

"I saw." You paused, catching your breath and calming your nerves. "I saw you,"

"What did you see?" He asked again. Stepping a little closer. You looked at the ground, knowing if you told him you might lose him forever. You had grown to love him, and you were starting to wonder if maybe he felt the same.

"You will hate me Minho,"

"I couldn't ever hate you." You shock your head. He was right in front of you now. You could see his shoes and feel his warmed. He lifted your chin, his eyes connecting with yours. "It doesnt matter what you saw."

"Yes it does," You whispered, taking his hand away from your face. "Minho. I did this to you." His brows furrowed.

"Did what?" He already knew what you were talking about and he didn't know why he was even asking, but he wanted to hear it from you.

"I put you in here. The whole time you were here I was-I was watching from the other side. I saw everything that happened to you. I was in charge of you Minho," He blinked. And everything clicked. Why you knew so much about the maze. He didn't even know what to say, he didn't know how to react.

"What?" His voice was quiet, you've never heard him so quiet. He seemed confused, betrayed and hurt. He backed away from you causing your heart to drop to your stomach.

"I-I was your doctor, I did the tests. You were my test subject, you were the one I was responsible for..." You stopped, your voice breaking when you saw a tear slip from his eyes.

"You?" He was hurt, his heart was shattered. "You did this to me!" He yelled, making you flinch. He trusted you, more than he's ever trusted anyone else before, he fucking fell in love with you. And you were behind all of this! He couldn't believe his ears. He didn't want to believe it.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Sorry doesn't do shit! It doesn't make it all better! No matter what you fucking sa..." He paused, looking at the ground as you heard a sob. "You did this damage to me, to us. You traumatized us all and for what?"

"I-I don-" He moved so fast, so fast that you got wiplash. He pushed you agents the wall, taking both hands and pinning them to the wall.

"You what!?" He yelled. You let out a sob, shaking your head as you looked down. "Look at me!" You didn't do it, you couldn't look into his eyes without it ripping your soul into pieces. But he lifted your chin up, making you look into his eyes. "You what?"

"I don't know why, it hasn't all come back to me yet," he let go of you and took a step back, giving a small laugh as he shock his head.

"Isn't that fucking convenient," You were scared. He never acted this way. "You don't remember why. But it must have been pretty fucking important if it meant to traumatize and experiment on teenagers. Fucking children!"

"But that isn't me anymore!" You yelled back. "I don't know who that girl is anymore. I don..." You felt as if you were going to have a panic attack, you didn't know how to explain it to him, and you were so scared you had just lost him forever.

"Y/N?" His voice was like a background noise. You felt lightheaded and so warm. This wasn't good. You felt yourself waver and stumble. And soon he was right by your side, holding onto you so you wouldnt fall.

"Minho," You cried. "I know. I know you hate me right now," You felt as if you were going to black out at any moment now but you had to say this before. "But I would never do anything she did. I would never hurt you, and I'm so sorry I did," You were only being held up my Minho at this point. You couldn't see his face, you couldn't hear his voice. And then you blacked out.

#maze runner #minho x you #minho fluff #minho the maze runner #maze runner minho #minho maze runner #minho #the maze runner #maze runner thomas #fluff #angst #tmr minho #minho x y/n #minho x reader #maze runner x reader #maze runner newt #maze runner imagine #maze runner fanfiction

[arikazu]

Boyfriend Lee Know headcanons

(Spicy and sweet included)

Chan addition :

Lee know who met you at the animal shelter immediately felt attracted towards your love for his cats.

He is little bit reserved to other people but when he is with you he would talk for hours.

Sleeping on your laps after dance practice is his favorite thing to do.

Buys kitten collar for you he loves strangers to lovers role-playing.

When it was your first time with him he was gentle but whom he was kidding when he saw your pussy he started gulping and let his fingers do all the work.

You had trouble walking but he did all the house chores.

His aftercare involves positive affirmations and playful doodles on your thighs using Sharpies.

His and his three cats would lay on you during the slow Sunday days.

During rain he would go out with you and dance he don't even care if others will see him.

When the dating scandal broke out he was much happier because he got to show you to the world and make the obsessive fans jealous.

Would be the first one to call out haters who dared to spread roumers and comments about you.

He would be the type of boyfriend who would tease you but will often feel empathetic and emotionally attracted to you.

He would be happy if you complimented his dance skills and cooked his favorite food.

He loves to tit fucking he likes the way your breast rubs against his cock.

He loves to give hickeys on your inner thighs and he would intentionally give you hickeys on your neck and cheekbones so others can see that you have a boyfriend.

He don't know how to swim but once he learns he is gonna fuck you inside the pool so others can see that you have a boyfriend and don't get to see you in the swimsuit.

He is not a possessive boyfriend but he would be jealous if the boys are close to you.

He is like a cat he would share his attention to everyone but only wants your attention to him.

Have a spank kink would love to spank you ass while doing doggy position.

He loves cow girl and doggy style.

Is obsessed with your ass would spank it whenever he gets the chance.

He buys you cookies and perfume whenever he goes abroad for tours.

Would respect your culture and family.

He would cook on weekends.

Even if you don't live together your apartment would be his second house and his safe heaven.

Would love to teach you his choreography.

You and him wear matching cat ring

Calls you kitty or Lil kitten.

Texts with him are like this

End of the day he loves you and appreciate whatever you do for him.

#stray kids #stray kids ff #straykids x you #straykids fanfic #straykids fluff #skz imagines #skz #straykids angst #skz stay #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids minho #straykids smau #straykids smut #skz reactions #skz fluff #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #minho x y/n #minho x reader #minho x you #skz minho #lee know x reader #stray kids lee know #lee know #lee know x you

[rachalixie]

when he’s in a bad mood all he needs is you.

a/n: i wrote this whilst listening to i want to write you a song by one direction so you cannot blame me for the disgusting sweetness going on here. you can only blame one direction.

you know something is wrong when he walks through the door and he doesn’t greet you. you hear his work bag thump to the floor, you hear him kicking off his shoes, but not a word comes out of his mouth even as he turns the corner to meet you in the living room. 

you have a routine. your day typically ends an hour before his, so you have time to dress in comfier clothes and relax before he gets home, where he greets you with a different pet name as he walks through the door and you pretend to be disgusted even though you secretly kind of love it. and he knows it.

he doesn’t do this as he quietly curls up on the couch next to you and sets his head into your lap, forehead pressed to your lower belly and arms wrapped around you tight. you’re startled for a moment; as much as he loves cuddling with you, you’re almost always the one who has to initiate it. he usually stays grumpy on his side of the couch until you drag him over and into you, so it surprised you that he immediately stuck himself to your side.

the hand that isn’t on his back wanders to his head, and you scratch lightly at his scalp and revel in how he goes boneless against you from just a few movements of your fingers. you repeat the action for a few minutes, letting his breaths calm down and his heartbeat slow in its pace. 

the hand that isn’t on his back wanders to his head, and you scratch lightly at his scalp and revel in how he goes boneless against you from just a few movements of your fingers. you repeat the action for a few minutes, letting his breaths calm down and his heartbeat slow in its pace. 

“love you, min.” you say, smiling down at him with fond eyes even though you know he couldn’t see you from the way his face was smooshed against you.

“love you.” he mumbles, the crack in his voice muffled by your hoodie.

“missed you today,” you follow, hand moving to scritch at the nape of his neck for a second, making him shiver against your hand. you miss him every day, but he doesn’t need to hear that right now.

“missed you.” his voice is quieter, small and weary.

“you want to talk about it?” you finally ask.

“no.” you can almost hear the pout in his voice. 

“well, do i need to beat someone up for you?”

“...maybe.”

“come up here and cuddle me properly,” you say with an eye roll, patting his back a couple times before helping him into a seated position. there’s tear stains dotting the pocket of your sweatshirt, but you don’t mention it as he curls up into you, vertically this time. he takes one of your hands in both of his and fiddles with it, your rings, your fingers, your palm. 

he’s quiet again, save for a small sniffle every few moments, and you want to erase every single thing that’s ever made this boy cry. you want to protect him from everything bad in the world and keep him safe and sound. you want him by your side always. 

“here’s what we’re going to do. i’m going to put on a movie and order a pizza, and we’re not going to move from this couch at all. how does that sound?” you ask, already grabbing your phone from the side table.

“good,” he hums, wiggling himself impossibly closer into you, content for the first time all day.

—

soft hours

#stray kids imagines #skz fluff #minho imagines #lee minho fluff #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #minho x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #soft #stray kids x reader #minho x y/n #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #stray kids reactions #stray kids headcanons #stray kids fic

[valentinetypewriter]

Ivy trio x Y/n incorrect quotes

thought I'd try branching out from only Marauders content so I hope you all like this

Masterlist

Newt: Y/n! What did I tell you about lying?

Y/n, looking down: ...That it only works on Thomas

—

Newt: How are we supposed to put a tracker the size of a penny on Minho without him noticing?

Y/n: Hey, Minho, I bet you 5 bucks that you can't swallow this penny

Minho: *takes and swallows tracker* Pay up, loser

Newt: …

—

Y/n: Made you all playlists!

Y/n: Thomas, yours has only heavy metal, and is dark like your soul

Y/n: Newt, yours has sad songs and blues to pair with your crippling depression

Y/n: And Minho has the ABBA Gold album

—

Newt: Christmas is cancelled

Thomas: You can't cancel a holiday

Newt: Keep it up, Tommy, and you'll lose New Year's too

Thomas: What does that mean?

Newt: Y/n, take New Year's away from Thomas

—

Minho: Newt, you'll be working with Thomas and Y/n

Newt: Alright! My fantasy threesome!

Everyone else: *blank stares*

Newt: ...Of people on a team

—

Newt: I’m so happy two of my favourite people are getting along now

Minho: Uh, Y/n and Thomas are not getting along

Newt: They’re not trying to kill each other

Minho: You may have a point

—

Thomas: ARE YOU-

Y/n: Fucking

Thomas: KIDDING ME?! YOU-

Y/n Fucking

Thomas: IDIOT!

Minho: …What was that?

Y/n: Newt banned Thomas from swearing, so I’m helping him out

—

Minho: I think we're missing something

Newt: Teamwork?

Y/n: Cohesion?

Thomas: A general sense of what we’re doing?

#the maze runner #tmr #tmr newt #tmr thomas #tmr minho #The ivy trio #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner x you #tmr x reader #The maze runner incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #the scorch trials #the death cure #newt x reader #newt x y/n #thomas x reader #Thomas x y/n #minho x reader #minho x y/n #tmr thomas x reader #tmr newt x reader #tmr minho x reader

[gimmeurtmi]

what you want — lee know

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, pwp, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, riding, hickies, very slight nipple play (m receiving), just pure filth no plot

inspo: skz talker episode 61, 16:25.

notes: it’s been so long and i’m still shaking off the rust on my writing muscles!! please lmk your thoughts. feedback is v appreciated <3

{ wc: 2389 }

you’ve been waiting for minho to come home all day. you could barely focus on anything since you woke up, a selfie from your boyfriend waiting for you.

‘i’m gonna die pt is gonna kill me’ was attached underneath the selfie he sent you. minho, in a black tank top that was admittedly a size too small for him, sweat and redness coating his skin.

it was cruel of him to send you such a selfie, turning you into a needy mess with something as simple as that. you had to write a paper—and now was not the time for him to be plaguing your thoughts. you managed to write most of it, in between thoughts of his strong arms and sculpted chest. in between thoughts of lining his skin with kisses and hearing his moans.

it was evening now, and minho was due home any minute—your excitement to see him growing to the point you checked your phone three times in four mintues just waiting for his arrival time to show up on your phone.

the sound of keys in the door brought you to your feet, rushing towards your boyfriend.

“hi jagi,” he smiled at you, leaning closer to kiss your cheek sweetly. “how are you?”

“horny,” you blurted out. you quickly gasped, covering your mouth with both your hands. minho raised an eyebrow at you, a one sided smirk sitting proudly on his face.

“i’m sorry!” you quickly apologised, “it’s just—well, no never mind! did you eat?”

minho chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you towards him.

“i did. why are you horny?” his hands slipped underneath your shirt, the one you took from his side of the closet, trailing his fingers across your skin.

“your selfie..” you admitted, sheepishly.

“i sent you that in the morning,” he states, “been that way all day?”

“no!” you quickly shake your head. minho pulled you closer, your hands having no choice but to rest on his firm chest. your fingers splayed across his tight shirt, feeling the thick muscles beneath the fabric. you let out softly that, “i wrote my paper.”

“good job,” he smiled at you, kissing your lips softly.

you smile back at him before you let him pull you in for another kiss.

you wrap your hands behind his neck, feeling around his shoulders as you do, and if you’ve moaned just a little at the touch you’ll just blame it on minho’s tongue against yours.

you let him move you around, fingers digging into your waist as you both blindly make your way to the couch. you feel the couch against your legs and minho softly lowers you onto the cushions, kissing around your jaw as he climbs on top of you.

you let him settle between your legs, sucking the skin on your neck while you run your hands up and down his firm back. feeling the way his muscles contract as he leans most of his weight on his arms and not you. with how strong he’s gotten lately you’re sure it’s not even that hard for him now. the thought makes your heart skip a small beat.

it’s when minho rolls his hips against yours, biting on your collarbone softly, that you realise this isn’t what you wanted. this isn’t what you’ve been fantasising about all day.

you push at his shoulders, causing him to look up at you with his big round eyes. they sparkle up at you, like they always do, before a question starts swimming in them.

“this okay?” he asks, bottom lip slightly pouted in confusion. his front teeth are more noticeable that way, when he’s a little confused, and you can’t understand how someone can be so hot and so cute at the same time. it makes you want to devour him.

“it is, min—“

“but,” he concludes from your tone, lifting himself up so your crotches are no longer touching. you can see his arms tensing as he does.

“there was something i wanted to do, if you don’t mind, i know you like taking control so it’s okay if—“ you can’t say more once minho kisses your cheek, ever so softly, and all you can do is sigh at your own rambling.

“what was it you wanted, jagi?” he asks softly, humming as his eyes search yours. a warmth covers your chest you aren’t too sure is appropriate for just how wet you are—but minho has always had that kind of effect on you.

“wanted to ride you, min,” you let out quietly.

he lets out a small chuckle, humming as he nods his head softly. “we can do that.”

“if it’s okay?” you ask, eyes wide and eager.

“i mean if you absolutely insist,” he rolls his eyes, smiling wide at you.

you scoff at him, shaking your head before you watch minho settle himself on the couch, patting his thick thighs in invitation.

you quickly climb onto his lap, settling in as minho slaps your ass lightly.

“i love watching you on top of me, you know,” he smiles, moving your hair behind your ears. he settles his hand on your ass, squeezing lightly, “and i can do this as much as i want.”

“you have a problem,” you giggle at him, rolling your eyes at his undeniable obsession.

“now you tell me all the reasons you love riding me,” he grins, much like a cheshire cat, as he rubs your hip with his other hand.

“well,” you start, running your hands across his chest, “i get to admire your body and all your hard work.” he hums in acceptance. you move your hands to his arms, up and down his biceps before you settle on his shoulders, “i love how strong your shoulders are, how i can put my whole weight on them.”

minho blinks at you a few times, nodding along as he eagerly waits to hear more. the hand once on your hip has now moved to your lower stomach, tracing back and forth over the hem of your pants.

“from this angle your cock reaches so deep inside me, too,” you say lowly, and minho ears turn a deeper shade of red than they were before, “i get to feel you so so deep, min.”

“i love how your tits look when you’re bouncing on top of me,” he says, trailing one finger from the hem of your shorts to your clothed pussy.

“i love when you slap my ass as i’m riding you,” you let out, breathing heavily.

minho laughs, squeezing your ass firmly. “i knew you like it when i touch your ass.”

“i never said i didn’t,” you defend.

“you like it when i touch you here, too?” he asks, eyebrows slightly raised as he rubs two fingers over your pussy—finding the exact spot easily. you nod quickly. “should i keep going? or do you need my cock already?”

“need it, min,” you groan, “need you inside me. now.”

after a bit of fumbling around and some uncoordinated kicking you’re both naked, and you quickly climb back into minho’s lap.

now that his shirt is thankfully far far away from him, you take a moment to stop and stare. shamelessly drinking him in. you squeeze his shoulders before trailing down to his arms and then you run your hands over his chest, down his stomach, across the dip from his chest to his waist.

you can feel minho watching you, but you’re far too distracted by the sight of him to feel ashamed. he’s yours, after all, and taking a moment to appreciate what’s yours should be allowed.

however, there’s a want inside you you aren’t able to ignore, and so you lean forward and press slow open mouthed kisses onto his chest, fingers splayed on his waist. you suck on the skin, too taut to move, and bite lightly before you move on to the next bit of skin. kissing everywhere you can reach, taking your time now that minho’s finally here.

you let your hands wander, let yourself feel the warm and soft skin of his stomach, the way it sends shivers down your wrist.

“jagi,” he sighs as you start sucking a few centimetres away from his nipple, “jagiya, let me feel you.”

“i’m here,” you remind him, bringing his hand into your hair. he cups your head, sighing as moved down slightly to suck on a new piece of skin.

“need your pussy, baby, please,” he moans, as you softly rub your hand against his pec, lightly tracing his nipple.

you can’t deny him, and the emptiness inside you is starting to ache, so you quickly grab him by the base as you line him up to your entrance.

you slowly sink down, feeling his cock stretch you out until you’re pressed flush against his thighs. the pair of you moan loudly at the feeling.

“god,” he lets out, hugging you closer to him. minho buries his face in your chest, breathing you in. “you’re so warm.”

“i’m so needy, min,” you chuckle, wrapping an arm around his beautiful back. “i want you so bad.”

minho thrusts upwards at your words, a small squeak like noise escaping you. he repeats his actions, over and over, barely letting himself pull out and focusing only on pushing in deeper.

he’s deep inside you, so deep you can feel a tingling in your neck, and all you can do is moan as minho takes control of the pace.

you can barely feel your thighs but you try as much as you can to meet his thrusts, leaning heavily on his shoulders as you push up and down.

the way his cock stretches you isn’t something you’re used to it, despite the many months you two have been together, and everytime minho fucks you like this you can feel it all the way to your toes.

you aren’t even sure your eyes are open but when they are, all you can see is minho’s sparkling brown eyes—looking so enamoured by you it makes you want to cry.

“min, s-so good, so good like-like this,” you let out in between punctuated breaths.

“giving you what you wanted, yeah?” he groans out, words light and breathless, “riding my cock like you wanted, jagi.”

“you always give me what i want, min,” you try your best to say, “always fuck me so good.”

you squeeze his shoulder tightly, supporting yourself as your thighs start to ache from the repeated bouncing. but the way his cock brushes against your soft spot makes it too hard to stop—the feeling so exhilarating you can only moan each time it happens.

you look down at where your bodies are connected, watching as your wetness glistens on his beautiful thighs.

you bring your hand to his chest, cupping his side as you rub across the few marks you’ve managed to leave behind. you smile softly at them before tracing the natural line between his pec and his stomach—much more prominent now he’s grown more muscles.

“had to mark me up, huh?” minho chuckles as he follows your line of sight.

“you’re mine,” you say before thinking, “wanted to mark what’s mine.”

at that minho picks up his pace as he brings his hand between your bodies, pressing on your clit lightly.

“keep talking like that and i’ll cum inside you, baby,” he moans.

“you’re fucking mine, minho,” you say, kissing him messily, “you’re so beautiful and it’s all mine.”

minho’s fucking you so fast and so hard, you fall forward, burying your face in his neck as you feel his release spilling inside you—minho moaning loudly in your ear. he stops for only a second to catch his breath before rubbing your clit just as fast, encouraging you sweetly as he says, “go on, baby, cum for me.”

your whole body shakes with it and you grab minho’s arms for stability, feeling them flex in your hold from his exertion. then, your vision starts blurring for a moment or two, your orgasm hitting you at full force. it’s sweet and so good with minho still buried inside you, your walls squeezing around his thick cock.

minho groans into your chest, kissing messily against your skin as he lets you ride out your high for a few more minutes.

once you exhale heavily, the fluttering of your walls relaxing, minho looks up at you with a lazy smile.

“you’re incredible,” he decides.

you giggle at him, kissing him firmly on the mouth. “so is your personal trainer.”

minho groans, rolling his eyes before he lets his head rest against the back of the couch. “please don’t take his side. one day he’ll end up killing me and then you’ll regret this.”

“you’re so dramatic, min,” you chuckle at him.

he hums in agreement, his lips a firm line as he nods. “i’m yours, though. you even said so,” he points out, a childish glint in his eyes.

“yes, and i think your cum inside me is further proof,” you scrunch your nose at him. minho groans softly, and you feel his cock bouncing lightly inside you. you can’t help but laugh.

you slowly run your nail across one of the marks you’ve left sitting proudly on his chest, smiling at your little creation.

“should i feed you now or are you gonna stare at my chest some more?” he eventually snaps you out of your minho induced daze.

“can you cook shirtless?” you raise your brows hopefully.

“that’s probably against some health and safety regulation, but if that’s what you want,” he kisses your forehead lightly before tapping your hip in a silent request to get up.

minho quickly grabs something for the mess, cleaning up the couch and your thighs before he gets you a change of clothes. he doesn’t bother wearing a shirt, as per your request, while he finds something quick to cook for you—insisting on feeding you before you get too sleepy.

minho let’s you run your hands all over his chest as he works, attached to him from behind as you kiss his strong back muscles. he doesn’t complain, not at all, and twists his head to meet yours every few minutes—pillowy lips puckered up dramatically in a silent beg for kisses.

you, of course, happily oblige. you’d give minho whatever he wants.

#all.works #minho x you #lee minho smut #minho x reader #minho smut #lee minho x reader #minho x y/n #lee minho x you #lee minho x y/n #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #lee know smut #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids smut #kpop smut #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader

[ninthskzmember]

Sharing is caring. Part II

Lee Know x reader. (Pt 1)

warnings: straight up smut. pet names. wc: 1,3k. an: hey! Just wanted to let you know that this is my first time writing smut in english. If you've got any suggestion, i'm open! Thank you for all the likes, reblogs and love this is getting!

Requests are open :)

"Who was in your imagination when you came up with that question?" You were holding his head while he sucked and left marks on your neck.

Those, for sure, will last at least a few days on you, and there's just something about you getting marked that Minho just loves. You're his, and he can do whatever he wants with you, even lending you to one of his mates just for his own pleasure.

In his imagination, it was for sure Chan who he wanted to share you with. What a better gift to his stressed, overworked, and single leader than you being all fucked up for both him and his only hyung.

And of course, he has seen the way Chan sometimes looks at the marks on your neck, and his eyes get dark for a split second before composing himself and starting to act normal again.

"I prefer you to choose, love," he said while making his kisses a road up to your chin and then your mouth.

A kiss that was wet from the start made you feel the same way.

In your head, you were really working through it. Jeongin? You feel like that's just wrong. Seungmin? You feel in your guts that he'd make a fucking mess out of you. Felix? Just like the maknae, you wouldn't want to take away the angelical aura they make you feel. Jisung? Yes, he's a reasonable option for this. Hyunjin?…

Lee Know took you out of your thoughts when he pulled away and slipped his hand on your pants, feeling just how much the thoughts you were having were having an effect on you.

He was still close to your face, and you could feel his minty breath on top of your lips.

"Oh," he said with a cheeky smile on his face, "you're really into it." His eyes locked on yours. "Who's got you all wet for me, baby?" He said this before biting your lip.

"No one in particular," you said with a breathy voice while feeling his digits play with your clitoral area.

"Why do you lie to me, kitten?" He asked while introducing one of his fingers to your core. "Were you thinking about Changbin getting his big dick into you?" His whisper on top of your ear sent shivers all over your body, making you clench around his only finger inside of you.

The thing is, you didn't even make it to the thought of Changbin, and you didn't know if you loved or hated your imagination.

"You'd like that, right, baby?"

Your only answer was multiple nods and a needy look.

"Use your words," he said, stopping his movement.

"Yes," you replied instantly, winning a satisfied smile from your man.

"Come here," he slipped out of you and guided you both to the couch where you were originally reading.

He took a seat first, the man spreading his posture, and with that look of his, you knew what he wanted.

"Come here," he ordered, and you obeyed. Your legs one to each side of his hips, his strong grip on top of yours. He made you sit directly into his already hard dick, winning a discrete little moan from your lips.

"Babe, I want you," you said with no shame at all, wanting to move over all his length.

"Work for me," he smiled, and that's just what you started doing—grinding over your boyfriend over and over, leaving a wet line on his pants where you were having fun.

Both of you were a moaning mess, and you almost forgot where all of this started. You were drunk on the taste of Minho's lips, neck, skin, and cock.

"Is Changbin your final answer, kitten?" His question brought you over to the real world again.

"No." Your answer came out of your mouth faster than you thought, and you didn't even know if Changbin was your final answer or not until you said it.

"Alright," he said, smiling and pulling you in to kiss you desperately again. You couldn't even form a thought from the stimulation you were getting.

Lee Know took your shirt off, throwing it somewhere in the living room, followed by your bra. He wasted no time and started playing with your nipples, one on his mouth and the other with his right hand.

You were getting high-pitched, so he knew you were close. His left hand traveled to your hips and wrapped his arm around them, making you feel his dick tighter. He started helping with the movements too, making you almost reach the stars.

Until he remembered.

He stopped you abruptly, and you whined.

"I wanna cummmm," the sentence came out of your lips like a cry, matching your watery eyes.

"Oh, you will, but after we decide," he said cheekily, and he laid you on your back.

He locked his lips on yours again and took the reins.

"I'll take whoever you want, babe." You got your legs around his body, pulling him closer, trying to feel his hard stick rubbing against your core again.

But Minho is not the kind of person who just gives in. No, he will make you work. Work for your orgasm, and work for who you'll choose to fuck you dumb.

With one of his hands, he reached down and felt how you even stained your jeans. He laughed and took a look over his own pants, realizing you did the same to him.

"Needy little fucker," he said, smiling at you.

It took little to no time for him to make you both naked; now you are both desperate.

He aligned himself with you, getting just the tip in.

"Hyunjin," he said out of nowhere, making you confused. "Alright," he said, moving a little bit deeper.

"Felix," he said this time, and now you kind of understand what he was doing. He wanted to see how your body reacted to each of his friends. There was no movement for Felix or Jeongin either. So now he was 4/7 inside you.

"Jisung." Even you could feel the little twitch from your walls around him at the sound of Han's name. "Nice," he said, and he went a little deeper again.

"Changbin"—your  hips betrayed you, moving up and down to Changbin. "Oh, so we're into 3racha," he smiled down at you, biting his lower lip.

"Minho, please, I need you," you whined again. "I need you to fuck me dumb right now. I need you to make a mess out of me right now."

"Choose." He said this when he went all the way inside you without stopping. He started pounding you hard, making you a moaning mess. "Kitten," he said, pulling your hair lightly.

"Kim Seungmin. I want Kim Seungmin. Please, Minho, please." You made your decision drunk on your boyfriend's dick, and you were glad you did. "Oh, baby, you feel so good; please don't stop, don't stop."

"Didn't you think you couldn't handle him, you little slut?" His smile couldn't be erased, sweat falling from his forehead. "You like being a slut; you like being a mess."

You nodded at his words, clenching with each one of them. You were close, and so was he.

"You like the thought of Seungmin getting his dick into you, don't you?" You didn't even pay attention to what he was saying at this point; you just wanted to cum.

"Just imagine Bang Chan Hyung fucking you as deeply as I am doing right now," he whispered in your ear, and that was it.

Not only did you hit your orgasm, but you also squirted the hell out of you.

A surprised Lee Know came out of you with shock in his eyes while you were still going through your high.

Your man was not dumb; he knew what it was. He was just surprised because it was the first time you were able to do it.

"Oh my god," you said, still twitching a bit.

"So, BangChan?" He smirked down at you.

"Definitely Chris." you answered, biting your own lower lip.

"We've got our final answer. Now come here and give me some head; I want to cum too," he said, carving your cheek, and you did not think twice before getting on your knees.

Part 3

#skz #skz imagines #stray kids #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #minho x you #minho x y/n #minho imagines #lee know imagines #lee know #lee minho #bang chan #2min #kim seungmin

[fizzydrink698]

conflict, conceal, confess | minho

kinktober day 31: thigh-riding

pairing: lee minho x reader

word count: 18.1k (💀)

genre: college au, enemies to lovers, (modern!consort au)

warnings: sexual content (thigh-riding, oral sex, fingering, handjob, marking, a whole lot of smut honestly, like 6k words of it), swearing, an ungodly amount of academia

summary:

“Why don’t we call a truce?”

Minho blinked, caught off-guard. “Truce?”

“Yeah. No more arguments…” you trailed off, the words already sounding hollow and you were the one saying them. “OK, maybe some academic debate. But nothing personal.”

“Nothing petty,” Minho added, giving you a pointed look.

It took an impressive amount of willpower to force your smile to stay on your face. “Exactly. We somehow managed it as kids. How hard could it be to do it again?”

“Your brother is such an asshole.”

You wondered how many of your conversations with Felix had started with those exact words. In the years since childhood, there had probably been countless variations of this very situation: you collapsing into a seat near Felix, ready to unleash after biting your tongue for however many hours beforehand.

His reaction was second nature at this point. Without even glancing towards you, Felix paused in the middle of rolling out what looked to be shortbread dough and turned to switch on the coffeemaker. “What is it this time?”

“Do you remember how many new people signed up to debate at the start of the year? Had to be at least twenty, right? Maybe thirty?”

“At least thirty,” Felix confirmed. “I gave out blondies to every person that signed up. The entire pan was gone in like an hour.”

Yes, you remembered that day. Specifically, you remembered Felix holding up the empty pan with a big smile on his face and proudly declaring how many people had shown interest in joining. And you’d had to figure out how to politely break it to him that the hordes of first-year students walking back and forth in front of his table were eyeing a little more than just his baked goods.

Sweet boy. Sweet, innocent, oblivious boy.

“Guess how many are left,” you challenged him, eager to prove a point.

Felix frowned, thinking it over. “There were still about fifteen when I was last there. So, ten?”

“Six,” you exclaimed, balling your hand into a fist and planting it onto the tabletop for dramatic effect. “And Minho made one of them cry today.”

In just a few years, you and Minho had transformed your university’s debate team into one of the most successful in the country. You’d won awards, you’d attended international competitions, you’d gained notice from several notable figures in academia. Membership of the debate team had gone from a minor footnote you’d discard in an application to a badge of prestige, of recognised talent.

Minho’s standards were high, shockingly so, but he got results. As a second-in-command in all but name, it was usually up to you to run damage control, to nudge members towards persevering instead of walking out the door. The good cop to his bad cop, the carrot to his stick. You’d be tempted to call it exhausting, were it not for the undeniable rush of satisfaction whenever you succeeded in building up a member where Minho failed.

Lately, however, your efforts were starting to fall short. In just eight weeks, over twenty recruits had quit before team selections had even finished.

“Oh, jeez,” Felix muttered. Before he could say anything more, the coffeemaker chirped behind him, and he wasted no time pouring you the biggest cup he had lying around.

You motioned it over with greedy little grabby-hands, accepting it with a smile.

Felix returned to his shortbread dough and picked up a star-shaped cookie cutter. “Why did they cry?”

You made a vaguely displeased noise through a mouthful of coffee, only managing to word a response when you set the mug down. “I don’t even know. This week’s debate was on the ethics of nuclear power, and I could tell she took pretty much all her talking points from Wikipedia. I assume it was about that. Minho probably got all Minho about it and tore her to shreds.”

Felix paused. You wondered if it was just because he was concentrating on his cookies, until you realised he was hesitating. “…I don’t know. I know Minho takes this stuff seriously, but he’s not the kind of guy to make some poor kid cry over debating.”

“Why not?“ You asked, and you can’t stop the bitterness creeping out into your voice. “It’s nothing he hasn’t done before.”

“Oh…” Felix said, eyes widening in realisation. He lifted his head up to look at you, sympathetic. “Shit, yeah. I’m sorry.”

For the most part, you’d gotten over your experience in high school debate club, but the memories still stung a little.

You’d been so eager, signing up the very second you were eligible, talking Felix’s ear off about how excited you were, how much you were looking forward to it. You’d known that Felix’s older brother - a year ahead of you - was somewhat of a big deal in the club, and you’d maybe imagined him taking you under his wing. Looking out for you, encouraging you with gentle feedback and a warm smile.

You’d gone into your first debate, attempted to expand upon the few points you’d known about the topic, and shyly waited for Minho’s counterarguments.

He had stepped up to the microphone, levelled you with a blank stare, and eviscerated every single argument you’d made. Pointed out every logical fallacy, every gap in your research, every misspoken or poorly worded statement, everything. He’d cut you right to the bone, with zero mercy.

You spent the rest of the club meeting holding back tears, ran all the way to Felix’s house as soon as it was over, sobbing your eyes out – and actually, maybe that was the first of many “your brother is an asshole” exchanges.

Huh. Funny how things come full circle like that.

When Minho returned home about a half-hour after you, you’d stormed into his room and demanded to know why he would treat you so badly. Did he want to drive you away from the club? Did he secretly hate you this whole time?

You’d never forget his response. The shrug he gave you, the arch of one eyebrow as he took in the sight of you, burning with rage, fists clenched by your side. The fucking sigh.

I just thought you’d do better than that.

What a fucking thing to say to a fourteen-year-old. Especially one that looked up to him the way you did.

And, deep-down, there was a certain sting that accompanied his words. Something you could never bring yourself to admit out loud, not even to Felix. An extra flash of pain, because back then you’d…

Whatever. It was ancient history.

You had almost quit on the spot. Instead, you dove headfirst into researching the next week’s topic, determined to beat him, paranoid about every little mistake he might pick at.

And that…

Well, that was your life for the next nine years. Even that one blissful year when Minho had graduated, the year you’d taken over as head of debate club, the year you’d gotten your team all the way to nationals - he still didn’t leave you in peace.

He’d turned up to that final competition, gaze intense, face neutral. You’d spotted him in the audience, unable to tear your eyes away, watching every little twitch of his jaw, every tiny shift in expression, and knew he was picking apart your arguments. Waiting for you to trip up and fail in front of everyone.

It felt like a glorious ‘fuck you’ when your team won that year. You’d held that trophy, looked right into Minho’s eyes, and wanted to scream ‘I fucking told you so’ right in his smug face.

Ugh. Asshole.

“It’s all in the past,” you said, forcing yourself to shrug it off.

Taking another swig of coffee, you reached over and poked Felix’s shoulder, grinning.

“And besides…Minho isn’t the one coming with me to the U.N. next month.”

“Next month,” Felix repeated, slightly in awe, matching your excitement and then some. “Holy shit, it’s so soon.”

It was. In just a few weeks’ time, you’d be standing in front of a U.N. committee giving a speech on commitment to environmental preservation with your best friend by your side. You’d worked for this for months, years even. And you’d be doing it together.

“I’m afraid I have bad news about the U.N. speech.”

You sat there, horrified, as your supervisor – Dr. Koning – shuffled the papers on his desk with a grave expression. “What? What happened? Don’t tell me it’s cancelled.”

“It’s not cancelled,” Dr. Koning said, before pausing. “…But it has been postponed. Certain recent global events have pushed it further down the agenda. The speech will happen next January.”

“January?” You repeated, and horror quickly dawned on you. “No, wait. Felix can’t do January. He’s studying abroad next semester. There has to be some other…”

“I’m afraid there’s not. I’ve tried to speak to the few contacts I have, but changing the agenda of the United Nations is…well, a little beyond our capabilities, I’m sure you can understand.”

“But this is just as much Felix’s speech as it is mine. It’s on environmental preservation, he’s the one that’s specialising in environmentalism, he can’t just get dropped like…what if he flew back for the U.N. speech? That’s doable, right?”

“Even if he could, he would still be missing the weeks of preparation leading up to the speech,” Dr. Koning reminded you, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Unless he withdraws from his study-abroad program, I’m afraid we have to give his spot to someone else.”

You felt like you’d just been punched, right in the gut. Felix couldn’t withdraw from the program. It was one of the main reasons he’d chosen this university in the first place. He’d spent months competing for the limited spaces at the best partner university, he’d e-mailed the faculty there ahead of time to begin networking, he’d based his entire career path on the connections he could make there.

Even the fucking United Nations wasn’t worth the damage his future plans would take if he dropped out of studying abroad.

“…Who’s taking his spot?” You asked, quiet, defeated.

Dr. Koning looked down at the papers, and adjusted his glasses. “Well, there are a few candidates in mind. But at such short notice, there’s really only one feasible choice. One of my colleague’s PhD students, you might know him. Lee Minho?”

…No.

No.

Absolutely fucking not.

You choked on the sudden anger bursting from your chest, trying your best to push it down before you started cussing out Lee Minho right in front of your professor. Finally, you were able to respond through gritted teeth. “Yes, I know him. We don’t…really get on.”

Dr. Koning frowned, pushing his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are there any incidents I should be aware of?”

“No, nothing like that,” you said. “Just…it’s been a thing since we were kids. We don’t like each other.”

“Well, we can look for others…” he said, before trailing off. Frowning, he leaned forward slightly, granting himself an air of conspiracy, like he was letting you in on a secret. “But, honestly…if this is something you feel comfortable setting aside, just temporarily, you should know that Minho really is the best candidate. By quite a wide margin.”

Of fucking course he was.

You let out a deep breath, closing your eyes and fighting the urge to start massaging your temples.

“…Maybe,” you relented, even if it took every ounce of willpower you had. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Good to hear,” Dr. Koning said, smiling. “I really do hope the two of you can work together on this. Both of you have shown astounding potential. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”

“…Mm-hm. Me too.”

It was a cold, crisp Monday morning, and you found yourself stood on the steps of the lecture halls. The expression on your face was enough for the dawdling first-years around you to give you a wide berth, allowing you to scroll through your e-mails in peace.

Scroll through your e-mails, and wait.

For him.

Felix had mentioned that Minho was sitting in on a talk from a visiting financial expert on the state of global economics, and you figured now was as good a time as any to confront him about the speech.

…And by ‘confront’, you meant ‘patiently and politely open channels of communication’. Of course.

Fuck, it was freezing.

You shivered, pulling your scarf just a little tighter around your neck, and exited out of your e-mails to shoot a text to Felix.

You

Who in their right mind voluntarily sits in on an economics lecture at eight o’clock on a Monday morning?

Lixie

…

i mean

…literally you last week

You

OK first of all

That was a fucking Guillaume Van Bebber seminar

The man has a Nobel prize

Second of all

That wasn’t a Monday

Third

Shut up

Lixie

ok no cookies for you

You

Wait no, what??

I take it back.

Take it all back.

You’re my bestest friend in the whole world.

Bestest and smartest.

Waittt

You were so distracted texting Felix, you didn’t notice the doors to the lecture halls opening, and the slow stream of students beginning to file out.

You did, however, notice a familiar voice.

Your head snapped up to see Minho at the top of the steps, talking with who looked to be the guest lecturer. The two were standing still, rather than walking along with the rest of the students, positioned just out of the way so they could continue whatever conversation they were having without interruption.

Cool, even more waiting.

You shifted your weight, shoving your hands into the pockets of your coat to keep warm, and watched as Minho continued to speak – and, unbelievably, managed to make this lecturer laugh.

You blinked.

What the fuck? Minho didn’t make people laugh. He made them miserable, yes, but never laugh.

And then, suddenly, as if he could sense your insults, Minho looked over and locked eyes with you. His eyebrows raised slightly, probably in surprise at seeing you on campus so early in the morning. You made sure to maintain eye contact – an old habit with Minho, by this point. You hated being the first to look away, it always felt like weakness.

He turned away, saying something to the lecturer with a slight incline of his head.

The lecturer blinked, before nodding. You watched as, with a warm smile, the lecturer extended what looked to be a business card to Minho.

Minho accepted it, the two exchanged one final handshake, before Minho turned on his heel and descended the steps.

Towards you.

It was a little unfair, you wanted to grumble, that Minho always looked so put-together, no matter the time of day. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater, perfectly suited for the chilly October morning air, under a tailored beige overcoat. It looked designer, the plaid pattern on its lining looking vaguely familiar, but that was standard for Minho’s wardrobe. You’d known since you were a little kid that Felix’s family had money.

Like, ­fuck-you money.

You forced your eyes up to his face before they travelled any further downwards, but you knew from a glance that Minho was wearing some form of tight black jeans. They were a staple of his wardrobe, and you hated them. You hated any and every reminder of Minho’s…

Well, Minho’s fucking tree trunk thighs.

Which you also hated.

With a passion.

He did dance as a kid. And some kind of equestrian thing in his teenage years – because, again, fuck-you money – which all contributed to…

You know what?

Didn’t matter.

Because you hated them. They weren’t worth mentioning.

“We need to talk about the U.N. speech,” you said, as soon as he got close enough, cutting straight to the chase.

“OK,” Minho nodded, approaching closer. You paused, confused, as he showed no sign of slowing. He drew closer and closer, and something tightened in your chest, as he–

He brushed past you, shoulder nearly bumping yours, continuing onwards past you.

You stilled, rooted to the spot for a moment, blinking at the empty air where he had just been standing.

Shock quickly morphed into incredulous anger, and you turned sharply to storm after him, blown away by his rudeness. “Hey, where – what the fuck?”

Minho paused, turning to face you, halting so suddenly that you almost bumped right into him. You stumbled back a step or two, before righting yourself, as Minho asked. “…Wait, did you mean now?”

The way he said it, confused, as if you were the strange one for not specifying the obvious.

“No, I was thinking in three weeks. But let me just check my calendar first,” you retorted, deadpan. “Yes, now. Why else would I be here?”

“For classes,” Minho pointed out, gesturing to the lecture building he’d just exited.

You opened your mouth instinctively, before pausing.

Because the honest answer, that you were here because you’d been waiting for him, now sounded…

“…Look, are you free to talk about the speech or not?” You asked, folding your arms over your chest.

Minho stared at you for a moment, before giving you a shrug. “I’ve got about an hour before my next class.”

“Good.”

“I usually get coffee around this time, while it’s quiet.”

“…OK? Good for you?” You said, frowning slightly.

Minho kept staring, looking…strangely expectant.

What, he wanted a pat on the back for having coffee in the morning?

Finally, with a sharp exhale that could almost be mistaken as an exasperated sigh, Minho turned away and set off walking again.

Rude. You were literally just having a conversation? Now, he just expected you to follow him?

Ugh.

Reluctantly, you did just that, having to quicken your pace to match Minho’s stride with those…fucking gargantuan legs of his.

Legs that didn’t matter. Because you didn’t notice them. At all.

To your surprise, Minho didn’t head for Muffin House, the main coffee shop on campus. That was your go-to place for caffeine – it was cheap, they had a bunch of muffins in different flavours, and they had an irresponsibly large number of discounts on extra espresso shots for students.

Instead, you had to follow Minho down a little side street nestled between two of the towering science blocks, cut across a near-deserted car park, and finally took a right towards a quiet little pocket of buildings on the edge of campus.

You would have walked right past the coffee shop entirely, were it not for Minho suddenly ducking through the doorway of a non-descript stone building. You paused, and it was only after looking up and studying the front face of the building that you noticed the sign for Kwon’s Koffee.

Inside, it looked indistinguishable from other coffee shops on campus – except it was far less crowded, with only a few tables taken up by exclusively postgraduate students.

This was definitely one of those little insider-knowledge haunts for PhD students, like Minho. And the idea almost made you want to hate it on principle.

You joined the queue behind Minho, gaze wandering toward the board of coffee specials.

…Fuck, OK, they did look pretty good.

Still, the principle of the matter remained.

“You realise Muffin House was so much closer, right?” You asked, glancing at Minho.

Minho made a face. “Yeah, but their coffee is shitty.”

“No, it’s not!”

“It’s always bitter.”

“Yeah, because it’s made to go with the super-sweet muffins,” you said, slowing your words as if trying to explain the concept of taste to a toddler. “They balance each other out.”

“Which means if you don’t get muffins, you’re shit out of luck,” Minho pointed out, and glanced over his shoulder at you. “And I never get them.”

You stared at him, genuinely affronted by this statement. Yet another thing to add to the colossal-sized list of reasons to dislike Minho. “What? Why? How?”

He shrugged. “I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”

“How are you and Felix even related?”

“It’s because of Felix,” Minho argued, and you had to admit, your interest was piqued. “Who do you think was the test subject for all his recipes?”

“What, were they bad?” You asked, intrigued.

Minho smiled ruefully. “Some were. But the most dangerous ones were the great ones. There’s only so many whole pans of brownies you can inhale before your body just rejects sugar on sight.”

Huh.

You forgot, sometimes, how close Minho and Felix were. It didn’t entirely fit in with your general doctrine of ‘Minho = The Worst’ so it was often banished to the back of your mind.

You supposed even the absolute dregs of humanity usually had at least one redeeming quality.

…Wait, this was coming dangerously close to an actual conversation with Minho.

“I think you’re just a coffee snob,” you dismissed with a shrug.

Minho rolled his eyes, and that brief façade of reasonable humanity vanished. “If Muffin House figured out how to brew coffee without burning it to shit, I’d drink it. But they haven’t yet, so…”

You opened your mouth, already raring to start an argument, but it was at that moment that the person in front of Minho in the queue finished ordering. Minho turned away from you, and walked up to the counter.

You followed closely behind, and it was only when your attention shifted from Minho to the person behind the counter that your eyes lit up.

“Seungmin?”

Seungmin blinked, leaning to the side just a little to look over Minho’s shoulder at you, surprised. “Oh, hey! Long time no see.”

Seungmin had been a stalwart member of your debate team for the first few years of undergrad, until he landed a job as research assistant for one of the most respected professors on campus. You had a lot of good feeling towards him, not least because he – along with Felix – often acted as the mediator between you and Minho.

He must have remembered that role too, as his gaze soon shifted back and forth between you and Minho, and his brow furrowed slightly. “Wait, are you two getting coffee? Like, together?”

You saw Minho bristle out of the corner of your eye, and you fought back a scoff. Did he really find it so insulting to be seen in public with you? “Yes, we are.”

Seungmin’s eyes flickered between the two of you again. “…Voluntarily?”

Minho answered this time, seemingly through gritted teeth. “Apparently.”

“Huh,” Seungmin said, mostly to himself. “Interesting.”

“Can we order now?” Minho asked, impatiently.

Seungmin shrugged, ignoring Minho’s rudeness, and set about taking your orders.

(Of course, Minho took his coffee black. Pretentious motherfucker probably had a whole thing about palate and bean aroma or whatever. You threw in a muffin with your order, to spite Minho more than anything else.)

It was only at the end, when it came to payment, that Seungmin looked up again at the two of you. “Are you guys paying separately, or…?”

That was kind of a dumb question.

“Separately,” you said, pointing out the obvious.

“Very separately,” Minho echoed, giving Seungmin a very pointed look.

Impressively, Minho’s glare did little to change Seungmin’s expression. In fact, Seungmin only smiled a little wider, calmly reverting back to his standard customer service script. “…OK. Cash or card?”

After payment, it only took a few minutes of waiting for your coffee before you found yourself sat at a table in the corner of the coffee shop, facing directly across from Minho.

The two of you sat there in silence, coffee in front of you.

How did you…how did you even start a conversation with Minho that wasn’t an argument? Usually, you relied on him to say something incorrect and pounce on it.

Now? You had to figure out how to be…nice. Civil. All because of this dumb speech.

You watched Minho shrug off his coat, turning in his seat to drape the coat over the back of his chair. The black turtleneck he was wearing underneath was surprisingly form-fitting, and when he turned back around to face you and pick up his mug, your eyes dropped down to your own cup before you gave into the urge to scowl openly.

Sometimes, you wondered if it would be harder to hate Minho if he were less attractive.

It was a thought you crushed down the second it came into your head, but you couldn’t entirely deny it. There had been moments, unspeakable moments, when you started dating someone, that your brain betrayed you and compared them to Minho. It was like he had to just…infect every part of your life. He had to ruin everything.

You swallowed, curling your fingers around the handle of your mug, tapping the edge of it with your thumb. “…So, the speech.”

“The speech.”

“I assume Koning already talked to you about it?”

“Yes.”

“…And?” You said, resisting the urge to scream. This was like pulling teeth. “Your thoughts?”

Minho sat back in his chair, eyeing you closely. “Why the U.N.?”

Easy question. So easy, you’d almost call it moronic. “It’s the U.N. It’s literally where I want my career to take me.”

“You want to work at the U.N.?” Minho asked, and you could almost mistake his tone for interest.

“Yes,” you said, confidently, half-prepared to defend yourself in case Minho decided to find your ambition laughable. Screw him. “The Human Rights Council, preferably, but I wouldn’t say no to a job in the General Assembly.”

“Who would?” Minho remarked, deadpan.

“Ergo, a speech there. It wasn’t easy, but we managed it,” you said, not even pretending to be humble.

“…It’s impressive, honestly. What you’ve achieved.”

“What me and Felix achieved,” you corrected him automatically, but honestly, you were a little thrown. That sounded…dangerously close to a compliment. From Minho.

“Koning said it was your idea,” Minho said. “You came up with the proposal, and you were the one ballsy enough to actually submit it to the U.N.”

“Yeah, but the speech is literally on environmental preservation–”

“International NGO commitment to environmental preservation,” Minho interrupted, and you bit down the sudden flare of anger that he felt the need to correct you on your own fucking speech topic. “International commitment is your wheelhouse, isn’t it?”

“And Felix is literally specialising in environmentalism,” you reminded him, and it was then that one of your biggest concerns about this whole situation reared its head. “Which reminds me, actually, why did they pick you to replace him on it?”

Minho stared at you for a solid moment, eyebrows slowly raising, as if he couldn’t believe you were being serious.

You felt yourself bristling, growing defensive. “What? You’re a politics student, not–”

“My master’s thesis was literally on environmental activism. I help teach undergrad classes on green politics and ecological efforts in government policy. How do you not know this?”

…OK. So, fine, maybe you didn’t pay that much attention to what Minho actually studied. Why would you? You imagined it would only piss you off more, reading through his fucking glowing examples of academic writing – like, seriously, in your second year of undergrad, one of your professors used one of his essays as a literal example of how to do the assignment.

You scoffed, lifting your coffee up to your mouth, muttering under your breath. “Ego-logical efforts, more like.”

Minho tilted his head, clearly having heard every word you just said. “What was that?”

You stared him down, taking one long, unabashed drink of coffee, before setting your cup down. Maintaining eye contact, you forced your most innocent smile. “Nothing.”

Another moment of silence fell between the two of you, as Minho’s mouth twitched. You could tell he was very tempted to call you out, and you almost wanted to dare him to say something. Going this long without some kind of conflict with Minho felt…weird. Strange.

Instead, Minho sighed, and you couldn’t imagine the visible shock on your face when his expression actually softened towards you. “…Look. I know you really wanted to work with Felix on this. It’s really shitty that this got taken out of your hands.”

…What? What the fuck was happening here?

He continued. “I’m sorry you got screwed over like this.”

What the fuck was in this coffee?

“I’m not trying to butt in and mess with everything you’ve prepared,” Minho said. “I genuinely just want to help you. I know we’ve got…issues.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement.”

“Sometimes people just don’t get along,” Minho said, eyes flickering downwards to his mug as he took a sip of coffee. “But I hope we can be professional about this.”

You fought the urge to scowl, but you couldn’t quite stop yourself from clenching your jaw at the assumption.

You could be professional.

You could be insanely fucking professional.

“Yes, I hope we can,” you said, your voice perfectly level. Calm. Composed. Professional. “So, actually, until this speech is over…why don’t we call a truce?”

Minho blinked, caught off-guard by your choice of words. “‘Truce’?”

“Yeah. Until the speech is done, we’ll try to be nice to each other. No more arguments…” you trailed off, the words already sounding hollow and you were the one saying them. You backtracked slightly. “OK, maybe some academic debate. But nothing personal.”

“Nothing petty,” Minho added, giving you a pointed look.

It took an impressive amount of willpower to force your smile to stay on your face. “Exactly. We somehow managed it as kids. How hard could it be to do it again, for the next few months?”

Minho didn’t answer immediately, clearly thinking the proposition over.

You took another sip of coffee, trying your best to leave it at that. But you couldn’t help but add, pointedly. “I mean, I don’t think it’ll be hard for me. But if you think you–”

“I’ll manage,” Minho interjected, dryly, unimpressed. “You’re the one who starts it most of the time, anyway.”

“I don’t–” you bit your tongue, taking a second to claw back your patience. “…I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure.”

You sat just a little taller, frowning. “OK. So, we’re decided.”

“Yep.”

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

“…Good.”

“Good.”

“Great,” you said, maybe just a little eager to get the last word. Maybe.

It was only when you took another sip of coffee, content with yourself, that Minho dropped the sudden curveball. “My housemates are throwing a Halloween party this weekend. Maybe you should come.”

You very almost did a spit-take with your coffee. “What?”

“If you’re so interested in a truce,” Minho added, tapping his fingers against the wooden surface of the table, and that was when you recognised the invitation for what it was.

A challenge.

Minho was absolutely trying to get you to chicken out.

You straightened your shoulders. “I’d be happy to,” you said, and it sounded vaguely threatening.

“Great, I’ll let them know.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” Minho said, his words so edged, you could imagine them slicing into you.

Yeah, this truce was definitely going to last.

This was a terrible idea.

You hesitated on the pavement outside of what was very obviously a Halloween party in full swing. You’d purposely waited a little, hoping to avoid the awkward early stages of house parties, your imagination filled with dreadful images of being one of the first to show up and having to make conversation with Minho.

The later, the better. More people to act as a buffer, and a better excuse to get drunk.

Hopefully, fingers-crossed, maybe Minho had already gotten absolutely wasted and wouldn’t even notice you were there.

Bolstered by the thought, you shot a text to Felix – who should already be inside, having volunteered to swing by early and help his older brother with decorations – to say that you were here.

OK.

Breathe.

Go.

You marched up the path towards the front door, refusing to be distracted by the partygoers scattered around the front yard, smoking and chatting and one couple leaning against the wall and already looking very handsy.

The front door was open, and you made your way inside, senses alert for any sign of Felix (to approach) and Minho (to avoid) as you did so.

The house was impressively large for student housing – of course it was, Minho lived here – and yet, every room held a crowd of people. Dancing, drinking, having fun. A drunk girl, dressed in what looked to be some variation of zombie Disney princess, stumbled into you, giggling apologetically as she did. Her drink – a can of something, maybe a bottle – was icy-cold as it brushed against your thigh.

You should have worn something longer, you thought. Your costume was cute, and dare you say, maybe even kinda hot, but it was not cut out for any temperatures colder than a room full of warm bodies. Just the walk up to the house had you shivering, just a little.

Your hunt for Felix led you from room to room, as you tried and failed to prevent yourself from rolling your eyes at the size of this place. Someone had set up tables – multiple – for beer pong in one room, while another room hosted an impressive speaker system for dancing, while another room was all softly-lit and calm background music, clearly the designated room for quieter, laid-back conversation.

A layout that checked all the house party boxes, sure. But a terrible place to try and track someone down.

Eventually, somehow, you found yourself in the kitchen, and it was here that you wondered whether you should just give up for a second and grab something to drink. You’d find Felix at some point, hopefully. Just as long as you didn’t run into…

“Oh.”

You turned at the voice, instinctively, but on second thoughts maybe you should have pretended not to hear.

Minho was standing in front of you, leaning against the kitchen counter.

And he…

He looked…

Holy fucking shit.

From the fake blood on his billowy white shirt and the painted-on bite mark on his neck, he was clearly some kind of vampire. Someone – maybe Minho himself – had applied the subtlest amount of eyeliner, and between that and the rumpled dark hair, and the…

Fuck, those were leather pants. Skin-tight.

Oh, you had to leave right now–

“Hi,” you said, standing your ground.

“You’re late,” Minho noted.

It was only then that you realised Minho was part of a loose cluster of guys, all of whom turned to see who Minho was talking to.

And one of them, to your intense relief, was Felix.

“Hey!” Felix greeted, wandering over to throw an arm around you in a half-hug. He was a cheerful drinker, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t help your confidence a little to see someone so unambiguously happy to see you here.

When he pulled away, you noticed that the little hand-drawn stitches around his neck had already started to smudge. Miraculously the little fake plastic bolts on either side of his head remained intact.

“I like your costume,” Felix told you. “It’s very…pink.”

“It is very pink,” you agreed, looking down at yourself.

When you glanced up, you caught the way Minho’s eyes flickered upwards too, as if he’d just finished looking you up and down.

You tensed a little, preparing yourself for some kind of critique. Lee Minho, champion appraiser of cheap Halloween costumes.

To your surprise, however, Minho quickly averted his eyes and took a deep swig of the drink in his hand.

“I like your costume too,” one of Minho’s friends chimed in. He was kind of cute, all dark hair and big brown eyes, so adorable that his werewolf costume came across as looking more like a chipmunk. “What are you?”

You smiled, relaxing a little. “The most accomplished woman of our time.”

The guy blinked, looking briefly thrown for a second, eyes back on your costume as he tried to decipher who you were.

But Minho, astonishingly, cracked a half-smile. Which, for Minho, was practically a laugh. “Are you Barbie?”

“Yes,” you admitted, reluctantly, half-tempted to lie just to be petty. Except, damn it, no more pettiness. You’d agreed.

“Barbie is the most accomplished woman of our time?”

“Princess. Astronaut. President. I am prepared to fight you on this.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and I’ll win.”

“Mm,” Minho hummed, and again, his gaze flickered downwards. What, was it so shocking to see you in pink?

You shifted your weight, and you almost folded your arms over your chest before you remembered what the neckline was like on this dress. Maybe not.

Unbeknownst to you, Felix and Minho’s friend exchanged a look.

Clearing your throat, you turned your attention to the large and varied alcohol selection littering the kitchen counter. “So, what can I get to drink here?”

“Minho can talk you through it,” Minho’s friend suddenly announced, patting Minho on the shoulder. Minho blinked, tearing his eyes away from you to look at his friend. “I’m gonna go find Chan, he promised me a beer pong rematch. Felix, bro, you should come with.”

Felix hesitated. “…Actually, maybe I–”

“Nah, come on,” Minho’s friend insisted, hooking his arm with Felix’s, cheerfully pulling him away. “Be my cheerleader.”

You stared, as it dawned on you that your biggest support in this minefield of a conversation was being frogmarched away.

Right. OK. Alone with Minho.

Cool.

You chanced a look back towards Minho, only to find him still watching you, and you quickly diverted your attention to the alcohol again. Smoothing down your skirt, you forced yourself to shrug. “I thought about coming as Frieda Dalen, but I figured no one would get the reference. She was–”

“The first woman to speak at the U.N., yeah.”

You snapped your head back to stare at him, bewildered. “How the fuck do you know that?”

Minho raised one eyebrow, and you were genuinely irritated that, in combination with the hair and the blood and the outfit in general, it almost…almost maybe twisted something in your gut. “My first official university debate was about the history of women in global affairs. She was a good factoid. 1946, right?”

You fought the urge to scowl as you confirmed his answer. “Yep. 1946.”

And, because even the tightest of leather couldn’t dull your burning dislike of seeing Minho smug, you pressed him further.

“Do you remember which country she was the delegate of?”

“No,” Minho admitted, tilting his head slightly to one side as he looked at you. After a moment, he straightened up from where he’d been leaning, gaining an inch or two of height in doing so, forcing you to tilt your chin up slightly to continue meeting his gaze. “Why don’t you tell me?”

His words should have sounded patronising.

Except, there was a strange edge to his voice, almost a playfulness but not quite. Not a lightness, because it definitely didn’t feel light. It felt kind of heavy, actually.

If you didn’t know any better, you would almost mistake it as…

“Minho!”

Both of you jolted at the sudden shout, barely having the time to turn towards it source before a tall guy with a Phantom of the Opera mask and ridiculously pretty long, blond hair staggered into Minho and hugged him.

You blinked, too caught off-guard to even appreciate the bemused expression on Minho’s face as the pretty guy mumbled into his shoulder. “Minho, I think…I’m druuunk.”

You took that as the perfect opportunity to back out of this…interaction with Minho, even as something strange twisted inside of you. You quickly grabbed the closest drink you could and retreated out of the kitchen as fast as your dignity would allow.

You needed to drink. And maybe dance. Anything to distract you, before your mind wandered anywhere dangerous.

This wasn’t working.

Drinking your problems away was a terrible idea in and of itself, but you’d been tempted to give it a go. After your second drink, however, you were blindsided with the intrusive thought of getting wasted and throwing up in Minho’s bathroom, and all the humiliation that could go with it, and it had warned you off alcohol for the rest of the night.

Dancing, your alternative solution, had worked for the first hour or so. You had let loose a little, but as your drink-fuelled buzz slowly faded, you found yourself growing increasingly uncomfortable by the stale air and the press of warm bodies. You were getting hot, something under your skin beginning to itch.

You needed to get out of here, just for a moment, to clear your head.

With crowds of people blocking your way to the front door, you decided on a different path towards some peace and quiet. Upstairs was mostly left untouched, understandable since there were no drinks to be found and no music playing, and you breathed out a sigh of relief when you reached the top of the stairs and turned a corner, and found an empty hallway.

Perfect.

Before you could think twice, you sat down on the floor, your back against the wall. The relief of taking a break from standing in these heels was immediate, and you let your head loll backwards, closing your eyes.

You just needed a few minutes here, you decided. Just to recharge.

“What are you doing?”

You didn’t open your eyes, but you felt your expression immediately sour. Of course it had to be the worst possible person to find you here, alone and close to misery, sitting in the hallway.

Minho approached, or at least, that was what you gathered from the sound of his footsteps. He came to a halt fairly close, pausing, and spoke up again.

“How are you this wasted already?” Minho asked, and there was surprisingly little amusement in his voice at the idea. In fact, you’d almost mistake it for concern.

“I am distressingly sober, actually,” you replied, slowly opening one eye to glare at him, but it was half-hearted at best, and you closed it again. “Just needed some quiet. Had a headache.”

Minho didn’t say anything in response. In fact, it was silent for so long, you started to wonder if he’d walked off without you even noticing, when he suddenly spoke up again. “I know a good place for quiet. And for fresh air, if you want it.”

Slowly, you opened your eyes again, fixing him with a look of suspicion. Admittedly, whatever he was suggesting sounded like the perfect place for you right now – which was exactly the reason you were so suspicious. “Where?”

“It’s pretty nearby,” Minho said, and to your disbelief, held out his hand.

Your eyes flickered from his face, to his outstretched hand, to his face again, before taking a deep breath and pushing yourself up to your feet by yourself. To his credit, Minho withdrew his hand smoothly, seemingly unaffected by your refusal to take it.

“After you,” you said, still reluctant to let down your guard.

Minho nodded, and set off down the hallway, going just a little further from where you were sitting, and stopping in front of a door. With a glance back to you, probably checking to see if you were still following, or if you’d lied about being sober and collapsed while he wasn’t looking, he opened it and wandered inside.

You took a few steps towards it – and then caught one look inside the room and halted dead in your tracks.

That was…

Was that…?

“Is that your fucking bedroom?” You asked, in pure disbelief.

Minho stopped, turning around to look at you, and how the fuck could he look so calm about this? “…Yeah? Last time I checked, why?”

“Why? Are you…” you trailed off, scoffing, before putting on your best Minho impression. “‘I know a good place, come follow me’ and it’s your bedroom. Come on.”

“I wasn’t…I was talking about the balcony. There’s a balcony through…” Minho gestured vaguely towards the far wall, where you realised the huge ceiling-to-floor curtains hanging there must be hiding the doors to it.

Of course he has a balcony.

Of course.

For once in his life, Minho looked just the slightest bit ruffled as he finally caught on to the incredibly obvious implications.

He swallowed. “Look, if you’re not comfortable, that’s–”

You interrupted him with a scoff. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

In fact, to prove just how comfortable you were, you marched into his room, forcing yourself to appear entirely unbothered.

“See? Fine,” you said. “Just, maybe lead with the balcony thing next time, so you don’t look like some massive sleaze.”

Again, Minho’s reaction surprised you. Instead of anger or annoyance at your accusation, Minho cracked another half-smile. “Fair.”

…Yeah, you really weren’t used to this whole ‘nice’ thing between the two of you. It felt weird, like the very foundations of your dynamic were shaken by it.

As Minho led you towards the balcony, you tried your best not to look too closely at his bedroom, as much as your curiosity protested otherwise. The most detail you got was that it was fairly neat, fairly clean, and he had a stupidly large bed. Which, you know, Minho, fuck-you money, that made sense.

You point-blank refused to dwell on it.

As soon as he slid open the door, you quickly leaned forward and breathed in that refreshing cold night air, and felt your headache fade just a little. It was only when you stepped out onto the balcony that you truly felt yourself relax, and the tension built up in your head began to ease.

“Better?” Minho asked, and you heard him come up from behind you, coming to a stop beside you to look up at the night sky. You couldn’t make out many stars from here, thanks to the light pollution of the city, but it was still undeniably a pretty cool view.

“Yeah,” you admitted and, begrudgingly, you turned towards him to mutter. “…Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I won’t be too long out here,” you added, feeling the weirdest need to justify accepting this kindness from Minho, to downplay it. “I’m not exactly dressed for October weather.”

Minho paused, keeping his gaze fixed on the night sky above and very much not on you. “Yeah.”

…Yeah?

You frowned, unable to stop yourself from feeling slightly defensive. “I mean, you’re one to talk.”

That got his attention. Suddenly, Minho had no problem looking at you. “What?”

“Your pants, Minho. Did you paint them on yourself?”

And you realised then and there that you must have made some kind of error, because Minho looked genuinely amused. Glancing down at himself for a moment, his eyes wandered back up to meet yours, and there was a genuine note of curiosity in his voice. “What, do you like them?”

You stilled, faltering just slightly, before retorting. “I’d probably like the cow they’re made from more.”

“Don’t worry, they’re not real leather,” Minho quipped back. “If that’s your only issue with them.”

“Well, you know, the fake leather industry is actually…” you trailed off, because your comeback sounded lame even in your head. “Whatever.”

The two of you fell into a silence, both watching the stars for a moment, listening to the thud of the bass downstairs and the muffled cacophony of voices.

And then, quietly, reluctantly, Minho spoke. “…Can I ask you a genuine question?”

If it was about the pants, you might actually throw him off this balcony. “OK. You’re not guaranteed a genuine answer, but go ahead.”

“The U.N. speech. It was your idea. If you want to go into human rights, why are you doing a speech about the environment?”

You paused, genuinely flustered by his question. Your response came out jumbled. “I don’t…you know, the two aren’t mutually exclusive, environmental damage is having a huge impact on–”

“Yeah, but that’s not what the speech is actually about. It’s a great speech, but why isn’t it on a subject youwant to do?”

“Who says? You? You don’t know what I want,” you shot back, irritated, refusing to admit that he’d touched a nerve.

Rather than snapping back at you immediately, Minho took a deep breath, calming slightly. “…You’re right. I don’t. I shouldn’t assume.”

What was this? You didn’t want him to agree with you, you wanted an argument. This ‘nice’, truce stuff was really starting to grate on you. “Exactly.”

“It’s just…it’s important that you do what you want, and not try to shape yourself around other people.”

“I don’t,��� you argued. “Maybe what I want is for you not to attack every little decision I make. Like you always do.”

Minho’s brow furrowed, his stance shifting slightly. It took a second to realise that he was appraising you, eyeing you thoughtfully.

“You…really seem to dislike me,” he noted.

“Oh, do I?” You remarked, bitterly.

“Why is that?”

You let out a deep breath, mostly out of frustration, but also a little out of exhaustion. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to construct some kind of response.

There seemed to be a multitude of answers to that question. Minho was arrogant. He was atrociously blunt in most social settings and seemed indifferent to the hurt he caused others. He had an exorbitant amount of money and had very few qualms showcasing it. He scared away almost every single new debate team recruit because he was apparently allergic to the concept of constructive criticism. He’d ruined more than one relationship you’d had. Apparently, you talked too much about him, but there were only so many ways to honestly answer questions about your day or how you were feeling without mentioning how aggravating Minho was in some capacity.

But honestly, the more you thought about it, the more you felt yourself slipping back into the shell of that little fourteen-year-old, looking up at the cool older boy with wide eyes and hoping for just one kind word.

And it made you feel so…small. Pathetic.

“Because you’re an asshole,” you stated, simply.

Minho stared at you for a second, before frowning slightly. “I mean, not really.”

…Oh, he decided to say just exactly the wrong thing there, didn’t he?

“You absolutely are. Like, objectively,” you argued. “You literally made a girl cry last week over debating.”

“What? Who?”

“That first-year girl. Dark hair, super perky. You know, when she’s not crying her eyes out.”

Something approaching recognition dawned on Minho’s face, but to your surprise, his expression dimmed slightly. “Oh, her. She told you it was about her debating?”

Well, not in exact words, you wanted to say. But it wasn’t hard to read between the lines, given what you knew Minho to be capable of.

“OK, then what was it about?” You asked.

“She came up to me after our last meeting and asked for some tutoring,” Minho said, before giving you a very pointed look. “As in, a specific kind of ‘private’ tutoring. Very specific. And she was not subtle about it.”

You blinked. “…What?”

Minho’s brow furrowed, visibly searching through his memory of the incident. “To be fair, I might have laughed in her face. In my defence, it was less about her and more about the audacity.”

You pictured the scene, of that girl coming onto Minho, his face when he realised what was happening, and the worst part of you maybe wanted to smirk a little. But you would not indulge it. “Still, sounds like you could have been nicer abut it.”

“OK, yeah, I feel a little bad. But no, it wasn’t over her debating skills. I might be harsh, but you think I’d make someone cry over that and not give a shit?”

Every ounce of amusement drained out of you in an instant, replaced by something cold. “I mean…yeah, you’ve done it before.”

“What? When?”

He didn’t know?

How could he not know?

You might have finished sobbing by the time you’d confronted him, all those years ago, but hadn’t it been extremely obvious?

You stared at Minho for a good few seconds, waiting for him to slip up, to give up the joke. But all you got in return was a genuinely confused expression on his face, waiting for you to clarify what exactly you were talking about.

Oh.

Yeah, he really didn’t know.

Shit.

You swallowed, looking down at your hands, picking at one particularly jagged edge of your thumbnail. “…Me.”

Minho stilled. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your head, searching your face. “You cried?”

Oh, fuck this guy. You stiffened, embarrassment roiling in the pit of your stomach, and snapped, seething. “Just forget it–”

“No, I didn’t mean…” he trailed off. When you braved a look over at him, you didn’t find the smirk you were expecting. Minho looked genuinely chastened, watching you with a deep but unreadable emotion. “I…didn’t know.”

You didn’t like this, you didn’t know how to handle…earnest Minho. Where the fuck did asshole Minho go?

“It was just the once. It was my first debate, and you were a dick about it,” you said, forcing yourself to shrug.

“Oh,” Minho said, with such a strangely specific tone that you couldn’t help but look over at him. There was a look of dawning realisation on his face, and the slightest hint of…

Embarrassment?

“I think I remember that,” Minho said, sounding vaguely horrified. “…This is going to sound dumb.”

Minho? Dumb? And aware of that fact? “…OK.”

“And a little pathetic.”

“Good, go on.”

“But I think, at the time…I was hoping you’d ask me for help.”

You stilled, trying to comprehend the string of words that had just left his mouth. Trying to forge them into anything that made even the smallest bit of sense.

“…And you didn’t, I don’t know, think about offering your help? Before humiliating me in front of my classmates?” You asked, and you almost surprised yourself with the way your voice shook with an old, familiar anger. “That didn’t, you know, maybe occur to you?”

Minho turned his whole body to face you head-on, hand curling around the balcony railing at his side. It was in that moment, seeing him entirely, that you glimpsed that blunt, ruthless young man that had cut you so deeply all those years ago – and saw, for the first time, how small he really was. That memory had taken up so much space in your mind, had warped itself until Minho towered over you, a titan, a symbol of each and every one of your failings.

Now, for once, a new image appeared. An awkward teenage boy, too embarrassed to admit that he wanted to be something in your eyes.

You softened, just for a second.

And then, remembering yourself, remembering all that had happened between the two of you since then, you came back to your senses.

“And what about everything after? It’s not like you were nice after that one little misunderstanding, you picked at everything I did for years.”

“In my defence, neither were you. You refused to speak to me unless you had to for years,” Minho pointed out. “And I realised how much you could do, what you could achieve–”

“If you kept being an asshole?”

“If I held you to actual standards,” Minho corrected, and for the first time in this conversation, he was starting to get heated. Good. “The next time the club met, you wiped the floor with seniors. Seniors. You were just as good as me, and you barely had experience.”

A compliment from Minho, however begrudging and biting it was, had a dangerously addicting effect on you. Actually, maybe the begrudging part only made it better. “And what? That pissed you off?”

Minho’s expression faltered, just for a split-second, and that spoke more than any confession could.

“It did,” you said, half-shocked for a second, before pressing on. “So, you wouldn’t get off my fucking back foryears. You even turned up at nationals after you graduated, hoping I’d fall flat on my face.”

“Is that what you think?” Minho asked, incredulous.

“What else would it be?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe…” Minho stopped, before letting out a short, bitter laugh. “Never mind. Forget it.”

You wanted to press him further, but the anger that had sustained you so far was starting to flag a little.

This was just…exhausting, sometimes.

You let out a deep breath, just as a cold October breeze decided to kick up, making you shiver. Instinctively, you folded your arms over your chest, tucking your hands into your sides to get just a little bit of warmth.

Maybe it was time for you to leave.

You looked over at Minho, opening your mouth to say something–

Only to catch his gaze openly, unmistakably, dipping down towards your cleavage.

You stopped.

You stared.

His eyes moved upwards again, finding yours, and he realised he’d been caught.

He tensed, just for a second, and you watched a tangle of emotions play out across his face before he settled on a neutral, blank, composed expression. But he didn’t speak.

He just…looked at you.

Waiting for you to say something? Daring you to say something?

It was hard to decipher, because at that moment, your brain was still 100% stuck on the fact that Minho had been checking you out.

Because that wasn’t some little accidental flicker, his gaze had stayed there.

Minho had been absolutely, undeniably, checking you out.

For all your complaints about the cold weather, it was starting to get very warm out here.

Why the fuck wasn’t he saying something? Anything?

You swallowed – or, well, you tried to at least.

Something had awoken, deep in the pit of your stomach. You felt it starting to unfurl, slowly, your nerve endings beginning to prickle.

“Are you…” you didn’t finish the question, you couldn’t finish the question, because the words ‘are you into me?’ were so laughably alien that they just refused to leave your mouth.

Minho waited, expectant for something, searching your face. Whatever he found – or didn’t find – was enough to make him speak.

“What?” he asked, and it was that same voice he had in the kitchen. Quiet, loaded, just a touch lower in register that almost made your breath catch.

It was like he was challenging you. Goading you. Wondering whether you were too much of a coward to finish that question.

You needed to ask. You needed to say it.

Come on, you were about to talk to the fucking United Nations in a few months, surely you could handle asking one question to Lee fucking Minho.

“Are you…attracted to me?”

Already, you were starting to cringe internally. Already, you were preparing for the worst. You tried to reassure yourself that it was fine, that when he said ‘no’ you could call him out on staring at your chest, he had no room to speak, it was a logical question, it…

Except Minho didn’t say ‘no’.

He didn’t say anything.

And the longer he looked at you, the longer he stayed silent, the more obvious his answer became.

…Oh.

That…

Maybe you were drunk, actually. Surely you had to be. Because the idea that Minho found you attractive didn’t drive you off like you thought it would.

Minho found you attractive.

Minho, the man with an ego so large it could smother a man, a superiority complex so vast it could bring awe-stricken observers to tears, that Minho…found you attractive.

Huh.

As you stared back at him, you were hit with the sudden thought of kissing him.

Which would be a terrible idea.

Because Minho was Minho and just because he was into you, just because he was perhaps objectively maybe a little good-looking, just because he’d admitted that all these years he’d seen you as an intellectual equal, just because he had the kind of thighs that could probably crush a watermelon, he…

He…

You paused, mind-blank, before rising up on your toes and pressing your lips to his.

The first few seconds were strange. Of course they were, it was surreal to feel someone’s lips on yours and know this was Minho, holy shit. You could feel how still he was, how shocked, and you knew he must have been on the exact same wavelength.

And then, he closed his eyes, his hand lifted up to gently cup your cheek, and everything clicked together perfectly.

This felt right, like really weirdly right despite it all. Some kind of base level of brain chemistry was screaming about how right this was, and it had you shivering in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

Was this a bad idea? The two of you had to work together for the next few months, you should have been aiming to keep things strictly professional, personal issues could complicate–

Minho let out the tiniest exhale, recapturing your lips immediately, and your thoughts stopped dead in your tracks.

Fuck professionalism, you’d earned this, you’d been working your ass off for months, you deserved to take satisfaction whenever you could get it.

You looped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up slightly to press the entirety of your front against his. He was warm, shockingly so, and when his free hand moved to press itself into the small of your back, you chanced parting your lips just a little.

Minho followed suit, deepening the kiss, angling his head just slightly. Everything about his touch, how he held you, it was all so strangely gentle in comparison to the usual way he treated you. As if you were an illusion, like if he squeezed too hard, you might disappear.

One of your hands came up to run your fingers up his neck, through his hair, and the drag of your fingernails coaxed a quiet hum out of him.

Every noise you pulled from Minho, every little reaction, felt like winning an argument. It felt like a strange natural extension of your debates, isolating the weakness in the other’s defence and targeting it.

You let your fingers tangle in his hair, biding your time, and when you tested a sharp little twist, you heard his breath catch.

Minho went still, just for a second, just enough to take a deep breath, before grabbing your hip and swinging you around, pushing you up against the sliding balcony door, trapping you between it and him.

The impact was enough to knock a gasp out of you, and he pulled away briefly. You watched him, cheeks flushed, eyes dark, breath heavy, as he tried to form words. “Fuck, are you–”

You pulled him back to you, a hand fisted in his shirt collar, too impatient to let him finish the rest of his question. Your kiss was rushed, insistent, and you took your time before you pulled away to mutter against his lips. “I’m fine. Just…fuck it, just keep kissing me.”

Minho’s head dipped towards yours, briefly, as if he were about to do just that – before he paused. “…Ask me nicely.”

“Fuck off,” you snapped, impulsively, heat rushing to your face.

He pulled his head away, his whole body even, until the two of you were just barely touching. He lingered, teasingly close, an amused glint in his eye. “Why, is that want you want? Me to fuck off?”

You didn’t know if he was being sincere or not. You never knew if he was being sincere or not. That was Minho, through and through.

You scrabbled for an answer, brain still sluggishly working through the fact that you weren’t kissing anymore, chest rising and falling with every quickened breath. You found your words, looking him directly in the eye, tilting your chin up slightly.

“Kiss me,” you said, practically venomous, before setting your jaw. “Or I’ll find someone else to do it for you.”

You didn’t know why that was the threat you made. Logically, it held no weight – Minho might have been attracted to you, but would he really care if you kissed someone else? You half expected him to laugh you off, and wander off back to the party without even a glance back at you.

He did neither of those things.

In fact, the teasing look in his eye vanished completely. His gaze turned so intense that you wondered if he could burn a hole straight through you.

When he finally spoke, he was deceptively calm, his voice perfectly even as he noted out loud. “I see. So, that’s how we’re playing this.”

You barely had time to process his words, before his mouth was back on yours, almost feverish, and with a newfound harshness.

You met him with just as much enthusiasm, matching him move-for-move.

A gentle Minho was too complicated. A soft, kind Minho forced you to confront some preconceived notions that you were very happy to keep unchallenged.

This Minho, the one who dragged his right hand down your side, the one who gripped your hip so tightly you could imagine it bruising, this was something you could handle. Something you didn’t have to overthink.

Because, fuck, you really, really didn’t want to think right now. You were sick of thinking, your whole life was thinking.

Minho’s hand slipped downwards to your thigh, his palm sliding around to the back of it before he lifted your leg up slightly to slot his thigh right between yours.

The instant he lowered your leg, you realised exactly what he’d done. Immediately, you felt the press of him between your legs, subtle enough to allow plausible deniability, and yet too firm for you to just ignore. To make matters worse, you were now just slightly off-balance, your foot just brushing the floor.

You couldn’t lower it, you couldn’t regain your balance, without pressing down even more on his thigh. You tried anyway, and the friction resulted in your first whimper of the night, light and breathy against him.

Minho’s grip, still on your leg, tightened.

He dropped his head to press his mouth to your neck, kissing at the skin there – and then he clenched his fucking thigh muscles, and your resulting moan slipped out right by his ear.

Your hands scrambled for him, clutching his shoulders, breath heavy as you tried not to rock your hips. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction, you absolutely refused to. You grabbed a fistful of his hair again, pulling by the roots to drag his head back upwards so your mouths could meet again.

Your kiss was now heated, almost clumsy. You caught Minho’s bottom lip between your teeth and nipped, enjoying the way he hissed, the way his tongue licked over where you’d done it, the way his left hand came up to your face – not to cradle this time, but to clutch, to grip.

His right hand moved up to your ass, giving it one firm squeeze, before suddenly and very deliberately pulling you down and along his thigh. More noises fought their way out of your mouth, and you were too weak to resist just one roll of your hips, chasing that same friction. It had barely been a few minutes, and you could already feel yourself starting to ache, heat beginning to collect at the apex of your thighs.

It was gratifying to learn, when you pulled Minho even closer, forcing the full length of his body to press against yours, that you weren’t alone in that. You felt something firm beginning to press into your hip, and when you slid your hand down to confirm what it was, palm sliding against it, Minho inhaled sharply.

You grinned against his lips, and squeezed him through those damned fake-leather pants.

He groaned, eyes drifting shut for just a second, before suddenly snapping open.

“Come on,” he said, swallowing, and took you by the wrist. Before you knew it, he pulled you away from the balcony door to slide it open again, and hurriedly tugged you inside.

You had been a little too distracted to notice how much colder it must have turned outside, but inside welcomed you with a warmth that radiated through your whole body.

But it took you a moment, brain still in a thigh-induced haze, to realise the full extent of what it meant to be inside.

To be inside Minho’s bedroom.

You hesitated as Minho slid the balcony door shut behind you, drawing the curtains together.

You stared ahead, eyes on that huge bed – and the first hints of panic seized your chest.

Quickly, almost unthinkingly, you grabbed Minho by the arm and pulled him. He stumbled, clearly caught off-guard, but he went along with it, letting you pull him to you and turn, pressing him up against the wall.

Easy. Your back was to the bed now, removing it from your sight, and that strange new weight of anxiety disappeared entirely. You went back to kissing him, hands back in his hair. Your new comfort zone, apparently.

Apparently, however, you didn’t entirely fool Minho, who must have picked up on your tension at least a little.

“I thought,” he murmured, between kisses, and made no move to grab at you like he had outside, “you might want,” more kisses, “some more privacy.”

You hummed, non-committal, your concerns already disappearing as you tried to figure out how to get Minho’s leg back between yours again without outright asking.

“Outside, people can…” he paused, probably because your nails had scraped along his scalp almost accidentally, and he shivered, “hear.”

You pulled away slightly, hiding how breathless you were, fixing him with a playful look.

“Hear what?” you challenged, pretending as if you hadn’t literally moaned in his ear just a short while ago.

Minho didn’t answer, but you knew that expression. It used to keep you awake at night, anger burning through you at just the thought of it. He was smug.

Surprisingly, the sight no longer filled you with burning rage – but it did prompt you to back him up against the wall again, stepping right back into his personal space, and pull his head down to kiss you again.

He relaxed into you, soft and gentle as his hands eased over your sides, which only served to wind you up more. Frustrated, you tugged at his shirt, pulling it up and out from where it had been tucked into his waistband, and let your hand snake up under it.

You had learned over the course of the evening that Minho, as mouthy as he liked to be around you, wasn’t the most vocal partner you’d encountered. Maybe that would have discouraged the average person, but you knew Minho. You’d known him for years, you knew every tell he had, the meaning behind every hint of body language.

You knew that when Minho’s breath caught, as your hands ran up his stomach, up his chest, exploring his upper body, it was basically his equivalent of shaking with anticipation.

You took the hint, grasping his shirt with both hands and pulling it upwards. The shirt – some kind of billowy white poet’s shirt, the kind with the little lace-up ties at the neck that he’d left undone and open – was loose enough to remove easily, and you let it drop without a second thought.

Even now, despite everything, you were reluctant to stroke Minho’s ego by openly ogling him. It was a challenge, trying to ignore the smooth skin, the lean muscle, so you dipped your head before he could see your reaction, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the underside of his collarbone.

Again, it felt like a special talent to recognise Minho’s deep inhale, when your hands brushed his chest, for the emotions it betrayed.

Your mouth descended lower, eager, towards his chest – and you let your tongue brush his nipple.

His breath caught again, and when you experimented with a quick nip of your teeth, his grip on your sides tightened briefly.

That was Minho’s equivalent of being horrendously, painfully turned on.

Your hand slid down past his abdomen, cupping him through his pants, and this time you let your palm gently grind against him.

Minho’s body shivered under your touch, and it felt like winning.

And then, suddenly, as if he had somehow read your mind, he scrambled for the zipper of your dress, determined to even the playing field. You briefly pictured denying him, pictured staying clothed while undressing Minho, having that kind of advantage over him.

Tempting, maybe. But then you imagined the feel of Minho’s hands on your bare skin, and you made your decision pretty quickly.

Minho pulled down your zipper, building anticipation as he hooked two fingers under each of your spaghetti straps and slowly peeled your dress from you, letting it pool around your ankles.

His eyes dropped, and his expression changed.

“Oh, wow.”

You couldn’t help but grin slightly, glancing down at what you knew Minho was staring at. Your underwear was a matching set of pastel pink silk, with little hints of lace and ribbon, even a bow or two. You’d taken one look at it and knew it screamed princess.

“I always commit to my costumes,” you replied, refusing to feel even the smallest hint of embarrassment. It was hard to feel so anyway, with Minho staring down at you with dark eyes, drinking the sight in, amusement long since shifted into something else entirely.

He reached forward, tracing the ribbon at the edge of your bra cup with his thumb, before letting it sweep down over the lace – and right over the peak of your nipple, eliciting a sharp inhale from you. “Were you expecting someone to see it?”

“No,” you admitted, half-tempted to arch your back, just to press your breast into the curve of his palm. “Nothing about this was expected.”

Minho hummed quietly in agreement, still taking his time admiring you. He grabbed at your breast, not quite rough but not entirely gentle, fingers splayed, making sure to drag his thumb back over your nipple as he did so. “I never imagined you wearing something like this.”

You were so focused on the weight of his hand on your chest that you almost missed the implication. Almost. “Imagined? You imagined?”

Minho’s eyes darted up to meet yours, looking caught out for just a moment before his expression smoothed again. “Sometimes. Occasionally.”

OK, you had to ask. “What did you imagine?”

“Not this,” Minho stated, stubborn, refusing to give a single detail.

Your mind whirred at the possibilities anyway. What? Did that mean it was the complete opposite of this? What was the opposite of this sugary pink ensemble? Black, sexy? Leather? A whole dominatrix-style thing, was that what Minho was into?

“Tell me,” you demanded, incredibly curious now.

He hesitated, before sighing. “…You know that red skirt you wear sometimes?”

Well, that was not where you thought this was going. “Yeah?”

“I’ve thought about you wearing it at debating. You’re stood behind the podium, most of you hidden from sight,” Minho described, and his voice slowly began to shift. “I’m stood behind you, like I’m reading your notes over your shoulder. You don’t look at me, but your legs part, just a little.”

Your breath caught, as his left hand brushed against your inner thigh, fingertips stroking circles into the sensitive skin there.

“You let me slide my hand up,” he continued, and slowly, his hand begins to drift upwards. “Because you want me to know you aren’t wearing anything underneath.”

Holy shit.

“And you want me to feel how wet you are, waiting for me,” Minho said, pausing his hand just a few inches from the edge of your underwear, waiting as he checked your face for any signs of protest.

You couldn’t imagine what exactly your expression was, but you’re certain that protest was probably the furthest fucking thing from it.

And so, his hand moved, cupping you through your underwear, feeling just how damp the fabric was. Your breath rushed out shakily at the first moment of contact, almost akin to a gasp, body shuddering.

“That’s what I imagine,” he said, and fucking shrugged, even as his thumb pressed directly against your clit.

You moaned, your hand immediately flying up to clutch at his shoulder for balance. Everything about Minho’s touch, the pressure, the pace, screamed relaxed. He wasn’t trying to do anything but just…touch you. Gauge your reaction.

You closed your eyes, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, as his fingers continued to work small, slow circles around your clit, still over the barrier of your excessively pretty underwear.

“Should have known,” you murmured, trying not to gasp, and trying not to push your hips towards his hands. “You’re the type to tease.”

Minho’s voice came low from somewhere above your ear, as his hand moved at that same maddening pace. “Not usually.”

“Ah,” you breathed, understanding. He was on the exact same wavelength as you. Every reaction sparked from the other was a victory, to be enjoyed, to be savoured. “I get it. I’m special.”

Minho murmured something under his breath, something you couldn’t quite make out, and pressed just a little firmer against you. You moaned from the surprise of it, burying your face further into his neck.

Beneath your hand, you could feel his dick twitch, now so firm and so insistently pressing against your hand that you knew it had to be aching, trapped in those skin-tight pants like that.

You moved your hand up, struggling briefly with how tightly his waistband sat around his hips, before your hand suddenly slipped inside, fingers grazing roughly against something slick and warm and hard.

Minho finally moaned, loudly, openly, hips bucking briefly up into your hand. “Shit.”

“What was that you were saying?” you asked, innocently, running your fingers back over what you knew to be his cockhead, teasing. “About no underwear?”

Minho sucked in a breath, and from where your head was resting in the crook of his neck, you could hear him swallow. “…These were already too fucking small.”

“They are stupidly tight.”

“Don’t act like you – fuck,” he hissed, cutting himself off. Probably because you’d squeezed him again.

His free hand found its way to the corner of your jaw, prying your face away from his neck so he could duck his head down and kiss you, hungrily. You reciprocated, basking in the way he groaned against your mouth.

And then, he asked. “Bed?”

You stilled, hesitating. “…Bed?”

Minho paused, pulling away a little to take in your expression. Immediately, you did your best to smooth it out, to appear unbothered, casual, fine.

He wasn’t fooled. “Is something up?”

You swallowed, still trying to maintain your composure. “Besides your dick? No.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, and faked one short, sharp laugh. “Ha. You’re so funny when you dodge the subject.”

“I’m not dodging anything,” you argued.

He paused again, waiting, watching you. And, after a moment, he pulled his hand away from your underwear to wrap around your wrist, gently tugging your hand out of his pants.

“OK, fine,’” you relented, composure cracking. That old familiar dread returned, lodging itself in the pit of your stomach. “I just don’t…do this. All this,” you said, gesturing between the two of you, and towards the room at large. “The way it’s all spontaneous, I mean.”

“Me neither,” Minho said, calmly, still waiting expectantly. “What else?”

Fucker.

You scowled, jaw clenching, teeth gritted as you admitted. “And my experience in general, is…one could say limited.”

“I figured as much.”

“Rude,” you pointed out, vaguely offended. You’d had this man fucking shivering from just touching him. And what? Now, he was calling you inexperienced? Amateurish? Like he could tell the whole time? Bullshit.

“No, not…” Minho cleared his throat, looking mildly exasperated. It was a look you often inspired in him. “I don’t mind. That’s why I’m saying this, because I don’t want you pretending when it comes to shit like this. If you’re not going to be honest, I don’t want it.”

Honest.

Shit.

You hesitated, debating internally, weighing the pros and cons in your head. It was so fucking Minho to pick the most aggravating time to do the right thing. Of course, the one time that him being an asshole worked in your favour, he refused to do it.

“Fine,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “Fine. OK.”

He waited, eyes on you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from averting your gaze, looking up at the ceiling.

“Technically…technically,” you repeated, with emphasis, “one might argue that…I haven’t had sex yet.”

Minho stilled, staring at you, eyes widening.

You swallowed, trying to stay firm. “It’s really not a big deal…”

“It is,” Minho argued, tersely, but when you looked at his face, there wasn’t a hint of anger. There was, however, a strong hint of guilt in his eyes. You could practically see his thoughts, the way he replayed everything he’d done tonight, the fear that he’d done too much, come on too strong, picturing you as some blushing innocent virgin he’d deflowered–

“I’ve done everything else,” you said, eager to clear up that misconception. You were far from innocent, there was just one particular act you hadn’t gotten around to. “Hands, oral, all that. Done it. It’s literally the one thing that hasn’t…like, I’ve had relationships, it just never reached the point that…”

It always went around in circles. You wanted your relationship to be serious, to be settled and firmly established and in a good place before it happened – but the time it took to get there made your partners panic, made them think that to go so long without sex, without wanting them, the relationship must actually secretly be failing. And then you’d break up, and you’d be even more guarded and hesitant the next time, and on it went.

“And I’ve been busy with school and my career anyway,” you added, swallowing, forcing a shrug. “Who has the time?”

Minho was still staring at you, but at least the guilt had faded away.

He’d made no move to get away from you, at least, so you took this as a good sign. With a deep breath, you turned around and took slow, measured steps towards that ridiculously large bed, and looked him dead in the eye as you made a point of sitting down on it.

Doing your best to sound certain, reassuring, convincing without leaving a single bit of room for doubt, you spoke.

“I’m happy and comfortable with everything but sex-sex happening. So, if you want that…” you trailed off, trying to think of a polite way to phrase the thought in your head, before giving up with a shrug. “Tough shit, I guess. That’s my line in the sand. Everything else is fair game, though, so don’t get all…weird about it.”

“I’m not getting weird about it,” Minho said, stubbornly.

“You were. Just a little. Like you’re afraid to break me or something.”

Something sparked in Minho’s eyes, and he smiled slightly. “I’d never think I could do that.”

“Good, because you can’t,” you repeated, firmly. “There, honesty. Done. So, either come over here or leave.”

“Leave my own room?” Minho asked, amused.

“Yeah,” you said, doubling down, leaning back to plant both hands behind you on the bed. “It’s my room now.”

For a second, it looked like Minho was going to laugh. And then you caught the way his eyes began to lower, following the lines of your body, the way you were sitting on his bed, clad only in underwear, waiting.

He exhaled slowly, appreciatively. “…This is happening.”

You weren’t sure if that was aimed at you, or himself, but either way it didn’t matter much when he crossed the room in a flash. Barely taking the time to plant one knee into the mattress beside you, his mouth was on yours, hand on the back of your head.

It was a gentle gesture, sweet even, how he cradled the back of your head.

So, just to be certain that he knew exactly where you stood, and exactly how much patience you had for gentleness, you took his other hand and slid it into your panties.

Minho groaned, pulling away from the kiss to look down, and you felt his fingers slip through your folds, the movement made slick and easy by the way you were soaked.

“You’re so impatient,” he muttered, but he didn’t sound particularly annoyed about it. “All the time.”

“Yeah,” you replied, unapologetic. “I know what I want.”

“Mmhm. And so do I,” he said, and pulled his hand out of your underwear. You opened your mouth to argue, to question why, until you felt his hands move to your back, to the fastening of your bra.

He unhooked it easily, sliding the straps off your shoulders. Pushing up from the bed to stand tall, Minho let the bra fall from his hands, before reaching down to grab at your waist and pull you to standing.

He kissed you again, briefly, ignoring your bewildered expression, before switching your positions – him sat on the bed, you standing over him.

“These are staying on. They’re a bitch to peel off,” he told you, and your gaze was practically glued to his hand as it ran up his faux-leather-clad thigh before he gestured to your underwear. “It’s up to you, what you do with those.”

Your hand, unthinkingly, drifted to the lacy hem of your underwear.

“…What, no preference?” you asked him.

Minho stared at you, eyes dark, the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly with knowing, and didn’t reply.

Heat flooded your belly. You swallowed once, and hooked your fingers around your waistband, stripping out of your underwear before you could think twice.

He reached for you immediately, his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him. From what you could tell, he seemed to be guiding you towards straddling his lap – to which you took the slightest detour at the very last second, planting your knees either side of his thigh, the very same one that had been pushed between your legs on that balcony.

How very familiar a feeling. And yet, how very different, because now you were pressed against Minho’s naked chest, and when you kissed, one hand went straight to your bare breast, the other arm hooked around your bare waist.

Logically, you should have felt exposed – but there was very little room for logic here, not when Minho was squeezing you so tightly against him. You felt…enveloped by him. By his warmth.

It was…nice.

And then you finally let go of those last few traces of stubborn pride, and let yourself grind down on his thigh, and it was fucking fantastic.

You moaned, breaking the kiss to press your forehead against his, and rocked your hips faster. His thigh was so solid under you, thick bands of muscle from a lifetime of sports, clenching and unclenching. Heat pooled in your gut, spiking with every rock of your hips, every drag of your clit against him.

You felt Minho’s hand drop from your waist to curl around your hip, gripping tightly, urging you to keep moving. You pulled your face away from his, just in case – headbutting him in the nose, no matter the context, would very probably be a mood-killer – and instead lowered your head to plant kisses on the side of his neck.

Minho tilted his head back, just a little, granting you better access, his breath escaping him in one long, shaking exhale. You were forced to grip onto his shoulder with one hand, just to steady yourself, still grinding down on him.

Tension built between your legs, pulsing with every heartbeat as you continued to grind against him, and your kisses grew clumsier. Open-mouthed, harsher, teeth scraping against sensitive skin in a way that left Minho gasping.

“If I left marks, would it…” your voice was sluggish, raspy, dazed, “would…can I?”

It was a silly question, because the obvious answer was ‘no’, he wasn’t going to want any reminders of this temporary lapse in sanity.

And yet, Minho’s reply was immediate. “Yes. Yeah, you can, if…that’s…”

He broke off, with a noise so low in his throat that you could almost feel his chest vibrate from it, as your mouth latched onto his neck.

Your movements weren’t deliberate, not exactly. You had no strict intentions of marking up Minho’s skin, but it was just whenever it felt good. With every new sudden jolt of sensation shooting through your body, you sucked, leaving a path of your own pleasure scattered intermittently along his neck, the base of his throat, the swells and dips of his collarbone.

Minho reacted to each, and when you thought to look down, you saw his dick straining against his pants, so much so that it was even starting to pull his waistband away from his skin, revealing glimpses of what lay underneath.

You watched his hand lower to his crotch, as he tried to adjust himself, to figure out a way out of his discomfort. Without thinking, you reached down and pushed his hand away, letting your own slide into his paints.

Minho sharply inhaled, as you slid the palm of your hand over the head of him, letting your fingers grow slick, before wrapping your hand around his length.

He was hard, very obviously and very painfully hard.

And all of that was because of you.

Because he wanted you.

You felt your body physically judder at the thought, your thighs clamping around his. Something sparked inside of you. Up until now, you’d been turned on – obviously. You were naked on Minho’s bed and straddling his thigh, of course you’d been turned on, but it had been manageable. Like burning coals, smouldering, blazing hot to the touch, sure, but under control.

This, seeing him like this, was as if someone had jabbed right in the heart of those coals, oxygen rushing in and flames erupting, sparks crackling in the air. No longer under control, but all-consuming and desperate.

The muscles of your core clenched so tightly that it was almost painful, and with a ragged breath, you finally began to ride in earnest.

Minho clutched you with one hand as you moaned, his other snaking down to join yours on his dick. You let him guide your hand, controlling how hard you squeezed him, how slow you pumped him. Honestly, at this point, you didn’t have the concentration for it on your own, not when your legs were starting to shake with every new press of his thigh. You could feel something build, like a wave swelling, the crest just in sight but not quite…

“That’s it,” he murmured, and pressed a kiss to your chest. His eyes were dark when he pulled back, watching the way you bounced. “You’re…God, you’re fucking hot, do you know that?”

His words only drove you further, stoking something within you, and you moaned in response.

“Oh, is that what you like?” Minho asked, eyes lighting at his new discovery. His moved the hand on your waist to settle on your breast, squeezing lightly. “Me telling you how good you look?”

“Minho,” you muttered, half-warning, half-longing.

“With our history, I’d have thought you liked me mean,” he continued, and you should have wondered where that smart mouth of his had been this whole time.

He leaned in, kissing your neck, following upwards, until he reached your ear.

“But that’s not it,” he observed, murmuring into your ear. His hand – the one on yours, the one helping you stroke his dick – quickened, gripping yours just a little tighter, and his breath caught for a second, before continuing. “You want to hear how good you feel. How good you are.”

You whined, your body faltering for a beat, before picking up again.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You like praise,” he said, so very confident. Knowing, almost, like there was something else to it. Something he recognised, intrinsically. “You want me to admit how…fucking perfect I think you are.”

“Minho.”

You felt him twitch under your hands, felt the way he reacted to the way you breathed his name.

“Because you are,” he said, the words falling from his lips, as you grew even more frantic. “You are, you are, you’re good, you’re perfect, you’re…fuck, keep going. I can feel how wet you are, you…”

Fuck, fuck, it was too good. Too good and yet not good enough. There were tears in your eyes and your legs burned from how tightly they were clamped around Minho’s thigh, how desperately you’d ridden him, trying to chase an orgasm you just…you just couldn’t quite…

“Maybe you should fuck me,” you whined, voice hoarse, shaking. You’d spent the last five minutes essentially edging yourself, your brain was fried, and all you could imagine was how easy it would be for Minho to pull you over just a short distance onto his dick, let it fill you, maybe it…

“Don’t. Fuck, don’t say that,” Minho gasped, trying and failing to make it sound insistent, final. You could see the effects of your words. He was tempted, he was sorely fucking tempted. You knew he was picturing the exact same thing that you were. “I’m not taking your virginity at a fucking house party. You…”

He broke off with a moan, letting whatever words that would follow die on his tongue as you squeezed him.

“I need…I need more,” you gasped, through gritted teeth. Your body was starting to betray you, your legs starting to give out before you could reach your climax.

You buried your face in his neck, panting.

“I can’t…fuck,” you moaned, before one little word fell from your lips, the one word he’d asked for so long ago, out on the balcony, “Please.”

With a sudden, sharp breath, Minho hooked his arm around you and rolled you over, pressing you into the mattress. Your hand slipped out of his pants as he moved, hurriedly, down your body.

He paused at the apex of your legs, glancing up. “Are you OK with–”

“Yes,” you hissed, your hand fisting in his hair and pushing him downwards. You were so close, you were so close, and his thigh wasn’t between yours anymore, and you just couldn’t… “Yes, fuck, please.”

You could glimpse the beginnings of a smirk as he followed your hurried pushing, but before you could even register it, you felt him lick one long stripe along you, and your head emptied of all thoughts.

His mouth was hot and wet and almost immediately targeted your clit, leaving you shaking as you ground up into his face without shame, chasing the orgasm that had been just inches away for so fucking long. You could barely breathe from it, each breath wracking your body in almost-sobs, every muscle stiff and coiled in desperation.

You felt Minho hook an arm under your leg, pulling it up so that it could sit on his shoulder, parting you just a little wider.

You arched your back, your head pressing even further into the mattress, eyes squeezing shut. When you spoke, it was barely coherent, a loose string of words. “…H-hands, fingers…please, whatever it…Minho, I’m so close, I’m…ah…”

You felt him slide in a finger – two fingers? More? You didn’t know, you didn’t care, you just knew how close to the edge you were. Your muscles were locking up, body shaking, even as Minho placed his free hand on the curve of your hip, thumb brushing your skin in small, reassuring strokes.

Your grip in his hair tightened, mind going blank, tears in your eyes as you gasped. “Yes, keep – keep…keep–”

You came, and it felt like shattering. Your body’s muscles locked, rigid, shaking, as your own moans rang in your ears. At some point, your thighs had clamped around Minho’s head, your one anchor as you tried to come back down to earth.

It was like every rational thought, anything with even the slightest bit of complexity to it, evaporated. You were left weightless, on your back, dazed. Slowly, sluggishly, your gaze drifted to Minho.

What a sight, you thought. Pretty.

His cheek was pressed into the flesh of your inner thigh, skin flushed so pink, head tilted down so that most of his face was hidden by his rumpled hair. He was kneeling, and you saw that his hand had returned to his dick. It was as if he were trying to be discreet, almost quiet, even as he desperately pumped himself.

Barely even thinking about it, you reached down. His breath caught when you wrapped your own hand around him again, letting him guide your movements once more.

His head lifted, and you caught a glimpse of his dark brown eyes looking up at you. Always so unreadable, even now, even when burning.

Your mouth moved before your thoughts could catch up. “You’re…”

You didn’t know how to finish that. Gorgeous? Annoying? Terrifying?

All of it was true, none of it felt right to say in that moment.

You just watched him, eyes locked, until he choked out a moan, squeezed his eyes shut, and came with a soft, low, “fuck.”

It felt dirty, almost voyeuristic, to watch him cum. But even if you didn’t look, you still would have heard him, you still would have felt it on your hands, your thighs. You still would have felt the way he slumped forward, head dropping to your chest, forehead pressed against the valley between your breasts, his quick, deep breaths against your skin.

You still would have felt the way it all fell quiet – until it was just you, Minho, and the impending repercussions of what just happened.

What you’d done.

What had you done?

Your head dropped back against the mattress, looking up at Minho’s ceiling but not really seeing it, as your senses slowly returned to you.

Shit. Fuck. Every other fucking expletive, they all ran through your head.

What the fuck had you–

Minho cleared his throat, lifting his head up off of you. You could feel the weight of his gaze on your face, and you tried to school your expression into something neutral, pushing down the storm of thoughts in your mind.

You didn’t know why, but you expected him to withdraw from you immediately. Maybe that was doing him a disservice, but it was true.

That was why you were so surprised by the kiss he pressed to your temple, strangely gentle, even as his usual sardonic tone crept back into his voice as he spoke. “Let’s clean up first, overthink later.”

“I’m not overthinking,” you argued immediately, because old habits died hard even in a fucking surreal situation like this.

He didn’t laugh, but there was the slightest twitch to the corner of his mouth as he replied. “Sure.”

He sat up, and you caught the way he winced, probably in newfound discomfort over the state of his…current attire. While he attempted to strip out of his ruined pants with anything close to dignity, you pushed yourself up to a seated position, trying to look anywhere but him.

What now? What now? It was all well and good for him not to overthink, but you couldn’t drive away the sudden flood of consequences that threatened to overwhelm you. Of all times, why did it have to be now, when you were forced to interact with Minho so much more? You’d have to work with this man for the next few months, fuck, you had to talk at the U.N. with him. What would people say?

What would Felix say?

Something powder-blue and soft entered your field of vision, smelling of detergent and lavender fabric softener. You blinked, looking up to find Minho offering you a towel, and you wondered how long you must have zoned out, wrapped in your own thoughts. There wasn’t quite a smile on his face – nothing so extreme like that from Minho – but there was something gentle in his eyes.

You took it, swallowing, and cleaned yourself up as best as you could. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Minho pull on a pair of black sweatpants – and when he straightened up to standing, you finally clocked the blooming purple marks littered across his skin.

“Oh, fuck, your neck. I’m so sorry,” you gasped, mortified at the blooming purple marks on Minho.

He glanced towards you, and gave you half a shrug. “It’s fine.”

They were very much not fine. They were prominent, the kind of hickeys you’d be embarrassed to leave on a long-term partner, let alone a…

A…

Well, whatever Minho was.

You swallowed. “It’s not, have you seen them?”

He paused.

“…Yes,” Minho replied, firmly, and there was something about his tone that made you stop, that made you stare at him.

He stared back, face perfectly neutral but refusing to look away. The implications were not lost on you, and your face began to warm.

Clearing your throat, you set the towel by your side and reached for your clothes, having to get up to pick up each item along the shameless trail that ran from the bed to the balcony doors, gathering them in your arms in a small, pink pile. “Please tell me you have your own bathroom.”

Minho laughed a little, nodding towards the door to your right. “Where do you think I got the towel from? Through there.”

You spent a few minutes in the bathroom, trying to compose yourself, trying to clean up properly, slipping your costume back on. The strange feeling in your stomach didn’t ease up, not even once. In the mirror, you looked almost exactly the same as you had when you first stepped into Minho’s room – but how was that possible, when everything had changed?

Fuck, just…you didn’t need to think about it. Deal with it later, deal with all of it later. You just needed to get out and get some space and distance and just…

You drew yourself up as high as you could, squaring your shoulders, and pushed open the bathroom door.

You found Minho standing in the middle of the room, seemingly in mid-step, turning quickly to face you. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was…what? Pacing?

“I can’t stay,” you stated, trying to sound firm. You mostly succeeded, were it not for the slightest hesitation you had, the faintest strain to your voice.

Minho paused, catching it immediately. “…Do you want to?”

You didn’t know how to answer that. It felt like a trap, even now, as if Minho was preparing to pull the rug out from under you. You wished you couldn’t imagine that level of cruelty, and yet you feared it, however irrational it was. “…I don’t want people to talk.”

Minho eyed you for a second, and yet again waited before he spoke, like he was trying to choose his words before they left his mouth. He settled for a very simple, very Minho statement. “Fuck people.”

At any other time, in any other situation, you would have rolled your eyes. You even felt the urge now, tied up in the same desire to go back to normal, to pretend everything was fine. “It’s not as easy as that.”

“It is,” Minho argued, but there was no irritation in his voice. Just quiet. “But I get it.”

“This was very…uh,” you swallowed. “…Impulsive.”

“Yes. It was definitely that,” he replied, and was he even capable of being any more cryptic?

You glanced away, finding it difficult to look him in the eye as you admitted, quietly. “…But, uh, good.”

Minho paused. “…Yep.”

Couldn’t he just say what he was fucking thinking? You needed to know, you needed to know if he was on the same page as you, if he was also thinking that it was too weird to just leave things like this. Silent and awkward and just…dancing around each other like this.

You swallowed, and folded your arms over your chest. You weren’t quite brave enough to look at him again yet, but you spoke up again. “Did you…have a good time too?”

And just when you were expecting another cryptic little non-response, Minho decided to cut straight to the point and catch you off-guard. “I had a great time.”

You blinked, shocked enough that your eyes darted back to him without a second thought. “…Good. That’s, uh…good.”

It was so strange to see him like this. Lee Minho, always so put-together, never a shred of vulnerability – and there he was, hair mussed, shirtless, barefoot, taking a breath as he tried to put together his next words.

“I had a great time,” he repeated. “With you. And…”

He stopped.

“And…?” You asked.

His mouth opened. Closed. And opened again. “…I…you don’t have to go.”

You felt something warm unfurl in your chest. “Minho, do you want me to stay?”

“…Yes.”

You took a step forward, tension melting from your shoulders, replaced with a new curiosity. You couldn’t quite believe this was happening, and yet…

Well, you couldn’t let him off that easily.

“Yes, what?”

He exhaled, making a sound almost akin to a huff. You recognised that sound, you knew it from debating, from arguing, from whenever you caught a weakness in his defence and pressed him on it. “Yes, I want you to stay.”

You took another step. “Why?”

This time, he scoffed, as if it could hide the slow flush of pink making its way up his neck. “You know why.”

“No, I don’t.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, and wow, this was fun. “Yes, you do. You’re too smart not to.”

You grinned. “Thanks, but no. You’re going to have to say it.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I am,” you said, without shame, and added. “You’re into that.”

He sighed, and gave in. “Yes, I am.”

“Well done,” you laughed, finally drawing it out of him. “You’re into me.”

Minho eyed you for a second, still just a touch out of reach. Like he’d done it on purpose, kept just enough space to protect himself.

You watched the way he hesitated, and for once, his mask slipped and his face gave away just a peek into what he was thinking. You could see the thoughts warring within his head, the way he hesitated before committing.

“…More than just that,” he said – he confessed – softly.

Just four words, but the meaning behind them was loaded. They hung in the air, obvious, weighty, vivid.

You froze, taking them in. You didn’t know why, you didn’t know how, but despite everything that had occurred tonight, Minho still had the ability to surprise you.

More than just that.

More than just…

Oh.

That was all your brain – your proudest attribute, your big, university-educated, sharp-witted genius brain –  was capable of thinking.

Oh.

“So…” Minho said, before trailing off, watching you, and eventually forcing the smallest of shrugs. “Don’t go.”

You were still reeling. You tried to make it all fit, every piece of information you had. The gentleness he’d held you with, the strange softness he’d had, the look in his dark eyes when you threatened to find someone else to kiss, the way he smiled sometimes when you were trying to piss him off, the way he just…watched you in conversations, in arguments, like he was just as interested seeing you think as he was countering the words that came out of your mouth.

When you laid it out like that, when you visualised it like points in a debate – with so many in the for argument and frighteningly little in the against – it seemed so obvious.

“I…” your words came out hoarse, dazed. “…Yeah, I can…not go.”

Minho’s eyes searched every inch of you, trying to figure out what exactly you were thinking.

“…You look like you’re about to pass out,” he observed, bluntly.

“You just said you like me, can you blame me?” You asked, hysteria close to creeping into your voice.

Minho didn’t reply for a second, still watching you. “Is it such a surprise?”

“Yes,” you blurted out, instinctively, until you took a second to actually think about it. “…No? Yes and no? I don’t…you’re, like, annoyingly hard to read.”

“Am I?” Minho asked, but the corners of his lips were twitching, suggesting he already knew the answer to that. “I’d say the same about you, but honestly, sometimes you’re an open book.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Especially when you stare at my mouth.”

Your eyes snapped up back to his, blinking, caught. There was definitely amusement in his gaze now, a glimpse of relief creeping in.

You scowled, face beginning to heat. “You’re enjoying this.”

He smiled, not a trace of hesitation behind it, a real and genuine smile, and finally stepped towards you. “I absolutely am.”

“Assho–”

You were cut off, as Minho ducked his head down to kiss you, and you couldn’t even pretend to do anything other than respond eagerly.

The next time the two of you got coffee, on another cold autumn morning when you were ten minutes deep into a squabble over geopolitics that you were determined to win, Seungmin had the grace to at least act surprised when Minho bought you a muffin and slipped his arm around your waist.

“Wow,” he murmured, deadpan, watching the way you relaxed into Minho’s side, even as you unpicked every thread of his argument. “Gee. Who would have guessed?"

taglist: @buntrsh​ @liz3056​ @sunnyville36​ @sleepylixie​ @healinghyunjin​ @aliceu​ @laikaya​ @the7thcrow​ @lynx-paw​ @mainexiii​ @springdeity​ @bettyschwallocksyee​ @kawaiiayasan​ @tae-kook-lover​ @itshoonie​

#straykidsland #kinktober #stray kids smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho fanfiction #lee minho smut #minho smut #minho x reader #lee minho x y/n #minho x y/n #college au #enemies to lovers #lee minho fanfic #lee know smut #lee know x reader #skz minho x reader #skz smut

[majesty31]

𝙳𝚒𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 | 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚑𝚘 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝒂/𝒏: 𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔, 𝒔𝒐 𝑰'𝒎 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒛𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆. 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒊 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒛𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒌. 𝑬𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒖𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒛𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒔. 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒎???

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔/𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒎𝒂𝒅 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒐, 𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒚𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟑.𝟓𝒌

It was late, the sun was slowly starting to set, and still the boys weren’t back. At first you thought they were just late, sometimes it happened, where they just lost track of time, most of the time when they found something or when they get lost.

But they have never been this late before. And to make matters worse, your leader Alby was in there also. And everyone knew that if the doors closed with Minho and Ably inside, you would all be screwed.

So when the rain had stopped pouring, you along with every other glader stood at the entrance of the maze, watching, waiting. You bounced on your heels anxiously, your eyes trying to peer around the corridors for a shadow, a glimpse of life. But nothing.

It was getting darker, the doors would close any minute now, and you felt sick to your stomach. You hadn't felt like this since they banished Ben, and if you had to lose Minho too, you wouldn't even want to live anymore.

And if you were being completely honest with yourself, you always had something more than friendship for Minho. You two weren't as close as you would've liked to be, you've talked to him before but that was just because of Ben or Newt. Other then that you two never spoke, he didn't even seem to notice you, always looking somewhere else when you'd speak to him and just act cold towards you.

Which you never understood. You had come up only four months after Minho did, and right at the beginning he acted as if you were a burden to the whole glade. You knew straight away it was because you were a girl but you never called him out about it because you were also a little scared of him. Minho was a big guy, bigger than any boy in the glade. And you knew of his sarcastic banter but he never showed that to you, all you got was the cold shoulder and the blank stares.

But you couldn't help but fall for him, he might have so many bad traits, such as being cold towards you, never paying you any mind or maybe because he acted as if you were some child who everyone always had to look after. But the good ones overtook the bad, he seemed caring to his friends, funny, determined, always thinking of finding a way to get everyone out. He put his life on the line for everyone, and that was something that took a lot of amount of courage and will power.

You admired him, from afar of course. You wanted to have the determination he did, you wanted to be able to wake up every morning with a set mind and heart.

"What if they don't make it?" You heard the new greenie say, his words snapping you back to reality, the reality that this was actually happening, that they might not make it. And that you will never be able to tell Minho how you really felt for him. But you knew he wouldn't even care if you did.

"They're gonna make it." Newt replied, his eyes boring into the maze, searching, hoping. Like you all were. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes as you heart began to race. It was happening, you were letting your panic slowly take over. And you didn't know if you'd be able to stop it now.

You could feel your hands begin to shake. They just can't die, they can't. You could feel a warm hand on your back, it was Newts. He knew of your feelings for his friend, and you knew he was trying to reassure you but it did little to no help.

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach when you heard that all to familiar sound, followed with the ground rumbling and soon the wind blew back your hair. Finally you let your tears slip when the walls slowly started to grind together.

But then.

"Over there!" Chuck yelled, his finger pointing at the two figures who staggered past the corner, reaching into everyones line of sight. Everyone went dead silent as they all tired to figure out why Minho was moving so slow.

"Somethings wrong," Someone, you didn't know who said. Your eyes widened when you saw Alby slouched over Minho's shoulders, unconscious or maybe even dead. It was taking everything in you to try and keep yourself from screaming his name, yelling at him to hurry the hell up. But you just couldn't keep your mouth shut.

"Come on Minho you can make it!" You were the first to break the silence, yelling as loud as you could and soon everyone else erupted into yells and screams at Minho. You couldn't even hear your own voice over all the noise, but you didn't care.

Dread filled your entire body when he dropped Alby to the ground, but he didn't just leave him like Gally was yelling at him to do, instead he grabbed his legs and started dragging him towards you all.

You stopped your screams, and everything around you seemed to go silent, like background noise. Your breathing was just picking up in pace and your whole body shook with fear. Everyone around you knew he wasn't going to make it, not if he moved as slow as he was. And everyone also knew he would never leave a man behind.

Absent tears slipped from your eyes as you stared at the scene in front of your eyes. Minho looked so tired, but still he dragged Alby as fast as he could, and the closer the walls got to each other the more he seemed to panic. Sweat dripped off his arms, his face and his muscles bulged through his shirt as he dragged Alby.

The more tired he got the slower he became. You could see him slowing down, everyone could. You could feel yourself on the furge of a panic attack, everything was happening too fast but he was moving so slow.

Minho let out a panic yell as he tried to will himself to move faster, but he was just too far away. Your eyes shifted to the walls as a thought came to your head, a stupid thought, a really really stupid thought. One that you didn't let yourself rethink.

"Y/N NO!" Newt yelled right as your feet stepped between the two walls. You kept your eyes forward and your panic at bey as you ran with everything in you to the other side. The side no one wanted to be on, the side that would most likely lead to your death. But that was the last thing on your mind. The only thing you could think about was the boy who you loved, and not letting him die out here alone.

You barely made it to the other side alive, having to push yourself out as the walls closed with a crash behind you. You didn't even have time to think about what you did before Minho came charging at you. His face full of anger, disbelief and fear.

"Y/N what the hell did you do!" He yelled, his eyes wide as he grabbed your arm, pulling you harshly towards him. Your heart raced with adrenaline as you stared back into his eyes. "You just killed yourself! What the hell is wrong with you!"

"I couldn't just let you die!" You yelled back, ripping your arm away from his tight grasp. He seemed taken a back by your tone but he regained himself quickly.

"And what? That means you just kill yourself too! What do you think you'll do that will save me? Save us? You know nothing about the maze!" He was so close to you, his tone scared you more than you wanted to let him know, and his words just made it a whole lot worse. You darted your gaze to the ground as they filled with tears.

"Crying isn't going to help us." He might have wanted it to come out harsher but his tone softened. He was right, you didn't know two things about the maze, or how to be a good runner, but that didn't matter, you weren't about to let him die, even if that meant to kill yourself too.

You turned your eyes up into his. "You're right." You wiped your face with the back of your hand as you took a step away from him, which caught Minho's attention immediately, his eyes following your smaller form. "I don't know a thing about the maze, and I might have just walked into my own death, but I wasn't going to let you die alone,"

He didn't say anything, his eyes just staring into yours. And this was the first time he didn't seem cold towards you, the first time his eyes weren't empty as he looked into yours. It made your stomach fill with butterflies, which was so stupid in the situation you were in.

"You don't deserve to die like this Y/N," His words caught you off guard, and for some odd reason made tears well up in your eyes again. You sucked in a deep breath as you turned away, your gaze darting towards Alby, who was limp on the ground.

"We should hide him somewhere," You said, already moving to kneel beside Alby. Your hand brushed over his face, and your heart dropped a little when you saw the gash on his head. But you didn't mention it, knowing why he had done it in the first place.

Minho didn't say a word as he took him by the arm, slinging on over his shoulder. Not knowing what else to do you followed suit, your knees almost bucking with his weight. But you just willed yourself to move even if he was heavy.

After maybe 5 minutes of walking around Minho dropped his side causing you to almost fall over as all of Alby's weight fell on you. Having no other choice you dropped him as gently as you could by the nearby wall.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You breathed out in annoyance, getting up on your feet as you tired to regain your raged breathing. Minho turned towards you, his eyes hardening but you cut in before he got the chance to speck. "We can't just leave him here. He'll die. We have to put him somewhere. Or hide him-"

"Where?" He interrupted, his voice full of frustration and panic. You had never seen Minho panic before and while you understood you were also getting annoyed with him. He's supposed to be the Keeper of the runners and here he is not using his head and instead using his panic.

"I don't know." Your own voice matching his. Your eyes shifted around, trying to find somewhere out of sight. But he should be the one to know the maze better than anyone, or so you've been told. "You're supposed to know everything about the maze. Isn't there one place you can think of to hide him-" He let out a frustrated groan before he grabbed your waist, pinning you to the wall.

"You don't fucking get it! Take a look around, we're trapped and we aren't getting out of this alive!" Your breathing was fast from the shock and the truth to his words. His face was close to yours, his hands were warm which made shivers run up your spine.

"With an attitude like that, yeah no klunk we're dead!" You pushed him away from you with slightly shaking hands. "Be the shucking keeper Minho!" You yelled. "And lead me."

"You are a shucking builder Y/N! How the hell am I-" A horrifying cry rang through your ears, shutting both you and Minho's mouths as your eyes shifted behind Minho. You couldn't see anything but you knew what you heard and you did not want to meat the creature that made that terrible sound.

"Okay okay, it doesn't matter Minho. We just need to hide him," You were panicking, you could feel the rise in your stomach and your throat. But you had to keep it down, this was the worst place to have a full panic attack, and the wrong person to have it in front. "What about underneath?"

Minho looked to what you were pointing at, which was under the ivy at the bottom of the wall. "Okay okay but hurry, the walls are already changing."

For the next ten minutes you and Minho got Alby safely under the ivy, you didn't know if it would work but you prayed to whoever was out there that it would. You didn't even notice when Minho had stopped helping you, all your mind was focused on was making sure that Alby was safe to leave.

"We gotta go!"

"What?"

"We gotta go!" You felt Minho grab your arms, pulling you up onto your feet. Your eyes darted behind you as Minho dragged you forward, and thats when you saw it.

Your breath caught in your throat as you laid eyes on it for the first time. The thing everyone in the glade feared, the thing no one has ever seen and lived to tell the tale. It was unlike anything you'd ever seen—half-machine, half-monster, with twisted limbs. It's movements jerky and unnatural. Panic rushed into your body like lighting and thats when everything started to feel real. That you might actually not make it out alive.

You could feel your body turn stiff, and your blood turn cold. You thought for a second you were going to throw up, cry or scream. Maybe all of them and Minho sensed it immediately.

"Y/N Y/N no no no." Minho tried pulling you with him but your feet refused to move as you watched the griever turn into another corridor. "Don't do this now. We have to go!"

"I can't do this Minho!" You felt tears burn in your eyes, your breathing was ragged and heavy, and you were starting to see spots. "I can't-"

"Yes you can!"

"No I-"

"Listen to me!" He turned you around to face him, his hands cupping your face harshly, causing your eyes to connect with his. "Look I don't know if you're brave or just brain dead for running in here, but you did okay? So don't panic now, in-fact you aren't allowed to panic now. You have to learn to control it," Minho said, his voice low and dangerous. "Because if you can't, you'll get us both killed. So shove it down you got that. Shove. It. Down."

You nodded into his hands, your mouth trembling and the tears slipping down your face. You were about to wipe them away but Minho did it for you. You would have questioned it but you were far too scared to even think about anything other than death.

"Y/N, we need to run!" Minho shouted, his voice tinged with panic as his eyes widen, looking behind you. Your heart dropped to the ground as you heard it's dreadful scream and mechanical run but this time you didn't wait for Minho to drag you along. Instead you broke into a sprint, hot on Minho's heels.

The Griever's mechanical legs clattered against the ground as it raced after you two. You could hear its heavy breaths echoing behind you, driving you forward with a surge of adrenaline fueled fear.

"We can't outrun it," You panted, your voice strained with exertion as you darted around a corner, narrowly avoiding the Griever's grasp.

Your heart sank as you realized you were trapped, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. But giving up was not also not an option—not when your life, and were at risk. And not when Minho still didn't know your true feelings.

With a desperate burst of energy, you pushed forward, dodging the Griever's relentless attacks with quick reflexes and determination. Every step felt like a battle against death itself, but you refused to surrender.

Your legs burned, your lungs screamed for air, and yet the Griever remained hot on your heels. As exhaustion threatened to consume you, you felt your pace slowing, your steps faltering with each passing moment.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. The relentless pace was wearing you down, both physically and mentally. The maze seemed to stretch on endlessly, its walls looming ominously overhead.

"We can't stop!" Minho's voice pierced through the darkness, sharp with frustration.

But despite his harsh words, you struggled to keep up, your muscles aching with every step. As you rounded yet another corner, you stumbled, nearly falling to the ground.

"I-I can't," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper as you fought to catch your breath.

Minho's patience snapped, his frustration boiling over as he turned to face you, his expression a mix of anger and desperation.

"Dammit, Y/N!" he barked, his voice laced with frustration. "Get it together! Do you think the Grievers care if you're tired?" Minho snapped, his tone harsh. "Do you think they'll show you mercy because you can't keep up? No. They'll tear you apart without a second thought. We need to keep moving, or we're dead."

His words struck you like a blow, the harsh reality of your situation sinking in with chilling clarity. Despite the fear and exhaustion, you forced yourself to push through.

"Come on we can lose it down here! The walls are changing, closing! Keep moving, Y/N!"

Heart pounding, you glanced back to see the Griever's glowing eyes fixated on you, its mechanical limbs clattering against the stone floor as it got closer. With a surge of adrenaline, you broke into a sprint. As you ran, Minho's voice became a distant roar.

But then, a plan formed in your mind—a reckless, desperate plan. With a quick glance back, you veered off course, leading the Griever away from Minho's path.

"Come on, you ugly piece of scrap!" you taunted as you drew the Griever's attention to yourself.

Behind you, Minho's voice rose in panic, his yells desperate for you to turn back. But you ignored him.

As you ran, the walls of the maze began to shift and close in around you, sealing off your escape. With the Griever hot on your heels, you pushed yourself, every muscle burning.

And then, with a surge of determination, you made a leap, narrowly avoiding the closing walls as you launched yourself into the narrow gap.

With a sickening crunch, the Griever collided with the closing walls, its mechanical form crushed between the shifting stone. A triumphant roar echoed through the maze as you emerged on the other side, breathless and exhilarated, the sound of the Griever ringing in your ears.

As you caught your breath, Minho's voice reached you, sharp with a mix of anger and disbelief. "What the hell were you thinking, Y/N?" he barked, his tone harsh. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

Your chest heaved, but you squared your shoulders, refusing to back down. "I did what I had to do," you retorted, your voice tinged with defiance. "We needed to stop that Griever, and I wasn't about to wait around for it to catch up to us. You're not the only one capable of making tough decisions, Minho."

Minho's eyes flashed with fury at your retort, his jaw clenched with suppressed rage. "You don't get it, do you?" he growled, his voice dripping with frustration.

"What don't I get?" you challenged, your own anger flaring as you met his gaze head-on. "Why do you suddenly act like you care huh? Back in the glade you've always acted as if you don't want me around."

Before you could even take a breath Minho was in front of you, with a harsh tug, he pulled you close, his eyes blazing with intensity as he stared into yours.

"Don't you dare say that," he snapped, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't think I care?"

Before you could form a response, Minho closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. The anger and frustration melted away in an instant.

Caught off guard by his sudden change in demeanor, you found yourself melting into his embrace, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. In that moment, nothing else mattered—there was only Minho and the electrifying connection between you.

As you lost yourself in the heat of the moment, you couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was more to Minho's harsh exterior than met the eye. And as you and Minho surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire, you knew that despite the challenges that lay ahead, you would face them together.

#maze runner #newt the maze runner #minho the maze runner #maze runner minho #minho maze runner #thomas the maze runner #the maze runner #tmr imagine #tmrminho #tmr fandom #tmr newt #tmr thomas #newt tmr #tmr minho #minho x y/n #minho x you #maze runner Minho x you #tmr gally #fluff #angst #gally the maze runner #gally maze runner #tmr

[sanakimohara]

*dramatic sigh* you ever just look at Lee Minho and think, “God, I wish I could ride his face rn….he’s so fucking pretty nd probably even prettier while he’s eating someone out…” Cause if you don’t….whats wrong with you?!?!?!?

Credits to the creator and once again…he’ll be getting a post from me soon too 🖤

#lee minho #minho #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #lee minho skz #lee minho stray kids #minho smut #minho x reader #minho x y/n #lee know #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #lee know smut #lee know stray kids #lee know scenarios #lee know skz

[arikazu]

♡♡♡ Lee know as your boyfriend (softlaunching)

#stray kids #stray kids ff #straykids x you #straykids fanfic #straykids fluff #skz #skz imagines #straykids angst #skz stay #stray kids x reader #skz texts #skz x reader #skz smut #lee know #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids minho #straykids smau #stray kids reader insert #minho x reader #skz minho #minho x you #minho x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #kpop social media au #kpop smau #stray kids instagram #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic